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bokettochild · 3 years

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Touch and Go

Whumptober Day 6: Touch-Starved

Is this late? yes.

Is this proofread? No.

But I had Feelings about this one, so please excuse the shameless hurt/comfort and Legend fluff at the end, and let me project my lonely ass onto my favorite character again.

I hope y'all enjoy! Consider this a break from the unresolved whump of the last few prompts.

There are days when Legend really hates being alive.

Today's one of those days. Today's one of those horrid days when everything is cold and everything is bitter and all he can do is snap when Wind chatters at his side. All he can do is bark out something harsh and cruel that makes the sailor avert dark eyes and slowly move away from him.

The kid has spirit, he'll say that at least. Wind doesn't blubber up and cry about it, just looks hurt and walks away, shoulder's stiffening as the kid wanders over to stand next to Warriors instead, thin arms wrapping tight around the sailor's chest as the kid hugs himself, only relaxing slightly when Wars buries his hand in the kid's hair and gives the golden locks a gentle tussle. The kid's lips twitch as he stares up at Wars with his big dark eyes, rain pattering over his face as the captain throws the end of his scarf over the kid's head.

Legend pulls his own cloak closer and purposefully ignores the exchange as he continues to slosh through the mud.

They've come to Sky's world and while the area isn't one that the Chosen Hero recognizes immediately, Wild had climbed a tree a while back (regardless of the clouds that threaten lightning or the rain that makes the bark slippery) and called out the direction of what he was certain was a village. At any other time, Wind would climb up after the champion with his telescope to confirm, but Time isn't willing to take that risk and instead called Wild down back to them.

The champion trudges on ahead, laughing light and free as rain soaks through log golden hair and Twilight fusses and scolds like a worried mother cuckoo, trying to make the champion pull up the hood of his cloak while the rancher's own furry hood bobs low enough to cover his eyes, making Wild only laugh harder. The hood has ears, he notes with a scoff, and Twilight doesn't even have the decency to look embarrassed at that, instead punching Warriors' shoulder when the man points it out, a toothy grin on the rancher's face while the captain shoots him a hurt look, rubbing his bruised shoulder with something like a pout.

Time's own soft chuckles mix with the light patter of rain, and Legend takes a moment to consider why the man isn't earing a cloak, only to realize that Hyrule isn't either, and that his protege is darting about in the rain with a bright smile that stretches all the way to his slowly flapping ears, the kid practically flittering about Time and giggling as the cold and wet rain dribbles through his curls and sings against their leader's armor.

Legend huffs, wrapping his own cloak tight about himself. Fine, let the other's catch cold for their foolishness. Let Time be sneezing his obnoxiously loud sneezes and Hyrule low himself back with the force of his own. Let Wild be red in the face and nasally for the next week, it's their own fault for being such blasted idiots! He'll just wear his wool cloak, thank you very much! He'll tuck it close and wrap it around and around and-

Another cold breeze makes Wind giggle as it swipes through the sailor's curls and send Warriors huffing out complaints. Wild laughs louder as Twilight's hood is pushed back, dampening the rancher's dark hair as the man sighs in defeat. Four giggles from where they're hiding with Sky under the sailcloth, the fabric held over their heads like an umbrella as they walk, both red in the face from the cold but dry save for the feet that squelch through the mud.

Legend only shivers and pulls his cape closer. How is this funny to them? How is rain nice enough to play in or laugh or try and sing, like Time is doing? Rain is cold and miserable and wet, and he's shivering as he pulls on his hood with a firm tug. It's too cold, and too wet and the only thing he really wants is to find somewhere where he can just collapse into the corner and sit. He's not asking for one of Uncle's old oversized tunics, or a warm fire, or even a mug of Ravio's cocoa, all he wants is to sit down and just... be.

It's dark out here and it's dark inside and it's dark everywhere and all he wants is to sit in the darkness and let himself flop against whatever happens to be available and just sit, mind blank, body still, nothing and no one needing him and nothing and no one to disturb him.

"Lights ahead!" Four calls back to them with a bright grin, red cheeks nearly glowing as their eyes sparkle the same color, and beside the smithy Sky perks up, ears twitching slightly as a grin break across his face. "It's the village!"

In seconds Sky has scooped Four up and started jogging towards the lighted houses before them, ignoring as the smithy laughs out warnings about asthma and slippery paths, and Legend can only shake his head slowly with a sigh as the others follow suit, even Time. Honestly, where are they getting this much energy?

When they reach the settlement it's to find Sky and Four both covered in mud and Sun and Sky's big red-head friend waiting at the door of the common house with towels and hearty laughter.

there's still a lot to be done here to make a proper village, but for the time being those who are constructing it have settled in a large common house that Sky's told them will one day be a festival and meeting hall. "Maybe even a school," the Chosen Hero had grinned. There are mostly only a few villagers who rotate out to help with construction in turns, but on the rare visit the heroes have had here, Sun and- Goose? Gross? Whatever the heck the man's name was- are always there to greet them with wide smiles and exuberant displays of affection for their best friend.

Even now, Sky is tucked under the red-heads arm, playfully protesting the fist that rubs over the knight's head, even as Four sits atop the big man's other shoulder, laughing and swinging their feet gently at the sight of their predecessor getting a noogie.

Legend sweeps past the chaos with a sigh, briefly accepting the towel Sun offer to him with a tender smile. He doesn't even bother shedding his boots, no matter how touchy his is about it in his own home, and instead flops down in the only place that doesn't seem to be occupied and gives his hair and face a quick rub with the towel before laying it aside and leaning back against the wall.

Cheery voces and laughter sound around him, but it's like a dark cloud hangs over him as he wraps his arms tight around his chest and curls up.

Even next to the roaring fire, he's cold. It's like his bones are cold, even as sweat starts to bead at his brow, and a shiver still manages to travel through him as one of the former Skyloftians stokes the roaring flames.

He's not sick, he's been wrapped to tight in warm clothes recently to have gotten a cold or something, and anything contagious hasn't been run into as they dart across worlds after the shadow. Still, he's cold, and almost hollow feeling as he presses his hands to his ears to try and block out Wind's laughter. The sound hurts, even though he doesn’t know why. His head isn’t pounding but his chest aches and throbs around nothing at the sound. His throat is tight and his bones continue to ache miserably as he finally pulls his discarded towel over his head and ears in a last-ditch attempt to stop all the noise coming over to him.

Once, he’d worried about this sort of thing. He’d panicked when he stopped being able to feel properly warm and when his bones never quite settled. Now, sitting beside the biggest freaking fire he’s ever seen outside of a festival, he accepts the chill in his bones with an exhaustion that settled in ages ago.

Violet eyes flitter shut slowly as he tries to focus on the crackle of flames, a sound he can always rely on to help him settle himself. He has to drop the towel, but the others have dulled their chatter to a quiet murmur as something clatters and sheet shuffle over the fresh wooden floor. There's the occasional laugh from one of the others, but it’s nothing he can’t handle as he wraps his damp cloak closer around him.

He could ignore it. He could get up and join the others and just ignore the cold empty hollow inside of him, but today he just wants to be. He doesn’t want to fight it, and he doesn’t want to bother using energy to ignore it. The cold cave in his chest is there and it’s not going away so he may as well accept it and t himself just drift along in the amid the cheer of the evening.

The others seem keen on leaving him alone, letting him brood in silence as Wild darts over briefly with a warm smile and an even warmer bowl of seasoned rice. The kid called this stuff pudding, but there’s nothing smooth and creamy about it. It’s good though, and he accepts the bowl with his usual nod of thanks before Wild is darting back to the others where they sit around a rough wooden long table. His brothers are all laughing and chatting with the big Goose man, and only Sun spares him a curious glance before her attention is swept up by Hyrule, who presents her with something that makes the woman blush and beam as she wraps the traveler in a warm hug.

Pain pangs through his chest as the vet lowers his bowl. He’s not... he’s not hungry he finds, staring down at the sweet and seasoned rice with apathy. He’s not really upset about not being hungry, not surprised either, just... it is what it is.

Gnarled fingers reach up and he twines a lock of pink hair through his fingers, violet gaze darting up to the table across the room as the others continue their ceaseless chatter. No one looks at him, and it draws a sigh of relief from him as he loosens up a bit.

He’s not proud of how he handles the cold, not of how he fills the emptiness enough that it stops aching. It’s embarrassing really, but he’d rather handle it himself than have to get attached to having someone else ease the ache for him.

Long ears droop slightly as he runs his nails over their shells, rubbing behind his own ears like a goddess darned weirdo and letting his other hand brush through his hair again. It’s grown some, catching on his shoulders when he turns his head and he debates letting it grow out long again for a moment. It would be more convenient when switching with Fable to not have to put on a wig, but he’s not overly keen on having to take care of the long tresses again and long hair does get so easily tangled.

There’s a burst of laughter from the table again, and while he glances up quickly, hands drawing away for a moment he finds relief in the fact that the others are all too busy teasing the captain for one thing or another to bother looking over at him. Relief blossoms in his chest as he rubs his own ears again.

It’s stupid, he knows it, but being touched, being close to someone is the only way to make this never-ending emptiness fill for a little bit, and if he just ignores it, it gets more and more unbearable. Once, Fable had thought he’d been cursed, he’d been so stiff and shivery, and it didn’t help that the bags under his eyes had grown dark enough that he looked like he’d been in a brawl. He’d explained he was just tired, restless after returning from the sea and unable to sleep properly without fear of dreaming. But sleep was the only relief from being utterly and completely empty, so he was caught in flux, perpetually tired and cold and both wishing for sleep and doing all in his power to avoid it.

Fable had dragged him up to her room and nestled them both into her big bed, her favorite fuzzy pink blanket tucked up so tightly around him that he couldn’t even squirm free as she’d wrapped him a hug and started to try and sing. It was horrible, and he’d very nearly cried at his sister’s off-key screeching right in his ear, but she’d promised to be quiet, grinning like a gremlin, if only he would lay still. He had, and the next thing he knew it was lunchtime the next day and Fable was laughing her ass off because he apparently both drooled and talked in his sleep.

He wishes Fable was here now. She’s the only one Hylia can’t rip away from him, because she's the freaking princess and needs to rule Hyrule one day. She’s safe, she won’t disappear or die before her time or leave like everyone else. She’s the only constant he can rely on, and more than anything he wants to feel small beside her as she teases him and plays with his pink hair and jokes about bunnies and cherries and Ravio and a dozen other things that make him scowl usually but only provide a constant stream of chatter when he’s too tired to care anymore.

Come to think of it, he doesn’t remember the last time he slept properly, and as he tugs the tip of his own ear he briefly wonders, entirely too spent to care how pathetic it sounds, if the others have even noticed.

As laughter bubbles up across the room from him he lets self-pity take over as wonders if they even miss him right now, so happy and warm and content together. War’s is dozing, propped up on his fist and instants away from either landing in Twilight’s food or on his shoulder, and the rancher doesn’t look like he knows which would be worse. Sky is already conked out against the Goose man, snoring softly and drooling on his friend’s arm while the others continue their yammering, Time’s hand is buried idly in Four’s hair and Hyrule and Wild are both leaning back in their seats with easy smiles that whisper warnings that the two might topple over at any minute. Only the rancher and Wind seem to be keeping awake enough to talk to Sun and the other settlers, Goose long since having left the discussion to set his big boots on the table and listen in, only throwing out the occasional comment that has Sun blowing out her cheeks and rolling her eyes as they glitter with stifled laughter.

It’s downright homey.

Legend curls up tighter. Call him a crybaby, but he wants to go home.

It’s over sooner than later, but not soon enough, and as Time and Goose exchange snarky quips, both dragging their friends and brothers over to some of the spare beds, Legend has given up self-soothing to curl in on himself. He’s still wet, still cold, and by now the damp on his face isn’t from the rain they came in from a couple hours ago. He’s exhausted and he really wants to pass out, but he’s too sore and distracted and that itself is enough to make his eyes water in frustration as his ringer fingers dig into his arms hard enough to leave bruises.

He hardly registers when something brushes against his boot, but then something warm is pressed to his cheek and the vet darts back in surprise and fear at the sudden sensation eyes wide as they stare up to meet twinkling blue.

Sun is as warm as her name and her eyes twinkle like the night sky itself, full of light and life and hope that Legend hasn’t seen on the face of any living being ever. “Hey,” the goddess incarnate hums softly, like she’s approaching a particularly skittish remit, head cocked and hand extended cautiously, “You okay there, little hero?” Her voice is warm, rich and deep in a way he hadn’t expected but that somehow suits her better than the voice he’d imagined his comrade’s fiancé to have.

He blinks up at her, startled, mind empty as Hylia herself stands over him with concern in her blue eyes.

This... is weird.

The goddess tilts her head softly, golden hair brushing over her rosy cheeks charmingly as thin brows pull together in a light frown that makes him feel guilty for being its cause. “Are you alright?”

The hand reaches out again, and he has to try hard not to shiver as it presses against his brow again, impossibly warm and gentle and...

“You don’t seem to have a fever.” Hylia herself hums softly, scooching closer with worry glimmering in her gaze, hand pulling back at his continued grimace. “Hey.” His ears flicker slightly at the call as the woman before his ducks her head to be closer to his eye level. “Is something wrong? Are you-” royal blue widens as the woman reaches out yet again, stopping herself inches away as he flinches back. “Are those tears?” She whispers softly, but the question isn’t directed at him, so he avoids her gaze and shuffles in on himself again.

He expects that Hylia- Sun? - will back away, will wander back to her bed with furrowed brows and a shaking head as she dismisses the sorry bundle of self-pity sitting in the corner from her mind. He’s expecting a heavy sigh and the rustling of fabric as she pushes up and away. He’s expecting the chill that travels down his spine at the thought of sitting alone while the others curl up in their shared beds. He doesn’t expect the warm hands that settle on his back as toned arms wrap loosely around him, golden hair drifting into his vision as warmth spread through at every place that the goddess incarnate’s skin pressed against him.

He doesn’t expect the sob that rises in his throat either, or the desperate clutch onto the woman’s blouse as he silently begs her not to let go.

“You’ve been sad for a long time, haven’t you?” Rich tones whisper softly into his ears as one hand rubs up and down his back. “I’m sorry.”

Tears prick at his eyes again and when the woman pulls him forwards, he doesn’t resist as he’s pulled up into her lap, strong arms wrapping tight around him as a golden-head rests against his own. He hardly knows Sun, but he hardly cares right now as warmth surges through him from where he’s tucked in her arms, and even if his back is cramping up and his fingers are sore from how tight they’re holding her blouse, even if he’s flushed and embarrassed and blubbering, he doesn’t care, because the empty cold inside of him isn’t as heavy, and the heavy weight on his chest has lifted enough for him to breathe.

“Hush,” The goddess breathes against his ears. “Let it all out, little chick.”

Sobs stutter in his throat as long fingers rub against his back, a light hum filling the silence between gasping sobs as the goddess's own ballad drifts through the air, the notes of Zelda’s lullaby lilting through the melody as Sun rocks gently in place, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of his head as he continues to soak her in rainwater and tears.

They stay like that he doesn’t know how long, long enough that he’s sore and his eyes are puffy and his throat aches and everything is sore and darkness tints his vision as he sags in the arms that hold him. The Goose man’s voice rumbles something nearby, and Sun whispers something back, hands buried in his hair and brushing through it with delicious care as he lets the world fade from his mind. Briefly, he registers being shifted, lifted maybe as Sun continues to sway and sing. Numbly, he recognizes something warm being pressed to his lips and something warm and soothing trickling down his raw throat as he nuzzled closer to the damp fabric of Sun blouse. He’s past shame now, too tired to care how childish or ridiculous he may look as he revels in the touch, the gentle, goddess blessed touch of warmth that presses in around him and smothers the cold in his bones. Th empty cave in his chest is glowing softly with light, even as darkness washes over him and his eyes fall shut.

The goddess’s ballad- lullaby? - is the last thing he registers before the world fades.

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mischiefmanaged71 · 3 years

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Turning Tables (1/8) - Joaquin Torres x Reader

Summary: The instances where Joaquin and Y/N try to express their feelings and the one time they did.

Author’s Note: I may turn this into a series following the show’s timeline if enough people like it! So far, I’ve planned five parts. Please, let me know what you guys think. Y/N’s powers are ‘mimicking’ others talents and abilities, SIMILAR TO X-MEN’S ROGUE. Check out my other fic, ‘Bad Romance’ - its not related to the show’s exact plot but its pretty epic if you love action and romance.

Warnings: Fluff, canon-level violence, action, slow-burn

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x fem!reader

Word Count: 3K

“The criminal organisation known as LAF is targeting Captain Vasant, one of our military liaisons.”

The hum of the plane continued to drum in the background as they received their instructions.

“LAF?”, Sam asked.

“Yeah, they’re high powered. We lost contact with Vasant’s plane just after it took off.”, the Captain informed.

“We need you to make sure that LAF doesn’t deliver on their threat.”

You listened from the front of the hanger, strapping on your gear as Sam walked over. His hand gripped your shoulder, pulling your attention away from the straps of your boots.

“You ready?”, Sam asked.

“I have to be”

“I’m your only backup in the sky.”, you joked, winking at Sam.

“Vasant’s plane has already entered Tunisian airspace. US military cannot be seen operating out there.”

Sam knocks on a button, triggering the door’s release. A red light flares along with a siren as the hanger doors drop. You squint your eyes as you peer down at the drop.

“Got it. You guys fly low, drop us off, we fly up to intercept. No treaties violated.”

“How are our eyes on the ground?”, you ask the Captain, adjusting the com in your ear.

“First Lieutenant Torres, our intel officer, will be helping on the ground. And Sam, this has to be subtle.”

“Subtle. Got it.”, he said, before free falling out of the plane. You peer out into the open space as Sam falls before he initiates his wings, shooting him forwards.

You roll your eyes and breathe out a soft laugh.

“I’ll make sure he sticks to the plan.”, you assure the Captain.

You close your eyes, breathing deeply and searching for that spark within. It’s a growing feeling, one that existed from a long time ago, but it's still there. It remains just as the others have.

Gripping onto it is like opening a new door each time, engulfed by a different skin which takes over.

It shocks your system for a second and then quickly adjusts.

Your eyes flash open, filled with adrenaline as you inhale deeply and an orange glow begins to overtake your sight.

Your uniform whips against you as you creep closer to the edge and take the leap, diving head first with your legs and arms held tightly by your side. Pushing your hands and feet behind you, you’re launched up and against the wind.

Adrenaline pumps through your chest as you soar past clouds, leaving the plane behind you. You swoop down, spotting the red suit and wings from a distance as he circles around for the plane.

“Sam, (Y/N), Torres here. Sending intel to your HUD right now,”

“I’ll be your boots on the ground.”, Joaquin spoke into his com.

“Copied, Lieutenant. How are we looking?”, you asked, following behind Sam.

“Stable so far. I can see Sam. Where are you?”

“Look up, Flyboy.”, you teased, sweeping in a curve and kicking your feet out, as you blasted off to catch up with Sam. A burst of air billowed off you as you’re launched forward.

You hear a low whistle through the coms as you slow down your descent.

“Stop showing off for Torres, Y/L/N.”, Sam interjected.

“I got eyes on a plane. Any sign of LAF?”

“Nah. nothing yet. But I’ll keep tracking the chatter.”, Torres replied.

“On your left.”, you shot at Sam as you floated on the opposite side of the plane, hovering out of sight of the pilot.

Laying on the windscreen, Sam glanced inside at the body in the co-pilot seat.

“They’ve already hijacked the plane.”

“Oh, we’re gonna need to call some people.”, Torres exclaimed.

“Just what I needed today.”, you chided, sighing.

Suddenly, Sam shuffled back and shot his wings out, flying backwards and out of sight.

“Subtly, at its finest, Wilson.”, you stated, circling around to follow around the back.

“Tracking back.”

“Okay, switching to Plan B.”, Sam spoke over the coms

“Remind me what Plan B was again,” you asked.

“Red Wing, engage.”, detattaching from the suit, Red wing assaults the door with lasers, releasing it with a blast.

Sam retracts his wings and launches into the ship, kicking Batroc in the chest. Assaulting the pirate with a kick to the head, he takes on the next guy with a right hook to the jaw, throwing him into the wall.

You glide into the plane, narrowly missing the fist flying at your head. Ducking down, you strike your knee into your assailant’s stomach, directing a fist into his face. You slam your foot into his chest, sending him flying off his feet.

Sam kicks one of them in the side, sending them towards you as you roundhouse kick him through the only exit.

Sudden light fills your vision as bullets rain down. Bullets ricochet off of The Falcon suit but the wings shield the both of you. Suddenly the plane tips forwards, sending you all flying up. Tucking yourself in, you strike the ground, manoeuvring to grab a hold of Vasant as the plane continues to drift downwards.

Kneeling down, you placed your hands on his shoulders, tugging him into a seated position.

“Captain Vasant, let’s get you out of here.”, you said.

Your next movements are interrupted with a kick to your back, forcing you into a wall. Groaning, you look at your attacker, backing up as he approaches with raised fists.

Batroc lunges at you with a swipe but you dodge, aiming a kick at his knee. He swipes his leg in a circle to knock your off your feet and slam you into the floor. You’re quick to roll over and dodge another kick to the abdomen and cart behind him. Launching yourself on his back, you grip your legs tightly around his neck and vault him over you.

Batroc huffs, jumping up to strike his leg down on you but he’s intercepted by Sam’s kick to his chest which knocks him backwards.

Now that Batroc was occupied, you pursued the men holding Vasant. Fire brewing between your palms, you form a lasso, sweeping and snatching the leg of the man gripping Vasant’s arm. Wrenching your arm backwards, the man smacks the floor and you’ve caught their attention. One of them tugs a gun from his belt, fire off a round which you flick away with a hand. A massive blast ignites, sending you hard on your back. Your ears ring as you grip your throbbing head.

Glancing up, you see the remaining agents clad in gear, jumping with Vasant strapped to one of them.

Batroc empties his entire clip on Sam who dodges behind his wings. With a smirk, Batroc slips on his helmet and leaps from the plane.

Only a glance shared between the two of you, you and Sam leap from the plane. Diving forwards, you flip and kick your feet together to soar towards the descending pirates. They continue to shoot at you but Sam swings around and pulls his parachute.

You pursue Batroc, following as Sam propels with skill through the canyon. The gaps become narrower until you’re dropping to miss incoming helicopter machine-gunfire. Swerving around rock formations, a plane follows your path as another pursues Sam.

“All subtlety has gone to shit by this point,” your voice portrayed little of the anxiety now rising in your chest.

“Redwing, get them off our ass!”, Sam yelled as Redwing ejected and launched missiles at the helicopter’s engine, bringing it down with an explosion.

“Y/N, you alright up there?”, Joaquin’s voice filtered through your com.

“Well, I’m being trailed by machine gunfire so not too bad.”, you sarcastically retorted.

Darting upwards, you jet yourself upwards to cart over the plane and behind it. Gripping your palms together, you position your index fingers in-line with the engine and a ball of energy explodes. The craft blows up in smoke and fire as you whoop.

“OH! Ha Ha”, Joaquin laughed in exhilaration, looking through his binoculars.

Finally spotting the last aircraft with Batroc and Vasant, you bolt for the craft, Sam behind you. The man beside them pulls out a missile launcher, you’re close enough that if you dodge, Sam will be hit. Bracing with your hands crossed, a light barrier shields you as explosion hits you. You’re blasted backwards, rocketing to the ground.

Sam ducks around the smoke, “Y/N!”

Your back collides with a rocky surface and an intense pain pulses through you as your vision clouds.

“Y/N! Y/N! Are you okay? Can you hear me?”, Joaquin shouted.

“...Feeling a bit rough, gimme a minute.”, you whispered, rolling to lean on your elbows.

There are mere minutes before Batroc crosses the Libyan border with Captain Vasant.

“All right, heads up! You’re about to fly into Libyan airspace.”

“And I assume they have a problem with that?”

“Yeah, yeah, a big problem. A big problem.”, Joaquin emphasised, nodding his head frantically.

“How long I got?”, Sam asks

“Ninety seconds.”

Missiles explode around Sam, knocking him from side to side. He’s barely dodging them when a pillar of flames zips behind him and through the aircraft, ripping it in two to reveal your hovering figure.

“I said I had your ass.”, you chided with a smirk.

Joaquin’s voice shouts through the coms, “Sam! We got to call it off! We gotta find another way!”, Joaquin yells.

“I just did.”, he answered smugly as he retracted his wings and grabbed Vasant before the final missiles destroyed the craft.

“WOOH!”, you yelled as you descended to the ground.

You spot Joaquin cheering and pumping his fist in the air excitedly. Your smile grows wider as you chuckle at his excitement. Your feet meet the ground as you land, kicking up dirt with it.

“One hell of a mission, Torres.”

“You were incredible out there. Are you okay? You were quite literally hit with a missile. Then again, how are you even standing?”, Joaquin worried, gripping your shoulders.

“I’ll be fine. It’s my invulnerability.”, you brushed it off but your breath hitched as you gripped your back.

“Invulnerability or not, there’s no way you're getting back to base on your own.”, he guided your waist to the passenger side, opening the door for you to climb in.

You sighed in relief as you sat,

“Thank you, but I'd be fine to fly back, I’ve done it before.”

“What? You’ve been shot with a missile before?!”, he exclaimed in shock.

You chuckled at the pure look of concern on his face,

“Avenger, remember Flyboy?", you pointed at your chest.

“Yeah, how could I forget?”, he let out a breathy laugh.

***

Tunisia

Sat in an outdoor café, the streets are bustling with music and chatter. After the mission, you all needed a bit of calm. Joaquin returns with a tray of tea for you all.

He placed a cup in front of you.

“Thanks.”, you smiled up at him as he sighed and sat between you and Sam who was fixing Redwing’s circuiting.

Joaquin pointed towards the wiring,

“You could try to reroute that to the other…”

“Hey, could you not?”

Sam nudges his hands away, eliciting a chuckle from you as you leaned your head on your palm.

“Oh.”, Joaquin chuckles and backs off, making eye contact with you at Sam’s remark.

“I’ve been working with the Air Force for six months now. Every time ops touches him, he gets all glitchy.”

“Well, you know, those poor techs can’t keep up with a billion returning IP addresses and your sick-ass Stark level tech.”

You all laugh at that reality. The world you live in is stranger than just advanced tech when you can wield fire in one hand and break someone’s wrist in the other.

Joaquin looked at you,

“You feelin’ better?”

“Yes. I’m fine, don’t worry. Sam, will you tell him, I’m fine.”

“She’s fine. I’ve seen the woman take on Iron Man’s pulsar rays head-on.”

But Joaquin’s gaze continues to flicker back to the open gash on your forehead.

“Hehehey! Avengers! Assalama!”, a Tunisian man approached your table, addressing Sam in Arabic.

What surprised you both was Sam’s response.

Joaquin pointed his phone at Sam, “He knows Arabic.”

“Your pronunciation is incredible, Wilson.”, you fired towards him, leaning forwards.

“Wait, can you say that again? Hold on a sec.”, Joaquin teased.

“All right. Come on.”

Joaquin let out a breathy laugh, rising from his seat to scan the area with his phone.

“These LAF crews, they’re tryin’ to take advantage of all the chaos and make some money. And that I get, but there’s…”

“Whatcha doin?”, you asked.

“Oh, bam! Right there!”, Joaquin stopped, leaning over you to show his screen to you and Sam. He was close enough that you felt flustered as your cheeks began to burn. Hovering on the screen was a red image of a hand holding the Earth.

“You see these guys? They’re guys you gotta worry about. I’ve been stumbling onto their manifestos on message boards. They're called the Flag Smashers.”

“I swear, everybody’s got a gimmick.”, you remarked, looking at Sam with a knowing look. You’d been in the game since you discovered your abilities at the age of fourteen.

“Is that a new thing? Bad guys give themselves bad names.”

“There’s a lot worse names than that one.”, Joaquin’s eyebrows perked up.

You creased your eyes, wondering, how it could get any worse than ‘Flag Smashers’.

“But basically, they think that the world was better during The Blip. Trust me, it wasn’t.”

You sigh, eyes cast down on the table as you think over it.

Five years.

All of your friends and family who remained had moved on for five years without you, thinking you were dead. That was, until the living Avengers fought to bring everyone back. Although, not without losing a few in the process.

“Trust me. Every time something gets better for one group, it's worse for another.”, Sam stated.

“Yeah. Essentially, these people, they want a world that’s unified without borders. So you could see why a lot of people are into that.”

“Yeah, keep an eye on it. If anything gets serious, you let me know.”

A massive grin spread over Joaquin’s features,

“No doubt. I’ll...I’ll, uh...I’ll track the online chatter, see what they’re saying.”

You smile at Joaquin’s eager nature and pure smile. It was cute how he went from First Lieutenant to fanboy in mere seconds.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket, urging your attention. You gripped Joaquin’s shoulder as you stood to take the call,

“I’ll be right back.”

Sam had a knowing look on his face as he looked from the hand you rested on Joaquin’s shoulder to the affection in Joaquin’s eyes as you drifted off to the side.

“This is Y/N.”, you answered.

Silence reverberated from the caller’s end.

“Hello?”

“Y/N...It’s...It’s Bucky.”

“Hey, how are you doing?”, you crossed your arms, still gripping the phone in one hand.

“I’m fine.”

“How’s therapy going?”

“It’s going...The usual, you know?”

“Bucky...you know that I’m always here, right? Whenever you want to talk or just sit in silence, I’m there.”

“Yeah I know.”, he whispered on the other end, leaning against his couch on the floor.

“I mean it. My doors are always open. Not literally, but who’s going to mess with little ol’ me?”, you joked.

Bucky let out a breathy laugh,

“Thanks.”

“No need to thank me, Buck. Just take care of yourself, okay?”, you looked over at the boys who stared back at you as you crept closer to the table.

You heard Bucky sigh,

“When do you get back?”

“Sam and I depart soon so I should be back in the States by tomorrow.”

“Alright, take care...Bye, Y/N.”

“See you soon, Buck.”, you ended the call.

“Was that Buckaroo?”, Sam asked as you sat down.

You rolled your eyes,

“Yes, it was.”

Sam turned his head in confusion,

“I’ve been tryin’ to get that man to answer my texts for weeks and nothing. How did you get him to call you?”

Sam saw the smile retreat from Joaquin’s face at the mention.

“I guess we’re closer than you are. Also, could be the fact you call him names like - Oh, I don’t know - Cyborg, Terminator, Barnes and Noble?”, you suggested with raised eyebrows.

“Nah, can’t be that.”, Sam dismissed it.

“Check it. We’re headed back to DC.”

“Alright.”, you grabbed your bag off the floor.

“Before I go. Joaquin?”

Joaquin perked up, his attention solely on you.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t forget to keep me updated on the Smashers chatter. We make a pretty good team.”

“Alright, yeah...yeah, of course. I...Uh,”, he fumbled.

“You should probably give him your phone number so he can call you.”, Sam snipped from behind you.

Joaquin nervously laughed,

“Having your number would make it a whole lot easier.”

You shook your head as you reached over and gripped his wrist, grabbing his phone to enter your details.

“Done.”, you handed Joaquin his phone back.

He slipped his hands in his pockets,

“So...I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

A grin spread across your mouth as you tugged a bag over your shoulder,

“I guess so, Flyboy.”

“And I’m still here.”, Sam reminded you, earning a smack on the back of the head from you.

“Hey!”

***

Thanks for reading, lovely! Comment, tag and reblog! Let me know your thoughts and if you have any questions or prompts, don’t be afraid to ask! xx

ALSO, tag me if YOU write any Joaquin Torres fics.

TAGS:

@remmysbounty @cjsinkythoughts @merceret @samscaptain @gryffindorwriter

#joaquin torres #joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x y/n #joaquin torres imagines #joaquin torres fic #bucky barnes #winter soldier #marvel #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #TFATWS x reader #TFATWS x y/n #TFATWS fic

380 notes · View notes

bumblesimagines · 3 years

Text

Green Thumb

Part 21

Request: Yes or No

TW: Tonys death

Kind of short?

Part of you didn't believe it. Part of you didn't want to believe it. You expected Natasha to appear, laughing about pranking everyone. You weren't mentally well enough to deal with another loss. You were just so tired. You stared at the water, tuning out the guys behind you. You felt that familiar numbness wash over you, turning your head when Bruce tossed a bench.

"She's gone.. We have to make it worth it. We have to." Bruce breathed out. You stood up, sniffling softly and nodding.

"Nat would kick our asses for sitting around and mourning her for too long. She desperately wanted for this to work so.. We'll do this for her." You looked over them all. The men nodded, heading back to the facility to work on the stones. You sat down as Bruce, Tony, and Rocket began working on the glove and making their own gauntlet.

"It should've been me." Clint said quietly as he sat down.

"Nat would've hated herself for leaving the kids without you, Clint." You looked at him, gaze softening.

"Right now, you may have no one but.. You might have a family to go home to soon."

"I have you." Clint said, turning to look at you. His gaze dropped to the ground briefly.

"I'm sorry. I should've been there for you. I was supposed to be your father and I failed you. I let my anger and grief cloud my judgment.. I left you to deal with your own emotions when I should've been there to comfort you and help you through it. I know an apology won't make up all the years that passed but.. I plan on making things better. I won't force you to forgive me and I won't hide things from Laura if this works." Clint told you. You nodded, turning your head when the smart trio walked out with the gauntlet.

"So, who's gonna snap their fingers?" Rocket asked.

"I'll do it!" Thor said, walking towards it. Everyone quickly stopped him.

"We haven't discussed it yet." Steve said, placing a hand on his chest to keep him in his spot. Thor blinked a few times, scoffing softly.

"Well, I'm sorry, are we all sitting down waiting for the right opportunity?" He questioned, glancing around.

"We should at least talk about it." Scott said with a light shrug.

"Sitting here and staring at the thing won't bring everybody back. I'm the strongest Avenger, so this responsibility falls on my back-" You could tell Thor wanted to do it because he felt at fault. You frowned, glancing at Clint. Thor sniffled, looking at Tony.

"Let me do it." He whispered. "Let me do something good."

"Look, it's not just the fact that the glove is channelling enough energy to light up a continent, I'm telling you, you're in no condition." Tony said quietly. Thor gripped his shoulders.

"What do you think is coursing through my veins right now?"

"Cheese wiz?"

"Enough alcohol to kill a man?" You tried, tilting your head. Thor pointed at you and Rhodes, giving a small nod.

"I have lighting."

"Lighting won't help you, pal." Bruce said gently. "It's gotta be me."

"You saw what those stones did to Thanos.. It almost killed him. None of you could survive." Bruce said, walking towards the glove.

"How do we know you will?"

"We don't." Bruce answered Steve softly. Bruce gently picked up the glove, being careful not to drop it or break it.

"Let's do this."

"Okay, remember, everyone Thanos snapped away five years ago, we're just bringing them back to now. Don't change anything from the last five years." Tony instructed. Bruce nodded, looking down at the glove. Tony tapped the reactor, putting his suit on. He pushed you behind him, making a shield in case the blast was bad. Metal covered the doors and glass ceiling, incasing the room. Bruce slowly put his hand in the glove, crying out as energy went through his arm. You watched in concern, seeing his arm begin to burn. Bruce continued to scream, snapping his fingers and passing out, the glove sliding away. You quickly crouched down behind him, having the root bracelets extend and touch his burnt arm. Bruce panted softly, the burns slowly easing.

"This might take a while." You said softly. Bruce swallowed, nodding. You glanced over at Scott when he exited the room. Clint went to check his phone.

"Honey?" You turned your head towards Clint, eyes wide. You gave a small smile, looking back at Bruces arm. You noticed a shadow, looking up.

"Oh fuck." You whispered. You screamed as the floor fell out from under you, falling down. You grunted when something hit the back of your head, feeling water begin to soak you as pain shot through your leg once you landed. You groaned, seeing spots in your vision as you pushed your upper half up. You turned your head.

"Fuck me." You stared at the pole stuck through your leg. You licked your lips, hearing Rocket shouting. You turned towards him, raising your hand and lifting the structure he was stuck under. He rolled out from under it, panting. Rhodes crawled towards you, looking at the pole.

"Will you be able to heal yourself?" He asked. You looked down at the half rotten roots, shaking your head.

"No." You breathed out. "Not until we're back up there."

"Shit." Rhodes muttered. You noticed more water rushing in, most likely from the river. You raised your hand, making a water wall to stop more from spilling in.

"Don't waste your energy."

"I'd rather not drown." You looked at Rhodes, panting softly.

"I can't hold it forever, you guys!" You called, glancing at Rocket and Bruce. Rhodes ripped off some of his shirt, motioning to your leg. You swallowed, eyes welling up as you slowly lifted your leg, screaming out in pain.

"I got you, (Y/N). Don't worry, I got you." Rhodes whispered hurriedly, wrapping the cloth around your leg. You lost focus, arms trembling.

"The water, (Y/N)!" Rocket called as the water rushed into the room, quickly filling it up. Rhodes wrapped an arm around your waist, keeping you close. You whimpered softly, head resting on his shoulder.

"Sorry."

"No, no, it's alright." Rhodes kept his and your head above the water. You swallowed, gaining some focus back and moving your arm, the water slowly returning back from where it came from.

"I'm gonna take.. A big fucking nap after this." You whispered, feeling Rhodes patting your back.

"Same here." Rhodes mumbled. You blinked when a large hand wrapped around you, holding onto Rhodes as everything trembled. Scott opened his hand, letting Bruce hop off. Rhodes got his suit on, arm still around you as he flew down. You made a root rise, wrapping around your leg and healing it. You looked up, seeing portals and millions of people.

"Damn." You whispered, making fire balls. The armies rushed at each other. You swallowed, using wind to fly you up into the air. You extended your hands forward, fire shooting out of them and burning the aliens below. You landed on the ground, raising a hand and making ice spike come out of the ground, implaing the aliens in sight.

"Still as awesome as the first time." You froze, staring ahead before slowly turning around. You stared at Bucky. He looked the same. Sam landed besides him, giving a small smile.

"How you been, (Y/N)?" He asked. You gave a small tired smile.

"I wanna die." You answered, raising your hand and blasting some aliens back with fire. The two blinked at your response, brows furrowing in concern.

"We can.. We can catch up later." You told them, noticing T'Challa running with the gauntlet. You flew up, seeing one of the aliens attempting to get the gauntlet.

"So this is the squidward look alike." You threw a fireball at him, knocking him down as Peter grabbed the gauntlet. You landed near the alien, making roots grab onto his arm.

"Nice to meet you." You breathed out, hands extending. You watched his face contourt as he began gasping for air but you took it all out of him.

"And goodbye." You relaxed when he stopped squirming, making the ground swallow him just in case. You looked up, seeing one of the ships shooting down at the ground, quickly flying up and away from it. You noticed a man keeping the battlefield from being flooded, going over to him.

"Mind if I take some?" You asked, taking controlling of the small water twister he had going on. The man gave you an odd look.

"You could always help."

"I am." You made the water turn into a large ice spike, shooting it forward at one of the ships. It got the wing of it but the beams didn't ease. It stopped firing at the ground and instead fired up.

"Carol.." You breathed out, gently landing on the ground. You looked at the man, glancing at the water and making the ground rise in order to stop it from flooding. Carol took care of the ship, bringing it down.

"Couldn't have done that sooner?" The man asked. You shook your head.

"No, I was busy." You replied, looking down at your leg. It might've healed on the outside but it still hurt on the inside. You flew up, looking around for Bucky and Sam. You spotted them, going over to them and helping them up.

"What the fuck was that alien shit about?" Sam asked, panting. You chuckled tiredly, turning your head. You blinked, noticing Tony with the stones. Bruce had gotten badly injured from just wearing it.

"Tony.." You breathed out, walking towards him but he snapped his fingers, causing a bright light. The aliens around turned to dust, just like your friends. You ignored it, quickly flying over to Tony as he stumbled. Rhodes got there first, patting his shoulder. You landed near him, quickly walking towards him.

"Tony, just stay still, I-I'll fix you up in no time." You said, blinking away tears. You couldn't lose someone else. Natasha's death was still fresh. Tony turned his head towards you, mouthing a word.

"Promise."

"Tony.." You stared at him, hands trembling. Tony had made you promise the day everyone found out time travel could work to take care of Morgan and Pepper. You thought it had been silly.

"Tony, I can heal you. Just let me-" Rhodes placed a hand on your shoulder as Peter crouched down beside Tony. You clenched your jaw, tears spilling down your cheeks. Peter cried as he spoke to Tony. You stood up, looking at Pepper as you sniffled. Pepper gave Tony a sad smile, holding back tears until he went limp. Pepper leaned forward, kissing his cheek before sobbing. You took some steps back, sniffling.

"He needed this." Rhodes said softly, patting your back.

"Yeah.."

~~~~~~~~~~

You stepped off the jet, seeing Lila step out of the house. You smiled softly, watching Cooper step out as well. The two quickly ran towards you and Clint. You opened your arms, Coopers body colliding with yours. You couldn't help the sobs that left you as you held your younger brother. Clint couldn't either, sniffling as he held Lila. The two siblings switched, Lila giving you a tight hug.

"You've gotten taller." Lila said with a smile. You chuckled softly, shrugging.

"It's what five years can do to someone." You replied, smiling softly. You gave her another hug, walking back towards the house. You smiled softly, seeing Laura and Nathaniel.

"Mom.." You whimpered, arms wrapping around her tightly. She hugged you back, smiling softly.

"I'm here, baby. I'm here." Laura whispered, rubbing your back. You kept your arms around her, relief flowing through you. You pulled back, smiling down at Nathaniel and picking him up.

"Hey, buddy." You cooed, holding him as you walked back to the house. You set him down, taking out your phone and seeing Wanda's contact.

"Hey, what's up?"

"Would you mind coming with me somewhere?"

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 years

Text

Out Of Time ~ 129

MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 3,050ish

Summary: The separate teams prepare for the battle against Thanos. (gifs aren’t mine)

Y/N was standing in front, staring at space as it whizzed by, when Tony came over and wrapped his arms around her from behind. He pressed a kiss just behind her ear, pulling her closer.

“What are you thinking about?” Tony whispered.

“How I’m suppose to be prepared for something, but I have no idea what,” Y/N whispered.

“The fate of the universe is not on you.”

“But it is, Tony… and there’s—“

“No.” He quickly, yet carefully, turned Y/N around to face him. “This is not on you.” His hands held Y/N’s face to look at him. “Whatever happens is not your fault.”

“You can’t say that. We don’t know what will happen yet.”

“You’re right, we don’t. But I will not let you feel the way you are feeling. And I promise, that I will not let anything happen to you.”

“I’m not worried about me… I’m worried about everyone else… it’s too much… it’s all too much…”

Her eyes were tearing up, and this was all breaking Tony’s heart. He pulled her into his chest, cradling her head. It was killing him to see her like this, but he really didn’t know how to fix it. Tony didn’t understand exactly what Y/N needed to do, and he was coming to the conclusion that she didn’t either.

The two could feel the engines begin to slow. With Tony keeping an arm around Y/N, the two looked through the large window. The ship was approaching a planet. Peter and Dr. Strange joined the couple by the window.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Peter asked.

“I think we’re here,” Strange replied.

“I don’t think this rig has a self-park function,” Tony said, looking around. He left Y/N’s side, waving Peter over to where he was going. “Get your hand into this steering gimbal. Close those around it. You understand?”

“Yep, got it,” Peter responded, quickly following Tony’s directions as Tony put one of his arms in it as well.

“This was meant for one big guy, so we gotta to move at the same time.”

“Okay. Okay. Ready.” Out the window, Y/N could see that the ship was heading straight for the center of some wreckage. “We might wanna turn. Turn! Turn! Turn!!”

Tony tapped his reactor, armoring up. “Y/N! Get over here!”

Before Y/N could reach Tony’s side, the ship clipped a piece of rumble on the planet, throwing Y/N to the side. Peter has his helmet come up as Dr. Strange stepped between them, creating a shield for the rough landing. As the ship, shook and plowed through the dirt, Y/N portaled herself over to Tony. She wrapped her arms around him to keep steady, only for them both to be thrown to the ground. Parts of the ship flew off before it finally came to a stop. Tony’s helmet disappeared as he searched Y/N for any injuries. He quickly noticed that her breathing was fast and her eyes were clenched shut.

“Honey, honey,” Tony called. “You’re okay. Hey, look at me. Look at me.” She shakily looked up at Tony from her position curled up into his side. “We are safe. You are okay. You’re not hurt. Right?”

“I… I’m… o-okay…” Y/N stuttered softly.

“You haven’t had something like that in awhile.” Tony sighed before kissing her head. “I’ll get us out of here. I promise.” Dr. Strange came over and helped them up. “You alright?” Tony asked Strange, who nodded. “That was close. I owe you one.”

“Let me just say,” Peter started, descending from above like a spider, “if aliens wind up implanting eggs in my chest or something, and I eat one of you, I'm sorry.”

Tony pointed at Peter. “I don't wanna hear another single pop culture out of you for the rest of the trip. You understand?”

“I'm trying to say that... something is coming.”

Suddenly, a grenade rolled into view and the foursome was thrown back as it fired an energy pulse. Three beings appeared in the doorway.

“THANOS!” A blue man yelled.

He flung a blade at Dr. Strange, who deflected it with a mystical shield and in return his cloak smothered the man’s face, throwing him to the floor. Y/N and Tony were quickly on their feet. One of the men went straight for Tony. They have a brief dogfight until a magnetic disc pinned Tony face first to a structure. An alien woman came up from behind Y/N, putting her hands on her head, entering her mind.

“Sleep,” the alien woman commanded. Y/N dropped to the floor, unconscious.

“Y/N!” Tony shouted.

The alien walked towards Peter, who was crawling back frantically. “AH!” Peter exclaimed. “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Please don’t put your eggs in me!”

Peter shot a web at Mantis in a panic, pinning her arms to her body just before the man that attacked Tony flew at him feet-first, kicking him away.

“Stay down, clown!” The man ordered.

The man fired at Spider-man, who extended his spider legs and leapt away. Peter couldn’t get far before an electric-like cord wrapped around him and his six new legs. It set him rolling across the deck.

“Die, blanket of death!” The blue man cried, struggling with he cloak.

Tony pulled free of the magnet and stepped on the blue man’s torso. The cloak pulled free as soon as Tony had the man securely under his foot. The other man had Spider-Man in a head-lock, gun pointed at his head. Dr. Strange had a musical shield up and stood ready to attack. The alien woman struggled to her feet, still covered with webbing.

“Ugh…” Y/N groaned, slowing sitting up while holding her head.

“Y/N,” Tony called. “Are you—“

“Alright, everybody stay where you are!” The man holding Spider-Man in a headlock ordered. “Chill the F out.” The man powered off his helmet. “I’m gonna ask you this one time. Where’s Gamora?”

Tony hid his helmet as well. “Yeah, I'll do you one better,” Tony responded. “Who’s Gamora?”

“I’ll do you one better. Why is Gamora?” The man beneath Tony’s foot fired back.

“Tell me where the girl is, or I swear to you, I'm gonna French-fry this little freak,” the man holding Spider-Man threatened.

“Let's do it!” Tony responded, extending a nano-tech canon at the blue man. “You shoot my guy, I blast him. Let's go!”

“Do it, Quill! I can take it!” The blue man exclaimed.

“No, he can’t take it!” The alien woman replied.

“She’s right,” Dr. Strange said. “You can’t.”

"Oh yeah? You don't wanna tell me where she is?” Quill continued. “That's fine. I'll kill all four of you and beat it out of Thanos myself.” He looked at Spider-Man. “Starting with you.”

“Stop!” Y/N yelled, freezing everyone in place. She stood up. “No one is killing anyone!”

“Why can’t I—“

“She’s controlling us,” the alien woman stated. “She’s extremely powerful.”

“Wait, what? Thanos?” Dr. Strange questioned, realizing what Quill had said. “Alright, let me ask you this one time: What master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve?” Quill repeated. “What am I supposed to say? “Jesus”?"

“You’re from Earth?” Tony asked.

“I'm not from Earth. I'm from Missouri.”

“Yeah, that's on Earth, dip-shit. What are you hasseling us for?”

“So, you’re not with Thanos?” Spider-Man questioned.

“With Thanos?!” Quill repeated. “No, I'm here to kill Thanos! He took my girl- Wai- who are you?”

Spider-Man’s helmet disappeared. “We’re the Avengers, man.”

“Oh.”

“You’re the ones Thor told us about!” The alien woman stated.

“Thor,” Y/N breathed out, still keeping everyone in place.

“You know Thor?” Tony asked.

“Yeah,” Quill responded. “Tall guy, not that good-looking, needed saving.”

“Where is he now?” Dr. Strange asked.

“With our other friends, going to make a weapon,” the woman responded.

“Y/N, you can let us go know,” Tony said.

With a deep breath, Y/N let everyone be free. They all moved to standing positions, Tony beside Y/N.

“So you’re Y/N?” The woman walked up to her. “Thor mentioned you.”

“Really?” Y/N questioned.

“He said you were powerful,” Quill stated. “But he also said you were on Earth.”

“Yeah, guess not all Thor says is true.”

“Star-Lord, by the way,” Quill introduced himself.

“Right,” Tony nodded. “I’m Iron Man. This is Dr. Strange and Spider-Man.” He pointed to the others he introduced.

“I’m Drax,” the blue man said.

“And I’m Mantis,” the alien woman added.

“Okay, now that introductions are out of the way,” Tony started, “let’s go see what’s out there.”

Grabbing Y/N’s hand, Tony led her, and the others, towards an opening in the ship. The planet outside had clearly been through something war-like, and there was no sign of life anywhere. Star-Lord went down on one knee, getting out some sort of device.

“The heck happened to this planet?” He wondered. “It’s eight degrees off its axis.” He stood up. “Gravitational pull is all over the place.”

“Yeah, we can see that,” Y/N commented, looking at Mantis who was jumping joyfully high up in the air behind Star-Lord.

“Yeah, we got one advantage. He’s coming to us,” Tony stated. “We'll use it. All right, I have a plan. Or at least the beginnings of one. It's pretty simple. We draw him in, pin him down, get what we need. Definitely don't wanna dance with this guy. We just want the gauntlet.” Drax then choose this time to yawn. “Are you yawning? In the middle of this, while I'm breaking it down? Huh? Did you hear what I said?”

“I stopped listening after you said, "We need a plan.”” Drax replied.

“Okay, Mr. Clean is on his own page.”

“See, "not winging it" isn't really what they do,” Star-Lord responded.

“Uh, what exactly is it that they do?” Spider-Man asked.

“Kick names, take ass,” Mantis answered, meekly.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Drax agreed.

Tony paused, looking deeply hopeless. Quietly, Y/N’s breathing hitched as her head started buzzing. Thankfully, Tony didn’t notice to worry about it.

“Alright, just get over here, please,” Tony continued. “Mr. Lord, can you get your folks to circle up?”

“‘Mr. Lord’,” Star-Lord repeated with a chuckle. “Star-Lord is fine.” He motioned Drax and Mantis to come closer.

“We gotta coalesce. 'Cause if all we come at him with is a plucky attitude—“

“Dude, don't call us plucky. We don't know what it means. Alright, we're optimistic, yes. I like your plan. Except it sucks, so let me do the plan, and that way it might be really good.”

“Tell him about the dance-off to save the universe,” Drax urged.

“A dance-off?” Y/N repeated, trying to ignore the buzzing.

“It’s not a… it’s not… it’s nothing,” Star-Lord stuttered.

“Like in Footloose, the movie?” Spider-Man wondered.

“Exactly like Footloose! Is it still the greatest movie in history?”

“It never was.”

“Don’t encourage this, alright?” Tony told Peter.

“Okay.”

“We’re getting no help from Flash Gordon here.”

“Flash Gordon?” Star-Lord repeated. “By the way, that's a compliment. Don't forget, I'm half human.” He pointed at Y/N, Tony, and Parker. “So that 50% of me that's stupid? That's 100% you.”

“Your math is blowing my mind.”

“Excuse me,” Mantis nervously interrupted. “But… does your friend often do that?”

Everyone looked in the direction Mantis was pointing. Floating slightly above the ground, was Dr. Strange clearly using the Time Stone. Strange was cross-legged with green energy forming circular patterns around his forearms. His eyes were closed and his head jerked rapidly from side to side, blurring. The others went to his side.

As Y/N grew closer, a green strand of energy slowing touched her head. She froze and her eyes shone green. Everyone was too busy with Strange to notice though. Her vision quickly changed. It was dark at first, but slowly each of the Stones shined on a gauntlet. The fingers snapped and her field of vision was suddenly filled with people screaming and disappearing into ash. She looked around for anyone she knew, no one was recognizable.

Quickly, the setting changed. She was standing on a war-torn battle, that was vaguely familiar. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people and aliens were battling each other. She recognized many of those people as her family, her friends. They were dirty, bloody, and clearly fighting for their lives. Y/N looked around to see Thanos fighting herself.

“In five years time, the final battle will commence,” the Stones gravely voice filled her ears. “This is where you will be needed… If you try to stop what happens here today, we will stop you.”

Outside Y/N’s mind, Tony had made his was to Strange.

“Strange, we alright?” Tony wondered. Strange snapped out of his trance and fell forward, letting out a cry. “You’re back. You’re alright.” Tony steadied him.

“Hey, what was that?” Peter asked.

“I went forward in time to view alternate futures,” Strange Panted. “To see all the possible outcomes of the coming conflict.”

“How many did you see?” Star-Lord wonders.

“14,000,605.”

“How many did we win?” Tony asked.

Strange stared intently at Tony for a moment, almost sad like. Before looking past him at Y/N. “One.”

Everyone turned to look where Strange was looking. Y/N was still standing, with green eyes and green energy encircling her head. Tony rushed over, grasping Y/N by the arms.

“Y/N!” Tony called, trying gently to shake her out of whatever was happening. “Come on, honey. Push through!”

~~~

The quinjet ride to Wakanda was full of silent tension, silent worry. No one knew what exactly was coming, or how to stop it.

“Drop 2600, heading 0-3-0,” Steve instructed, walking up behind Sam who was piloting.

“I hope you’re right about this, Cap,” Sam said. “Or we’re gonna land a lot faster than you want to.”

From the looks of it, they were heading straight for the trees. But as the quinjet continued on, the tree were revealed to be a camouflage force field and the grand city of Wakanda appeared. Once they landed, Steve and Natasha exited first, with Rhodey, Bruce, Wanda, Vision, and Sam behind them.

“Seems like I’m always thanking you for something,” Steve stated as he reached out to shake T’Challa’s.

T’Challa shook Steve’s hand before looking at Bruce. “Uh, we don’t do that here,” T’Challa said, waving for Bruce to stop. “So how big of an assault can we expect?” T’Challa turned around and the team began following after him.

“Uh, sir, I think you can expect quite a big assault,” Bruce answered, trying to push his way closer to the front.

“How we looking?” Nat asked.

“You will have my King’s Guard, the Border Tribe, the Dora Milaje, and…” T’Challa trialed off, as Bucky walked up to the others.

“A semi-stable, 100-year-old man,” Bucky joked. With smiles on their faces, Steve and Bucky shared a hug.

“How you been, Buck?” Steve asked.

“Uh, not bad, for the end of the world,” he replied with a smile. “Have you… uh, have you heard from Y/N?”

“Unfortunately, no,” Steve shook his head and sighed. “But I have heard she’s been sneaking around with you and Stark. You’re going to have to tell me all about it as soon as this is through.”

Bucky let out a light laugh. “As long as you buy the beer.”

~~~

Leaving Rhodey, Bucky, and Sam to watch from outside, the rest went and met Shuri in her lab. Vision laid down on an exam table while Shuri used her technology to create a hologram projection of the Mind Stone above him. Bruce was on the other side of the table, watching her very movement.

“Whoa. The structure is polymorphic,” Shuri stated.

“Right, we had to attach each neuron non-sequentially,” Bruce told her.

“Why didn’t you just reprogram the synapses to work collectively?” Shuri asked. Vision turned to Bruce, seemingly asking the same thing with his eyes.

“Because, we didn’t think of it,” Bruce answered with uncertainty.

“I’m sure you did your best,” Shuri reassured with a smile.

“Can you do it?” Wanda asked.

“Yes, but there are more than two trillion neurons here. One misalignment could cause a cascade of circuit failures.” Shuri turned to T’Challa. “It will take time, brother.”

“How long?” Steve asked, stepping closer to them.

“As long as you can give me.”

A chime went off and Okoye quickly projected a hologram globe into her palm. “Something’s entered the atmosphere,” Okoye informed.

“Hey, Cap, we got a situation here,” Sam warned over the comms.

Almost as soon as his words ended, a forcefield formed over the city. Bucky and Sam watched as alien vessels landed outside the barrier. One of them tried to go through, getting destroyed.

“Gosh, I love this place,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, don’t start celebrating yet, guys,” Rhodey warned. “We got incoming outside the dome.”

The landing vessels emitted shock waves and debris, destroying the forest. The Captain and the King looked at each other, both deeply concerned. Vision struggled to sit up and slide off the exam table, holding onto his side.

“It’s too late,” he said. “We need to destroy the stone now.”

“Vision, get your ass back on the table,” Nat demanded.

“We will hold them off,” T’Challa stated as he and his guards started for the door.

Steve turned to Wanda. “Wanda, as soon as the stone’s out of his head… you blow it to hell,” He instructed.

“I will,” Wanda replied.

“Evacuate the city. Engage all defense procedures,” T’Challa commanded. He stopped before fully exiting the room, turned, and pointed to Steve. “And get this man a shield.”

Steve looked out the window, watching the ships crash land outside the barrier. He couldn’t help but wonder what all this had to do with his sister exactly. But there was a bigger question than that in his mind, a more important question.

“Where the hell are you, Y/N?” He whispered to himself.

next chapter >

NOTES: from now on the taglist when be added by a reblog. I will reblog it using my second account, @just-dreaming-marvel-2. Just so that my main page doesn’t get too cluttered.

If you want to be added to the tag list, please dm me or send in an ask.

#tony stark x reader #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #the avengers x reader #avengers x reader #marvel x reader #tony stark imagine #bucky barnes imagine #iron man x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #tony stark #Bucky Barnes #Avengers #infinity war #Avengers infinity war #the infinity stones

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

Note

Pokemon types for BTS as gym leaders? YES PLEASE!

LET'S GET ITTTTTTT

To explain, Gym Leaders are strong trainers that award you Badges that allow Pokémon up to a certain level to obey you. If your Pokémon are beyond the level of your Badges, they will "loaf around" (literally, they will lay around and go to sleep lmao) XD

in fanchant order (because ofc)

Kim Namjoon

Type: Grass

Signature Pokémon: Lurantis

We all know Namjoon loves plants (and tiny crabs lmao). Personally, I find the Grass-types to have the cutest pre-evolved forms and imagining Namjoon surrounded by a bunch of them sounds adorable as fuck. Plus, imagine Namjoon with a Torterra and a Leafeon? :D

You might be wondering, "why the elegant Lurnatis?" Look up its pre-evolution, Fomatis! ISN"T IT SO FREAKING CUTE??? I imagine Namjoon recusing this little one, taking care of it every day, and it hangs around on his broad shoulder as Namjoon rides his bike around town, soaking up sunlight, perhaps witnessing the occasional clumsy accident (oop). Because Namjoon always protects Fomantis, Fomantis evolves into the elegant Lurantis to protect its Trainer! (not me making this a whole ass au already lol)

Kim Seokjin

Type: Water

Signature Pokémon: Milotic

Fishing fanatic Seokjin must be a Water-type trainer. No, there is no SUPERTUNA Pokémon, otherwise you know I would have totally given him one XD He may also have a Gyarados, evolution of Magikarp, as well - lmao, just imagine Seokjin taking care of Feebas and Magikarp ("Gah, stop flopping around!") but he would take care of them lovingly, maybe low-key think they're ugly but he's (worldwide) handsome enough to make up for it LOL and once Feebas evolves into Milotic, Seokjin will definitely enter Pokémon Contests with his beautiful Pokémon! :D

He would have a Lapras because 1) beautiful, 2) cute, 3) practical, and Seokjin is all about that. And he would have a Clawitzer. Why? Look at its pre-evolution, Clauncher.

YOU CANNOT TELL ME SEOKJIN WOULDN'T PICK UP A CLAUNCHER AND PRETEND IT WAS A PHONE LMAO "HELLO?" plus when it turns into a Clawitzer, Seokjin would 100% pretend shoot people with his lobster, only for it to actually blast people in the face with water XD

Min Yoongi

Type: Fire (bultaoreune, come on, I had to do it lol)

Signature Pokemon: Incineroar

Yes. I went there. At first I was going to give him Dark-type, but FIREEEEEEE (ok, I'll stop now lol) How perfect is Incineroar? Firstly, Litten is a cute af cat, second Torracat is EVEN cuter, and, thirdly, Yoongi enjoys both WWE back in the day and UFC now! If anyone can control an Incineroar in a calm manner, it's definitely Yoongi.

I don't see Yoongi as a typical high-energy Fire-type trainer. He's more reserved, but you can tell by his Pokémon that you don't wanna mess with him (haters, go ahead and talk real big until Yoongi says 'Burn It' XD). He probably uses the more niche Fire-type Pokémon like Chandelure and a (Hisuian) Arcanine. Day to day he seems lazy, but in battle Yoongi gets fired up (just like on stage hahaha)!

Also imagine Yoongi cooking with his Fire-Type Pokémon uwu

Jung Hoseok

Type: Electric

Signature Pokémon: Pachirisu

"... wiyllt... are you trolling me rn?"

XD I chose Pachirisu for multiple reasons: 1) Hoseok is the squirrel emoji + acorn bag enthusiast; 2) he will be a doubles Gym Leader, meaning he and you will send out two Pokémon at a time, requiring a different strategy to all the other Gym Leaders; 3) I mean... look at it; and 4) look up World Champion Pachirisu.

Yes, Pachirisu won the Pokémon World Championships in 2014 and his trainer was from Korea! :D (Did you know Pokémon have a World Championship competition? Now you do LOL) Pachirisu is pretty tanky and offers special moves that make it perfect for double battles.

His other Pokémon would be Heliolisk, Luxray and Toxtricity (Amped Form, Jolly Nature), both of which have cute and unique pre-evolutions (Shinx and Toxel). You better believe they're all dodging moves with dance!

Park Jimin

Type: Fairy

Signature Pokémon: Florges

To be honest, there are so many Fairy Pokemon that suit Jimin: Togekiss, Whimsicott, Hatterene, Gardevoir, Sylveon, etc. If Tumblr didn't limit me to 10 images per post, I would show you all of them, but alas (Tumblr, you rat >:| ). Anyway, pretty-as-a-flower fairy Jimin would have a Florges for sure (probably a white one tbh). Just like him, it would be a total mistake to think the fluffy, beautiful Fairy-types are weak - in fact, they're super-effective vs the fearsome Dragon-types (and Dark and Fighting types)!

Is it because they can seduce anyone with their good looks and their aromatic scent? (and Florges does look a bit sassy too, no? lol) Why do I think Jimin smells good? He probably does. Someone confirm for me. XD

Ah, and since Fairy is strong against Fighting-type... hm, did you know that the only way a certain maknae has ever been beaten is because he was bitten in the neck by a Fairy-type? XD Jimin was born in Busan first!

Kim Taehyung

Type: Rock

Signature Pokémon: Lycanroc

I feel like I need to explain, look at it's pre-evolution, Rockruff

LOOK AT HIM, WHAT A GOOD BOY

Although it was tempting to assign Taehyung to Normal-type so I could give him a bear Pokémon (lol), the sturdy and strong Rock-type seemed to suit him better. Not only that, but also the pre-evolved Rock-type Pokémon are adorable - such as Roggenrola, Aron, Larvitar - but all evolve into tough, cool-looking Pokemon - Gigalith, Aggron, Tyranitar, respectively.

There's also er... unique ones like Sudowoodo and Omastar (praise Lord Helix, if you know, you know). I believe Taehyung would appreciate these funny, weird Pokémon to the fullest. XD

He would pretend to be a tree in Namjoon's gym with Sudowoodo.

I know he would LOL

Jeon Jungkook

Type: Fighting

Signature Pokémon: Lucario

and of course he would have a Hitmonchan, boxing fanatic JK must have one

Not only does Lucario remind us of Bam (although there is a Doberman Fire/Dark Pokemon, Houndoom, a bit EDGY for Jungkook, but perhaps not for PTD JK lol), but also Lucario only evolves through friendship. It must form a close bond with its Trainer to evolve, which perfectly suits Jungkook. I also imagine JK to have a graceful Gallade, maybe even a Machamp! :D

He definitely has Falinks marching around the Gym, just because they're funny and make him laugh HAHAHAHA

Jungkook might possibly also abandon his post to go on a journey with the legendary Pokémon Kubfu, oop

"Wait wiyllt, that's only 7 Gym Leaders. Who's the 8th?"

me.

me and my gang of six Scrafty

LMAO

I spent way too much time on this lol

#pokemon x bts #gym leader bts #bts scenarios

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wille-zarr · 3 years

Text

The Mandalorian: “Kissing is Disgusting”

In Fields of White ~ Chapter Eight ~ “Kissing is Disgusting”

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x f!reader

warnings: rated M for language; angst; threats of violence; alcohol consumption

word count: 12.7k

chapter summary: after waving goodbye to life on arvala-7, you anxiously continue along your journey to nar shaddaa... but when tensions erupt and dangers arise, your bond with the mandalorian is put to the ultimate test.

story summary: fleeing from the life you wish more than anything to forget, you are left to navigate the galaxy alone as a wide-eyed wanderer. in the process of evading the dangers linked to your previous life, your destiny is forever altered when you cross paths with an intimidating mandalorian and his unusually gifted child.

a/n: fluff and angst awaits!

also found on: Ao3

In Fields of White

Chapter Eight: “Kissing is Disgusting”

Well, so much for promising yourself to behave around the Mandalorian… Only ten days since you were gutted like a colo claw fish, and you’re already back to flirting with a vengeance.

You will never learn, will you?

“Not bad, Ka’r’ika.”

You stare at the target, your brows creasing as you assess your hit.

“Not bad? Kriff it, Din! Look at that!” You fling your arm out in the direction of the target. “My vibroblade hit the inner target ring this time! Almost the bullseye!” You spin around, glaring daggers at him. “How about you give me just a little bit of positive praise for once?” You cross your arms tightly across your chest, a smirk tickling on your lips. “Or would that kill you?”

The Mandalorian tilts his head to the side, hooking two fingers in his belt as he stares over at you. “I did give you praise,” he grumbles through his vocoder.

“Not bad? You call that praise?” You purse your lips, a smile threatening to break the character you were playing. “Din Djarin, have you ever taught anyone anything before? Positive praise is a crucial part of the learning process.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing at the heavy, long-suffering sigh that slips beneath his helm.

“Fine. You’re doing… okay.” His voice is dry, utterly unbothered by your grievances.

“Well, if I’m still not meeting the Mandalorian’s standards-” you march over to the target, yanking out your vibroblade from where it juts from the board- “you’ll just have to show me how to throw the blade again, step-by-step.”

You casually stroll towards him, twirling the blade between your fingers. Flashing Din an impish grin, you hold your vibroblade out expectantly.

The Mandalorian sighs, heavy and tired. But you’ve spent enough time with him that you could now detect the jest, the amusement layered within his tone.

Spinning around to face the board, it takes every ounce of your willpower to keep from giggling like a schoolgirl as his hands curl around your shoulders, pulling you back against his chest.

Maybe it was a tad conniving of you, but…

You’ve been, uh… faking bad throws… Lots of them.

In fact, you really didn’t require any training from the Mandalorian in vibroblade throwing. A few days prior, you took the initiative to do some independent practice. It only took a few initial swings, and your muscle memory kicked back in, each one of your throws hitting the bullseye, true and center.

But, well, let’s just say you have a reason- a good, though admittedly mischievous reason- for feigning incompetence at the moment…

“Okay, Ka’r’ika-” Din’s gloved hand glides around your shoulder, gently inching its way down your right arm. He pauses at your wrist. “Relax this,” he rumbles right above your ear, his left hand lightly squeezing your shoulder.

“And stop tensing.”

Oh, karking hells. You clench your teeth, trying to ignore how big and warm and close he is. How the kriff are you supposed to just not tense with the Mandalorian glued to the back of your body like a blasted Mynock?

“Breathe.”

“I am breathing!” you squeak. Okay, maybe you had been holding your breath, but, again, he’s glued to your back like a Mynock leeching off electromagnetic energy. How the hell are you supposed to just blasted… breathe?

“Loosen your stance,” he whispers in your ear, releasing your wrist. He takes a step back, and you frown at the loss of his comforting- though admittedly distracting- presence.

You stare at the bullseye, letting your eyes drop-drop-drop down to the outer ring.

There.

Your target. With one last little smirk, you fling your arm back, shift your body weight forward, and give a sharp snap of the wrist.

Bang.

You hit exactly where you intended, the outer ring. Holy shavit, your dad would be proud!

“Hell yeah!”

You catch Din staring at you, head angled curiously at your elation over an apparently even worse throw than before. “Oh, um-” you shrug, flipping your grin for a scowl- “Din, I, uh, I’m just really bad at this. Please, let’s practice hand-to-hand defense now. I’ll have more use for that anyway.”

“No,” he grunts, stalking towards the target to yank your blade out. “You aren’t healed enough.”

“Come on, Din!” You drop down into a fighting stance as he slowly strides back towards you. “I am perfectly healed. Omera’s slathered me in enough bacta to heal a chopped-in-half dewback.”

He moves closer, and you playfully reach out to slap the back of your hand against his Beskar-armored chest.

“Come on, Mandalorian, what are you- WHU- HEY!”

He’s bent you over backwards, trapping you against his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“OOF! DIN!”

“This is what you wanted.”

“Let me go! I wasn’t ready!”

“You weren’t?”

Stars, you hate that stupid smugness in his voice! You wiggle against his hold, but he only presses you tighter under his arm.

“Blast it, Din!” You fling out your hand, landing a sharp smack against his ass. “Let me go, you rusted tin can!”

He drops his hold, and you stumble out from under his arm. You promptly flip around, shooting daggers into his darkened visor. He just stares right back, resting both hands on his hips, all cool and calm against your fire.

You reach up, bunch your hat in your hand, and smack it down against your thigh. “Din Djarin!” you snap. “You take too much pleasure in dominating me!”

He does not answer. Just… stands there- his visor latched on you.

You open your mouth to speak, but you slap it shut when he sharply angles his head to the side. “Ready to try the blade again?” His voice is gruffer than usual, gravelly. Deep and, blast it, okay!

Fucking sexy.

You yank the hat back on your head, crossing your arms tightly across your chest. “Yeah, sure,” you mumble, averting your eyes from him. “And I will hit that karking bullseye.”

You will. Kriff it. You’re done playing your little flirtatious game for attention. It’s time to show the Mandalorian what you’ve been holding back. Make him bloody well proud of you…. Not that you care to make him proud or anything…

You dig the heel of your foot into the dirt, marking your distance from the target. “Watch and learn, Man-do.”

A hand slips under your arm, gripping your elbow from behind. “Relax this time,” Din rasps, low and deep, into your ear. He releases your elbow as swiftly as he had grabbed it. You swallow, ignoring the little lurch in your stomach.

Stars, this man is a menace.

You shake your head, trying to clear it of… uh, distraction. Sighing under your breath, you stare out at the target.

There.

The bullseye.

Pull back.

Aim.

Throw-

“Hello!”

“Pablo!” you yelp, watching as your vibroblade flings well above the target, missing the board altogether. “You absolute dune worm!” Spinning around, you stomp straight up to where Pablo stands a few feet behind Din.

Pablo leaps back, hands forward in surrender. “Wait, what did I do?” He points a finger at himself.

“You-” you slap his hat back- “made me miss!”

With a sharp snort, he leans down to stare you directly in the eyes. “Maybe you just need more practice, sweetheart.”

“Oh, look who’s talking!” You push against his chest. “A man encased in carbonite until I saved-”

“Oh, here we go again! I told y-”

“Din kicked your ass.”

“I was distract-”

“Froze your ass.”

“He was lucky-”

“And I melted your ass.”

“Now look-”

Pablo stills, slapping his mouth shut.

At the same time, a heavy shadow drapes over your body, cloaking you within a protective cocoon. You look to the right.

“Mando,” you smirk up at Din. “I’ve changed my mind. Teach me to use a staff. Then I can keep Pablo six feet away at all times.”

You hear a puff of modulated air. “As you please, Ka’r’ika.” The words are husky through his helmet’s vocoder. He hooks a finger in his belt. “But not until you’re completely healed.”

“Works for me,” you grin, letting your lazy outer rim accent slip forward. “Pablo, scram, blurg-brain. But get my blade first.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Pablo sighs, throwing you a half-hearted salute.

“You did well today.”

The grin on your face grows, practically ear-to-ear. You peek out from under your hat’s brim, meeting the Mandalorian’s dark visor boring into your eyes.

“You’ll be as good as me one day.” The Mandalorian says it so low, so quiet that you could barely hear it over the breeze whipping through the homestead. He doesn’t wait for a reply, just turns to watch Pablo walk up, your vibroblade extended from his hand.

Pablo winks as you take the blade from him. “Later, sweetheart.” Chuckling, he strolls towards the hut, thankfully leaving you and Din alone once again.

“Come on now-” you turn back to Din- “I could never be a professional such as yourself.” You snort before continuing, “I mean, how long have you been learning all this Mandalorian stuff? Years, I imagine.”

Din drops his hand from his belt, slowly turning, pausing upon finding a few of the children running in the distance. “See the children?”

You nod.

He drops his visor away from your face. “I wasn’t much older than they are now-” his voice slows, warming with each word he speaks- “when I was taken in as a foundling.”

You blink. “Oh.”

You might not be able read his face, but you recognize the raw emotion hidden in his tone all too well.

“I owe them my life,” he rasps, the words scratchy through the vocoder. “After my parents died, the Mandalorians took me in as one of their own.”

Silence.

Oh…

You- you hadn’t realized. Din mentioned his parents died during the Clone Wars, but not that the Mandalorians had rescued him, taken him in. The thought of a young Din, alone and scared, trapped in the middle of a war a child could never comprehend…

Kriff.

You swallow the lump in your throat. It… hit too close to home.

“We really do have a lot in common,” you mumble, your eyes drifting along the gleaming sunlight crowning his Beskar helm.

He barely nods at your words.

Then the air turns… awkward, tense… neither of you knowing what exactly to say or do next. You mindlessly flip your vibroblade over in your hand, afraid any words would make the air even more uncomfortable. I mean, what do you say? Hey, Din! It’s great we can bond over our dead families?

“To be honest-” you nearly drop the blade at Din’s voice- “I… didn’t learn much about blade throwing from the Mandalorians.”

You raise an eyebrow, questioning the hesitation in his voice.

“When I was younger, a woman... a Twi’lek…” He shuffles his weight back and forth, looking everywhere, it seems, but at you.

Oh.

You raise an eyebrow.

“A woman?” You smile a bit too sweetly, nudging the Mandalorian with an elbow. “A lover, perhaps?”

He stares out at the distance, but you think you notice a slight shrug.

You force a laugh, more a bark, to be honest.

“Was she pretty?”

Silence.

You lean forward, tapping his armor with the end of your blade.

“Did she… break your heart?”

He looks at you.

“She tried to stab it.”

You sheath the blade.

“Well,” you puff, “that’d certainly kill a relationship.”

Yanking your blade back out, you fling it over and over and over in your hand, trying to ignore the burn searing up your throat.

Whoever she is, blast her.

Kriffing blast her.

You gasp- a glove shot out, gripping your wrist before you can toss the blade again.

“Are you trying to lose a finger?”

You rip your hand away, twisting around to hide the warmth exploding across your face. “Don’t coddle me, Din. I’ll never learn if I don’t face peril.”

He makes a noise you cannot decipher.

“My dad taught me,” you blurt, eager to change topics. “With knives, a little bit, I-I mean.” You slowly turn back to the Mandalorian, finding him still, patiently waiting for you to continue.

You bite your lower lip, picking at the edge of your sleeve with the blade. “But I never took his lessons very seriously. I…I just wanted to make him laugh at my stupid antics, which, of course, he would.” You smile wryly. “But, still, I wish I’d taken a lot of things more seriously back then... I was too busy being a terror.”

Din makes a noise. A breathy “not surprised” slips out from beneath his helm.

You crinkle your nose, choosing to pretend you didn’t hear that.

Spinning your blade a few times, you stop, sheathing it once again. “You know, he’d sneak me up into the ice caves sometimes. Stars, from as young as I can remember. Taught me to use vibroblades and, eventually, even how to swing a staff. I guess he had it in his head he could turn us into little snow warriors or something.”

You throw Din a cheeky, lopsided grin. “But then me and my sister started beating each other with big sticks when we’d get angry at each other. Then we’d gang up on my middle brother- two sticks against one.” You burst into warm laughter at the memory. “Kriff, did we ever get a long lecture. Even longer than the time I taught my siblings to use the curse ‘kark’.”

“Doesn’t sound like you’ve changed much.” The Mandalorian’s tone is layered with amusement, and a hint of… something else.

“No,” you snort. “That’s the problem.” You crouch down on the ground, pretending you’re aiming in the distance with a weapon. “But he loved showing me how to use his hunting rifle the best, even though I had horrible aim…. Uh, still do, actually.” You let your eyes droop closed, releasing a heavy breath into the air. “That thing was his baby.”

Damn it.

You miss him.

The clank of Beskar forces you to open your eyes. The Mandalorian’s standing in front of you now, a hand stretched out.

“I thought he was a herder.”

Taking Din’s hand, you let him pull you back up.

“Oh, he was,” you chirp. Bending down, you brush the dirt off the knees of your pants. “But weapons were his hobby, practically his religion, as my mother would tease.” With a small smile, you toss the Mandalorian a pointed look. “I think he would have liked you. Or, at least, your big-ass rifle.”

The Mandalorian just shrugs.

“Well,” you sigh, staring out at the target again while simultaneously removing your blade from its sheathe. “I think I’ve gotten the hang of this now.”

Pull back.

Aim.

Throw.

Slam.

“Not bad,” you sniff, staring at your blade protruding from the center bullseye. “You’re a good teacher, Din. We’ll have to find something else for you to teach me.” You slap him on the back. “I have a few ideas.” You turn to walk away, biting back your giggle.

You hear him make a noise, barely audible with the distance.

“Looks like you could teach me...”

-------

You’re gunna throw up.

You can’t believe you’re leaving this- this haven tomorrow… for kriffing Nar Shaddaa.

Holy Hutt. Nar Shaddaa-

The planet you actually just fled from with only the clothes on your back…

Oh, flutterplume at a festival feast!

You’re insane. You’re actually insane.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting hard to restrain any sign of outward distress. After all, if there’s one lesson the galaxy beat into your brain, it’s that you never, ever show any sign of weakness. Got to keep the upper hand. Got to stay ten steps ahead… Or, in your case, at least appear to be…

No, as far as anyone on Arvala is concerned, you’re excited for Keolith.

…Kriff Keolith.

You release a heavy sigh, continuing to bounce the child up and down on your knee, a small smile growing on your face with every little giggle that falls from his mouth.

“Make sure to take it easy, not overdo it,” Omera calls at you from the other side of the room.

“Mhm,” you mumble, barely paying her any mind.

“I mean it. Din, make sure she obeys, okay?”

He makes a noise. “I’d wager-” the Mandalorian lays his rifle down on the table- “it’d be easier to wrangle a varactyl.”

“Din Djarin-” you keep your eyes focused on the baby, wincing as he yanks on your hair- “did you just call me a varactyl?”

“… No.”

“I give up,” Omera groans, taking the chair across from where you sit. “I learned a long time ago; patients never listen-” she sighs- “until they’ve reinjured themselves.”

You lift your eyes to meet her own. “Wait, Omera, you were a doctor?”

She laughs at the question. “I suppose it’s safe to say so, now that the Empire is gone.” She rests her elbows on the table. “I was a nurse in the Rebellion, which is where I met my late husband, a patient of mine. When I found myself expecting Winta, we felt it was time to step away together, leave the battle behind.”

“Pin two ears on a gundark!” You lean back in your chair, laughing in amazement. “No way! I knew I liked you!”

The Mandalorian angles his head to the side, eyeing Omera up and down.

“Don’t give me that look, Din,” she chuckles, giving his shoulder a light shove. “You never asked.”

“Maker-” you shift the baby to your opposite knee- “sounds like a story straight out of a holo. Meeting the man of your dreams in a rebellion, nursing him back to health.”

“I suppose,” Omera smiles, that certain gleam in her eyes you’ve seen before.

Uh oh.

“What about you?”

“Me? What about me?”

Omera smiles, not about to let you get away with your game. “You can’t tell me you’ve never been in love before.”

Oh Maker.

Dangerous.

This conversation is dangerous.

“Maybe,” you grumble, bouncing the baby on your knee again.

Oh kriff.

“Well, maybe one day you’ll find someone.” You can see Omera is trying her absolute hardest not to laugh, but she’s obviously failing.

Stars.

Someone.

Anyone.

Help!

As if answering your plea breathed into the force, Winta dashes over, pulling on her mother’s hand and whispering for assistance. Omera nods at you, that sly smile still etched on her face, and steps away from the table.

Oh, thank the Maker! Bless all the little children.

With a weary sigh, you sneak a glance over at Din from the corner of your eye. He’s watching you… intently, helmet angled to the side in that curious Lothcat way of his. He begins to lean forward, as if he’s about to ask you a-

No. Kark that.

Kark that shit!

You’ve had enough awkwardness for one day!

You burst up from your chair, cradling the baby against your chest. “We’re going to take a walk,” you speak to Din as much as to the baby. You shoot him a quick glance.

He’s still leaned forward, visor still trained on your face. He’s motionless, but relaxed, shoulders slightly slumped forward, the way they do when he’s tired. You read his silence as permission, and so you turn and walk out the door, trying to ignore the lingering sear of heat on your back, that lingering prickle of being watched.

Once you are through the door, you put as much distance between you and Kuill’s hut as quickly as possible, worried the Mandalorian might try and follow you outside. Grumbling under your breath, you stop at the fence line. You point up at the moon and stars, whispering for the baby to look up at them along with you.

“See those?” you whisper, grinning as the child’s large, soulful eyes fill with the reflections of hundreds of sparkling stars. “You’re just as special as those stars. Your force abilities are special, a gift.” You feel your heart swell with familiar, motherly warmth. “Special- just like you are to your father.”

You tap your finger against his nose, and he bursts into a fit of giggles. “You little womp rat, quit laughing.” You shoot him an exaggerated frown. “It’s against the law to laugh.”

He laughs even harder. And so you start laughing.

“The child’s grown fond of you.”

You startle at the voice, relaxing when you see it’s just Kuill, limping forward to stand beside you at the fence. “Yes-” you turn your eyes back to the baby’s face- “I suppose, like most children, they’re drawn to whomever shows them the most attention, ya little attention-seeking womp rat.” You caress his ear, smiling wistfully. “Mando doesn’t hug you enough, does he?”

“You’re very good- with all of the children,” Kuill rasps, leaning his weight forward on his cane.

“Yeah, well, I had four little siblings.” You throw Kuill a pointed look, and you continue on with your ramble. “They were such little monsters.” You grin. “And then there’s all the children from my village. Oh, and I often helped the other mothers with the children in the camp and-”

You freeze.

“…I- I mean-”

“Labor camp?”

Your eyes widen, your breath catching in your throat. “H-how did you-”

“Omera described the tattoos on your arm to me. I understood their meaning, immediately.”

“Oh, no,” you breathe, panic bubbling, swelling up in your chest. “I- I can explain-”

“I did not tell Omera- their meaning, and I suggested, for your privacy-” Kuill waves his hand aside- “she should not discuss them with anyone else.”

No. No.

Blast it.

Blast it!

Kuill reaches out, resting a hand on your arm. “Do not concern yourself. It is your story… to tell when and if you wish. I myself- have spent time in such places. You were a victim of the Empire… as we all were.”

Raw emotion… grief… guilt- bubbles up your throat, threatening to cut off air. Choking. Suffocating.

“No, Kuill,” you mumble, barely audible. You place the baby down on the ground and use your free hand to tug up your sleeve.

Kuill brushes his fingers, gentle and light, across the marks, lifting his eyes to meet your face. “A life sentence.”

You rip the sleeve back down, resting both hands on your hips. With a sharp intake of air, you pull on a mask- the tough, outer rim girl persona: the same one that’s simultaneously kept you both safe and in trouble for far, far too many years.

“And I did what the Imperials sent me in for.” Your voice is hard, tired. Hells, you are so blasted tired.

You shake your head. “I didn’t deserve to have my sentence commuted by the New Republic, once they took the camp over-” you rub your eyes a little too hard, filling your vision with blurring, swirling lines- “b-but I guess they figured it’d be easier to release everyone than to try sorting between the political prisoners, innocent families, and… actual criminals.”

Plus, there was the issue of the children to consider…

“I’m-” your words catch in your throat, sticking against your tongue, afraid to emerge fully from your lips. You force your eyes closed. “I’m… not as a good a person as you think, Kuill.”

Kuill grunts, tapping his cane against the fence. “I’d think your recent sacrifices-” he motions the cane towards the child, toddling beside your feet- “would contradict that statement.”

“Maybe,” you mumble, avoiding looking Kuill in the eyes, “or maybe I’m still the same.”

“I think not.” Kuill rests against his cane. “For when you’ve lived as many years as I have-”

“-you learn to recognize patterns in behavior.” You smile wryly.

“It seems the galaxy has smiled upon you… given you a second chance.”

“Well,” you sigh, pressing your forehead against the top of the fencepost. “I’ve been doing a fine job of botching it up already, I’m afraid.”

Stars…

“I’d say you have one path open to you at this moment,” Kuill grunts. “But what will you do with it?”

“I appreciate it, Kuill, but… I can’t stay here.” You give him your classic, lop-sided smile. “Gotta keep exploring this big galaxy, ya know?”

Kriff the galaxy.

Kuill chuckles under his breath. “That wasn’t the path I was referring to.” He reaches out, patting the top of hand. “I wish you luck… my child.”

You blink, watching as Kuill moves away. You wait until he’s just far enough in the distance before releasing a strained breath of air.

Maker…

A light coo, a tug on your pants, shifts your attention away from yourself, away from your tumultuous thoughts. With a small smile, you reach down and pull the baby up against your neck, letting him nuzzle there as you glance back up at the stars.

Always running.

You’re always running.

But one day- one day, you will choose your own damn path.

-------

“Wipe your eyes, Birdie-” you ruffle the top of his head- “or you’ll flood the planet and put Kuill out of business.”

Birdie launches straight into your legs, knocking an oof from you.

“But- but what if I n-never see you- you again?” He buries his face in the fabric of your pants.

Dropping down to your knees, you peal Birdie off of you, holding him back by his shoulders. “Of- of course I’ll see you again, hm?” Your heart throbs as you speak the lie into the air, wishing it would just carry away on the desert wind.

Karking hells.

Your heart explodes, pain seeping from every new little crack. You tug Birdie into you, wrapping him up in your embrace just as new set of arms snakes around your neck from behind.

“We-we’ll miss you!” Winta says between sniffs.

“Come now,” you chirp, straining your voice to be as easy and care-free as you can muster in your compromised state. “I’ll have a thousand new stories to share when I come back, hm?” Your empty promises are apparently working, the heaviness easing off of their shoulders before your very eyes.

An approaching presence shifts your attention away from the children.

“All of us, the parents, felt like you should have this.” You blink, eyeing the satchel in Omera’s outstretched hand. “We owe you so much more, but-” Omera’s face tenses- “it’s a thank you to remember us by, to help you get started on Keolith.” She slides an arm around Winta’s shoulders, pulling her against her skirt.

You can’t do anything but… stare at the bag, stunned by the absolute generosity of the gesture. “I-I can’t take anything for-”

“Please.”

You don’t want it.

It feels… wrong to take it.

But you won’t risk insulting them by outright refusing their kindness.

“Go into town-” you give Winta and Birdie a sly wink- “and buy the children something fun. To remember me by. To make them laugh.” You wiggle your hat back and forth, pulling it tighter against your scalp. “That’s my payment.”

A good decision, or so the little sunny grins on Birdie’s and Winta’s faces tell you. Omera hesitates- then smiles. An agreement. And so, you return the expression with equal warmth.

“Kekthar, Rukia.”

You gasp- eyes tearing over to discover… Kuill?

Sularian.

A Sularian farewell.

You haven’t heard your native language spoken by another in, well… years.

“Kekthar, Sudbia,” you return, a small smile tickling at the corner of your mouth. As you share the smile with him, a silent understanding, a knowing, passes between your eyes:

You are always welcome in my home.

You will never deserve such kindness.

“Thank you, Kuill,” you whisper, bowing your head with respect.

As you continue sharing goodbyes, your heart grows heavy with each one spoken aloud. Part of you wants to just barrel into the Razor Crest, dive into the bed, and hide under a blanket just like the baby.

Stars, goodbyes reek.

“Be careful, Din.” A faint conversation to your left shifts your focus away from your misery. “Come back as soon as you can.” You turn, eyes widening as you watch Omera wrap her arms around Din, enveloping him in a warm, heartfelt embrace. He returns the gesture, going as far as to… rub her back… affectionately.

A pang.

A punch in the chest.

Shavit.

Just… shavit!

Spinning around on your heel, you stomp towards the Razor Crest, grumbling under your breath like some bitter old man.

Blasted seven Corellian hells- just-

Stoopa. Stoopa!

Kriff everything a-and-

You stop.

Kriff, wait, what is this? Corellian hells, what-

Oh.

You blink, gritting your teeth.

You’re… jealous?

…

You’re jealous.

You groan, yanking your hat low across your eyes. You have got to stop bantering so much with the Mandalorian… flirting. You’re- you’re getting too attached. And there’s only one way this could possibly end:

Like a nuna at a Hutt roast…

Uh, not so good, in other words.

You turn and frown, watching the pair speak in the distance.

Omera is… incredible. That Beskar idiot should marry her. Settle down. Have a family. He… deserves to have that. To be happy.

He’s a good man.

“We really need to get going,” Cara grumbles, walking up beside you to stack a crate next to the ramp. “I’ve gone way, way over schedule, and Karga is breathing down my neck, even though he knows I lost my ship.” Cara pauses to sigh, leaning forward against the stack. “He says the town has gone to hell without me.”

Blinking away any lingering physical signs of your jealousy, you slip on an indifferent, bored expression.

“Why so, Cara?” Your voice hardly veils the tension brewing in your head, but Cara, thankfully, does not seem to notice.

“I’ve been acting as a sort of-” she waves her hand in the air- “part-time Marshal, in a sense, on Navarro. Cleaning out a lot of the criminal rings scumming about,” Cara sighs, rubbing her face. “Still have a long way to go, but-” she lifts her eyes, giving you a sly smile- “I think I’m going to talk to Karga about dropping the Guild work completely, instead working full-time cleaning the streets. Maybe get a school up and running. And a doctor’s office; we need that too.”

“Cara,” you chuckle, stooping down to sit on a crate. “You surprise me. A dreamer lurks under all that brawn.”

“Maybe,” Cara chuckles. “But even so, my reason for visiting Arvala is dead, and I’m needed on Navarro.”

You blink. “Dead?”

Cara shoots out a hand, pointing at a lone Pablo approaching with his satchel. “Dead, according the Guild registry, that is.”

A bright grin bursts across Pablo’s face. He throws his hands out at the side, spinning around until he is facing the approaching Mandalorian. “Hey, shame you and Cara lost such a priceless bounty, right, Mando?”

The Mandalorian saunters up to Pablo, pausing to stare him directly in the eye.

“I was paid for killing you.”

The Mandalorian knocks into Pablo’s shoulder as he moves past.

One glance at the panicked expression on Pablo’s face, and you burst into loud, obnoxious laughter. He twists, shooting you a murderous look, which you happily return with only sweetness and a smile.

At least, on the bright side, you now have someone new to torment besides Din.

After all, it’s the little things that matter.

-------

“Dad!” You climb up on top of the huge fallen log, waving wildly to your dad in the distance. “Look! Watch!”

He pauses at your words, giving you a cheeky, lop-sided grin. “Okay, Starlight-” he leans forward against his rifle- “I’m watching.”

“You’re watching?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, don’t look away!”

“I won’t.”

“Still watching?”

“Starlight-”

With a grunt, you spin backwards off the log, landing a perfect backflip…

…straight into a hidden snowdrift.

“DAD!” you shriek, buried up to your hips in snow. You continue to wriggle, desperate to free yourself… to only sink down further with every shift. “Dad!” you yelp. You hear a rustling noise, and you jerk your head up.

Your dad- ever the helpful, supportive parent- is leaning over the top of the log…

laughing at you.

“Starlight,” he chuckles, “very impressive. Ten out of ten for style.” He crosses his arms across the log, angling his head to the side as he stares down at you. “But you made that fatal flaw we’ve talked about before.”

“Dad!” you growl, in no mood to be lectured nor teased. “Get me out of here! I don’t care!”

“What’s that fatal flaw?”

“I don’t care!”

“Starlight?”

You shoot him a pathetic frown. “I didn’t observe my surroundings first.” You twist your head away, pouting your lips. “I acted before thinking.”

Gloved hands wrap around your arms, lifting you up out of the snow drift.

“Good girl-” your father pulls you up against his side, rubbing your back. “Remember-”

“-think first, show off second.” You release a puff of air, watching as it crystalizes in front of you.

Your dad laughs and slips you that characteristic sly wink.

“My little snow warrior-” he grabs your hand, leading you back towards the mountain path- “such a little show-off………”

-------

“I’m not a show-off!”

Pablo flashes you a grin. “Come now, princess-”

“Okay, fine.” You crinkle your nose, lifting your hand up, two fingers spaced closely together. “Just a little bit. But still, it’s true.”

“Oh sure.”

“Yes! I could out-drink both of you, and ten Corellians on top of that.” You shove against Pablo’s shoulder as you move past, sitting down beside him.

“Speaking as a Corellian man, that’s big talk, sweetheart,” Pablo slides his glass of whiskey back and forth on the table between his hands. “But are you willing to try and prove it?”

“Pour me some of that-” you tap your fingers on the table, smirking at Cara- “before you and Pablo wipe out our supply.”

Cara pours and slides you a glass, a questioning expression on her face. You take a deep breath, lean back, and down the whiskey in one shot.

“Oh-” cough- cough- “wow, that’s-” cough- “that’s defi-” cough- “de-definitely Corellian.”

Cara smacks her hand down on the table, clutching her stomach as she doubles over with laughter. “Oh, dank farrick, your face!”

Pablo snorts. “Still think you can out-drink ten Corellians?” Resting his elbows against the table, he slides the bottle towards you.

Feeling your face flush with warmth from the shot of whiskey, you can only grin and tilt your head. “I’m certain of it.”

Pablo leans back, chuckling as he crosses his arms behind his head. “Fine. The minute we land on Tatooine-” he points at you, raising an eyebrow- “I’m dragging you into the first cantina we find.”

Your smile plummets.

“Tatooine?” You fling around in your chair, gawking over at the Mandalorian on the other side of the hull. “Tatooine?”

He stops cleaning his blaster, lifting his helmet to meet your eyes.

“He didn’t tell you?”

You spin back around, now gawking at Cara. “Obviously no. I thought we were heading to Navarro!”

“No.” Cara shrugs, leaning back against her chair. She lifts a brow, a hint of amusement in her eyes. “Tatooine is closer than Navarro. We’ll jump transports from there, letting you and Din continue on to Nar Shaddaa.”

“Hell,” you breathe, flopping back against your chair.

Tatooine?

“I’ll be loath to part from you all.” Pablo lifts his glass in the air. “I’ve grown so attached to everyone…. Well-” he raises a brow at you- “minus one.”

“You know, Pablo-” you jump forward, slapping both hands down on the table- “you’re being awfully rude for a man who’d be cargo right now if it wasn’t for me.”

“Oh, don’t start on-”

“I will!”

“You know good and well-”

“You’re so rude!”

“I am not!”

“Carbonite man.”

“Don’t call me-”

“HEY!” You both rip your heads towards Cara.

Silence.

She slowly leans forward. “Are you two done?”

“Absolutely,” you sniff. Leaning into the palm of your hand, you release a long, heavy sigh, choosing to just ignore Pablo.

“Stars,” you whisper, staring up at the ceiling, beginning to reminisce. “I haven’t been to Tatooine in, well… years. Pretty sure I still owe some people money,” you grumble. “Dank farrick, I got into so much trouble there.”

“As an exceptional speederbike racer.”

Your eyes rip up, trailing the Mandalorian as he sits beside Cara. “That is, if I remember correctly.” His tone light, almost… airy compared to his typical grumpy snaps.

Oh. He’s teasing you.

You raise an eyebrow.

You know you should stop. Stop teasing him back.

But…

“I’m better than you, Din Djarin-” you lean across the table, smiling slyly as you stare him down- “that’s for certain. I’m the damn best, too.”

He shifts back, folding his hands against his stomach, just…. gazing at you.

“Damn best, huh?” Cara takes a shot of her drink. “Then you should have joined the Nar Shaddaa professional circuits. High risk, high reward.” She slides the bottle of whiskey towards you. “I imagine the violence, death, and insanity would have been right up your alley.”

“Well…” With a small sigh, you drop your eyes, beginning to play with the edge of your shirt. “Actually I- I would have.” You lower you chin. “But… uh, had someone I needed to stay alive for,” you discreetly add under your breath.

Cara grins and lifts her glass at you. Din, on the other hand, stretches his neck, dark visor pinned to your face. You snap away, staring over at the slightly tipsy Pablo instead.

“Boyfriend?” Pablo mumbles, taking the whiskey bottle for himself.

You only smile.

“Well, either way-” he sloshes his glass high- “to Tatooine!”

“Hell,” you grumble.

You lift your own glass.

To Tatooine.

…

Dank farrick.

-------

The darkness moves in. Closer. Suffocating. Gnawing away at the light.

…

“I know why you chose this.

…

You love power.

…

Crave it.”

…

You bury your face in your hands. “Shut up! You know nothing!”

…

“You can’t hide forever.

…

I know what you’ve done.

…

And you’ve seen what I’m capable of………”

…

Something presses into your neck.

…

Shit.

Your eyes blast open.

Can’t-

Can’t breathe!

Wriggling and squirming, you claw at your neck, kicking the covers off Din’s bed as you twist and turn and push and fight.

“Urf! C-Cara,” you hiss, slapping at her arm slumped across your neck. “Move!”

Cara snores louder, oblivious to the fact that she’s, you know, smothering you. She mumbles something in her sleep, pulling her arm back to flop over to her side of the mattress. Launching up from the bed, you gasp, sucking in deep gulps of air. A few more seconds, a few more gulps, and you glare over at Cara.

You can put up with snoring.

But you draw the kriffing line at actively trying to suffocate you in your sleep.

“Stars…” you hiss, pressing a palm to your forehead before pulling it back, blinking at the sweat dripping from your hand.

You’re… drenched. Trembling, shivering- your soaked nightshirt and pants stinging like ice in the cool air. Sliding down to the foot of the bed, you wrap your arms across your chest, squeezing tightly in a vain attempt to slow the trembling tearing at your body.

You groan, your head sloshing with exhaustion and fatigue and tension, but then… the threat from your nightmare slips past it all, the memory growling in your head-

You can’t hide forever…

Your throat catches.

Oh hell.

You slap both hands over your eyes.

You’re dead…

-------

Some people turn to religion.

Some people talk to a therapist.

But your newfound cure for anxiety?

Apparently, the smell of Andorian Mountain Roses.

Specifically, the faint scent of Andorian Mountain Roses lingering on the Mandalorian’s flannels.

After Cara’s murder attempt, you waited several minutes on the edge of the bed for the trembles, the shakes, to dissipate… but no such luck. Desperate, wet, and cold, you had peeled off your soaked nightshirt, swapping it out for a flannel shirt stolen from a heap on the floor.

You bury your nose into the sleeve of the thick shirt, inhaling deeply as you pad gently across the floor of the Razor Crest’s hull.

It smells like Din.

…

You’re safe with him.

…

He promised.

…

“Ka’r’ika?”

You freeze, dropping your arm at the faint voice, low, barely a rasp.

You tiptoe closer to the base of the ladder leading up to the cockpit. “Din?” you whisper, staring up into the dark void above.

“Come up.”

Biting your lip, you tentatively rest your foot on the bottom rung. One hesitant breath, and you scamper straight up.

“Din?” you question again, poking your head up into the space above. You blink, your eyes shifting towards the cockpit windows, smiling as you admire that familiar sparkling, dancing hyperspace light bouncing off everything within the cockpit.

Your eyes follow the streaking lines… forward… straight to the Mandalorian. He’s turned around in his chair, studying your every move.

“Hi.” You smile, a bit… shyly.

Hm. That’s new.

Resting back against in the pilot’s seat, he folds his hands- gloveless hands- across his stomach.

Fiddling with the edge of your shirt, you gently pad into the cockpit. A sharp glance to the left- you smile. The pram is sealed again, cocooning the child as he sleeps.

You glance back to Din, and as you step closer, you notice his right pauldron is missing. “Hey-” you slip into the right co-pilot’s chair- “I hope I didn’t wake yo-”

“I was already awake.”

“Oh.” You blink, chewing on your lower lip. He seems so… close. Stars, you didn’t remember the cockpit being quite this… uh, tight.

“Um, I couldn’t sleep,” you whisper, not wishing to risk waking the baby. After all, from the looks of Din and his missing pauldron, it must have taken quite some time to get the baby to sleep.

You slide forward, resting on the edge of the co-pilot’s seat. “Between Pablo’s and Cara’s snoring-” you grimace- “it’s like trying to sleep in a kriffing zoo down there. They’re both drunk off their socks.”

Din makes a noise. “Really?”

“Yeah, Cara tried to smother-”

“No-” the Mandalorian dips his helmet at you- “…is that really why you can’t sleep?”

“Am I really that easy to read?” you huff, raising a brow.

Silence.

“…You’re afraid.”

You blink, falling quiet. Of course you’re afraid...

You’re terrified.

You hear him shift in his chair, but you do not look up.

“…Why did you leave Tatooine?”

How can his voice sound so gentle, so soft, even when modulated? Stars, you can only imagine it without the distortion… You glance down at the floor, spinning the chair back and forth, unwilling to meet his gaze.

“Grandpa yanked us off overnight,” you blurt, a bit surprised by how the words hurt as they emerge. You continue spinning in the chair, this time in full circles. “…Because I was a damn idiot.” You stop rotating, and face Din’s seat. Your eyes trail down his helmet… down his arms… to those hands.

Large.

Tan.

Scarred.

And warm- so warm…

Karking hells, you’ve spent too much damn time thinking about how warm they felt that day… How he brushed your chin- confident, no hesitation. And so blasted gentle, like you were made of glass.

…Oh, seven Corellian hells…

You’re done for.

Thank the Maker your warming face is hidden in the dim light.

A shift of movement draws your focus back over to the pilot’s chair. Din leans forward, resting his elbows against his thighs- a silent invitation.

Groaning, you pull a foot up into your chair, tucking it under your chin. “After… after it was just me and Grandpa-” you wave your hand in the air- “I, uh, had a talent for getting into… situations.”

You turn your eyes away, fearing you might not have the strength to continue if you shared even just one glance with him. “Grandpa- he kept having to pull us off planets. I’d always get mixed up with the wrong crowds, gangs, whatever. We could never stay one place too long.” With every word you speak, your throat tightens- constricts.

Your… your Grandpa deserved so much better than you.

“I just… kept acting out more and more the older I got.”

Stupid.

So stupid.

Flopping your head back against the chair, you stare up at the ceiling. “By Tatooine, I was pretty much… unmanageable. He tried- he really did- but, in a way, I think- I think he had given up on me. He stopped asking so many questions when I’d be gone for hours, sometimes days, at a time. He was… he was so used to me running off.”

Biting the inside of your cheek to keep the burning in your eyes at bay, you continue. “Remember the boy I told you about? The speederbike racer?” You venture a glance at Din, finding him in the same position, leaned forward against his thighs. He gives you a light nod.

“He…he was part of an illegal racing club. He got me in- I was good, great at it.”

“Damn best?”

You smile at Din.

“Hell yeah,” you chuckle, pulling your second leg up into the chair, tucking it under your chin. “I pulled a lot of ill-advised stunts. Got me noticed by the right, or rather wrong, people. A Hutt sponsored me as his challenger in the biggest speeder race Tatooine had seen in years.”

You groan, burying your face in the palms of your hands. “And, under no uncertain terms, I was to win… or else. And, of course, my stupid self thought-” you throw both hands in the air- “‘Great! I’ll win, no big deal! Win lots of money and fame! What an honor to be a Hutt favorite!’”

You shoot Din a knowing look.

He sits back, tapping his fingers against his thigh.

“What… happened?” His words are hesitant.

“I karking won, of course.” You cross your arms. “What else did you expect?”

He just stares at you- tilts his head to the side.

You make a noise. “Grandpa flipped when he found out. He knew how’d things would inevitably end- entering those kinds of races, working with the Hutts.” You let out a dry laugh. “He yanked me off that planet, kicking and screaming. I thought he was ruining my future. Turns out, I did a fine job of that on my own.”

Stars… you can’t think about Grandpa right now- don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry-

“A-anyway-” you force a laugh- “um, enough about me.” You lift your chin, tossing Din a forced grin. “Tell me something about yourself.”

“Such as?”

A slight smirk grows on your face. Actually… there is something you’ve been dying to ask him, but… it just never felt appropriate- you felt too intimidated to question. But here, draped in the dancing blue hue of hyperspace, he somehow feels less like a Mandalorian and more like… just a man.

“Can you ever take that helmet off?” you blurt. You instantly cringe, regretting the words the second they leave your lips. “You don’t ha-”

“I can.”

You blink.

He spins around away from you, facing the console. “For my children.” He flicks a switch. “And a… a wife.”

“…Oh.”

You tilt your head to the side. Huh.

“Stars, wait-” you shoot up in your chair- “does that mean you’ve never kissed anyone before?”

He freezes.

One second-

Two seconds-

Three seconds-

“Sorry!” You press a hand against your cheek. “Sometimes I- I blurt before thinking.” You flop backwards, sighing heavily. “Anyway, you’re not missing a thing. Kissing is disgusting. Think about it- swapping spit? Touching tongues? With another person?” You crinkle your nose. “It’s nasty.”

You lean forward, eyes widening. ��Oh, my Maker! One time, I was dared to kiss a Gungan, and I think I’ve had lingering trauma ever…. uh, since…” You press your face into your knees, your face warming. “Ah, um, you know what? Never mind.”

Kark- maybe try thinking before speaking just once- JUST once?!

The Mandalorian resumes fiddling with the switches on the console, as if you hadn’t been speaking at all- thank the force.

After all, the Gungan story was rather hard to explain.

A few minutes pass, no word spoken aloud, and the cockpit falls into a stillness.

A calm stillness.

Just… tranquility.

You suck in a deep breath of air, sinking deeper into your chair. Even with your awkward blunders, you feel more comfortable, safer in this moment than you have in far, far too long.

Eyelids drooping, time begins to swirl around you, mixing, blending with the hyperspace light. Lost in the realm between consciousness and sleep, you are barely aware of a lingering presence that looms beside you.

You drift away from sleep, sailing closer to consciousness. Parting your eyes just enough to see, a small smile slips onto your lips. He- Din- hovers over you. He reaches up, removing the cape from his back, and drapes it over you as your eyes slip back closed. You feel the weight of it pause halfway.

A slight tug- a pull- on the edge of your shirt.

Your eyes part, your groggy smile returning.

“Keep it,” Din rasps, barely a whisper. He continues rubbing the fabric of his shirt you wear between two fingers. “Looks… nice.”

The weight of the cape moves up, fully cocooning you, safe, warm, much like his son that sleeps beside you.

“Sweet dreams… Meshla.”

“Mmf,” you mumble. “What’s… th-at… mean?”

Skin traces the outline of your ear.

“Nuisance.”

“Kriff… you.”

“Go to sleep.”

You smile, letting your mind sail back towards the shoreline of sleep.

-------

“HEY! Get away from there! You know he doesn’t like droids!”

You lumber down the ramp after the Mandalorian, squinting against the unforgiving rays of the twin Tatooine suns. You lift a hand to your eyes, blinking as a woman- head full of tight curls- marches towards the Razor Crest.

“May as well let them have at it,” the Mandalorian grumbles. “The Crest needs a good once over.”

“Oh! So, he likes droids now. Well, you heard him.” The woman waves at a crew of droids. “Give it a once over!... I guess a lot has changed since you were last in Mos Eisley.”

The Mandalorian pauses in front of the stranger with Cara, Pablo, and yourself gathering around him.

“Well, looky here! You’ve made new friends!” The woman narrows her eyes, leaning in towards Pablo. “Hopefully you three won’t try and kill me like the last one this Mandalorian dragged in here.”

She leans into you this time. “If you ask me, I think your Mandalorian here needs a good group of friends,” she whispers under her breath. “The man doesn’t live well.”

You slap a hand over your nose, pressing to muffle your burst of laughter.

But then Pablo laughs, and you just can’t hold it in.

The Mandalorian sighs, not sparing the two of you a glance.

“I’m Peli.” The woman nods again, oblivious to the effect her words have had on you and Pablo. “I am a very- OH ho!” Peli launches forward, swooping the baby out from the Mandalorian’s satchel. “I’ve missed this little one! Let me guess, I’m needed for babysitting services? Don’t ask! Yes!” She rocks the baby against her hip, and the baby, delighted by the attention, grins and giggles- clearly very pleased to see Peli again.

“If it isn’t too much trouble.” The Mandalorian reaches out, stroking the child’s ear. “The girl and I need to resupply. I’d rather leave the child here.”

“I have a name, Mando,” you grumble under your breath, shooting him a glare.

He keeps his head straight, focused on Peli, ignoring your protest.

“Of course!” Peli shouts, walking several feet away as she rambles away to the child.

“Mando-” Cara touches his arm- “I’ll catch up with you later today before we leave Tatooine. I’m taking Pablo with me.” She eyes Pablo, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. “He claims he has a contact, can get Navarro hooked up with a good supplier.”

“Of course!” Pablo flings his hands out, grinning ear to ear. “Old Bolbo is a close friend! He completely forgave me for that incident with his sister in Anchorhead!”

Cara stares at him.

“Oh, hell.” She adjusts the rifle on her back. “Let’s get this over with.”

You chuckle to yourself, shaking your head as Cara and Pablo walk off towards the exit.

“Peli-” the Mandalorian walks after her- still dashing back and forth, rambling to the child. “I want you to keep the doors secured until I get back.” He hooks a finger in his belt, his helmet following Peli back and forth, back and forth. “Don’t open them for anyone you don’t know.”

“Oh!” Her eyes brighten. “I actually have a defender droid now! 4PO!” she shrieks, waving her hand in the air. “Come on! Come on! Wa-iting.”

Your eyes widen, watching with a mixture between disbelief and dismay, as a silver droid stumbles forward- red light radiating from its joints. “Um,” you bite your lip, fighting against the laughter swelling up your throat. “Isn’t… isn’t that a protocol droid?”

“It’s been refitted!” Peli slaps the droid with her free hand. “4PO! DEFENDER MODE!”

The droid wobbles back and forth- bolts and screws raining down, bouncing across the floor. You blink. “Is- is th-”

The droid’s head snaps to you.

“<death is but a relief from our meager existence>”

…

The Mandalorian looks at Peli.

“Keep the doors secured.”

His hand wraps around your upper arm, pushing you towards the exit.

“Blast it, 4PO!” Peli’s shouts from behind, pulling a giggle from your lips. “I can’t believe you’ve embarrassed me like this! What do you have to say for yourself?”

“<i am trapped in this shell. i cannot die.>”

“4PO!”

-------

Ah, Mos Eisley Spaceport:

Dangerous? Yes.

Scummy? Yes.

Entertaining? Also yes.

You grin beneath the scarf wrapped around your face, gawking at all the activity and interesting faces that swarm past you on the street. You are so enraptured with the sights and sounds that the Mandalorian is occasionally forced to grab your arm and pull you against his side.

“Stay close,” he’d grumble… before you’d inevitably leave his side again five minutes later.

“Mando!” you call from the top of a store’s steps, waving across the street for him.

He sweeps forward, stopping beneath you just at the bottom step.

“Stop disappearing.”

His voice is hard, all bounty hunter.

“What?” You grin, skipping down the steps to stand beside him. “The bounty hunter can’t hunt me down? Keeps losing me?”

He releases a heavy, long-suffering sigh and angles his head down at you.

“Move.”

Giggling under the scarf, you allow the Mandalorian to lead you inside the store. You don’t wait for instructions nor directions- you know what you want, and you’re going to get what you want. The Mandalorian finds you a minute later. He doesn’t say anything, just stands on the opposite side of the rack as you claw through the hangers.

You stop long enough to give him a look. “The baby needs clothes, Mando.” You continue clawing through the limited selection. “That sack he wears is ridiculous. Now go, leave me alone. I don’t need you hovering.”

He throws his head to the side, a small sigh slipping out- but he obeys your command.

You sneak a glance from the corner of your eye, a lop-sided smile stretching across your face. He’s off to the side, trying to appear occupied, but you know what he’s doing:

He’s not letting you get further than ten feet away.

The hovering- the lingering, keeping an eye on you…

It’s… kind of cute.

…But irritating.

Still, considering the incident on Arvala, he has good reason to hover… You’d do well to remember that yourself.

After making a few selections, you spin around, expecting to find the Mandalorian where you left him. But he’s gone.

“Hm.” You twist your head around but spying him nowhere in the store.

Fine.

Guess he took your command seriously this time. You make your purchases and step outside the door. Just as you go to sit on the top step, the clank-clank of Beskar jolts you around.

“Mando!” You throw both hands on your hips in mock frustration. “You left me.”

He rests a hand against his holster, and chuckles. “Make up your mind, Ka’r’ika.”

You drop the frown, trading it in for a blooming grin. “Fine. What was so important that you left me behind?”

His helmet angles down, his hands fiddling with something hanging off from his belt.

“I was next door… I… saw this.” He reaches out, presenting you what’s in his hand. “Thought it… suited you. Better than the one I have. Mine’s… too long. This suits your size. Suits your height… better.”

You tentatively take the plain metal bar, no longer than the length of your hand. “Ah, thank you, Mando! I… love it.” You blink. “Um, what is it?”

He points to a switch on the side.

“Is tha- OH!”

A blade slices out from the end. “Seven Corellian hells!” you laugh. “This is- wait, what’s this do- OH KRIFF!”

You nearly throw it from your hands. One flick of a switch, and the bar the length of your hand grows to be three, maybe even four feet in length

“Din!” you hiss, tapping the staff down onto the ground. “You bought me a weapon to kill people with!” You flick the switch again, grinning as it collapses back to the size of your hand. “I’m going to cry!”

The Mandalorian grunts, angling his head to the side. “Weapon to defend.”

You flick the switch again, grinning as the blade slides away, hidden within. “Well.” Hooking the bar onto you belt, you look up at him with an impish smirk. “Now you’re trapped. You have no choice but to train me with a staff.”

“That’s the idea.”

You can’t help but grin like an idiot.

-------

“Where are you going?”

“Refresher,” you shout, continuing to march away from the Mandalorian and straight towards a cantina. You step inside, grimacing at the smack of stench that punches you in the face.

Uhg, what’s with cantinas and unwashed masses?

Shaking your head, you let your eyes sweep around the dim, dingy, and nearly empty cantina. Ah, there’s th-

“OH!” you squeak, pulling away from the hand grasping your shoulder. “Din!” you hiss, pushing against his arm.

“I said stay close.”

“You can’t use your bounty hunter voice on me and expect it to work.” You march away. “Unless you’re coming with me into the refresher, wait for me out here.”

-------

You are only gone a few minutes, but you are frustrated to find yet again- yes, again- the Mandalorian has disappeared within that time frame. With a heavy sigh, you sit down at the bar, ignoring the other patrons beginning to trickle in as Tatooine’s work hours for the day come to a close.

“Hello there, miss.” A young man sits next to you at the bar. He throws you a smile.

Ah, he’s cute.

“Never seen you here before. Mind if I buy you a drink?”

A sly smirk tickles at the corner of your mouth.

An idea.

“I never refuse a free drink.”

You flick your eyes back towards the cantina entrance. “Come on, Din. I want to have fun with you.”

“Say,” the man leans towards you as the bartender slides you your drink. “How about we go somewhere, hm?”

You crinkle your nose, lifting the drink to your lips. “No thanks.”

“But I bought you a drink-”

“I don’t remember leaving with you being part of that deal.”

The man’s facade drops, his expression twisting into irritation. “Girl, you hav-”

“Unless you want to talk to my husband into letting me go with you, I just can’t.”

You bite away the grin that begs to explode across your face as you watch the man’s eyes widen twice their typical size.

“Husband?”

You twist your head, and stare across the bar-

-directly at a looming, hulking, intimidating, Beskar-donning Mandalorian.

The man leaps from you, his eyes not leaving the Mandalorian- not for one second. “Uh, um, look I- I didn’t mean anything.” He throws his hands up.

“Honey-” you take another sip of your drink- “could you watch the kids so I can go with this gentleman?”

The Mandalorian’s visor is glued to the man- searing him to the ground.

A bird stalking prey.

“You know the kids don’t listen to me, Cyare.” His voice is quiet, dangerously contained. “So, you chose.”

He stalks around the bar, slowly, deliberately…

“Do I string him up for the rancors… or do I shoot him now?”

“I like rancors,” you chirp, twisting to look up at Din. “They’re kinda cute.” You turn back-

“Hey, he’s gone!” You groan as the Mandalorian wraps his hand firmly around your upper arm, pulling you off the barstool.

“Let’s go.”

“Just when I was making friends.”

“I’m getting you back before you get yourself shot.”

“But I have my stick now!”

“Staff, Ka’r’ika.”

“Yes, staff- a big stick.”

A beaming grin bursts across your face at the pained, long-suffering sigh that erupts from his helmet’s vocoder. He continues to lead you in silence through the streets of Mos Eisley, only coming to a stop after pulling you aside in an alley.

“I can handle myself, Din,” you teasingly smile, pressing your back up against the wall.

He hovers over you, tilting his head forward. “You’ve yet to convince me of that.”

You bite your lower lip, mischief tickling in the back of your mind.

“I’m fast, remember?”

He leans forward, closer into your face. “So you always say.”

You let your smile slowly drop… drop… drop…

His hands shoot out-

You lean back-

SMACK.

You laugh as Din stares down- stunned- at the staff held sideways in your hands, blocking him from grabbing you. You push the bar against him, ducking sideways to escape his grasp.

“Nice try!” you growl through your gritted teeth as you bolt down the alley. “Race you to the hanger!”

Burning every drop of adrenaline flooding your bloodstream, you blast through the twisting turns of the alleyway labyrinth, hissing each time you think you see a gleam of Beskar from the corner of your eyes.

Blast!

You slide sideways across the dirt, narrowly avoiding bursting through a vendor’s cart, cackling as the vendor hurdles curses at your fleeing back. Taking a sharp turn, you speed into another alley, sliding across the loose dirt as you stumble to a halt- unable to continue another foot without passing out.

“K-kriff!” you pant, twisting your head back and forth, spying for even just a hint of shining Beskar in the empty alley.

“I’m out- out of… shape! I- I can’t- AHRG!”

You fall forward, hard, against the ground to escape what dropped from the roof behind you.

“DIN!” you shriek, baring your teeth at him.

“Keep up.”

He spins around.

Kark that!

You launch forward, grabbing onto his cloak, and- yank!

“Bitch, get back here!”

You stumble into his back and wrap both arms tightly around his neck- bursting into a fit of giggles as Din lifts you up and keeps moving forward. He reaches his hands back, pulling your legs up around his waist- essentially carrying you piggyback.

“Din!” you yelp between barks of laughter. “I-I’m slipping! OH!”

You plummet to the ground. You roll over on your back, rubbing the tears from your eyes. “S-stars! Oh.. oh kriff! I- I’m hu-hurting! From… la-laughing! Oh, ouch! O-Ouch!”

Your eyes finally clear of the blurring tears-

There he is- kneeling beside you- looking down- laughing at you.

“Din!” you giggle, slapping a hand up against his chest. “Jerk! You dropped me on purpose!”

His laughter gently fades away- and he stands, reaching a gloved hand out for you.

“Come, Ka’r’ika,” he rasps, his tone… deeper than usual. “Let’s get back to the hanger.”

You grin, looping your arm around his.

“Anywhere you say, Din.”

Truly, anywhere.

At this point, the man could lead you straight into a rancor’s din, and you’d jump in if he did too.

-------

Something’s wrong.

You know how he normally walks- confident and striding.

…Something’s wrong.

“Din?” You tilt your head to the side, raising a brow. “What did Peli tell you? What’s…?”

He stops- pausing just before the cockpit ladder- and angles his head at your voice.

“There’s a Mandalorian to the north. Mos Pelgo.” He turns around and starts slowly walking towards you.

“…Oh.”

You lower yourself into a chair, not exactly sure where this is going…

“That’s… good, I guess?” Crossing your arms together, you chuckle. “Sometimes it’s hard to imagine there’s more than one of you.”

He rests both hands against his hips, turning to face the hull wall.

“I’m going out there.” He throws you a quick look. “After Cara returns to keep you safe. I’m… taking the child with me.”

“Ah, sure?”

He’s leaving something out…

“But… why, exactly?”

“I’m hoping a Mandalorian can… lead me to someone. The child-” Din’s voice quiets. “He’s… special.”

Oh.

“Is this about his force abilities?”

“Force?” Din rips his head around. “You mean… Jedi?”

With a small smile on your face, you pull both legs up into the chair with you. “Jedi use the force. Think of it as-” you wave your hand in the air- “like an energy thing. The force binds all things, connects all things… real mystical stuff.”

Din does not move. Just… stares at you.

“What do you know of the Jedi?” His voice is quick.

You grunt, shifting your eyes to the floor. “I know they’re all dead now, for the most part. Hunted like animals by the Empire." You force a dry laugh. “They- they didn’t stop at the adults. No-” you shake your head- “slaughtered the children too. Kriffing creeps. Hunted down each last survivor- any force user- one by one.”

Silence.

“How… do you know this?”

“My Mom.” You release a heavy sigh. “She wanted more- more excitement than what life on Sularia offered. She was intelligent, and her intelligence earned her a job as a civilian contractor with the Republic during the Clone Wars.” You smirk at Din. “Grandpa was not happy with her.”

You tilt the chair backwards, staring up at the ceiling as you speak. “She worked among the Jedi. Friends with many of them.”

You hear Mom’s weeping in your ear… her eyes radiating such… pain and loss. You dig your fingers into your palm, willing the memories away, your eyes sliding closed-

“He must be trained.”

Your eyes blast open, flying straight to Din. “What?”

“After Arvala- what he did to the woman on Arvala-” Din lowers his head, avoiding your glare- “I knew he was strong, but…

“Din,” you grit your teeth- “you must forget he’s special.” You throw your hand out. “Forget Arvala ever happened.”

“A Jedi can train him.” Din is speaking more to himself than to you. “After I leave Nar Shaddaa, I will return to my quest. Find the kid a Jedi.”

Silence.

“What?” You launch up out of your chair.

“If what you say is true-” Din’s voice is level and even, barely audible even in the silence- “I can’t protect him. He… needs to be trained.”

“Trained?” You voice strains in your throat, tightening with every word. “Didn’t you hear me? It’s too dangerous to let him follow that path!”

The Mandalorian faces you. “Danger is all he’s ever known.” He turns and begins to stalk away. “I was wrong to not follow my quest. I… must follow my creed.” He stops. “This is the way.”

“The way?” You race over to his side, staring up into that emotionless visor. “To give up a child that loves you? That you’ve called son?” You grab his arm. “Refuse him a happy, normal childhood?”

“His life with me is not normal. It’s no life for a child.”

“And- and life as a Jedi isn’t either!” your voice raises. “They aren’t allowed to express love- hold attachments!” You clench your fists, willing your breathing- and voice- to level back out. “That is no way for a child to be raised.”

“That is their way.” The Mandalorian rests a hand on a ladder rung. “And… this is mine.”

Blood explodes in your ear.

“How can you be so cold!”

The Mandalorian’s head shoots to you.

“If you cared about him, you’d- you’d keep him- fight for him- love him every day- thank the Maker he’s there every morning when you wake up!” Furious tears sting the corners of your eyes, but you wipe them away with your sleeve- refusing to let them fall. “Grateful you have more than just your memories and dreams of him to hold!”

“I do care about him.” The Mandalorian’s voice cuts dangerously calm. “But unlike you, I can’t be selfish.” He steps forward, forcing you to take a step back. “Doing whatever I want; whatever I please.” He stops, his voice quieting. “I… I cannot give him what he needs. He… needs more than me.”

Selfish? Selfish?

The decaying stench of Nar Shaddaa wafts down the streets as you walk lower, deeper into the underbelly of the rotting city center. The tears have now dried on your cheeks, but you know the streaked mascara staining your cheeks will give their existence away. You will have to duck into the sink first before heading into your dilapidated apartment- you can’t let her see any evidence of your suffering.

It’s all for her, and that’s all that matters.

“You-” you swallow the lump cutting off your air, pressing your hands behind your back to hide their trembling- “You know nothing of my life! And frankly, you know nothing of me, Mandalorian.”

“I know enough.” His tone matches your still, quiet coldness. “You’d put your feelings and attachment over what’s best for him.”

“How can you say that while I stand here-” you jab at your side- “carrying scars I took for that child!”

He takes a step forward, his hands raised almost as if in regret, but you cut him off.

“You sound just like a Jedi!” you shout. “Maybe you would be the perfect teacher for him!”

His hands drop.

“I… will not dishonor him by denying him his way- his people.” He lowers his head to the floor, almost as if speaking to himself again. “I can’t let the way you are influence me.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you hiss, the blasting blood deafening in your ears.

“You make rash, impulsive, emotional decisions.” The Mandalorian’s words slice your heart, cutting you down to the core.

“You never take the bigger picture into account, the greater implications of your actions. Some things are more important than you or I want.”

“What about what he wants? You’re his father!” you yell, giving up on restraint. “That is more important than anything!”

“He… he will forget.”

You blink.

“A child-” your voice drops, quiets- “never forgets love.” You shake your head, nausea brewing in your stomach. “How can you be so cold? So… callus?”

He scoffs at you.

“You’re being foolish.”

He turns to leave.

“Mandalorian-” your eyes are on fire, burning- “You’re the only fool I see. You’ve been given a gift; do you know what I’d give to have that again?”

He stares you down.

“But- but because you’re scared- you’re scared of failing him- you want to just dump him off on the first Jedi that crawls into your path!” You shake your head, using every ounce of control to keep from exploding.

You fail.

“You’re the one being selfish, Mando! A coward!”

“I’ve sacrificed everything for him.” His voice takes on that dangerous tone again- warning you with every word spoken. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

“I thought you were more than a heartless bounty hunter under all that armor-” you sneer, tapping a finger against his chest- “but I guess I was wrong!”

Silence.

“You were wrong to assume anything about me,” he rasps under his breath, leaning into you. “I don’t have to explain myself or any of my decisions to you. We’re done here.”

He jerks around, sweeping up into the cockpit of the ship

“And I’m- I’m sorry I ever assumed I could know you, trust you!” You shout from the base of the ladder, hands trembling against the rungs. “Y-you don’t deserve the light you have been given!”

You burst away from the ladder, racing straight into the sleeping quarters and slamming the doors closed. You slump down into the corner, clutching a pillow tightly against your chest.

The nightmares, the memories, the voices, echo- scream- in your ears…

“Mama!”

-------

You stare straight ahead.

Exhausted.

You’re… exhausted. Emotionally. Physically.

Just- exhausted.

Ever since the Mandalorian left with the child for Mos Pelgo, you’ve been stewing alone in the cockpit, trying to make sense of your tumultuous emotions.

You- you just don’t understand. How…?

You lean forward in the pilot’s seat, burying your face in your hands.

How could he-

“Mando?”

You gasp, tearing your head up. The blue hue of the holo-display showers the dark cockpit in twinkling light.

A man- a stranger- stands in the display.

“Answer the holo, Mando.” He places both hands on his hips. “It’s important.”

You blink.

Hesitantly, you reach forward, flicking on the switch.

“Hello?” you question.

The man stares at you, taking in your unexpected appearance.

“I need to speak with the Mandalorian.”

“He, uh, he’s not here, and I don’t know when he’ll be back.” You lean forward, raising an eyebrow. “Can I… give him a message?”

“I assume you’re the girl from Taek?”

You slowly nod.

Silence.

“I wasn’t going to talk with you about this-” he glances away, his voice lowering- “but it appears I have no choice… Do you know who I am?”

“Ah, no.” You lean back in the pilot’s seat. “Should I?”

“My name is Greef Karga-”

“Oh, yes!” you interrupt. “Cara’s spoken highly of you.”

“Then you know my line of business.” He takes a few steps to the side, as if considering his words. “I was just visited by three individuals that should be… of interest to the Mandalorian… and you.”

“Oh no,” you breathe. “Is this about Taek again? Stars! They- more trouble from Nar Shaddaa?”

Greef slowly crosses his arms. “Not exactly.”

You blink. “Then I don’t… understa-”

“They sought you.”

Your blood freezes.

You- you can’t breathe.

“I told them nothing, of course. I informed them the Guild had no files, no information whatsoever. That you had never been on our radar.” Greef leans forward, his voice falling low. “They left most displeased.”

“No- don’t tell me this.” You press your head down into your knees. “Don’t tell me this.”

“I suggest you tread carefully, my dear-”

You lift your head.

“-they were Mandalorian.”

-------

You slip around the corner of the stone building, sliding right past the dumpsters lining the Mos Eisley street. You tighten the scarf around your face as you tip-toe into an alley- jumping at any hint of movement like a Lothcat on spice.

“Stars,” you hiss, tightening your arms across your chest, collapsing in on yourself as you walk.

Your life-

-is a disaster.

But it’s your disaster, for you to face. You will not endanger the child, put anyone else in the line of fire.

With Mandalorians after you… Leaving- running away- it’s your only choice.

A sob erupts, and you slap a hand across the scarf covering your lips, pushing against the fabric.

You can’t give in. Not now. Not now.

You sink down into the dirt, pressed up against the wall tucked back behind a stack of boxes.

Trembling… You can’t stop trembling.

Something hard presses into your leg, and you glance down.

Your staff…

Din.

You take it off your belt, pressing it against your cheek. Groaning, you slide your eyes closed.

You’re- you’re going to miss him. All of them. You- you-

You part your lips, all the pent-up fear and heartbreak and pain and frustration bleeding out in in one long wail, the tears flooding, drowning your cheeks.

You’re all alone.

You’re all alone again.

You’re all fucking alone.

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

masterlist / previous chapter / next chapter

taglist: (in the comments)

a/n: I know what you’re thinking: OH NO! I forgot to get wille-zarr a Christmas gift!

No problem! You can leave me a comment instead lol!

But seriously, OH. MY. STARS. The comments on chapter 7- you have NO IDEA how that pushed me to write this. I’ll be honest, this chapter probably would have taken another 1-2 weeks to write if it wasn’t for the love and comments last chapter! I spent countless nights staying up till 3AM trying to get this done. Again, thank you so much. You have no idea what it means to me- your comments fuel my writing! I love hearing from my regular readers!

Special thanks for @sana-katarn, whose endless knowledge of Old Republic terminology I inquired of endlessly while writing… really this entire story! She’s actually the best.

Also, this story will NOT being following season two. At times (such as in this chapter), some events from chapter two may pop up. But not often at all. We’re going for an ✨original plot✨ here. ;)

One last thing before I move into season 2 finale spoilers: next chapter, the action/angst kicks up- AGAIN. Like wow, I am so excited for everyone to read it! Things are kicking into gear! (And don’t worry, we will see the Arvala family again very soon!)

SEASON 2 FINALE SPOILERS BELOW YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED: ------- Okay, so W O W. That finale. Let’s talk.

I am 100% serious, I had this chapter, the scene where Din and reader fight over the child training to be a Jedi, planned out WELL before the finale! So, imagine my shock that this chapter and that particular scene in the finale happened to fall so close together! I felt a bit bad leaving chapter 8 on a sad note so soon after the finale, but it couldn’t be avoided. So, I’ll just say: trust where I’m going with things! It’s going to be surprising- in a good way! :)

#din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x oc #the mandalorian x oc #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #star wars #star wars fanfiction #willezarr #in fields of white #chapter 8 #ifow

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merchantziro · 3 years

Text

May I propose a concept for a Dragon Ball AU I wanna see.

PTA Dad Vegeta

Bulma is at a Capsule Corp related business meeting and sends Vegeta in her place for Trunks (and/or Bra with GT Vegeta) to a Parents Teacher Conference since all he does is train all day. Only to meet his most fearful opponents yet, a group of stereotypical anti-vax, overly religious christian soccer moms that dislike most of the other parents due to their culture and beliefs. They're so bad, that he has to fully focus on trying not to obliterate them and the entire school, but somehow manages to make allies with those against these moms and possibly even legitimate friendships that break Vegeta out of his shell a bit.

Just imagine....

Helen: Mr. Vegeta, I'm not sure if you've heard, but your son and his friend Goten were recently banned from many different sports events.

Vegeta: Hmmm...? Why?

Helen: Well after noticing that he was always so strong, so fast, so much energy, he exceeded at everything physical we've thrown at him.

Vegeta: That's my boy alright, and what of it?

Helen: Well, we've found multiple instances of him ingesting a strange green bean alongside his pal Goten and are worried that these beans are sort of super steroid or drug that is the source of the boys incredible power it even at some points causes their hair to turn blonde when he and Goten get competitive against each other.

Vegeta: ...Women, every word you've spoken has made me more and more furious.

Helen: (Smiles slyly like she won something) I see you can be agreeable for once. I hope you'll punish your son correctly for this crim-

Vegeta: Not at my boy, I'm furious at you. Believe me HELEN you do not want to see where my son truly inherited his strength from. (Flickers Super Saiyan on and off for a brief moment to get the message across).

Helen: (Gulps) What... What are you?

Vegeta: I'm something far more powerful than you could feasibly comprehend.

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

Vegeta: Remind me women why you're trying to get Mrs. Kumar and her son Aarav kicked from the school again?

Linda: Oh please Mr. Briefs, surely someone like YOU would understand that their beliefs are a bad influence on other kids and that there is only one true religion and God.

Vegeta: ... (Stares with an unamused look of "are you shitting me?" before pulling out a capsule.)

Linda: Mr. Briefs...?

Vegeta: Women if you're gonna disrespect HER religion and deities, you bet that I will shoot yours out of the sky as revenge. (Presses down and reveals a bunch of plates of exotic and really delicious looking pudding.)

Linda: Mr. Briefs, we've talked about you bringing food here.

Vegeta: It's not for me...

(Beerus & Whis appear because the former smelt the food.)

Vegeta: (Smiles with a evil look in his eyes as he jerks a thumb to the G.O.D. and Angel) ...it's for the God of Destruction and his Angel.

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

Karen: (After the meeting ended and Vegeta was leaving) I swear, what do you even see in that useless slut you call a wife.

Vegeta: (Stops dead in his tracks as many others realizes the Pandora's Box that Karen has opened.) What did you say...

Karen: I'm saying that you deserve better, I've seen her in her younger years and boy did she get around with all those boys, men, and old man she hung out with. Surely someone like you deserves a women like me. (Smug face with a wink.)

Vegeta: (Says nothing immediately as everyone else backs away slowly, trying to get Vegeta to calm down by saying she doesn't mean it, or trying to get Karen to shut up for her own good.) ...You mean her best friends and the those friend's martial arts mentor?

Karen: (Still smug) If you wanna keep denying it, call it what you want. I swear it's a miracle an airheaded bimbo like her somehow manages to keep her business afloat, guess it must be those assets that she uses if you catch my drift.

Vegeta: ...20.

Karen: 20 wha-OOOF! (Gets cut off by Vegeta elbowing her in the chest and backhands her with a fist with the same arm as she falls flat on her ass.)

Vegeta: (Not missing a beat and already in Super Saiyan as he points a ki blast at her) 20 seconds is all I'm granting you to your god beg for forgiveness, to beg for mercy, to beg for him to save you. But know this, no matter what you say... I won't be listening.

Karen: (Cough) Your smoke and mirrors can't fool me, Mr. Satan said it's all a trick.

Vegeta: (Fires the ki blast through the wall while maintaining eye contact, revealing a totalled car and plenty of destruction) That look like a trick to you?

Karen: (Big gulp and plenty of regrets in past minutes)

Vegeta: (Looks to Principal) I'll get Capsule Corp to pay for the damages. Is that alright?

Principal: (Says nothing as he already wet his pants in fear, only having the strength to nod quickly.)

#dragon ball #dragon ball z #dragon ball super #dragon ball gt #alternate universe #pta au #vegeta #linda #helen #karen #bulma briefs #vegeta x bulma

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buttterknifeee · 3 years

Text

An Introduction Pt.3- Teen Titans x Aquagirl!Reader

Pt.1 Pt.2

Requests for this series is now open!!! You can request for ships, episode inserts, and headcanons for this series!!! More info can be found here

Summary: You guys are like the "Friends" of the crime-fighting world. Robin's totally Ross and if this was one of those episodes, it would be called "The one where aliens get their asses kicked"

Ships: none, see info above

A/N: Once again this is a reader insert for the Teen Titans 2003 show season 5 episode 10 (the one where they all meet!) I also added an epilogue for funzies.

You found yourself in a dark bubble of Raven’s magic, floating up to the alien ship. You had offered to water jet all six of you up, but you weren’t even sure if you could create that big of a geyser. Besides, a quiet bubble is much better than a large geyser. Beast Boy, however, disagreed.

“That dark energy stuff gives me the--” He was cut off by a glare from Raven. ”Uh...I mean, it's cool!” He gives a guilty grin.

Robin tells us to go to the firing control room, and you all crept through the hallway in a single file line: Robin, the pink-haired girl, Beast Boy, You, Cyborg, and Raven, who you noticed was still near the entrance. Cyborg gave you a look as if to say Keep going; I’ll handle this. You nodded and continued walking forward.

You were walking near Beast Boy, when you noticed a cut on his arm, with that part of his suit torn open. You pointed at it.

“Hey, you alright?” you asked, referring to the gnash.

“Oh this?” He replies. “This is nothing. When you’ve been a part of the DOOM patrol, a little cut is nothing.” He smiles confidently, patting his wound. You realize that he was totally bluffing when a comical tear springs from his eye and his arm tenses.

“Here I can help.�� you say softly. Concentrating on the air between your hands, you condense the liquid in the air, forming a small bubble of water. You move that bubble of water onto his arm and it begins to glow. You let go of the water, revealing Beast Boy’s arm to be completely healed.

“Dudeee,” he stares in awe of your handiwork. “That's so cool-” He’s interrupted by your stumbling; healing really does take a lot out of you. He lets you lean on him, and the two of you continued walking forwards. After a few seconds, he stops.

“Uh, guys?” he says. And that's when you noticed it too. The six of you were surrounded by alien soldiers, and they seemed really out for your blood. “I think they know we’re here.” The six of you charged at the fleet of soldiers. But Robin seemed to have an idea.

“Raven!” he yelled. “Take out part of the floor!” Raven looked at him with confusion, but then nodded and did as she was told. With a large SMASH, she removed the part of the bottom of the ship, revealing the water below. The water below you realized, suddenly understanding Robin’s plan.

“Aquagirl! Now!” he yelled, holding off a soldier with his staff.

“On it!” you yell, punching another alien out of the way. (Apparently with water powers came enhanced strength, which you found out at that moment.)

Concentrating on the water below, you raised your arms, allowing the ocean to shoot up from below. Instead of blasting the water through the entire ship, you carefully controlled it to grab onto the aliens that were attacking your friends, pulling them through the hole and causing them to fall into the ocean below.

You looked at the door to the control room, which was locked shut.

“I got this.” Robin said, placing something shaped like a birdirang onto the door.

As the bidirang counted down, you heard Trogaar talking from behind the door. “The Earth scum shall learn it takes more than six juvenile heroes to defy the mighty Lord Trogaar!” he said, most likely with a smile on his face. You all looked at each other, prepared to prove him wrong.

The door exploded, and Robin was the first to get through. “We’re not six heroes,” he declared. “We’re one team.” Him considering the six of you a team sparked something inside of you. You all split up to take down Trogaar and his guard, with Robin at the lead. You took on a guard, kicking him in the stomach and sending him flying towards a wall.

You noticed that Robin was on the shoulders of Trogaar, and you sent a jet of water to his face to knock him off balance. That didn’t work and he threw Robin across the deck. Luckily, he landed on his feet. The two of you joined to fight Trogaar, taking turns to land punches and kicks. However he overpowered you and Robin, throwing you both across the room. You landed on your back, but Robin hit the wall with the back of his head and fell to the floor.

“Robin! Aquagirl!” The alien girl yelled. You got up as quickly as possible and helped Robin up from sitting position as she and Cyborg tried to take on Trogaar, only to be thrown in your direction as well.

Still leaning on you, Robin looked at Cyborg’s arm. “Can you rewire that into some sort of weapon?” he asked.

“I can try,” he said, getting up. The four of you were in a fighting stance, despite being injured and surrounded by Trogaar and his goons. Suddenly, you hear a voice, as clear as day.

“Get away from my friends!” It was Raven, supporting an injured beast boy. “Azarath Metrion Zinthos!” she chanted. Part of the ship exploded, sending it crashing into the ocean.

You found yourself standing in the ship, the roof torn off and making a slow descent into the ocean. All of the alien soldiers were groaning on the ground, but Robin, Cyborg, and the alien girl were all unharmed. The four of you watched in horror as Trogaar aimed to attack Raven when BLAM! You turned to see Cyborg standing next to you with a smoking sonic blaster in place of his arm. He grins.

“Alright I’m only gonna say this once. Boo-Yah!”

“Yo, is it just me or are some of these guys starting to move again?” Beat Boy points out, still slumped in Raven’s arms. He was right; a few of the aliens began to twitch, making attempts to get up. You turn to the other 5 people.

“You guys don’t worry. They’re in the ocean now, meaning that they’re in my territory.” You cracked your knuckles, your eyes glowing blue.

It’s the next morning and you find yourself sitting with Robin, Raven, Cyborg, and Beast Boy, looking at a view of the bay and an island

“Thanks so much for the new suit Cyborg!” you say, fiddling with your brand new outfit. You were wearing a cropped short-sleeve rash guard and swim shorts, both with deep cyan and black patterns. He also gave you black gauntlets with curved spikes ‘To protect yourself from bad guys and still be aerodynamic!’ according to him. Robin gave you one of his old yellow belts, since he figured you’ll probably need something to carry stuff in. Finally, you found some black scuba shoes from the swimwear store that allowed you to walk and swim with ease.

“Its no problem AG! I figured you needed a new outfit if you’re gonna be a superhero now” Cyborg chuckled, calling you a new nickname that he probably made up just then. Superhero, you thought. I like the sound of that.

Raven had a far away look in her eyes.“That's quite a view.” she said, still staring that the scenery

“Somebody oughta build a house out there,” Cyborg agreed, his voice now softer.

“Yeah, if you like sunshine and the beach.” Beast Boy added, making an obvious dig at Raven.

“You know, you're kind of funny.” Raven said to your surprise, smiling softly at Beast Boy. This was obviously too much for the guy’s ego.

“You think I'm funny?” Beast Boy sat up straight, looking at Raven. “Dude! I know some jokes!”

You laughed at Raven’s face of pure regret, before a familiar voice brought your attention to behind you. It was the alien girl, now in a purple outfit similar to the one before, but this time it seemed to really suit her.

“I look .. nice?” she asked, obviously insecure. You took her hand again.

“You look amazing,” you reassured her, causing her cheeks to flush.

Robin stepped forwards. “I still don’t know your name,” he said.

“In your language, it would be ‘Star Fire.’” she says with a smile.

“Welcome to Earth, Starfire.” Robin said.

She looked at you all shyly, certainly different from when you first met. “ I thank you all for your bravery and help, and I wish to ask permission...to remain here. Where the people are most strange ...but also most kind.”

“You don’t need our permission,” Raven said calmly.

“But if you want our friendship, you've got it.” Robin added.

“I could use a new friend,” you say with a wink.

“Guess we could all use some new friends.” Cyborg agrees.

“Besides, we kind of made a good team.” Beast Boy says proudly.

“I thought we might want to keep in touch, so Cyborg and I designed these.” Robin fished out four black and yellow communicators. You, Raven, Beast Boy, and Starfire each took one and observed them. They were similar to flip phones, but they were circular and had no logo on the front.

“Made ‘em outta my own circuits, '' Cyborg said proudly.

“When there’s trouble, you know who to call,” Robin said. You all smiled at one another. You were a team.

Epilogue

While everyone else was still smiling at one another, you excused yourself and walked a few feet away. You opened your new communicator, dialing in a phone number you know by heart. You waited for the person on the other line to pick up, and began to speak.

“Heyyy dad. It’s (y/n); you must have been worried sick, I’m sorry… Yeah no I’m fine, really. I’m in uhhh Jump City and I made some of the coolest friends and I was wondering... if I could stay here? I’ve been spending the whole night wanting to go back home, but I think this might be home for me. I understand if- oh? Really? You’ll let me stay? Wow, thanks dad. I-I promise that I’ll be careful and that I’ll go to school here, I know there's this high school called Murakami School I’ll try to… I love you too dad. I’ll talk to you later.”

You flip your communicator closed, and walked back to your new friends. Raven looked at you.

“Are you alright?” she asked, noticing your change in mood.

“Yeah,” you say, a smile forming on your face. “I’m great actually. Just had to call home.”

“You're going home???” Beast Boy asked, a frown falling on his face.

You chuckled, “Of course not.” You lightly punched his shoulder. “Besides, this is my home now.”

“Awe Yeah!” the green guy cheered. You laugh, feeling extra cheerful. Now that you’re in a team, you really do feel like you belong. You looked at your new team.

“Anyone up for pizza?”

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arthurtristankingsmen · 3 years

Text

Truck Drabble

He was on his knees.

Lewis Pepper looked at the photograph in front of him, thick, oily tears streaking his skull with black marks. It was him, holding the love of his life and their friend and-- and--

He shouldn’t be there why was he there? Why was he in the photograph? Why-- was it different? Why didn’t he remember this?

Lewis heard something behind him. Rustling of fabric. He couldn’t think straight enough to wonder what it was until something touched his back.

He didn’t register anything. The flame of his hair plumed with a streak of pink, and his hand darted up to slap away the one on his back as he whipped around. His eyes tore away from the man in the photo to the one standing next to him. His arm was hovering over himself as if to shield a blow, and he was hunched down.

“I-- don’t touch me.” Lewis garbled out in a choked echo. “Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry.” Arthur looked afraid, but his arm lowered again after a moment, to clutch at one of his wristbands. The pose was a nervous one, but he didn’t have the energy or care to offer comfort.

His cracked heart pulsed in his hand, and he felt his eyes drifting back to the photo. They only snapped away when Arthur cleared his throat, and he clutched the locket tighter between his fingers.

“Um...” Arthur looked around like he was searching for anything else, gaze traveling over cardboard boxes and shelves. “Are... you.... okay?”

“What?” Why would the person who killed him ask that? It didn’t make sense.

“You’re-- crying. I’m sure you know that already I just-- yeah.” Arthur looked ready to let the ground swallow him up, eyes widening and brow furrowing in a way he knew-- he knew Arthur well enough to know he was chastising himself for not knowing what to say.

It was so... normal, in a situation that wasn’t. It made his chest itch and his heart thump.

“I’m-- fine.” He looked down at his locket again, before closing it with a snap. It floated where it was supposed to be against his lapel. “Things-- are a lot to process right now.”

“I--I can understand that--.” The sound Arthur made was-- half sodden. He would have swallowed if he could. He shouldn’t feel bad! Arthur killed him! Arthur pushed him off a cliff and laughed the whole way down! He shouldn’t be in his locket, he shouldn’t care! It shouldn’t hurt!

Hadn’t he suffered enough?

“Um.” Arthur pulled him back once again. “Did.....you....beat up my uncle?”

“Ah.” Okay.....that he did feel a little bad about. “Well... he did shoot me. Multiple times”

“Probably because of the kidnapping and throwing me off a cliff thing...” Arthur mumbled, at his uncle’s side and checking him over. There was a few scuffs, but Lewis hadn’t gone too far.

“Well--” Lewis felt warmth rise, but not the way it did before. It twinged and sparked more than it roared. “--I mean you killed me. So I think I get a pass.”

Arthur froze. “I-- what?”

“You heard me.”

Arthur looked back at him with wide eyes, then back at his uncle. “No...no, I wouldn’t. I-- that doesn’t sound right, but I don’t know enough about what happened to --dispute it. So you win. But-- no.”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know.” Lewis hissed, but it didn’t feel satisfying anymore to see Arthur flinch away. It felt like he’d accidentally kicked a puppy. “Fine... pretend you don’t. It doesn’t matter anyway.” He didn’t have the heart to do anything about it anymore.

“I-- I guess.” Arthur sounded disbelieving, and it was so frustrating he couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Just...no more beating up Lance, okay? I won’t let him shoot you but-- please don’t do that.”

“Fine.”

Arthur stared at him a long moment, as if trying to assess something, before sighing to himself. He started lifting his uncle and Lewis was fighting the urge to say something-- figure out what that had been-- when he heard something...whistling overhead.

It was getting louder and faster, and he knew the sound of something falling.

Without a second to think, Lewis shoved Arthur out of the truck. Arthur squawked and tumbled to the dirt, keeping his uncle tucked close and as protected as he could. He rolled one extra time by himself before looking up at Lewis, scared and confused.

Whatever it was hit the truck, and the blast of fire pushed past him with enough force to knock Arthur back on his ass, but his back where he’d been standing absorbed most of it. He was used to fire, so it didn’t hurt, though It did send him to the ground right After Arthur.

“What was that?!” Lewis looked back and held his head.

“Bro I could have died.” Arthur’s eyes were wide, as if that hadn’t been almost what happened already only minutes before this. “And you just-- I mean---” He reached out as if to touch Lewis’s shoulder, before dropping his arm and looking to his uncle. “--thank you.”

“Uh.....you’re welcome. I guess.” Lewis hated the little warm pang in his chest. Arthur hadn’t earned warm pang privileges!

“I-- wasn’t sure it was you. You were saying things. And-- you looked like you but-- but you weren’t---.” Arthur swallowed and rubbed at his arm. “I-- nevermind. Just. It’s you. I’m sorry. I-- I don’t know what happened but-- thank you. It’s you. I’m-- I’m glad you’re back Lewis.”

Somehow that dug at him deeper than anything else. “R...right. Yeah.” He touched at his skull, still a little off-kilter from the blast, before jolting as something rumbled the earth outside the remains of the truck. There was something loud happening, the sound of asphalt cracking and grinding and something moving.

“I think we should go before there’s more explosions. We should-- figure stuff out later.” Arthur frowned before starting to dip towards his uncle. Lewis didn’t respond but he followed Arthur the few feet towards the remains of the truck’s exit in a wobbling drift.

Arthur seemed....not what he expected. None of this had been. It certainly wasn’t the big dramatic ‘ah ha I’ve got you foul villain’ he’d been anticipating. Even after thinking he was finally getting somewhere, after getting Arthur into the truck... he was more confused than ever.

Maybe things would make more sense when he saw Vivi again.

#MSA Spoilers #Mystery Skulls Future #Mystery Skulls #Mystery Skulls Animated #arthur kingsmen #lewis pepper #this isn't even that good i just wanted to do something and 'did u beat up my uncle' wouldn't leave me be lol #my original stuff #my original writing #*shrug emoji #just something short and off the wall lol

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korra-the-red-lion · 3 years

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Supergirl 6x13: The Gauntlet.

Hey everyone, Korra here! I actually watched this episode the other day, but I had some home stuff going on and didn’t have time to do my write up. It’s good for now, and here I am! So after the amazing episode last week, how did this one do? Let’s see what I think, and as always, SPOLIERS AHEAD.

Mitch (this is the blue alien guy whose name I literally didn’t know until recently) and Nyxly are going to be together this whole season it seems, and honestly? I’m here for it. They balance each other nicely.

Okay, so Kara has been down in the dumps for the past couple of episodes, and literally when Lena walks into the room she gets this massive smile on her face and runs up to give her a hug. Looks like we’re in for a Supercorp episode and I am here for it.

Kara and Lena head to the Fortress of Solitude, and get to work by speaking to a Kryptonian Witch. Lena is very skeptical of magic, and believes that it’s just energy. Clearly my homegirl was not paying attention to the fire she summoned last episode.

Also remember that Sam was Reign because of these witches, which I guess was never brought up during Sunday brunch.

So I guess there’s this random C-plot about William having PTSD from getting shot from Eve. Look, I guess it’s fine, but why bother? You can do something that was never mentioned until literally this episode with a character that most of us just tolerate at this point, but you can’t do the same for your lead character? Like Kara is still pretty messed up from the Phantom Zone, right? I just...ugh. It’s a waste of time.

Anyway, so the Nyxly literally breaks into the museum in board daylight to steal the totem from there, which had me cackling. Superfriends all arrive in a very stellar fashion and then stand around, which had me laughing for different reasons. Anyway, Nyxly stands around long enough for Kara to go “eff this noise” and blast the totem in half, causing everyone to get whammied by the magic inside, except for Kara cuz she’s just that boss.

Brainy being possessed by Vita was amazing. “Are these my nipples?” and Nia freaking out was so funny. Also, Jesse is such a good actor. He really pulled that whole impression off.

Kara and Nyxly both fail their first Gauntlets and chaos ensues. The poor lady with a dragon lizard just cannot catch a break. Also, great callback to the pilot episode? I loved that so much. Kara is so much more confident in her abilities now.

Alex is over confident, J’onn is willing to be open with his feelings, Nia is a sleepy girl which is a BIG MOOD, and Brainy is willing to fail. I honestly thought this was all great stuff. My favourite is when Kara goes “but Alex is a glass half empty kind of pessimist!” which is how she knew something was up. That was very funny.

Lol, Mitch straight up is like “try killing your bro” and Nyxly is just like “ex-cuse me???” I love this pair.

Lena comes out to find Kara on the balcony, wondering why she failed. She first says one of the softest “hey” I have ever heard in my life. My Supercorp heart melted. Then Kara says, “do you really not believe in magic?” which Lena, being in love with Kara, responds with “I believe in you.” Then adds after one of the most pregnant pauses ever, “and I believe in all of us.” A) Lena, darling, that didn’t answer the question, and B) EEEEEEEEEK. Very good Supercorp moment for this gal right here.

So Kara fails again, whereas Nyxly succeeds this time. Nyxly passed because she had the courage to be emotionally vulnerable to her brother, neato. The show is doing a really good job making her a sympathetic villain. Add her to the list alongside Reign and Agent Liberty.

Oh, so I didn’t mention but there was this scientist lady who wanted to harness lightning and that didn’t work, so she went mad with courage and somehow caused this insane storm. That part wasn’t super clear but who cares, it looks pretty cool. Also, Lena didn’t get affected by the magic blast because she’s a witch. Lena is pissed but she’s got no choice but to believe it now.

So, against her very better judgement, Kara takes the Superfriends to fight off this massive storm that is going to blow out the city. After struggling in vain because J’onn is trying to reason with Dr. Lahr and Alex is saving William’s ass because he’s randomly on scene, Kara just tells Lena to let the totem go. Makes sense, honestly. Gotta do what’s best, which isn’t always what’s right.

KELLLLLLLLYYYYYYY. Kelly saving Alex is so sweet and amazing. 10/10 amazing entrance, love it.

Supergirl and friends stop the lighting storm in a honestly cool way. Kara makes a quip before she passes out because her and Nxyly are now connected a la Harry-Voldemort style, where they can feel each other’s emotion.

Kelly and Alex have a very sweet Dansen moment at the beginning of this episode, and to finish it as well. Kelly saying she likes scars while making eyes at Alex is everything. I love these two.

The we get a domestic Supercorp moment as well. People, us Supercorpers are being fed tonight! Lena opens up to Kara about being a witch after Kara still is struggling to figure out why she failed twice. Lena says to Kara “you are the epitome of courageous” because she is trying very hard to flirt again and Kara is just missing it. But the two share a very sweet moment where Lena offers to learn magic just to help Kara and Kara accepts it, but declines it as well because like Harry, she thinks that this could be very useful to have.

That’s it for this week. Overall, very happy with this episode. I think besides the kinda useless William C-plot, everything else was great. Great Dansen and Supercorp and even Brainia moments. Next episode, not sure how it’s going to go truthfully but I’m hopeful! Also, Kara is bullet proof and she looks so done with whoever is shooting her haha. It does sounds like a Lena-centric episode, but William also seems to be a focus, so yay-ish I guess lol. Until then!

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amillionsmiles · 3 years

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in your bedroom after the war (Dick/Artemis)

Title: in your bedroom after the war Summary: As far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could be doing worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass. / Post-Invasion, pre-Outsiders. Rated M. A/N: I have one (1) agenda and that is messy grieving fuck buddies who are each other’s ride-or-dies. if you are not into fic that sits squarely in sad feral horny territory, then this is probably not your speed.

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.

| GOTHAM

| JANUARY 14, 2017; 12:05 AM EST

Artemis is a bit heavier than she was in her teenage years, but her feet land lightly on the fire escape by the window. An hour ago, she’d called her mom from Metropolis, promising she’d be home by midnight. Ever since her daughter faked her death a year ago, Paula Nguyen has become even more of a worrywart, and Artemis knows that the five minutes she’s running late are going to cause her to receive an earful.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back in this neck of the woods.” A familiar figure drops from the roof above onto the rung below her.

“Nightwing.”

She’s not surprised that he’s been keeping tabs. Officially, he’s been on a leave of absence for the past six months, but Dick, like her, is vigilant in his grief.

She’d come back to Gotham because it put her closer to Metropolis and Beta Squad’s continued investigation of LexCorp, but the truth is that she could have Zeta-tubed from Palo Alto easily. Their—her—apartment had been no good though, not without Wally. So she’d left most of her things in storage to figure out later and moved back in with her mom. On days when Artemis can’t muster the energy to get out of bed, Paula wheels determinedly around the kitchen, ready to whip up some mì xào or a warm bowl of mì gói. They play card games and laugh about how bad Wally was at tiến lên the first time Paula tried to teach him. Your boy has no patience, he always wants to play his strongest cards right away, her mom had teased, and Wally had protested, I make it a rule to always put my best foot forward! and Artemis had loved him even more then.

Loved. Loves. She hates the past tense.

“I mean, were you ever going to ask me to grab coffee?”

She can see the bits of Wally in his cracks. In a room together, it was always easy to tell they were best friends from the way they riffed off each other. The acrobat and the speedster: all verbal gymnastics and fast-moving quips. But unlike Wally, who liked poking fun because he liked getting attention, Dick is at his wittiest when trying to avoid talking about himself.

Artemis reaches out and pulls him to sit down beside her. She makes a show of looking at her watch.

“How’s… 12:15 AM this Saturday?”

Dick pretends to check it against his mental schedule. If his is anything like hers, it probably goes: Wake up. Exercise (beating up bad guys counts). Mourn.

“Yeah, seems like I can swing it.”

“Perfect,” says Artemis, sliding up the glass panes to let them into her childhood bedroom. “I’ve got just the stuff.”

In the kitchen, Brucely stirs briefly from his dog bed to sniff the air and yip, then curls back asleep. Paula hands Dick a mug, waiting for him to take a sip before saying, “So you were the one who had the brilliant plan to have my daughter fake her death.”

Dick splutters; from the table, Artemis rises to his defense. “Mom,” she says. “Leave him be.”

Setting his cup down, Dick leans against the cabinets, bending his head slightly and rubbing the back of his neck. He does a good job of appearing chastised, and Artemis wants to roll her eyes, if only because she’s heard from Bette and Raquel that this pose is far too effective at convincing women to want to forgive him or try again.

“I’m not leading much of anything these days, if that’s at all a comfort to you.”

“Hmph.” Paula sniffs. “You live alone?”

“Yeah.” Dick shoots Artemis a questioning look over her mom’s head. Artemis shrugs.

“What do you do to fill the time?”

“A lot of reading. Gotham’s library system actually has a pretty good selection, believe it or not. I’ve also gotten really into meditating.”

“And you don’t sleep.”

Dick stiffens. For the first time, he looks exposed, a boy with too much guilt and too much time on his hands.

“I do. Tonight I was just… restless.”

Paula nods and backs up her wheelchair so she can sit by Artemis, curling her fingers over Artemis’s hand and squeezing. She raises her drink, Artemis and Dick following suit, the three of them toasting to invisible losses.

“Aren’t we all.”

Later, back on the fire escape, Dick taps his fingers against the railing, jittery. “I feel like I need to start doing jumping jacks. What was in that stuff?”

Artemis bites back a smile. “Yeah, Vietnamese coffee packs a hit. That’s my bad. Probably should have given you something non-caffeinated at this hour.”

“It’s fine. I’ll jog it out, or something.” He turns to go, but Artemis stops him with a hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, listen—it was good seeing you tonight. And if you need someone to talk to…” What she really means is: it’d be nice to be around someone who’s hurting as much as I am. Not to say that the rest of the team wasn’t as torn up over Wally’s death, but she and Dick had been ground zero. Closest to the blast.

After a pause, Dick nods. “Yeah… I could use a sparring partner, actually. I’ll send you an address.”

“Okay.” Satisfied, Artemis withdraws her hand, curling her fingers into her palm.

It feels like a start.

Dick’s directions lead Artemis to Wayne Manor; from there he takes her to the Bat Cave.

“I thought you were striking out on your own,” Artemis says, using her forearms to deflect a kick to her face. Dick grunts and recovers, throwing a punch to her stomach; she dances out of the way.

“I am. I just pop in here from time to time because Bruce has better equipment. Plus there’s less of a chance of me disturbing the neighbors.” He gestures to the eerily blue-lit stone walls around them.

Artemis feints and goes low, ducking under Dick’s guard. Two quick hits to Dick’s sternum pushes him back, before he gets a hand on her wrist and twists her around so that her back is pressed against his chest.

“Weren’t we supposed to be talking?”

Kicking his shin, Artemis breaks free. “All right, fine. I’ll start.” Jab. “I keep wanting a scapegoat.” Kick. “Like, one person to blame, instead of something as big as the Reach. But it’s not some giant revenge thing, and I know Wally wouldn’t want me to go down that sort of all-consuming rabbit hole even if it was, and that pisses. Me. Off.” On those last words, she manages to use Dick’s momentum against him and flips him over her shoulder.

For a minute, it’s so quiet between them she can hear the faint plip of water dripping from a stalactite into the water below the sparring dais. Still lying on the floor, Dick confesses, “I keep hearing him.”

“I make a joke to myself and he’s there, in my ear, with the punchline. And then…” He passes a hand over his face. “And then I realize that the real punchline is him being gone.”

Slowly, Artemis approaches him. She feels like she did when they were undercover at Haly’s circus so many years ago, that brief moment of hangtime before their hands connected in the air. She means to sit down next to him, pat his shoulder, she doesn’t know what, but instead Dick sweeps her legs out from under her and she goes down hard, the air whooshing out of her chest as she falls flat on her back.

“Agh!” The release sets something loose inside her. Next thing she knows, she’s yelling again, louder, just because.

Dick catches on and then it’s just the two of them shouting, their voices echoing through the cavern, threading around and piling atop each other like a flock of birds. After they’re done, Dick rolls so that they’re lying side by side.

“You know, when we were starting out—when we first became friends—I used to make fun of Wally that if he kept talking so much while running he was bound to swallow more bugs, or something. And he’d just shoot back like, ‘Nah dude, you think I’m not fast enough to see them and dodge them in the air?’ But you know how he was always so hungry after missions? One time I was so mad at him I put a bug in his sandwich. I’ve never forgotten the look on his face after he bit into it and I said, dodge that.”

“You didn’t.” Artemis gasps and covers her mouth, horrified, but she can see it so vividly: the colors draining from Wally’s face, making his freckles pop even more against his skin, the same greenish tint his cheeks took the time they went to Vietnam and he got food poisoning. He’d spent two days feverishly glaring up at the mosquito netting, and Artemis had draped cold hand towels over his forehead and promised she wasn’t going to leave him for the very obliging boy who kept bringing them ice.

“I did.” Dick is gleeful. “Really put the ‘rank’ in prank.”

Artemis snorts; the snort turns into a full-blown guffaw. Dick turns toward her, laughing too. His hair is matted with sweat but still soft; it brushes against her forehead.

It feels so good to be close to someone again, to be able to flip on a dime from sadness to frustration to anger to laughter and not have to explain herself. She can’t remember the last time she smiled and didn’t feel guilty about it, and she means it more affectionately than anything when she reaches over and brings Dick’s mouth to hers, like if she inhales whatever they’ve temporarily managed to create here between them, it’ll be enough to tide her over for the next few months. For a second, he’s warm and responsive, before his lips stiffen and he pulls back.

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

Shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t. Shouldn’t beat yourself up about it, shouldn’t blame yourself for getting back in the game. Artemis is sick of people telling her how to deal, how it’s supposed to go. It’ll get better and then it doesn’t. People talk like there are guidebooks for this kind of shit, like it’s a marathon she just needs to pace herself through. And it’s the stupidest thing, but she misses being held.

She sits up and crosses her arms, resisting the urge to curl in on herself. “You didn’t do anything. I’ll go.”

“No, Artemis, wait, I don’t think you should go, I just want to understand what’s going on—”

“I want you to touch me, okay?” she explodes. “I want you to touch me because he’s never going to again and I know you loved him too and—and maybe if it’s you, I won’t feel so desperately alone.”

Dick looks stricken, and then, hesitantly, he reaches for her. His eyes are so blue, the kind of crushed eggshell you’d use to make a paint. “You’re not alone.”

“Prove it,” she says, vision blurring with tears—wanting, needing him closer, and then his hairline is up against hers again and his nose is at her cheek, his mouth at her jaw, soft but with a willingness to bruise. Don’t ask me what we’re about to do, Artemis silently begs, and Dick doesn’t.

Wally had been a restless lover. Always turning them over, switching positions. Artemis had taken it as a challenge, part of the ongoing competition that defined their relationship. Deep down, she’d known that Wally would be just as content if the rest of their sex life consisted solely of spooning gently on Sundays, which, if anything, was why she’d been so eager to experiment—because it felt like an easy gift she could give, not something she had to master to “maintain excitement” or make him stay.

She’s not sure what she expected from Dick. Maybe that’s a comfort—that she wasn’t fantasizing before they happened, wondering about all the mechanics of how it would go. Dick lets her call the shots, lets her ride him into the ground, the grip of his fingers around her thighs the only reminder she isn’t just angling toward oblivion. When he presses his thumb between her legs, it’s a weird sort of anchor—like hearing a voice pick up on a line you thought was dead. She has a body, and here’s someone on the other end of it, caring about her release. As soon as that thought hits, the relief shudders through her; she keeps rocking long enough to feel Dick follow, a stutter and a grunt, before she collapses boneless over him, the sweat of his skin a comforting stickiness against her cheek.

Internally, she apologizes to Bruce for desecrating his training space. Then again, they’re hardly the first of the Justice League to get handsy in less than appropriate places. She’s seen how Black Canary and Green Arrow act around each other.

Below her, Dick catches his breath. The rush of blood—his or hers—is loud in her ears.

“I didn’t think you’d be so…” Giving, she means to say, but it gets lost on her tongue. “I mean, Zatanna…” she trails off again.

If Dick’s embarrassed at the prospect of his ex-girlfriend having blabbed about the details of their sex life to Artemis, he doesn’t show it. His fingers find a snag in her hair; gently, he works it loose. The air smells hedonistic. He keeps combing. Nice is the only word she can think to describe it, and that makes her want to cry again, so she squeezes her eyes shut.

“Thank you,” she whispers against his chest.

Dick pauses his ministrations. He flattens his palm against the base of her neck and just—holds her there.

“Don’t mention it.”

When she goes home that afternoon to shower, she runs the water on full blast for a long time.

Armed with Chinese food, she visits Dick’s place the next day intent on making amends. Dick doesn’t even act surprised; he just points to the glass coffee table where she can set the bag of chopsticks, napkins, and takeout.

“I’m trying to decide what to watch.”

There’s really no need for him to stand in front of the TV the way he does, one hand propped on his hip as he clicks through options with the remote. Artemis lets herself ogle, a bit. The surest way to blow past what happened between them yesterday is to be honest with herself, right? And as far as coping mechanisms go, Artemis could have done worse. At least her method has a gymnast’s ass.

“Any preferences?”

“Between what?” asks Artemis, cracking open the carton of lo mein and settling back against the cushions. The Netflix suggestion algorithm onscreen paints a condemning picture of Dick’s tastes. “True crime or… true crime?”

Wally had been really into nature documentaries. One time during freshman year, when they were still living on Stanford’s campus, they’d gotten high in Wally’s dorm room and watched Blue Planet. Wally had cried when the seal got flung apart by killer whales.

“I’ll Be Gone in the Dark it is, then,” says Dick. He settles next to her on the couch, peeling back one of the orders and sniffing its contents. “What’s this one?”

“Salt and pepper ribs. They were today’s special.”

“Artemis.” Dick beams. “You really do care about me.”

Ten minutes into the episode begs a single question: “Isn’t it sort of depressing that you spend so much of your day fighting crime, and then you go home to unwind and just watch… more of it?”

Dick shrugs. “It keeps me sharp. And it’s nice seeing other people solve problems.”

“Well, if you ever feel like branching out, there’s a short film about Rubik’s cubes you might like.” Artemis nudges his side. “Remember when you were a scrawny math geek?”

Bringing both hands behind his head, Dick smirks. “Still a math geek. Just not scrawny.”

Artemis stares. That was just a bit of friendly showboating, right? Or was it a flirt? Not trusting herself, she whips her gaze back toward the TV. What feels like eons later, the credits roll.

“Artemis,” Dick says, too soft for having just finished a show about murder. He taps the corner of his mouth. “You’ve got some food stuck.”

She wipes with the back of her hand; a breaded piece of orange chicken emerges as the culprit. Without thinking, she flicks it off, sending it flying somewhere onto Dick’s carpet.

“Oops.”

Chuckling, Dick shakes his head. “I need to vacuum tomorrow, anyways.”

The mention of tomorrow stirs her. “Right. I should head out.”

“Yeah.” Dick rises to help her clean up their mess, holding open the plastic bag so she can toss in the soiled napkins and other bits of trash. “Or—”

He hesitates, but the hesitation’s enough. It might as well be a hand on her wrist, with how it stops her in her tracks. All night, despite what she told herself, she’s been looking for proof: proof that his aloneness fits the shape of hers, that he needs her, too. This time, Dick makes the first move—cups her face in both hands and kisses her, slow and deep and full of heat. Some pepper from the food they ate still lingers on his lips, making her mouth tingle, and Artemis is dizzy and flat on her back on the couch before she knows it, giving in.

Not scrawny at all, she thinks, admiring the solidness of Dick’s knees on either side of her, the weight of his frame as they grind together. The sheer mechanics of it feel very horny-teenager-after-prom, but the way Dick sucks her bottom lip and swallows her breath down with it is decidedly adult. These days, Artemis practically lives in her sports bra, which doesn’t exactly grant easy access, but when Dick’s fingertips skim over the cotton covering her breasts the sensation zings all the way down her spine.

“Need… off…”

“Yeah,” Dick murmurs, humming as he moves down the column of her neck. “Gimme a sec, I’m working on it.”

She’d worn sweats because she figured their bagginess would keep her from sparring again and any potential… situations that could arise from that. Instead, all it means is Dick unties the drawstrings easily, sliding her pants down her legs. Cool air brushes across her as he shifts positions; she wants to sob in relief. His teeth graze her hip and then catch the edge of her panties and—oh. Fuck. The moan tears out of her and she scrabbles at the armrest, hips rising of their own accord. Next time, she is handcuffing Dick to a bed, because what he’s doing with his tongue and fingers should be illegal. She can feel him grinning, the bastard, and the only thing keeping her from crushing his head to a pulp between her thighs is the maneuver he pulls where he hooks her knees over his shoulders, so he can change the angle and plunge in deeper. Artemis shoves the edge of her T-shirt into her mouth at the last minute, only barely managing to muffle her cry.

Dick surfaces from his solo mission looking entirely too satisfied, mouth glistening. Trembling, still, from her orgasm, Artemis squints at him, possessed by some combination of unbridled lust and rage.

“Dick.”

“You calling, or asking?”

“Shut up,” she hisses. She feels like a newborn foal, after what he just did to her, but the urge to dismantle him just as thoroughly sends her surging upward and pushing him back. Dick welcomes their reversed positions by peeling off his shirt and tossing it over his shoulder, all while Artemis works furiously at his belt. It shouldn’t feel so good, to hear the metal clink against his button and watch the leather slide through the loops. To see the shadows the light of the TV casts on him—the lashes on his cheeks, the hollow of his throat. Artemis hadn’t paid much attention the first time, too desperate and caught up a bit in self-loathing, but now she’s actually enjoying this, savoring the flex of Dick’s abs as he pushes up to meet her, his skin pebbling at her touch.

“I’m going to take you apart,” she purrs.

Dick groans and bucks. The sensation sends a sharp spike of pleasure through her, and she clamps down on him tighter, refusing to yield.

“Try me, Tigress,” he rasps, pushing himself up on one arm so he can mouth at her collarbone. With his other hand, he pulls off her hairtie so her hair comes free of her ponytail, and this is going to be a thing with him, isn’t it, him wanting to fuck her while her hair swings loose around her face. She indulges him for a few minutes, claws his back and bites his shoulder for good measure, but then she’s pushing him back down and stretching out her body as languidly as possible to remind him who’s boss. Their pace slows. Dick keeps a hand fisted in her hair, so he can tug her head back in order to keep her neck exposed to his wanton mouth, but his grip gets less sure the closer she pushes him to the edge.

“Art—” says Dick, the single syllable like a painting pinned to the wall, fraught with desire, and then he just lets it drop, the tresses of her hair falling through his fingers. She wants to tell him that he’s beautiful, that he does look like a boy wonder, right then, in the midst of coming undone, chest flushed and hair mussed and pupils blown nearly wide enough to overtake the blue.

She doesn’t, but she stays the night, and that’s close enough.

High-functioning, Artemis’s therapist had called her, before Artemis moved back to Gotham. And it does feel like a high—the sneaking around, the after-hours meet-ups, the back-and-forth. There’s no one really keeping tabs on her, though Artemis has plenty of cover stories if anyone asks (new intel, side reconnaissance, etcetera, etcetera). Her mom eyes her and says, “As long as you’re not planning on staging your own death again, because I will find out and I will kill you this time,” and that’s that. Artemis nearly laughs. If anything, what she’s doing is the opposite, a small resurrection. An entire month and a half passes this way: day trips and dinners and movie nights and Dick and her in a bathtub, in the shower, against a wall. She even wears a gown and heels once, not because they have an actual event to attend, but because Dick has a fantasy that involves taking her from behind in the Wayne Manor library.

They’re in his apartment on a Sunday morning bathing in the afterglow, sheets tangled around their waists. Thank god Dick is one of those assholes that splurged on not only a nice mattress but also a solid bed frame. Artemis reaches over to push the hair out of his eyes. The black tuft on the back of his head that she likes grabbing is fluffed up like a duck's tail, and under the sunlight slanting through the windows, he looks angelic.

“Are you falling back asleep?”

Yawning, Dick snags her around the waist, dragging her to him. She should not delight this much in being manhandled.

“You wore me out,” he complains, tucking his chin over her shoulder.

“They just don’t make them like they used to,” Artemis sighs. Dick growls a little at the dig, fingers tightening against her hip.

Well. If he’s going to nap, she is, too. Comfortably spooned, she snuggles back against him, prepared to drift off.

“Do you think Wally would have wanted…” Dick doesn’t finish the thought.

Artemis turns in his arms. Dick has long eyelashes, and he’s looking at her through them almost bashfully. She places a hand on his chest. Feels his heartbeat thump once, twice.

“I think he would want us to be happy.”

“Are you?” Dick’s voice fades out and he has to swallow hard to clear his throat. “Happy?”

“I’m not… miserable.”

Dick runs his hand up her bare arm, over her shoulder. “Me neither.”

“You know, Wally and I thought…” She bites her lip, remembering a whoosh of air, Wally speeding to her side to kiss her and interrupting her report on the disabled Paris MFD. I know we promised each other we’d get out of this game, but maybe we can have our life together and play hero, too. “We thought we’d have everything.”

Dick’s response isn’t mournful; it’s matter-of-fact. “After my parents died, I never really convinced myself that I could have it all.”

“That sounds like something Batman would say.”

“Does it?”

“A little.”

Once upon a time, Artemis had stood before the team ready to lay bare her darkest secret, waiting to be kicked out. And Dick had shown his hand: he’d known from the beginning and hadn’t cared. You aren’t your family. You’re one of us. She knows he’s second-guessed himself over the years, wondering how fit he actually is to play leader. But for her, trust has always been the easiest thing about the two of them. It was why she’d said yes so easily to his deep cover mission—because she knew that he wouldn’t quit until he’d brought all of them home, that he would do whatever he could to keep them safe.

Taking his face in both her hands, she looks deep into his eyes. “You deserve good things, Dick Grayson.”

“Mm.” Dick smiles into her kiss, hooks his ankle over hers. “Keep telling me that. I’ll start to believe it.”

Jade abandons Will and Lian on a Tuesday, and Artemis’s carefully crafted equilibrium falls apart. At least this time she’s not the one directly being left, unlike when she was a teenager. Her expectations of her older sister had hardly been high, but if she’d plotted them on a graph they’d have trended upward. Now they’ve tanked.

“Did she leave any hint of where she was going?” Dick asks over the whir of his juicer. He’s gotten really into squeezing oranges lately; Artemis can’t complain because he always gives her the first glass.

“It’s Jade. She never wants to be found, and I hardly think she’s about to try an Eat Pray Love type thing.”

“Eat Slash Steal, maybe?” Dick offers, dropping two ice cubes into a drink and setting it in front of her.

Artemis sips, balling up a napkin and throwing it at him at the same time. “Watch it, that’s still my family you’re talking about.”

“I’m sorry. How’s Will taking it?”

“As well as any dad trying to raise a two-year-old by himself would.”

“So, poorly.” Dick taps his finger against the table. “Are they coming here?”

Artemis looks at him blankly. “Why?”

“I figured they might want to be closer to you and your mom now that Jade’s gone. Gotham’s not so bad—you and I turned out fine. And Will probably needs to look into preschools and a babysitter for Lian soon. If you move in with me, you can bring her over whenever.”

The last piece of information slips in so casually she thinks she’s misheard. “What?”

“If you move in with me, you can bring Lian over whenever,” repeats Dick. “This place is as good as yours. You’re over here all the time anyway.”

Suddenly, she can’t breathe. “You’re serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

She can’t meet his eyes. “W—Will’s home is in Star City. He’s not going to move.”

Slowly, Dick says, “Okay. But my offer doesn’t really depend on Will.”

Her stuff is still in boxes. She’s still paying for a storage unit almost 3,000 miles away. And Dick is waiting on her so intently it makes her chest hurt.

Artemis stands up. “We’re not doing this.”

Dick’s eyebrows rise. Annoyance, or maybe anger, flickers across his face. “You wanna fill me in on what exactly it is we’re doing, according to you?”

“We’re not going to fight about this like we’re…” In a relationship. In love. In anything other than a messy configuration started by shared grief. She doesn’t say any of it out loud, but she doesn’t need to—Dick’s always been great at reading people, and he’s known all her tells from the start.

“Right.” The single syllable comes out as cold and pointed as an icicle. He pushes his chair back from the table and stands up. The clouds are rolling in, throwing shadows across his features. Even now, Artemis wants to kiss him, wants to be the one to smooth the furrow between his eyebrows away.

“Dick…”

“Do me a favor, will you?” Dick grabs his jacket from the hook by his door, shrugging it on. He pauses, briefly, in the doorway. “Lock my door on the way out.”

That night, she lies alone in her bedroom next to the picture of her, Wally, and Brucely. Brucely snuffles at the foot of her bed and then leaps onto the covers, and this time she doesn’t shoo him off. Neither does she fall asleep.

There was a song Jade had liked to sing, passed down from their mother: a Vietnamese lullaby about a yellow butterfly, to the tune of “Frère Jacques.” The butterfly flies all over the sky. Come and see. Come and see. When it became clear that Artemis’s hair would grow in blond, not black, Jade started pulling it, making her giggle. You’re the yellow butterfly, see?

The taxicab she calls for the airport is bright yellow in the morning light. Plain old civilian travel for plain old civilian business. You don’t need to be a superhero to fly across the country and move in with your brother-in-law and your niece. She’ll sing silly little songs and wash Lian’s hair, and they’ll be a family same as anyone else’s: clumsy, incomplete.

“Artemis.” Dick coalesces out of the fog. They haven’t seen or spoken to each other in a week, and she should be mad that he’s here because it probably means he’s been monitoring her web traffic and caught wind she’d bought plane tickets. Still, all she feels is relief.

Jade had laughed when Artemis had let slip what she was doing during one rare sisterly bonding moment. “Oh, darling sister, your thing with your little bird boy isn’t about moving on. You’re using him as a holding pattern. Try not to damage him too much, hm?” Rankled, Artemis had hung up the phone—what did Jade know about anything, besides shoving it under the rug and pretending it didn’t matter? Now, though, Artemis sees things more clearly. Jade did know something about bodies and what they could and couldn’t fix; after all, isn’t that why she ran?

She worries with the strap of her duffel bag, letting Dick approach.

“If this were a romcom, you would have waited until I got to the airport and then run through security.”

“If this were a romcom,” says Dick, stopping in front of her and shoving his hands in his pockets, “I’d be trying to make you stay.”

She thinks he might be the one person left on this planet who knows her best. She thinks they could save each other, if they’d let themselves try. But they each have work to do on their own, first.

Setting down her bag, she tucks her face into the crook of his neck and breathes him in. Wherever else she goes, this spot will always feel like forgiveness. Nose buried in her hair, Dick squeezes her back.

The taxi driver rolls down his window. “Is this guy coming with us or not?”

Artemis pulls back, and there’s so much sky in Dick’s eyes.

“You know where to find me,” she says.

| STAR CITY

| JULY 29, 2018; 7:30 AM PST

“Who are you here to recruit this time?” Will asks, leaning against the doorframe, but Artemis doesn’t need an answer, doesn’t need any details but the black hair she can see just over Will’s shoulder, Dick’s voice at the end of a line.

He jumps, and she jumps with him. They’ll figure out everything else as they go.

Before Dick can respond, she says: “I’m in.”

#young justice #artemis crock #dick grayson #traught #dick x artemis #my writing #fanfiction #ff: yj

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