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moodymisty · 1 year

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hi !! congrats on your milestone, you deserve it!! :D 💜

I saw the "accidentally saying a pet name" and I was immediately intrigued how that would go with Crosshair and Hunter if you're willing? :0 or just with Cross if it's to 1 character, I'm sorry if I confused smth HDJAHKF

SFW if possible? i just need smth cute atm aa

again congrats and I hope you're doing okay !💜💜

❀ Milestone prompts list ❀

Author's Note: Awww thank you so much!! I don't know if I deserve it, but I'm so happy that people enjoy my stuff! And no you didn't get anything confused, lets give Hunter and Crossy some love.

Relationships: Hunter/Fem!Reader, Crosshair/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None, Both pre-order 66

✦ Hunter ✦

You don't know why out of every thing you've done- Every hill you've climbed, stairs ascended and rocky path treaded, this one goddamn seam on the gangplank of the Marauder always manages to get you.

It's made you trip up multiple times, once so even ending up face planted in the dirt right in front of everyone else. Up or down it never fails to catch the toe of your boot, the moment you don't consciously remember to lift your feet up higher to avoid it.

"Are you all coming anytime soon?"

Wrecker groans, rolling his eyes when he realizes everyone isn't right behind him. He complains about feeling like he's starving, Crosshair and Tech both telling him to can it as they join him outside. That just leaves you and Hunter for last, having taken the longest to get ready.

The two of you walk out of the ship mostly side by side, and in your excitement to get some food, you fail to once again remember that little lip of metal that always trips you up. It catches the toe of your shoe and sends you flying forward, attempting to stumble and catch yourself.

Hunter jolts forward and grabs you at the waist, skidding forward slightly after catching you. Your hands are partly held outwards and you'd been prepared to catch your own fall, but Hunter's strong grip stops you halfway down.

"Woah, easy there sweetheart," He says the moment you have your feet under your center of gravity again. His hands grip your stomach and waist, the fabric of your top bunching and pulling awkwardly.

However you can feel the moment he realizes what surprisingly intimate word has slipped from his lips, removing his arms from you the second you have your bearings about you. He lets out a small cough.

"I, Uh..."

His eyes glance away from you, but when they look back, you're smiling.

"Thanks for the save, Hunter." He can feel his brothers eyes on him, even as he nods at you and attempts to hide the way his face feels a little hot.

✦ Crosshair ✦

If there is one thing consistent about Crosshair, it's that he always loves to call you names. Things like 'princess', illuding to your demands for specific things. Like wishing they'd pick up after themselves, or for the Marauder to not smell like bottled, concentrated 'man'.

But it's all laced with sarcasm and his overall brand of incorrigible ass, so you've never taken any of it seriously.

Afterall it seems as if he can barely stand your very being in the same vicinity as him, why would you let his words get to you? It's all just him being a jerk or at best, just teasing. Though at least most of the time he seems to barely stand you- other times he's far more talkative than you'd ever expect of him.

The pilot's seat creaks a bit as you lean back into it a bit more, pulling your legs up to tuck them beside you.

Crosshair is confusing; You can't ever seem to get a solid read on him or how he really feels about you.

"How long you been in here?"

Well now, speak of the devil.

You look to your side and see Crosshair standing between the pilot and co-pilot seat, looking out of the viewport at the stars and planets streaking past. He glances down at you for a moment, face still forward.

"I've been here since a bit before Tech left. Finally managed to get him to leave."

You manage to mostly hold back a yawn, but it still forces you to make a small noise in your throat. It's been awhile, and watching the ship in hyperspace is more than a little boring. If anything, the lull of the engines, bumping of metal on metal, and the soft glow of the safely lights on the floor have only served as your new favorite lullaby since you had made the Marauder your home away from home.

"I'll take over." His voice is curt, and steady. You look up and shake your head.

"It's fine, Crosshair. I'm not that tired." And you don't want the others to think that you shirked out on your duty, as much as they'd never think it.

Crosshair simply takes a step closer and put his hand on the headrest of the seat. He notices the way your eyes seem heavy, your body slouched.

"Go sleep, doll. I'll cover for you."

You're used to ignoring his words but, the softness of these ones strike you. When you look up at him in surprise however, he's already patched up the tiny little crack in his exterior he let crumble.

"Cross? What di-" He jerks his head in the direction of the bunks.

"Go." He leaves no room for argument, and so you get up and move to slip past him.

His face noticeably turns away from you, waiting until you're safely out of sight before he mouths insult after insult at himself for letting that slip, and almost embarrassing himself.

#the bad batch hunter x reader #the bad batch crosshair x reader #tbb x reader #Hunter/Reader #Crosshair/Reader #the bad batch x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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instacarma0798 · 3 months

Text

Title: the moon will sing a song for me

Ship: Wanda Maximoff x Reader (briefish Natasha R x Reader, but not really)

Warnings: None.

{A/N: sorry if Natasha is a little ooc in this one. I hope this is as good as part 1}

Part 1

Things were supposed to be fine between you and Natasha, they were supposed to be fine. Things were fine. You were fine. Natasha was happily married to Maria, and you were happily....you were hapily running backend and doing their paperwork. At first it was difficult to work into a routine while staying at the tower, but it worked.

A few months ago you moved to compound with everyone, but thankfully your routine stayed the same. It was much more spacious in the compound. Tony gave you a bigger room, even though you protested, he claimed, "It's a raise." And raised his hand dismissively.

So yeah, everything was fine.

Right now, you were typing out paperwork after the latest disaster in Lagos. It may have been an accident, and in no way did you blame Wanda, but the paperwork was killing you. Meanwhile, you were pretty sure most of the avengers were out chilling in the main room. You decided to take a break and go check on Wanda.

Peeking into the mainroom, only Clint catching you and sending a small smile, you found no Wanda (and no Tony for that matter, which was odd) so you went to look in her room. You socked feet glided over the floor as you jogged over there before skidding to a halt and letting yourself slide on your socks with a soft laugh. Softly knocking on her door, you could hear television playing inside - the news by the sound of it.

When there was no reply you called out, "Wanda?"

It took a moment before there was a reply, and a hesitant one at that, "Come in."

Carefully you pushed the door open and stepped in. You had never actually been in Wanda's room before, taking in the bookshelf with small trinkets and cluttered desk. Wanda, herself, sat on the large, fluffy, bed. Her legs were sitting criss-crossed as her brown hair fell down past her shoulders. As you stepped closer, hesitating on where to sit, her lips twitched up and her amber-ish green eyes sparkled a little bit. The witch gestured for you to sit on the bed after your obvious hesitation.

You snatched the remote on the way and shut the TV off.

"It's my fault," Wanda spoke first as you sat on the bed, "Turn the TV back on."

"No."

"They're being very specific," her accent laid heavy on her words, it came out more when she was angry.

"It's not all your fault," you shook your head, "there were other's there. And not that I'm blaming him, Rumlow obviously said something to trigger something, but Steve was there first. You did the best you could so it didn't kill everyone in the vicinity."

"People died, that's on me," Wanda refuted her head turning to down as she fiddled with her sleeves.

"Wanda- this job-" you weren't quite sure what to say, comfort was never your thing.

"You try to save as many people as you can," Steve interrupted, and you could barely restrain yourself from glaring at his form leaning on the doorway, "that doesn't always mean everybody, but if we can't find a way to live with that, next time maybe nobody gets saved."

Before anybody could get another word in, there was a distinct sound, almost a whirring sound, and Wanda jumped before Vision phased into the room.

"Vis," she reprimanded, "we talked about this."

"Yes, but the door was open so I assumed-" he gestured to the door as if to make his point, then Wanda gave him a look, so he sighed, "Captain Rogers and Ms. Y/L/N wished to know when Mr. Stark was arriving."

"Thank you, we'll be right down," you said curtly.

Vision hesitated then pointed towards the door, "I'll use the door this time. Oh! and he's brought a guest?"

"Do we know who?" you and Steve asked in tandem, drawing a soft smile out of Wanda.

"The Secretary of State," Vision said before exiting out the hallway.

<____________>

Tony just finished his spiel on the kid who died, the young-ish boy who wanted to make a difference. Your heart ached for the kid and his mom, it did, but the whole world would be taken over at this point if the Avengers hadn't done anything.

"Tony the whole world would be gone if we didn't stop those threats, I'm not-" you didn't even get to finish your sentence before Tony cut you off.

"No, there's no decision making process here," his tone raised (you did not flinch) as he leaned against the counter, "we need to be put in check. By whatever means, I'm game."

There was a slight stunned silence, nobody quite expected Tony to sign the accords.

Steve sighed, "Tony if someone dies on your watch, you don't give up." his tone weighed heavy on his words.

"Who said we're giving up?"

"We are if we don't take responsibility."

"Guys listen-" you tried to get your voice in, but when Tony, Steve, and Rhodey started arguing you were cut off.

They weren't even being that loud, but you despised when people argued and quietly slipped out, just barely catching Wanda's "They'll come for me." You would protect her. Your feet carried you towards the balcony and you took a seat on the ground, tilting your head towards the sky.

These Accords were going to split the team apart, you knew it, but you would be dammed if you lost another group of friends. You wracked your brain for flaws in this plan. If the Avengers were needed but were told 'no', that could cause more disasters. But that wasn't enough. The team could all disagree to sign it, bluff and say they would no longer help and be heroes, but they might be called on their buff. There wasn't a lot of options to keep the team together.

Maybe, just maybe, Steve told you they had 1 month to decide - if the team could win back trust, then maybe they wouldn't have to sign the accords. It was a long shot, and you didn't even know how to pull it off, but it could work.

"What's on your mind?" Natasha asked as she stepped out onto the balcony and slid down the wall next to you, "You got your thinking face on."

You love how she thought everything was perfect between you two.

"Nothing," you croaked, "How're things going with Maria? I haven't seen her in a while."

Natasha winced, "We...aren't on the best of terms right now. Currently taking a break, she has an apartment in the city."

You never expected their marriage to last. Two hotheaded, stubborn women? That was a recipe for disaster. Natasha should have been able to tell, but she seemed to desperate for love. You made a sympathetic face, but offered no other comfort.

"What if..." you trailed off, hesitant, "What if you guys appeal to the UN? Ross gave you a month right? Appeal to the UN, get them to repeal the accords."

Natasha let out a long, heavy breath, "That would never work," she shook her head.

When she oppened her mouth to speak again, Wanda stepped out onto the balcony fidgeting with her cuffs.

"Is it alright if I steal Y/N for a moment? I need her help with something."

It looked like the last thing Natasha wanted to do was say 'yes', but regardless, "Yeah sure, go ahead."

You followed Wanda out into the hall and she led you towards her room silently, stopping just outside the door. The witch bounced on her toes and bit her lip.

Eventually she mumbled, "Do you want to watch a movie with me?"

"Huh?" you asked momentarily stunned.

She looked up, eyes a little wide, "It's just that Vis cancelled for some reason and I have all these snacks so I figured-"

"Wanda," you cut her off with a laugh, "I would love to."

For some reason, an ugly feeling twisted in your gut when she mentioned doing this Vision. You didn't want her to do this with Vision.

Wanda smiled and opened the door to her room. She led you towards her bed and snuggled up under the covers. Tenderly, you sat atop them, careful to keep a boundry. Popcorn and candy sat atop the bed, which the witch softly passed towards you before flicking the TV on.

It was some cheezy sitcom, a genere of movies you had never been particullarly interested, but Wanda would let out small giggles that warmed your heart. The young woman had been through so much and deserved some happiness in her life.

<__________>

Your nose bled as you cradled Wanda in your arms in the airport of Germany. Her strain from using magic and Rhodey's attack was too much.

In the end, when forced to choose sides, you tried to choose neither. Then Tony locked up Wanda, and caught Steve. Before you could even decide, Natasha approached you with her best puppy dog eyes that you could never say no to and asked you to join them.

"Y/N please," she had begged, scooching closer, your shoulders touched, "We need help."

Her hand landed on yours and you shook her off, "No, Nat. I don't- I'm not- this isn't right."

You knees knocked against hers accidentally, "Please," she asked once more.

"No, Natasha." you shook your head.

A steely mask came over her face as she nodded and exited your room. You didn't see her after that until the airport fight.

As the situation escalated, you tried to keep yourself neutral and spent time with Wanda and, unfortunately, Vision. The android didn't seem to like you very much. To be honest neither did you for one, simple, reason. Over the past month you realized you liked Wanda. No, not liked, you loved Wanda. You guys did movie nights together, she taught you how to cook, and simply hung out together despite the chaos growing.

Vision did not seemed pleased by this development. You found it stupid, he was an adriod for pete's sake. You would be damned if you let an advanced microwave steal Wanda.

(Maybe you had already had someone better than you steal the person you love once, and you didn't want that to happen again.)

When Clint stopped by, your first time seeing him since Christmas, he recruited you and you joined the fight.

Now, here you were with a few cuts and a bloody nose craddling Wanda in your arms gently.

"You ok?" you panted as she regained her breath.

"Yeah, you?"

"I'm good," you responded.

Tenderly you bent your head towards hers until your foreheads knocked together. She offered a soft smile, and even though she had looked better before; Wanda looked stunning. Her red centric outfit that made her amber eyes pop. You trailed you eyes further down her face, down the kissable slope of her nose, past her perfect cheekbones - all the way to her soft lips.

She leaned up, her hand coming up to cup the back of your head and pressed her lips softly to yours. You were enveloped by the taste of paprikash and could smell Wanda's honey shampoo, mingled with the smel of sweat and smoke. You pressed lips further into hers with a meek whine and could feel her smile.

Before it could deepen any further you were ripped away, the collar of you shirt pressing against your windpipe. Vision yanked your arms behind your back, leaving Wanda on the ground.

"Vision!" Wanda exclaimed, climbng to her feet, "What are you going?"

"You and Ms. Y/L/N are criminals now, I have a duty to arrest you," he explained in his stupid monotone robot voice.

Wanda raised her hands, ready to fight, before you shook your head.

"We're beat Wanda, let it go."

The witch lowered her hands, giving you a tight-lipped frown to convey her displeasure.

<___________>

The raft was perhaps the most unpleasant prision you had been too. Other than one in Germany, that one really sucked. You had no sense of time on the raft, they delivered food at random intervals - sometimes what felt like days apart, and they only seemed to give water at regular intervals so you wouldn't die.

When Tony first came, you wanted to punch Clint for telling him where Steve and Bucky went. When Tony first came you wanted to punch him. He turned you guys into Ross, and now you were sitting in this stupid water prision and Wanda was in a straight jacket like she was some physcopath. The young brunette hand't spoken in days, opting to stare at the wall - no doubt reminded of her HYDRA days.

Clint and Sam had taken to singing the most horrid songs, but trying to keep the mood up none the less. However, some time ago (you still weren't sure) an officer came and told them if they agreed to house arrest they could go home. Both gentleman agreed giving the rest pitying looks. Clint had tried to advocate for at least you and Wanda (sorry Sam) to come with him, be on house arrest, but he was denied.

After what had felt like at least a month (still time was an unknown variable), Steve, The Winter Soldier, and Natasha came to break you all out. It was perhaps the most messy prison break and you had a feeling the only reason it had any semblence of order was because of Natasha. If it was just Steve and Bucky they would brute force it.

Once they broke you out, all of you went to Wakanda and The Winter Soldier was sent into cyro-freeze. T'Challa, despite previously being against you, offered for the 'Rouges' (as you were dubbed on television) to stay in Wakanda. You all gratefully accepted the offer.

Currently you sat cuddled up with Wanda, her arm wrapped around you as you laid on her chest, watching a sitcom. She claimed it to be one of her childhood favorites, but she said that about every movie.

"Wanda," you peeked up at her as the credits rolled, "Is it wrong that I think I might still love Natasha?"

The woman pursed her lips, "..How much do you love her?"

"I-" you shrugged awkwardly, "I still feel like I love her- I had known when we were little, but I don't love her. I just think I'm-" you reached a hand up to your hair and tugged in frustration because you couldn't get the words out.

You would never break up with Wanda for Natasha. But some stupid little part of your heart still loved Natasha, and for a moment you almost shot your shot. During the early stages of the accords, when she mentioned taking a break with Maria, you almost tried it. Only stopping for two reasons: one, you would almost be helping her cheat on her wife, and two, you were already falling for Wanda. And yet still, there was that lingering warm and fuzzy feeling your chest when you thought of Natasha. That feeling that made you want to care for her and protect her.

Wanda looked down at you, seemingly reading your mind (she probably was), and gently pried your hand away from your hair, "I think..." she bit her lip before "that based on your thoughts, I don't mean to listen they are just loud, that you care for her, but you do not love her," the witch shrugged, "I trust you."

"I love you," you whispered, "I'm supposed to love you."

"Dekta," she took your face in her hands, "you're not supposed to love anyone." she brushed her thumbs over her cheeks.

"...I love you," you stated, your voice firm.

Wanda smiled widely, flashing her pearly white teeth, "I love you too."

You tucked your head into her chest as the next movie began, smiling in content.

<___________>

Life in Wakanda was awesome. You kept in shape, training with the Dora Milaje (even though you got your ass handed to you every time), and running laps around the area. The Winter Soldier came out of cyro not too long ago, and you became pretty good friends with him. Turns out his name was Bucky, and he was actually very sweet, choosing to go work on the farms and earn his keep.

Steve and you often jogged around the area "together". He mainly ran ahead and waited until you were done.

Sam became your new cooking budy, both of you trying out Wakandan recipies and occasionally starting a tiny kitchen fire.

Natasha was a bit of a rocky start once again. She approached you one morning, fiddling with her thumbs - something she never does.

"Look- Y/N," she began after clearing her throat, "Maria and I decided to get a divorce and I was wondering if you wanted to- if you wanted to go out with me?"

Your heart broke at her sad expression, but you already had a girlfriend, "I'm sorry, Nat, but I'm already with Wanda."

"Oh, I see," she visibly deflated, her shoulders dropping.

"But, we can still be friends," you offered a friendly smile with a shrug.

"I would love that."

After that encounter you two spent some awkward time together before building up your usual comfort and hanging around each other like you had been best friends your entire life.

The best part of Wakanda was Wanda.

You two spent most your free time together. Whether it was watching cheezy sitcoms, talking about dark pasts, cooking, making out, or working out together. It made you fall in love with her even more. By this point you had been dating for a year and a half, a year and a half since the accords.

Gosh, it had been a while.

"Y/N, my love," Wanda asked that afternoon, "how would feel about doing a picnic for dinner?"

Ignoring the oddity of the request you grinned, "I would love to."

Which led to your situation of sitting with your girlfriend on a blanket, watching the sun set over a river - a beautiful array of colors. Wanda looked beautiful in the light of the setting un, her brown-ish red hair falling past her shoulds with subtle waves. Her green eyes sparkling against her red-dress. Her lips, plump and kissable, and oh so soft.

You loved every piece of this woman. When you glanced away for a moment, and heard shuffling, you thought nothing of it. But when you turned back around....

Wanda was kneeling on the ground, the softest smile on her face, as she held a small black box in her hand. A glittering, but simple, ring sat snuggly in the box.

"Y/N, my love, my beautiful love, would you do the honor of marrying me?"

You blinked at her like an owl, drawing a soft laugh out of her, before tackling Wanda to ground.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes," you chanted.

An angelic laugh left Wanda's mouth as she wrapped her arms around you. You propped yourself up and stared into her eyes, which were shinning with adoration. Pressing a soft kiss to her lips as you savored the moment.

Gosh, you loved this woman. You love her laugh, the way she scrunched her nose when she laughed. You love her eyes, those shiny green with a slight hint of amber eyes. You love her cooking and how she's always willing to cook when your sad. You love the way she tells stories, mostly about her brother. You love the way she cares for you, holding you tenderly in bed and stroking your hair. You love how kissable her lips her, always soft and always tasting faintly of paprikash, and the way her hair smells of honey.

Most of all you love how thoughtful she was. The way she would leave little reminders around your shared room so you wouldn't forget things. When you were sad she always made your favorite comfort meal and listened to your stories of your dad. Both of you watched childish shows together, healing that inner child. There were so many things about her that you loved.

Gosh, you love this woman.

#marvel cinematic universe #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maxmoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov #wanda maximoff #female reader

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inafieldofdaisies · 8 months

Text

Ship Art | John Seed x Sabrina Donovan | sketch by @felrija ❤️ || a scene from my WIP In Hope Of Tomorrow, snippet below the cut

"I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

It felt like at least 2 hours had passed before the door opened again. Sabrina kept her eyes casted downward as a pair of boots came into view, crossing over the threshold, their owner humming a familiar tune. I know this melody. It was the song she sang in the cell. He was there, listening. The realization made her look up, her hazel eyes met John's as he neared, stepping into the light that spilled from the chandelier above. He was wearing jeans, a blue dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up and way too many buttons undone, on top of it was a vest that belonged more in a courtroom than in a bunker in the Middle of nowhere, Montana. "Kept you waiting, didn't I, Deputy?" A dark smirk marred his handsome face, his posture exuding confidence, like he was about to slip into an opening statement any moment. Only in this room he had full reign, assuming the role of judge, jury and executioner. "Probably should consider serving some tea, maybe redecorating your dungeon. Red's a bit on the nose, don't you think? And I wouldn't rate your goon very highly on any scale either." The comment made him chuckle, and she tried to ignore how familiar it sounded, how it pulled on her soul. "Now, I'm not usually late, but someone decided to attempt to derail my Cleansing.", at that he unconsciously went to smooth out his dark hair, making Sabrina realize it's damp. Sabrina narrowed her eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching, "Did someone try to drown you, Seed?" Don't laugh again. And he didn't, sending a smirk her way instead. "Now, Deputy, enough jokes, there are more pressing matters.", his head tilted slightly, his expression almost... giddy. "What's a joke is you thinking holding a Deputy hostage is a good idea, you of all people should know it's far from it. Aren't you supposed to be a hotshot lawyer?", she couldn't stop her sneer. "Deputy-" Sabrina cut him off, "I have a name." "Yes. Sabrina Blythe Donovan.", he said it matter-of-factly, but Sabrina could tell he took pride in that knowledge. It didn't shock her he knew her full name, with Nancy being on Eden's Gate side no doubt information about the whole Sheriff's Department was leaking like a sieve. A dry laugh escaped her, "Next you're going to tell me the name of my first boyfriend." John crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow, "Knowledge is power after all. And, Sabrina, you wouldn't be here if you didn't try to arrest my brother. You all had choice and it led to this." She pushed down the feeling at how familiar her name sounded on his lips, the twinge of longing it caused in her was nothing. It had to be.

"There was an arrest warrant. I was just doing my job. Your brother is a criminal, and now so are you and all of your people." "I'm doing MY job, Deputy. You're a sinner and so are your friends.", he retorted, his words full of conviction as he headed for his torture table. Sabrina froze, expecting him to notice a knife was missing, when he said nothing, she continued, "Why am I here?" The words came out sharper than intended, carrying the tone she used when interrogating suspects back in Portland, the one that got her straight answers and stripped away all the nonsense. John turned, a look of amusement flashing across his face as he leaned against the table, legs crossed at the ankles. "I should be the one asking questions here, Deputy." "Old habits die hard, I was a-" "A detective back in", a dramatic pause, he raised a finger, "Portland. And you left it all behind to work for Whitehorse. Can't wait for you to tell me why." "I'm not telling you shit. I don't know what you think you're doing-" John stalked towards her with swiftness that took her aback as he grabbed the armrests of her chair, the force behind his movement making the wheels skid across the floor. His face had grown serious, piercing blue eyes boring into hers as he loomed over her. "You will talk, confess every sin, no matter how small. I know exactly what I’m doing here."

Their proximity sent a shiver up her spine and she tried to tell herself it was the bad kind. He was so close to a point Sabrina could smell the musky scent of river that clung to his skin. He had indeed taken a dive, her amusement at the confirmation died down quickly. His nearness, the position of his hands as he held onto the chair allowed her to see his tattoos in detail for the first time. In seconds her whole world came crashing down, her blood froze. No. She knew these tattoos, had seen them countless times in her visions, had drawn them over and over to the point they were embedded in her memory. NO. The hand holding hers as the world ended. The man that called her "Butterfly". It was John. John fucking Seed. His voice snapped her out of her thoughts, "Hm. A butterfly." He was looking at her tattoo, at one of the butterflies that wasn't hidden by the strap of her top. As if she needed any more reminders of the tragic realization she had just came to, John said the damned word again as he backed away, "Why a butterfly, Deputy?" He was back to being nonchalant, like the outburst hadn't even happened. All she could do was blink, wishing her eyes were lying to her.

"You still with me, Sabrina?", it had finally hit him she wasn't replying, that she wasn't talking back. Breathe. Focus. Snap out of it. "Wish I wasn't, won't lie.", she tried to hold onto her composure. Silence took over as John went back to his table, picking up a tool, looking it over then placing it down with care and grabbing another one, repeating the process. It felt mechanical, like a show. Her own knife felt heavy in her hands, the tip prickling her skin, a wake-up call. She knew what she had to do in order to get back to Savannah, imagined it in the hours he made her wait on him. Plunging the blade deep, ending a life. But doubt was creeping in... Her plan, the dark path she planned to take, there was a chance she would fail, she had seen him alive too many times. And her most recent vision... from the sounds of that one he was breathing and pissed off. John spoke up again, his attention still on the table in front of him, "My brother's church. Let's start there. You saw something." It wasn't a question, he sounded sure of it. She hadn't been able to hide her distress, even tried to stop the arrest. A new path became visible. A plan with a giant leap of faith. Probably the most dumb and risky decision she has ever made in her life. He wanted answers, and she was going to play along. For now. "I will tell you what I saw, but I doubt you'd believe it, they never do." Another smirk, making her feel nauseous. "Try me, Deputy." "I saw the crash. Before it happened, I mean." "A vision.", he nodded mostly to himself, "Joseph has them." "You believe then?" "They're from God. Of course I believe him." John believed Joseph, not her. She was used to people's scepticism, but she had a way to prove it this time. "There's more, John." Something flashed across his face at her saying his name outloud for the very first time, but the mask was back in place too quickly for her to figure out what. Focus. Her mother was good at selling any con, always knew how to approach a person, what they'd want to hear, which buttons to push.

"Say his name. Look him in the eyes and sell the idea, make him think it's his own, darling. There's always an offer a man won't be able to refuse, one he'd throw himself in the deep end for, willingly. And when he's about to sink, you offer a hand, pledge your loyalty. He'd be a goner before you know it."

A part of Candice lived in Sabrina, and for once she let it take over.

"I will tell you what's coming, but I will need something in return.", her voice sounded unshakeable, certain, the exact opposite of how she felt inside. John didn't break her eye contact, nor interrupted her. Sabrina got up from the chair, discarding the ropes as her hands dropped to her sides. "You've been untied this whole time, Deputy?", his eyes shone with amusement again. She took a few steps until she stood almost in front of him, her hand holding out her knife. Surrendering her weapon. "And you had a knife?" When he made no move to take it, Sabrina placed the blade on his "work" bench and walked back, sitting down in the chair and rubbing her wrists. "I won't lie, I was planning on killing you." "And yet you didn't. Why?" "A change of circumstances."

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yanderu-deredere · 1 year

Text

hook.

★ your friends decide to do a road trip across a few states, to the coast! what's better than the beautiful boardwalk of lovelock after all? and they need a fifth person to come with them! so, of course, they drag you along. what could go wrong?

a/n: okay so ill be honest, i was kinda nervous to post this cus this is like way longer than my usual shit TBH but i really wanted to write this out and i felt like the usual bulletted thing wouldn't do my idea justice i guess? so have this word vomit LOL cus this baby has more parts (i think)

also these yanderes are very much inspired by all my favourite slashers (think hannibal meets chainsaw massacre meets house of wax) so the themes will be a bit more graphic

part one (here) ★ part two (line.) ★ part three (sinker.) ★ part four (?)

pairing: casimir fiala x reader x emmaline fiala word count: 3236

warning: gender neutral reader, reader is attacted to male and female yandere, readers friends are lowkey pieces of shit LOL, final ship is poly

"This doesn't look like Lovelock." Chloe muttered in that tone that just slightly grated against your nerves.

You, half asleep and kind of buried in bags, jolted at the sound of her voice. You glanced around, eyes blurry and your brain pounding just a little bit. The price of sleeping on a road trip, you supposed.

You looked over to the side to see what your friends were up to.

Chloe, the resident bottle-blonde of the group, had her entire body leaning a bit too heavily against her boyfriend Dirk as she tried to shove her torso out the window.

Dirk, too preoccupied with her body to really pay attention to anything else, only hummed and held her by the hip to prevent her from falling entirely out the side of the van.

You sighed and turned to your other side, trying to make out what your friend was so desperate to see outside.

All you could see, however, was what looked like an abandoned town. There was a little play ground, a parking lot beside that, some apartment buildings too--

Suddenly, the van skid to a halt, making everyone almost fall forward.

"Bran, you fucking bastard!" Dirk cursed before cradling Chloe's head to his chest "You okay, baby?"

Chloe, of course, played the whole thing up, whining up a storm. You just rubbed your neck, ignoring everyone else as you tried to figure out why the sudden stop.

In front of the car was a man much too well dressed for his surroundings. I mean, what business did he have in this place that he needed to wear a button down for? Plus he had what looked like a medical mask on?

What did you guys drive into, Chernobyl?

Anyway, you couldn't see the rest of his face very well because he had long hair with white side pieces and they were covering his face a bit too much but he was waving the van down.

Suddenly, as you were peering out the side of the van, your eyes met his sharp green ones and you felt a jolt of electricity down your spine.

You had a bad feeling about this place and about this man.

Still, not like you could say much. Who'd listen to you? Certainly not anyone else inside the van.

The man walked up to the driver's side, probably to talk to your friend Bran and give him directions. Thankfully, you were on the same side so you could do a little bit of eavesdropping on your own from your open window.

Observing him, you couldn't help but think that he was especially tall. He looked like he could almost be as tall as the van itself! You'd estimate his height at 6ft at least.

You couldn't even imagine how small you were compared to him if the two of you stood side by side.

"You're not supposed to be here. This is private property." The stranger explained and, though he was talking to Bran, you couldn't help but feel like he kept glancing at you from the corners of his eyes "You have to turn back and leave."

Now that he spoke, you also noted how deep his voice was. Though, you supposed, not surprising considering his height.

Big man, deep voice, you noted to yourself before mentally laughing at your own idiocy.

"What? There's no other way?" Bran's indignant tone pulled you out of your thoughts "I was so sure there was a way through here, up to Lovelock."

The stranger solemnly nodded as if completely understanding "There used to be but, after they shut down the factory, the Pharmaceutical company prevents people from passing through here."

Bran seemed to open his mouth to say something inflammatory. After all, he was known in your group to be a bit hot-headed. Even now, you couldn't see his face but you could imagine how red it was.

Kathy, Bran's girlfriend and your best friend, thankfully leaned over from the front passenger seat, her hand rubbing her boyfriend's thigh "It's all good! Sorry for the trouble and thanks for letting us know."

The man gave a curt nod "Just didn't want you all to incur the fines. The company still has the cameras up and there was a sign at the entrance saying something about trespassers."

"What are you, a glorified security guard?" Bran managed at least one quip and you saw Kathy hit him especially hard on the knee for that one.

You couldn't see the man's mouth from under the mask but you definitely felt like you could see his lips shift into a grin from under the cotton "Something like that."

Bran just scoffed and started backing the van up. The man backed away, giving a curt nod.

From the corner of your eyes, you could see Kathy conspiratorially whisper 'crazy weirdo' to you, Dirk and Chloe. Of course, you elected to ignore her.

Instead, you kept your eyes trained on the stranger, still curious as to why he was there.

When his eyes landed on you, you gave him a curt wave. A good-bye. Silently, you mouthed an apology for your rude friend. He gave another curt nod, and you left it at that.

Something about his green eyes unnerved you though--

There was a loud pop and the van jolted, making almost everyone inside scream. Bran himself let out a rather loud fuck!

"What the fuck was that?" He slammed his palm against the steering wheel, that explosive temper getting the best of him.

You watched as the stranger came over and looked at the car, observing it a bit before letting out a rather tired sigh "You popped a tire."

Bran's head swiveled to him and, if looks could kill, that man would've been dead "A tire?"

"This place is abandoned, they don't exactly up-keep the roads." The man explained, crouching to try and see what was wrong with said tire "You must have run over a rusty nail or an especially bad pothole."

Then there was a thumping sound, like he was ripping something out of the rubber "Or a giant copper hook."

Bran slammed his door open and marched over, getting to the tire just as the man stood up.

You watched it all happen and you've known Bran for a while. The two of you were taking the same undergraduate major, after all. You knew Bran was the sporty type, confident and cocky. He was maybe 5'8 on a good day.

This man dwarfed Bran when he stood. Definitely taller than 6ft then. Maybe 6'5?

He placed the hook he took out of the tire into Bran's hand and, though it looked rather hefty in Bran's hand, it seemed a bit smaller in his.

Any bravado Bran had vanished like the wind. Of course, Bran was still Bran so he grumbled, complaining as he dropped the rusty thing before he squatted down to figure out what was wrong with the tire.

You saw Kathy from the corner of your eye dialing a number. You figured it was probably triple-A or some other towing service that could help the group out.

For some reason, you didn't want to look away from the stranger.

He seemed to have the same idea because, as he took out a walkie-talkie from his belt, his green eyes were trained on you again.

Without taking his eyes off you, he took a slender finger and lowered his mask, tucking it under his chin. He had a crooked smile on his face, something like a mixture between a grimace and forced pleasantry.

Near the corner of his face, there was an indent of a diagonal scar. It stretched from above his lip to the center of his chin. You let yourself wonder why he had it. It split his lips a little, made him look kind of devilish.

"Another car needs help." He spoke into the little device, holding it in the palm of his hand and jostling it a little, making the antenna of it wiggle back and forth.

"Miscreants?" The static of it answered back, crackling and almost indecipherable.

The man laughed and you felt your heart skip just a little bit of a beat "No, just people who took a wrong turn. They seem very nice."

You tried to ignore the flash of sharp teeth in his mouth and chalked it off to genetics. Sometimes people just had especially sharp canines, right? Though something felt predatory about his. Not vampiric, maybe, but definitely wolfish.

"What's wrong with their car?" The longer sentence was easier to understand but it was filled with just as much static.

"Popped a tire on the main road." The man answered as he put his free hand in his pocket "They were trying to take the short-cut to Lovelock."

The sentence came out as a drawl, like there was a funny joke about it that you weren't privy to. Your head cocked a little, trying to figure out what it could mean.

He returned your look of curiosity with a small little smirk and a shrug, cocking his hip a little as he shifted his weight from one foot to another

Someone hissed out your name and you turned, finally breaking the staring game in between you and the stranger.

You turned to Kathy with a confused expression on your face, your eyebrow cocked "What's up?"

"I have like no signal like at all." She whispered to you as if it was the end of the world and she wanted only you to know.

Of course, since the two of you were sitting in a cramped van, the other two people in the van heard loud and clear.

"What!" Chloe shouted, scrambling for her own marble-cased phone "There's no signal?"

"No, 'fraid not."

You flinched, head quickly turning when you felt a breath against your ear. Suddenly, the stranger was leaning into the window of the van, crossed arms resting against the lip of the window.

Your wide eyes met his green ones again and he grinned, all wolfish and devilish and all your observations about him seemed to flash warning signs in your head.

"Something about the old factory leaking radiation or something." He answered easily enough just as you scooted a little so he wasn't talking right into your now rather hot ear

You nodded slowly but the tone of his voice as he spoke was that same tone he used when he mentioned the city; like he was telling half-truths and it was on a need to know basis and you didn't need to know.

You had been on the receiving end of that bullshit for so long, with the same exact friends you were with in the van, that you could detect it from a mile away.

"Plus, they've shut down the cell towers near here already." He gestured flimsily in some direction, probably to said cell towers.

Then, there was silence in the van. Chloe kept fiddling with her phone. Dirk, as always, looked distrustfully at the stranger, like a toddler who'd get his toy snatched away the moment he dropped his guard. The toy of course, being Chloe. Kathy just looked panicked and anxious.

You were anxious too. You were never good with silence.

As a way to make conversation, you fiddled with your fingers and decided to introduce yourself before asking the stranger who he was and what he was doing there.

You really didn't think he'd answer.

"Casimir Fiala." His name flipped off of his tongue with a fascinating smoothness "I'm just here to... research... the abandoned buildings."

There it was again, that need-to-know-only tone. This time, you waved away the blaring alarms in your head, tucking them away to note later. Instead, you decided to joke with him "Guess you're not a glorified security guard."

"Sometimes it feels like it." He flashed you a snide half smirk and there was a part of you that felt satisfied that, this time, it felt like you were in on the joke.

It definitely made you grin, that was for sure. Before you could respond, though, the sound of a motorcycle suddenly filled the area, getting closer and closer till it was accompanied by the crunch of gravel.

"That will be my wife." Casimir yelled above the noise as he backed away from the window and tucked his arms behind his back in one fluid motion.

When he did, you couldn't help but curiously peer out.

Just as he said, a woman appeared on a motorcycle, dust cloud surrounding her. If Casimir was overdressed, this woman was underdressed.

She was wearing skin-tight clothes, cargo pants, the works. She looked like she was dressed for an action movie.

Hell, she looked she herself walked out of an action movie. She was buff, tanned, tattooed all over, almost as tall as her husband. She looked like she could take a steel bar and bend it in half.

With fingerless gloves, she removed her motorcycle helmet and her hair fell fluttering out. She had one lock of hair at the very front braided, some of it pulled back, but the rest of it cascaded rather messily, covering most of the right side of her face.

It looked like a bad blue dye job that was already growing back out but, somehow, she made it look ruggedly sexy.

That wasn't what was surprising. What was surprising was the eye patch and the burn scars.

"Oh my god." Kathy gasped out and you could see her and Chloe pull out their phones as if trying to film some circus freak.

Immediately, you were pushing their phones away, scowling at them as you tried to keep your voice down "What the fuck, dude, are you guys serious?"

You could see Casimir walk over to his wife, probably to talk to her about fixing your wheel. How kind of them. All the while, your friends were spitting on that kindness by mocking his wife.

"But like, did you see her?" Chloe tittered, looking through her gallery to try and see if she got a good photo but then pouting when she didn't.

"You're disgusting, Chloe." You spat out, hoping the absolute vitriol in your voice could snap her out of this weird Mean Girls trance she was in "They're trying to fucking help us and this is the thanks you're giving them?"

Kathy just scoffed and flipped her hair. "They're the ones who stopped us and got our tires popped."

"We're the ones that trespassed on private property." You snapped back and, suddenly, you felt too suffocated in the van. You knew who your friends were, of course, and you knew them to be the type of people to make small mean jokes but this was way too much.

You got out of the van, your arms crossed and wrapped around yourself, anything to give yourself any ounce of comfort.

This entire trip was a bad idea to begin with. You hadn't wanted to go but your friends insisted over and over that they wanted you around. You thought 'why not?' but, in the end, you turned out more of a fifth wheel than anything else.

"Oh, hey." Bran greeted you as you stepped up to the trio who were discussing how to fix the car "What's up?"

"Nothing, just wanted to stretch my legs." You lied easily enough since you didn't really want to tell Bran about how bitch-y his girlfriend was being.

Bran believed you, of course. He was too focused on being annoyed by the entire situation anyway. He seemed at least placated by the fact that he wouldn't have to pay for a new tire.

"Thank you so much, by the way, for like helping us out and shelling out cash for a tire." You decided to say since Bran definitely wouldn't say it. The smile on Casimir's wife's face was definitely worth it.

Casimir seemed to realise something because he looked at you in shock before gesturing to you and introducing you by name to his wife "And this is my wife Emm, she's the muscle of this entire operation."

"Nice to meet you." She put her hand out and you were about to take it only for her to quickly pull it back and wipe it on her pants "Sorry, I've been fixing machines all day. I'm dirty as all hell."

"No worries! Not like I'm all showered! We've been on the road for like three days now!" You waved off her concern and held out your hand.

Hesitantly, she took it and the two of you shook hands.

You noted that the burns she had on one side of her face seemed to spread down her body because her entire arm from shoulder to wrist (or what wasn't covered by her gloves) were covered in wrinkly scar tissue.

You tried not to stare. She probably got enough of that in her day-to-day, she didn't need it from you too.

You hoped she didn't get it from Bram already. He could be so insensitive without even thinking about it.

"Anyway, I was just sayin' that I'd love t' ride over to the gate, the one leadin' to Lovelock and send out a call, try to get triple-A over." Emm cupped the side of her neck, looking rather thoughtful "Boss won't be happy since we ain't suppos't have people over but."

Then she shrugged as if she was trying to say 'what can you do' before continuing "I got to go soon, though, 'cus I saw that the weather was suppos't to be terrible later today and--"

As if on que, thunder rumbled above, almost as loudly as Emm's motorcycle. You groaned because of course the weather would turn this horrible so rapidly and just when you needed it not to.

"Fuck." Bran put it so eloquently just as the rain started pouring as if the heavens above ripped open the clouds "Why can't you go while it's raining?"

"She only has a motorcycle." Casimir reminded him, his tone implying that fact in and of itself should've been explanation enough, his expression challenging Bran to say otherwise.

Emm looked much more apologetic but only by a bit "Plus, the road to Lovelock is 30 minutes and it's known to landslide when it's rainin'. I'm willin' to help ya'll but not that willin'."

Bran let out another expletive while you gave them an apologetic smile and a thank you.

"I'll be happy to invite ya'll over to our house. We live only a minute or two from here." Emm continued as Casimir shielded her with his lab coat, ducking her head a little as she walked closre to you so you could hear her over the hiss of the rain "It'll be better than that cramped van."

"I'll let everyone know!" You yelled, smiling gratefully at the couple.

Part of your brain registered the warning signs in your head. After all, though you'd tried your best to be polite to them, you did remember how odd Casimir seemed when you first encountered him.

Still, they were trying their hardest to accommodate your group. And, after how rude your friends were, you felt an odd obligation to make up for how mean your friends had been.

After all, what was the worst that could happen from just being nice?

#yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #female yandere #male yandere #yandere #oc x reader #female oc #male oc #slasher x reader #slasher oc x reader #yandere slasher x reader #female slasher #male slasher #casimir #emm #chaptered

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dailydragon08 · 10 months

Text

Breathe With Me Part I

Summary: After an overwhelming time, your resolve finally crumbles and Leia, Han, and Luke are there to give you all the support you need to get you back on your feet. Pairing: Luke Skywalker x Gender Neutral!Reader Warnings: reader is very overwhelmed, sleep deprived, and crying. A/N: Writing this mainly for myself since the family dog passed away last night and I'm moving soon and just very stressed in general. But hopefully it helps anyone who needs it. Might do a part 2 of Luke just pampering you on a day off/vacation. I tried to write it so you can easily picture your favorite era of Luke here (ANH, ESB, ROTJ, post-ROTJ, maybe even right before the events of TBOBF, etc.). See my full masterlist here. Tagging Taco Squad cuz I feel like we could all use this right now @kaleidoscope1967eyes @masterlukessaber @coffeeorsomething-irl

***

You closed your eyes and sighed from your spot on the Falcon’s bunk, wiping the tears from your cheek with your sleeve. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Leia said next to you, squeezing your hand. “You’ve been through a lot lately. Just let it out.” She rubbed a soothing hand across the back of your shoulders.

Han leaned against the adjacent row of bunks with an unsure, but sympathetic look on his face. He wandered towards the door, holding his wrist comm close to his mouth. “Kid, are you almost here? We could really use you in here.”

Luke’s out-of-breath voice floated through the static. “Almost there! I’m running as fast as I can. Just give me another few minutes.”

Han meandered back over and gave your shoulder a firm squeeze. “He should be here any minute.”

You nodded as more tears fell, sniffling so hard you triggered a coughing fit.

“Here.” Leia reached into one of the storage compartments beneath the bottom bunk and pulled out a box of tissues.

“T-thanks,” you mumbled before blowing your nose hard.

“Careful, kiddo,” Han said with a lopsided grin. “Make sure your nose stays attached to the rest of you.”

You gave a watery chuckle just as Luke skidded to a halt in the doorway. His hair was windswept and damp from the planet’s rainstorm, the shoulders of his jacket dotted with droplets. He met your eyes and sighed, hurrying over to you and squeezing Han’s forearm as he passed by.

“Kay, Chewie and I are gonna get her ready for takeoff,” Han said, speeding out the door. The “waterworks,” as he called them, no matter how justified, always seemed to put him at a bit of a disadvantage—although you appreciated him trying his best anyway.

Leia gave you a tight hug. “We’ll be back at base soon. I’ll make sure command gives you and Luke a day off so you two can relax and recoup.” She met Luke’s eyes and, at his nod, left and closed the door to the bunks behind her.

Luke nestled himself against you, pulling your shoulders to lean against him. “Hey, starflower, shhh,” he murmured as more tears spilled over. You leaned your head against his shoulder and he gently kissed your forehead before smoothing a hand over your hair. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

You hiccupped through another sob, grateful for how he pulled your bridal style into his lap. Burying your face into the warm skin of his neck, you clung to him as you felt the ship thrum to life and vibrate the bunk underneath you. You weaved your fingers into the soft hair at the nape of his neck, letting the silkiness comfort you as you struggled to find your breath.

“Hey, breathe with me. You’re safe. You’re okay. I’m gonna help you through this, okay?” Luke’s hand ran up and down the length of your spine while the other gently massaged the back of your head. “In for four seconds through your nose, hold for four, then out for eight through your mouth, all right? In…hold…out…good, keep going. In…hold…out.”

You did this several more times before shuddering out another exhale. “My chest feels so tight.”

“Concentrate on how your hands or feet feel,” Luke murmured in your ear, still tracing soothing shapes on top of your clothes. He pulled back enough to press his forehead to yours and grabbed your hand, pressing your palm flat against his chest. His heartbeat thrummed under your fingers. “Breathe in time with me. You’re all right. In—out—in—out. Good, see? You’ve got it.”

You poured all your concentration into the sensations of your hands—how your muscles felt, the soft fabric of Luke’s jacket in one hand and the contour and warmth of his chest under the other. The ship hummed subtly around you as a relaxing accompaniment to Luke’s steady breathing. After several minutes, you felt him press a gentle kiss to your lips that you greedily returned.

He wiped another tear from your cheek before gently stroking your skin. “I’m s-sorry,” you warbled.

“Hey, none of that. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“But this isn’t your job—”

“How many times have you been there for me? And I don’t take care of you because I feel like I have to. It’s because I want to—hey, look at me.” He cupped your jaw and neck in his large hand and pulled back to look into your eyes, the striking blue filled with nothing but concern and warmth. “Taking care of you is not a job. It’s a privilege. I want to be here.”

You felt the tears building again, but this time for another reason. Squeezing him firmly, you buried your face in his neck again. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, so much,” he replied, holding you just as tight and nuzzling into your neck. He ran the tip of his nose up the side of your neck and across your jaw where it connected with your ear. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

You pulled back to meet his gaze. “Um…no, not really.”

“Well, we’ve got a while till we’re back at base, so why don’t we try and get some rest? Then once we’re back and have gotten the mission report out of the way, we can either have a relaxing day on base or I can fly us somewhere for a few days.”

“But Leia—”

“She’ll survive a few days without us.” He scooted back further onto the mattress with you still in his arms, shimmying out of his jacket and wrapping it around your shoulders before laying down. You lay beside him, tangling your legs with his and using his chest as a pillow as he wrapped one arm around your waist and the other around your shoulders. His hand slid gently from your shoulder to massage the knots in your neck again as he kissed your cheek. You felt a sudden wave of calmness wash over you like water and knew he was calling on the Force to help you balance yourself. With the sudden serenity came an overwhelming wave of exhaustion and you felt your eyes begin to droop, letting out a small, contented moan as the back of Luke’s fingers brushed your cheek before sliding down the slope of your neck to your shoulder. His other hand worked its way under your shirt to make relaxing circles in the skin there. “Just sleep,” he murmured. “I’ll wake you up once we’re back home.”

Half asleep, you murmured, “You are my home.”

You felt his lips press against yours. “And you’re mine, sweetheart.”

#star wars #luke skywalker #leia organa #princess leia #han solo #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker x gn!reader #star wars x reader #luke skywalker imagine #star wars imagine #luke skywalker fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #luke skywalker fluff #luke skywalker comfort

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alfredosauce50 · 10 months

Text

Passengers

[America x reader] 02

Wordcount: 4, 278

Rating: M for mature themes

Disclaimer: This is a crossover with the film Passengers (2016). I do not own the plot.

The reader is referred to as she/her.

Alfred ambled through the grand concourse with his head hanging like a scolded dog. And his lips, pursed in a deep frown. With all his focus on his feet, he managed to walk right past the ship’s bar, which was miraculously open in his time of need. And he would’ve kept walking if it weren’t for the human figure in the corner of his vision--wait a second.

He stopped abruptly, feet skidding against the floor, then paced back a few steps. His eyes went wide to take in what he saw, or what he thought he saw, and sure enough, there was a bartender polishing a glass!

“Oh, man!” Alfred gasped, running to him with glee. The other smiled curtly, welcoming their guest into their kingdom. A classy jazz bar. “It’s so good to see another face! I thought I was the only one awake.”

“Who wants to sleep on a beautiful day like this?”

He had short, choppy blonde hair, a roundish face, and bright green eyes. If his accent didn’t give it away, those features certainly did. There was always something about the British he could pinpoint off the bat. Either way, he felt strangely at ease, taken by the charm of the staff and the establishment alike.

Bottles of all the liquor you could possibly want were stacked neatly on shelves, and behind them was a glowing panel of white marble. The rest of the interior was space gray with gold accents, and one wall was dedicated entirely to a mural of a spaceship.

“No, I mean we’re in trouble,” He slowed down as he got to the counter. “We’re not supposed to be here.”

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Huh?”

“Our little secret.” The bartender put down the glass he’d been polishing ceaselessly for the past minute. Then, he placed both hands on the counter invitingly, beaming at the man. “What can I get for you?”

“What?”

“You look like a whiskey man.”

“Uh, okay?” He finally gave in to their relentless hospitality, but the decision never had him backtracking so fast. His only other companion, a stranger, moved to another side of the bar without taking a single step, or more accurately put, whirred, almost like he was attached to the ground. Alfred ran forward and slammed his hands on the counter with next to no grace, then peered over it. Just as he suspected, a metal rod was going up the guy’s ass. And so, he slid onto one of the barstools with the most disappointed glower. “Oh. You’re a robot.”

“Android, technically.” They corrected, filling a glass with brownish-orange liquid. “Arthur’s the name.”

“Alfred,” He took the cup, raising it briefly as a gesture of thanks. Giving that a longer sip than he would have, he leaned back and thought for a bit. The spaced-out look in his eyes never left as he popped the question, which captured the bane of his existence. “How much do you know about this ship?”

“I don’t know,” Arthur blinked inquisitively, glancing up, then down at him again. “I know some things.”

“What do I do if my hibernation pod malfunctions?”

“Oh, hibernation pods are fail-safe,” The man smiled assuringly. “They never malfunction.”

“Well, I woke up early.” Alfred countered.

“Can’t happen,” He picked up another glass and polished it, just as he did the second he got here.

“How long until we get to Homestead II?”

“About 90 years or so.”

“And when are all the passengers supposed to wake up?” Alfred smiled tightly, feigning curiosity.

“Not till the last four months.”

“How is it that I’m sitting here with you, with ninety years to go?” He spoke slowly like he would with a child. There, he watched the other’s reality, lines and lines of delicate code, shatter like glass. Arthur stared at him blankly, expression frozen with perpetual friendliness. Then, he glitched once, his face jolting a fraction of an inch before carrying on like normal.

“Ah. It’s not possible for you to be here.”

“Well, I am.” He grumbled, slamming his cup down.

The next morning, Alfred awoke to the Homestead radio. As he lay in a fetal position, that perky Atlantic accent filled his ear. Was it going to be like this every day from now on? He threw his pillow over his head and held it there, groaning as--“it’s a beautiful day here on the Avalon. So wake up, sunshine!”

He hit the cafeteria, watching the ceiling light up at his arrival, panel by panel. A white room stretched on ceaselessly before him, and it looked more sterile than a hospital. Not exactly the homey vibe he was going after, but food was food. He approached one of the unmanned vendors, hexagonal dispensers designed to serve six at a time, and scanned his ID.

“Please make a selection.”

He pressed the first widget, an icon with a mug.

“Sorry. The Mocha Cappuccino Extreme is reserved for gold-class passengers.” It spoke, prompting him to press it again. “Sorry. The Mocha Cappuccino Extreme is reserved for gold-class passengers.”

“I want the Mocha Cappuccino Extreme. Bill my room please,” Alfred spoke firmly.

“Food can be purchased in the ship’s…”

He pressed another widget.

“Sorry. The French Roast…”

Then another.

“Sorry. The Pumpkin Spice…”

And another and another until he went down the list.

“Sorry. The Vanilla Chai… Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry.” His face scrunched up in irritation as he began punching each widget, all giving the same response until he got to the very last option. “Large Coffee.”

“Cream, sugar—” He said loudly.

“Please enjoy your coffee.”

A cup of black coffee was dispensed before him.

“Oh, really?” Alfred scoffed.

He sorted through a shelf of manuals, and sure enough, he came across one for hibernation pods. Taking that with him, he made a quick journey to the storage facility to retrieve some tools. Now, all he had to do was fix his sleeper and be well on his way ninety years in the future like he was supposed to.

Dropping his heavy duffel of knick-knacks in front of his pod, he got on his knees to open up the disk slot. He connected the wiring for a quick spark and fizz, causing the machine to power up again. The screen lit up, showing his diagnostics, and so did the inside of the pod. A huge smile broke out across his face as he rose to his feet, hopped inside, and lay down.

The glass hatch closed around him.

He closed his eyes and shifted to get comfortable, happy as a lark. Only he didn’t fall asleep, let alone get close to cryosleep. Alfred opened his eyes, stone-faced. This wasn’t going to work, was it?

Now, to get out of this thing.

He pushed the hatch in different places, but it didn’t budge in any of them. Panic shot through him as he came to the realization he had trapped himself in what was slowly turning into a hotbox. He didn’t hesitate to start banging frantically on the glass with his fist, even kneeing it in multiple places to set himself free.

Once the hatch opened, he shot up, hyperventilating.

Alfred tried the command ring, next. Dropping his bag of tools in front of the heavy, metal door, he began his work. He’d hack at it with a sledgehammer, and when that didn’t work, he’d try cutting through it. Holding a welding mask over his face, he turned on an industrial laser cutter and let it do its thing.

Sparks flew, but he barely made a scratch.

He lowered his mask, revealing his sunken eyes and unshaven face. After weeks of unleashing hell on the door, it stood firm, a badge of his failures and reminder that he was never getting off this ship alive. Only that begged the question, what would he do if he did manage to break through this tonne of steel?

Wake up someone else to help him?

He would be a fish out of water, having jumped so desperately to get out of a pond with no thought of what to do once he got to land. Yet, he persisted, fearing the worse if he ever decided to give up.

More errors popped up on the ship’s diagnostics.

Just after he left the elevator to the grand concourse, the whole thing went haywire. The doors slammed together, opening, closing, opening, and closing. Even the lights started to flash on and off. He stared back at it, gravely unsettled, watching it spazz out.

“G-Ground concourse. Going down. P-Please make.”

Looks like he wasn’t the only thing breaking down.

“I’m screwed, Arthur,” Alfred uttered hoarsely at the man, eyes red and irritated. With nowhere to be and nothing to do, he found himself in the bar again, as did all. “Completely and ridiculously screwed.”

“Come on, now.” Arthur chided, polishing the inside of a glass. “Every cloud has its silver lining.”

Alfred tilted his head as if to go, fair enough.

“Guess I am gonna die of old age on this ship.”

“Oh, we all die,” The other said as-a-matter-of-factly. “Even androids end up on the scrap heap.”

He scoffed through his nose, swallowing another gulp of his whiskey. Like he’d understand how that felt. A few moments of comfortable silence droned on between the bartender and their patron, one of which, kept scrubbing around the outside of a cup.

“I’m your only customer. Why are you always polishing a glass?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“Trick of the trade. Makes people nervous when the bartender just stands there.” Arthur explained.

“So lay some bartender wisdom on me,” He placed his drink on the counter. “I’m lost in space, here.”

The android came over in an instant, his movement letting out a soft mechanical whir. He narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, piecing together his next few sentences as carefully as he could for the troubled man. And this was the best he could come up with.

“You’re not where you want to be. You feel like you’re supposed to be… Somewhere else,” He spoke.

Alfred raised his brows and snorted--yeah, no shit. But his amused expression quickly fell away for a serious one. He had to humor the guy, at least.

“You said it.” He nodded with a squint.

“Say you could snap your fingers and be wherever you wanted to be. I bet you’d still feel this way,” Arthur continued, getting him to lower his gaze in thought. “Not in the right place. Point is, you can’t get so hung up on where you’d rather be, that you forget how to make the most of where you are!”

“What are you telling me?”

“Take a break from worrying about what you can’t control,” The other glanced up from the things in his hands. Then, with the most subtle, yet, suggestive smile, he added this in a whisper. “Live a little.”

“Live a little,” Alfred whispered, spacing out as the words repeated in his head like a tape. The next thing he knew, he was breaking into the most luxurious accommodation the ship had to offer. He wedged a crowbar between a double door and pried it open.

He gritted his teeth and strained for a good few seconds before it slid apart. What was inside didn’t impress him at first, a room shrouded in darkness, but he was blown away when he stepped inside. What slowly lit up before him was a palatial suite fully furnished with modern homeware and decor.

“Welcome to the Vienna Suite.”

“Oh, yeah!” He laughed breathily. Alfred walked in with his head tilted back to take it all in--the highest ceilings he’d ever seen, and white stairs that folded one after the other like a fan. It led to a mezzanine, the designated sleeping space with a double bed. Adjacent to that was a panoramic screen displaying an image of an American forest, shrouded in a mist.

He ran upstairs to check it out, going past these golden, hexagonal honeycomb lights on the wall.

“What?” He exclaimed in amazement.

Flopping onto the mattress, he rolled onto his back with the biggest grin. This ship had been holding out on him, a lowly second-class passenger, but he was about to enjoy every spoil until he got sick of them.

He just never imagined how sick.

He dribbled a basketball across the floor, jumped up, and tossed it into the hoop. A horn sounded, and an electric blue wave of pixels went around the walls. While he celebrated his point with a fist pump, neon pink silhouettes of cheerleaders danced around him, throwing up their pom poms and chanting his name.

Alfred stopped by the restaurants next.

“Make that double jumbo shrimp--triple.”

“あいがとうございます,” The robot waiter took the menu and left to the kitchen, leaving him to his own devices. He picked up a pair of chopsticks and nicked at the holographic koi fish that swam above his table. He watched them scatter, much to his amusement.

“Dance off,” He grimaced, folding his arms at the 3D game character across him.

They busted a move, and Alfred copied them with the most concentrated look, lips puckered in an ‘O’. He swung his arms and spun on the spot, only for him to lose all his points. The character made a face and shook their head, giving him a thumbs-down.

“I did exactly what you just did!” He exasperated.

His short stubble turned into an unkempt beard.

“Uno más margerita, por favor.” Alfred requested in a funny voice, finger up. How he was still conscious after that many drinks was beyond him, but it had to be the huge enchilada that buffered the alcohol.

“You have had many, señor.” The robot waiter said.

“Oh, Hector, por favor, otra vez!”

“Sí, señor.”

He leaned over and followed it with his gaze.

“Gracias,” He called in his normal voice.

Alfred was back on the basketball court. His hair had grown around his ears, the dry, sandy blonde frizz making him look nothing short of homeless. After he managed to toss the ball into the hoop one more time, he didn’t react to the avid cheers around him. He kept a poker face, exhausted by the repetitive lifestyle of indulgence he’d been cycling through.

When the ball rolled back, he picked it up, turned around, then dropkicked it into the distance.

In the end, there was still a finite number of things to do even on the Avalon, and nowhere near enough to burn a lifetime here. Alfred was losing his mind to boredom, and, eventually, despair. He’d feed the ship’s vacuum bots breakfast, tossing them soggy cereal bits. He’d order ridiculous amounts of takeout, then sleep in a nest of takeaway boxes. He’d walk the hallways buck naked with his crumpled shirt in hand.

With nothing to do, and nobody to talk to, he was trapped forever in a state of limbo. His existence was all but internalized. The only reality he’d ever know was his mind, and this steel ship, a thousand meters long--the former of which, had finally come apart. Because no matter how hard he tried to stray from his fate, he always found himself in the pod room.

As he wandered down the aisles, watching each and every passenger sleep with a peace he’d never know, his heart festered with sadness, envy, and, eventually, poisonous anger for what his life had become, or failed to. He tossed an empty vodka bottle as far as he could, letting out a guttural yell. And to think he came here with more excitement than anybody had for the Avalon. A ship of dreams, now all but dead.

He opened a door attached to the pod room.

“Welcome, Alfred.”

He arrived in another room with metal flooring and walls. There were these clunky, navy space suits standing in the center, for what he assumed to be the spacewalking attraction he heard about. But that wasn’t what piqued his interest. He approached one of the suits and pressed his head to the chest, and for just a few seconds, he’d pretend it was a person.

“Please turn your attention to the screens displaying safety tips. These spacesuits are designed to withstand the harsh environment of space. The carbon fiber and polyamide construction means your suit is both flexible and durable. The suit will…”

He even held onto the gloves, the closest he’d get to holding someone else’s hands again.

“Remember, your space suit is your lifeline.”

He clicked a big green button on the control panel, getting one of the suits to spin to him. Giving that a thoughtful gaze, he walked over and took it off the mannequin. After putting on the suit, he entered the airlock, a silvery chute that led to the great outdoors.

“Slide the handle on the right to release the air pressure,” The voice spoke, turning his head to said handle. He slid the protective casing down, feeling a sucking on his feet. “your magnetic boots are now engaged. Press the red button to open the airlock door.” And press it he did, watching the chute open.

The air around him got sucked out as he stood firm. Out there was the vast sea of space. A pool of stars, cosmic dust, and distant planets he’d never know. Interstellar travel had been common for decades now, the universe outside the solar system made accessible to the human race, but he still gazed up at the stars with the same wonder as people did back in sixty-nine. When they first put man on the moon, one tiny step for man, one giant leap for mankind. Fuck. He’d never get tired of repeating that quote, accent and all--just like he’d never let himself get indifferent to space. The endless beauty and horror of it, the trifling insignificance he posed to the universe.

These truths lay bare in front of him as he floated in his suit, surrounded by a star-speckled abyss in all directions. He was overwhelmed by the power of it, so much so that he started crying. He always had been, he just never imagined it would be like this.

Terrifying, lonely, and at the mercy of Mother Nature.

He returned to the ship, looking like Hell.

What he experienced gave him a lot to think about. The bigger picture, the ultimatum. He really was going to spend the rest of his life here, or whatever was left of it. He froze, having a thought occur to him he never would’ve entertained outside of these circumstances. He didn’t have to suffer for another twenty, thirty years. He could end it all, right here.

In the airlock, where he could get sucked out into space. The vacuum would hurl him out so far out, he’d never dream of returning. But that wasn’t as fast as he wanted it to be. Without his space suit, it would be instant. His lungs would collapse, he would swell up, then freeze to death--whichever came first.

And he was about to find out.

He stood in the airlock in nothing but his shirt and boxers. Then, he slid the safety handle, exposing the red button. As he reached for it, his eyes went as wide as he could get them. And his heart, racing out of his chest. His fingers barely grazed the top before he pulled away, having returned to his senses.

Then, he made a run for it, horrified by what he was about to do himself. And he kept running even in the pod room, desperate to get as far away from that thought as possible. In his delirium, he missed the vodka bottle rolling on the ground and slid on it.

Alfred fell on his back with a heavy thump.

He didn’t get up right away, but lay there, groaning from the pain. Once it subsided, he was met with another kind of pain, one that would last forever. After a year of being alone, he nearly took his life.

But the next second saw an upheaval to that.

When he got up, he saw a woman sleeping in her pod just across from him. He never would’ve given her the light of day a year ago, or at least, not in the right context. Like at a bar, two drinks in. Any man in their sound mind would’ve approached her then. She was young and attractive, just like a lot of the passengers here. One could only imagine what a man in their unsound mind would do, lost and alone for the rest of his days.

“(F/N),” He muttered, reading the name tag.

“Searching passenger profiles,” The computer said. Alfred leaned forward in his chair to scan the list for your name. Sure enough, there was only one of you. The lesser-known daughter of a Pulitzer-prize winning author, but eager to take on their mantle.

You appeared on the screen, awake and perky.

“My dad used to say, if you live an ordinary life, all you’ll have are ordinary stories. So, here I am.”

Alfred brought his cereal from the cafeteria.

“Good morning.” He pulled a chair next to you. Taking a seat beside your head, he turned on his tablet to watch your interview. He was finally having a meal with someone, even if that someone didn’t know that. And it was nicer than he remembered.

“We’re starting over in every way,” You shook your head at the weight of that statement. “I’ll have to figure out where to live, how to live, who my friends will be--it’s like the first day of school, if the school bus took a hundred and twenty years to get there.”

He laughed some, his throat hoarse from his daily rendezvous with his robot bartender. Regardless of where you were headed, you were still down to Earth, and your excitement for the unknown was refreshing.

It reminded him of how he used to be.

“Everything’s gonna be different to how we do things on Earth. But we’re still the same.”

Alfred purchased your book.

“We’d want to make something for ourselves, only we actually get to do it under blue skies.”

He opened the first page and started reading.

“This should be interesting,” He murmured, popping a grape in his mouth. Thus begun his little flirtation, his connection to another human being without ever having to talk to them. If only this could remain as such, a flirtation, but the deeper he plunged, the harder it would be to swim to the surface.

“Do you ever read something and feel like it’s written just for you?” Alfred asked, never tearing his gaze away from his tablet. This was the second book of yours he’d powered through, and the last.

You were new to the game but immensely talented, just the kind of customer the Homestead company wanted. But as a person? He could imagine himself being close to you. Whether that was a delusion fabricated out of loneliness, or a genuine feeling, that distinction didn’t matter anymore.

“I don’t do a lot of reading,” Arthur pondered.

“She’s good.”

“Who’s that?”

“(F/N).” He hummed.

“Ah. The sleeping girl.”

Alfred slid off his stool to pace around a bit. He blew his cheeks out as he came to this conclusion, as hard as it was for him to accept. And he relayed that well without saying a word, glowering at his friend.

“You know, I’m not saying the universe is evil, but it sure has a nasty sense of humor.” He muttered.

“How is that?” Arthur asked.

“You get to fly to another planet, but you’ll die along the way,” His eyes burned as he verbalized his sobering realities, his second one, even more so. “And you find this amazing girl right in front of you, but she’s completely out of reach.”

Even at nighttime, he found himself watching you. He liked the idea of having a conversation with you, just as he’d been pretending to these past several weeks. He liked the idea of you. Fantasizing was the closest he’d ever get to those desires, so he may as well knock himself out doing it--or was it?

When he put his cup down, his gaze went to the hibernation manual beside. And God forbid what ideas it gave him. His smile faded into an unsettled look, disturbed by the contents of his own mind.

He slammed the manual on the bar counter.

“Say you were trapped on a desert island, and you had the power to wish somebody there with you,” Alfred spoke restlessly like he’d lose his nerve the second he hesitated. “Then you wouldn’t be alone anymore. But you’d be stranding the person on the island. How do you… Would you make that wish?”

Arthur narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been on an island.”

“Okay, yeah, well, er, forget the island,” He relented.

“Ah.” The android nodded.

“Let’s say you… Figured out how to do something…” He began cautiously one second, only to lose his composure in the next. “That would make your life a million times better, but you knew it was wrong, and there’s no taking it back. How do you do the math?”

“Alfred, these are not robot questions,” The other warned, getting the man to exhale deeply.

He’d been reasoning with himself the whole time, trying to find some sort of justification for what couldn’t be justified. That became all the apparent when his stare grew haunted as he admitted what had been on his mind since it first occurred to him.

“I know how to wake (F/N) up.”

Next chapter: The sleeping girl

Tag list: @twilightlover2007, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @chickenpecks, @sunnysssol

#never astounds me how fast Alfred turns from victim to perpetrator #update #passengers #passengers movie #alfredosauce50 #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia #hetalia x reader #hetalia fanfic #axis powers hetalia #axis powers ヘタリア #aph america x reader #aph america #America x reader #hws america #Alfred f Jones #hws england #aph england #movie crossover

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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 8 days

Text

Welcome To The Outpost: Part 2.1 - Last Chance

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: CT-9904 Crosshair, Clone Commander Mayday, Clone Trooper Hexx, Clone Trooper Veetch, Lieutenant Nolan, Assorted Imperial Troopers Word Count: ~3045 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: The Imperial relief ship finally arrives, marking the end of the squad’s long posting on Barton IV. Mayday is surprised to see a CT-99 listed on the crew roster.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen Read Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle Read Part 1.4 - No Way Out Read Part 1.5 - Rock And A Hard Place

“COMMANDER!”

Veetch’s yell was enough to summon Mayday at a run. He weaved through the stacks of crates to where his squad member was bent over the computer console, tapping excitedly.

Veetch turned with a wild-eyed grin. “Transport is incoming.”

The young clone stepped aside, letting Mayday see the screen for himself. Disbelieving, Mayday scrolled through the transmission, reading and re-reading until he was sure it wasn't a joke.

“Go get Hexx,” he ordered, voice shaky with something between excitement and dread. “This is it, lad. We’re getting out of here.”

Veetch was off like a shot, the lethargy of their long posting dissipated as ready as snow in the sun. Before long the three clones were clustered round the screen, avidly reviewing the transmission.

It’s concise – what Mayday has come to expect from the Empire.

[Cargo retrieval ship scheduled to arrive 1600 Galactic Standard. Ensure all stored goods are ready for transport.]

What it doesn’t say is the bit that Mayday reads between the lines. That he and his boys are finally leaving Barton IV and all its bad memories behind them.

Hexx was reviewing the ship’s manifest with a frown.

“Says they’re bringing a contingent to secure the depot whilst the cargo is transferred,” he said with a dour tone, “but there’s no clone troopers listed here.”

Veetch leaned in to peer over his shoulder. “There’s one,” he pointed. “CT-9904.”

“The only one,” Hexx muttered.

“A CT-99?” said Mayday mildly, eyebrows raising towards his hairline. “I didn’t realise there were any left in service.”

Veetch glanced at him in confusion. “What’s different about a CT-99?” he asked.

“Defective clones,” supplied Hexx. “But still combat-worthy.”

“He must be one of the last ones,” said Mayday. “Well, a brother’s a brother. I’ll see if I can pin him down when they get here, find out what his view of this new Empire is.”

Hexx snorted. “If he’ll talk to you,” he said. “I’ve heard the 99’s are notoriously difficult to work with. Only interested in others like them.”

“You’ll keep those thoughts to yourself,” said Mayday flatly, his commander’s tone brooking no argument. “If the rumours are true, and the Empire are phasing out clone troopers, those of us that are left need to stick together.”

“What do we need to do to get ready for the ship’s arrival?” asked Veetch, the plaintive note of hope in his voice almost painful to hear.

Mayday straightened with a humourless smile that didn’t reach his eyes.

“Better get out there and sweep the snow from the landing zone. First impressions count, boys. Let’s make sure this place is looking spick and span before the transport arrives.”

The wry sarcasm in his voice made the other two grin.

“You don’t mean that, Commander,” said Veetch, pulling on his helmet and tightening the fabric coverings.

Mayday huffed a laugh. “Sure I do. If the ship skids on ice when it lands and crashes into the depot, none of us are getting out of here.” He clapped a hand to Hexx’s shoulder, then copied Veetch in gathering his helmet.

“Come on. We’ll do this together.”

Mayday’s expectations hadn’t been low enough.

The narrow-faced Lieutenant who disembarked the transport had immediately started making demands which betrayed that he hadn’t bothered to read the briefing about the Barton IV depot.

“Your orders were to protect this facility and its cargo, yet this outpost is grossly unguarded. Where are the rest of your men?”

“Dead,” answered Mayday shortly. The man would have known that, if he’d read the brief. He glanced at his two remaining troopers, nodding in their direction. “Hexx, Veetch and I,” he said slowly, keeping his voice low and calm, “we’re all that’s left.”

To his mind, it was impossible to miss the sombre line of empty, damaged clone helmets lined up on the crates behind them. The lieutenant’s pale blue eyes slid past them, glazing past the evidence of their loss to settle in a scowl directed at Mayday once more.

“Your failings will be dealt with later,” he said haughtily. “For now, I am in charge until the cargo is transported.”

Mayday bristled at the man’s tone, bit back the reaction. Instead he settled for a sardonic smile, glancing at Hexx and Veetch with a barely-concealed eye roll. “I feel safer already,” he drawled, confident that his two troopers shared his thoughts. He couldn’t wait for this so-called Lieutenant to discover the realities of the outpost.

Sarcasm was the wrong approach. The small man’s pinched face narrowed further, mouth puckering in evident anger. “Look here, clone, you will speak to me with respect.”

The change was immediate. Hexx and Veetch, leaned back against the crates, straightened. Mayday dropped a hand to his side from his crossed arms, a flick of his fingers telling them to stand down.

“In my experience,” he said, drawing himself deliberately to his full height, “respect is something to be earned.”

Fourteen months of hardship had only weathered confidence into Mayday’s tone.

But he wasn’t prepared for what the Lieutenant threw at him next.

“Yet the Empire assigned you to this desolate rock, where you let the majority of your squad get killed.”

Mayday stiffened, a dark glower spreading to his face. He knew his own failings; knew the decisions he had made during the Clone Wars and since that had sent good soldiers to their deaths. The guilt of ordering patrols during the blizzard six months into the Barton IV posting haunted him.

Everything had gone wrong after that; but the rest of it could have been avoided. The rest of his squad died because the Empire ignored his requests for support time and again.

“Tell me, Lieutenant,” he said when he had control of his voice once more, “how many missions have you commanded?”

The smaller man’s shoulders rose towards his ears with a defensive, embarrassed glower.

“That’s what I thought,” said Mayday softly.

Inside his chest his heart raced, adrenaline demanding his aching body take action. Instead he dragged his gaze away from the lieutenant, trying to make it seem like the man was beneath his attention.

“Boys, why don’t you help the new boss get situated?” he said, an order rather than a suggestion.

Wordlessly, Hexx and Veetch slipped past him. Hexx turned briefly, a questioning hand sign thrown his commander, but Mayday signalled for him to leave. He cast a pointed glance towards the dark armoured figure who had shadowed the lieutenant silently throughout the confrontation, rifle stowed at his back but seemingly tense and ready to fight.

Hexx merely nodded and turned to follow Veetch, less than gently escorting the Imperial lieutenant away from the sheltered space behind the stacked storage crates.

Once they had the space to themselves Mayday turned his attention to the silent sniper, assessing. The man was taller than Mayday or any of the brothers he had ever served with, yet he wore clone armour, albeit a dark-painted variant. It was enough to confirm this must be the defective clone from the ship’s crew manifest.

Mayday straightened, wondering how best to begin his overtures towards the newcomer. He’d never met a CT-99 before, which would have given him pause enough, and that was without knowing how deeply the man’s loyalty to the new Empire ran.

He decided that was the first thing he wanted to know. Forcing himself to relax back against the crates again, he stared into the impassive green visor and asked, “You, uh, know the lieutenant well?”

For a heartbeat he wondered if it was the right question. Then the sniper spoke, voice laden with acid.

“For about two hours,” he said, the derision in his tone clear.

Mayday huffed a relieved laugh. “Two hours too long, I bet,” he said, having decided he’d had enough of the man after only two minutes.

The only reply was a noncommittal ‘hmm’. Deciding this was better than meeting a severe response that berated him for disparaging the Imperial officer, he pressed on.

“So, what did you do to get stuck with this mission?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

The bite of sarcasm drew a genuine if bitter laugh from Mayday.

Lifting the portable heater, Mayday shuffled it forwards a few steps and dropped it in front of the other clone. The glow of the device did nothing to dispel the shadows that seemed to cling to the black-painted armour and shroud the sniper in darkness.

The 99 barely looked at him. Or perhaps sharp eyes were following him from inside the helmet – there was no way to tell. The man didn’t move; hadn’t moved, even to relax a little when the lieutenant departed.

“The name’s Mayday,” he offered after a pause.

The silence that followed was so long that Mayday was sure the other must be ignoring him, wishing for the conversation to end.

Then, so softly it was almost lost; “Crosshair.”

The commander raised his eyebrows, then let them fall back into a frown. The clone had been so slow to give his name, said it so uncertainly, that Mayday found himself wondering if it was the first time he had spoken it aloud since The Order reduced them to mere numbers in the eyes of the Empire.

“Crosshair,” Mayday repeated, and he gave weight to the name, added conviction. Desperately hoped that this small act of connection would bind the CT-99 to him in something approaching brotherhood.

He summoned a dry smile, and gestured around him with a flourish. “Well, Crosshair… welcome to The Outpost.”

“Why aren’t they loading the kriffing cargo already?” snarled Veetch in disappointment.

Hexx shared his younger companion’s frustration. The three remaining squad members from Barton IV were more than ready to leave, but the newly-arrived Lieutenant Nolan had other ideas. The Imperial Troopers who were with him with were filing from the ship and making their way into the depot. It seemed clear that a quick turnaround was less important than meticulously checking each crate for signs of tampering – as if the clones had any motive or desire to do such a thing.

They were stood in the shadow of the damaged storage building, fairly certain that it would keep them out of the way of the industry now overtaking the base, but they were hailed anyway.

“Hie, clones,” called a voice, neither friendly nor welcoming. Hexx glanced at Veetch and gave a weary shrug before stepping out from the sheltering wall, setting his body against the driving wind as they crossed to the Imperial Trooper.

“Yes?” he asked, scraping the thin reserves of his patience for some measure of politeness.

“Show my men where they’re bunking whilst we’re here.”

Hexx barely contained his derisive snort. “What?”

“The barracks area. Show my men the way through that maze of damned crates you created in the main building.”

“They’re not your barracks,” said Veetch uncertainly, hovering beside Hexx’s shoulder.

The Imperial Trooper stepped closer, looming into Veetch’s personal space. “Seeing as most of your squad is dead, I’m guessing there’s plenty of spare bunks. Go and show the others where to stow their kit.”

Veetch surged forwards in anger, but Hexx caught his arm before he could do anything.

“Yes sir,” he bit, making his voice as much like Mayday’s derisive drawl as he could manage. His commander had set the tone for this encounter in the words exchanged with Nolan; Hexx would follow suit.

He hauled the younger clone away with him, tightening his grip when he felt Veetch fight against him.

“What are you doing?” hissed Veetch, a shaky, outraged whisper. “You’re not doing what he said? After that?”

Hexx shook him hard, fingers pressing bruises between the seams of his upper arm armour.

“Listen here,” he spat, leaning in close to the younger trooper even though his voice would be perfectly clear on the com. “This might be our last chance off this forsaken rock. I’m not going to spoil it by losing my temper with these prissy Imperials. So suck it up, Veetch, and we can finally get out this kriffing hell-hole.”

“But the others… Dene and Recon and Helix and Axis-”

“-Are gone.” Hexx’s voice was flat. “But we’re still here.” He sighed, loosening his grip on Veetch’s arm, transferring his hand to his shoulder instead to grip with supportive pressure. “If you were older you’d have learned this during the war. There’s always another mission. Another posting. Some of your brothers get left behind. But they’d want you to go on, so you fight another day, you keep living for them. You hear me?”

Veetch wasn’t listening. His focus was over Hexx’s shoulder, gaze fixed on something distant. Then his hand flew to his com.

“Commander! Raiders spotted inside the perimeter.”

Instantly Hexx’s hands went to his blaster, spinning to follow Veetch’s gaze, dropping into a battle-ready stance.

“Over there,” Veetch told him, gesturing, and Hexx nodded.

“I see. Come on, kid. Let’s not let the Commander down now we’ve got an audience.”

The two clones sprinted for the perimeter breach, weaving between Imperial Troopers who stood around, slower to react. Veetch’s blaster fire lit up the hard-standing, arcing towards the raiders who broke from cover as they realised they had been made.

“I’ve got the west,” came Mayday’s voice over the com. “The sniper’s taking the east tower.”

They closed on the raiders, the cluster of enemy combatants quickly splitting up to try and escape. One of them crouched to the ground, steadying their rifle before taking a shot.

Veetch stumbled, veering out the way to take cover behind one of the base’s low barricades. The shelter was a brief respite, chance to catch his breath and look to Hexx for their next move.

Only Hexx was no longer at his side.

He was sprawled on the ground, throat torn out by blaster-fire.

The world narrowed. Inside his helmet, Veetch struggled to draw breath. By rote he raised his hand, activating his com.

“Hexx is down.” He was surprised at how calm his own voice sounded. His throat constricted around a thick lump of sorrow, but somehow it hadn’t stayed his words.

His fingers trembled beside the com button, feeling like he should say something else, not knowing what.

Confused shouts and blaster fire sounded as the Imperial Troops joined the combat. Veetch poked his head up from behind cover, quickly surveying the battlefield. The Imperials weren’t used to fighting in the dark and low visibility of Barton IV snowstorms. He was.

“Thee raiders heading towards the shuttle at zero-one-five,” he reported, and then he was on the move again. Two of the raiders peeled off in one direction but he was closer to the third – he stuck on them as they skirted round the lowered ramp to the far side of the shuttle.

He slowed to a jog as he neared the shuttle. The raider hadn’t noticed him; Veetch found himself softening his footfalls in the hope of ambushing his target.

An explosion. The light craft was consumed in intense nexus of fire which blossomed outwards with the strength of an inferno.

Veetch felt the wave of heat hit him first. Then lethal shrapnel pinwheeled from the wreckage to pierce his body, and he didn’t feel anything at all.

Crosshair left the chaos of the base and its burning debris field behind him and followed the spattered path of blood behind the buildings, the dark red stains stark against the snow even in the early twilight of the bad weather.

He blinked and squinted inside his helmet, trying to banish the bright dots dancing in front of his sensitive eyes. Even through the heat sensor, the after-image of the exploding shuttle had been seared into his retinas.

Normally, if there was an explosion on the battlefield, he knew the cause. Wrecker would give him a heads-up.

The attack on the outpost had been an ambush, and he'd had no time to avert his gaze from the sun-bright nova which engulfed the destroyed craft.

Now he slithered down a snow-slope, traitorous memory supplying unwanted thoughts of the last time he had fought on terrain like this. His head had hurt then, too, an intense pinpoint pressure at his temple. He had wondered if it was a migraine, the kind Hunter was prone to.

There was nothing there now but pitted scar tissue, shiny and stretched from the ion burn. At least this time the headache was due to the bright light, nothing more.

His descent brought him to a lip of ice and he dropped lithely into the channel below, landing on his feet. Blessed, cool darkness enveloped him, soothing to his overstrained eyes, but still the blinking afterglows remained and prevented his low-light vision from kicking in.

Crosshair drew the torch from his belt and flashed the beam ahead. The crevasse opened into a tunnel which bored into the mountain-side, winding round a corner and out of sight.

"A snow skiff took off down the western ridge," called a voice from behind him. He turned and looked up to see the reg commander following his route down the snow-slope, crouching at the top of the drop. “The rest must’ve fled on foot into the mountain pass.”

"Wrong," was all Crosshair said, casting his torch back towards the tunnel.

The commander dropped next to him and followed his gaze to a slick of red on the rocky floor.

"So that's how snuck past our defences," he breathed, his voice grim.

"We should go after them," said Crosshair, starting down the tunnel.

"Hang on," said Mayday quickly. He caught Crosshair’s arm, stalling his advance. "You'll freeze to death if you head out there. You think it's cold now? You've got no idea how it gets after true nightfall.” He didn’t fight Crosshair as the sniper shook himself free, instead folding his arms across his chest. “Besides, I've got brothers to bury."

The hitch in his voice was worse than sorrow. It was resignation.

Crosshair hesitated. He’d watched the clone trooper run alongside the shuttle, and barely given a thought to whether he had survived.

“Fine,” he said, his voice a thin, displeased whisper. He shifted his stance, resting the rifle on his shoulder. “But Nolan isn’t going to like this.”

Read Part 2.2 - Broken

Officially on Part 2 - now canon-compliant instead of pre-canon!

RIP Hexx and Veetch :(

Here's a reminder of the Angstpril prompts that @kybercrystals94, @the-little-moment and I are sharing; mine are the ones in red! :)

Here's @the-little-moment's stories:- Day 1 - Homesick Day 4 - Longing Day 7 - Bad Dreams Day 10 - Phantom Pain Day 13 - Learning The Truth Day 16 - Emotionally Distant

And @kybercrystals94's stories:- Day 3 - Broken Hearted Day 6 - This Isn't Going To Work Day 9 - Trust Issues Day 12 - A Little Too Late Day 15 - Confrontation

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ask-gadzooks · 6 months

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(ask-princess-rarity) Oh, I MUST ask a most important quest from you two brave adventurers! I hear you two are absolutely unmatched in bravery, courage, and expediency, I could simply choose no others for the deed. From deep within these caverns I am depraved of basic pony rights! Please, deliver to me one single pint of mint chocolate ship ice cream - only name brand and be sure it is NOT melted when it arrives - to my room within the next fortnight. In exchange I'm sure I could find some gem or the other for you fine gentlemen.

"Less than a Fortnight" later...

Princess Rarity leaned out her balcony window, gazing into the vast underground cavern the diamond dogs called home. She took a deep breath and exhaled a long and dainty sigh. It felt like it had been decades since her last taste of ice cream, and she felt like she was constantly in the mood to eat it these days.

That is, she was constantly stressed enough to want to shovel it down her throat in hopes of drowning out her troubles.

As Rarity gazed out of her balcony, trying to pretend the glowing crystals on the far side of the cavern were creamy popsicles, she noticed a small disturbance near the orange-looking one. Rarity recalled that that was vaugely in the direction she had come from when she first arrived here.

Rarity pulled herself forward onto the railing to get a better look, though at best all she could see from here were vaugely moving specks of all the muted colors the diamond dogs came in. Except... was that one bright yellow? As Rarity angled her ears toward the disturbance, she thought she heard shouting... and it was getting closer, As was the yellow speck in the distance. As it moved in her general direction, Rarity could begin to make out yellow wings that were flapping frantically. Soon enough Rarity perceived that the yellow blob was being accosted by crossbow bolts and thrown spears from below, but every once in a while the yellow thing would retaliate with some unknown projectile of it's own. Were those... disks? So intent on her observations was Rarity that didn't notice that the yellow creature was headed straight for her.

Well, that is, until she remembered to duck. As the yellow bird soared over Rarity's head, one or two sharp objects followed him into her room, skewering the roughly-made throw rug. An instant later, she heard one of the diamond dogs below smack the other upside the head.

"Stupid! Don't kill Pony Princess!" He shouted.

"wasn't trying to!" the cowed dog replied. "Shut up! Somedog get up there!" the first dog said.

Rarity, however, was no longer paying attention; she was looking at the feather-tailed yellow griffon who had skidded to a stop not quite quickly enough to avoid hitting the far wall. "Your highness." Gad said, upside-down. As he righted himself, he took a sealed plastic bucket out of his saddlebags.

"I hope this is to your satisfaction, miss!" Gad said, smiling. "It's a bit more than a pint, but maybe you could share a bit with your, uh... 'friends' down here."

As he placed the bucket down, Rarity may have noticed that the bucket was still coated in frost, despite the long journey it must've taken there. The paper sticker on the top was ringed with frozen condensation. "As for payment, don't stress about it too much, but if you could mail us one or two gems of different colors about yea big..." Gad held his claws about an inch apart, like he was displaying a golden bit between them... "Then that'd be great."

Before much else could happen, there was a pounding on the door. "Oops! looks like I've worn out my welcome here." Gad said as he readied himself for takeoff again. "Maybe you could explain this to the Diamond dogs so their response isn't so... violent next time? Oh! and probably dispose of that sticker before your room gets frozen!"

Gad climbed up onto the balcony railing and spread his wings.

"Let me know if you ever need a real rescue, princess! And sorry about Purglator's cape!" Purglator's... cape? what about it? Of course before Rarity could ask, Gad was swooping back in the direction he came, zipping, diving, and dodging projectiles like a mad bird.

An instant later, Rarity's door slammed open, and she looked back to see a rather strange sight, accompanied by the faint scent of cherries.

(@ask-princess-rarity, since this was an anonymous ask, I don't know if this was actually requested by you, but I enjoyed writing it, nonetheless! enjoy your ice cream, and to a lesser extent, your pie.)

#ask gadzooks #ask princess rarity #gad #rarity

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starrystevie · 10 months

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Happy (early) birthday Bee!! Let’s roll for steddie… shop au… 80’s? Full reign on everything else you wanna go for 💕

thank you thank you!! so this may be a stretch for a shop au but i thought it was kind of fitting for a little bit of pre-s4 steddie. hope you like it! <3

ship: steddie | trope: shop au | era: 1980s | length: 300-500

eddie can think of at least a million other places he'd rather be than at work. work meant screaming kids and bitchy moms and douchebag lifeguards that took advantage of the one-free-snack-a-day rule. his uniform is polyester, scratchy and hot in the indiana summer heat and the breeze from the fan in the corner of the concession stand doesn't help much. "munson!" and then there's also the added problem of having to work with his lifetime crush, steve harrington. eddie rolls his eyes and lets his hands fall onto his hips as steve rounds the corner. he's dripping wet and it's not in that wet dog kind of way, more in the way that he looks like he belongs on those smutty books the mom book club brings to the pool. he flicks his hair out of his face, smile creasing up his cheeks, and eddie forces himself to look away so he won't blush too hard. "you better put on some sunscreen, dude," steve says as he skids to a stop in front of the stand. his arms cross over his chest and eddie lets himself have one peak at the motion before looking away once more. "you look a little sun burnt on your face…" as steve leans over the counter to peer closer, eddie runs a hand over his face and does a dramatic spin to grab the hot dog tongs off the back counter. when he spins back around, he sees steve with his eyebrows furrowed, drops of overly chlorinated water dripping off of his sun-kissed skin and glistening in the golden sunshine and he watches as one drop traces through his chest hair and lower and- "you dehydrated or something?" steve's voice sounds gentle, like he genuinely wants to know if eddie is getting enough water and if he's being honest, no he isn't. he could melt at the sound of steve's voice, at the way his eyes flick over eddie like he's looking for something wrong, at the way he always stops by right when he knows eddie's going on break so they can take a smoke break together behind the tool shed. "i'm fine," eddie barks out, startling steve and tina who's working the soft serve machine. "you ready?" steve grins and takes the hot dog eddie offers to him with practiced ease, sliding by the condiment stand to get a packet of ketchup that they both know eddie will give him grief over. the walk to the shed is quiet as usual. it's not until they've both lit up and started in on their hot dogs that steve breaks the silence. "what are you gonna do once summer's over?" he asks, voice muffled with a massive bite of hot dog. eddie shrugs and is about to give steve shit for talking with his mouth full but then looks up and sees it. there's a drop of ketchup on steve's cheek and he doesn't think, doesn't process what he's doing, before his hand shoots up and wipes it away with a gentle finger. "oh." steve sounds as surprised as eddie feels. they both look between each other's face and eddie's finger which is still halfway in the air covered in ketchup. it's steve's turn to blush, pink flushing up from his chest to the tips of his ears and eddie smirks at him in return. "better be careful, steve," he taunts, and in a daring move he won't be able to do again, rubs the ketchup onto the bottom of steve's trunks. "looks like you're getting a little sunburnt if that blush is anything to go off of." steve scowls and puffs a little too harshly at his cigarette as eddie cackles. maybe eddie doesn't hate working there as much as he thought he did, not if it means seeing steve harrington blush.

roll for prompts: accepting!

#i had to force myself to keep this short #i wanted to write forever and ever #maybe one day i could turn this in to a full fic who's to say #steddie #steddie headcanon #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie drabble #steddie ficlet #rollfor2023 #sharpbutsoft #answered #pls excuse grammar and typos i am still sick and can't force myself to read over this again

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yiiyiiwrites · 2 months

Text

JJ Maybank x JohnB Older sister

Summary: JJ gives John B's older sister a ride to work at the hotel they both work out. Platonic ship :) no romance just cute. 1033words

She heard the bike rambling through the trees before JJ even came into view. The early morning air held a chill that she welcomed in the unbearable summer heat of the day. Her fingers tightened around her fraying bag strap as she tried to keep it from slipping off her shoulder.

JJ stopped at the edge of the chateau. He swiped his messy blonde hair back and smiled to her. "Morning, Smalls." His lips twitch at the nickname.

"We're going to be late." Is all she said, shouldering past the teen and walking to the motorbike and waiting for him to follow. She doesn't give him the satisfaction of seeing the smile gracing her face, it's wiped off the moment he rounds her.

Reaching behind him, JJ pulled out his cap from his pocket and placed it on her head. He tucked a few strands of her stray hair behind her ears and nodded to himself. "Know how you get about your hair being all knotty from the wind."

She clambered on behind JJ, not as graceful as his simple swing onto the seat. Her hands rested on his broad shoulders as she got comfortable and secured her bag on both of her own.

He repositioned her hold and wrapped them around his waist, her cheek pushing into his back. She linked her fingers together and held on as tight as she could. JJ's body shook with laughter, muscles shifting underneath his t-shirt, the squeak leaving her lips as he sped up. They were late after all.

The houses began to get few and far between, fences lining the streets with homes that were bigger than the stores on the pogues side. Not one thing out of place, she liked this time of the day. No one was quite yet up and she could breathe without worrying about the Kooks.

Some mornings it felt like longest ride but today it was like a blink of eye. JJ skidding to a halt at the back of the hotel, his movements stilled as he noticed the tight hold she still had on him. She took a deep breath and slipped away from his waist, her cheek peeling away from his thin shirt.

He waited for her to stumble off the bike, fingers twisting on her sleeve to hold her own balance. "Still not used to it." He chuckled. He swiped his hat from her head and shoved it back in his pocket.

"I really need to get a car." She mumbled, knowing full well she couldn't afford one and that she'd have to work something out with John B so she could use the twinkie a bit more. "But thanks JJ." She smiled up at him, eyes squinting in the sun.

"So." JJ said opening the door for her and falling in step with her down the corridor. "You think you've got time to press my shirt before we start?" He doesn't glance at her, but takes her bag from her shoulder and leads the way to the laundry room.

"Quit asking me JJ, I said I would if you gave me lift." She pushed him into the room, heat hitting them as soon as they entered. Every early shift she found herself doing the same whilst JJ unscrewed washing detergent and sniffed the bottles or messed with the buttons on the machine. She would have done it even if he hadn't asked her.

She handed him the crisp white shirt, he shrugged it on. She helped him button it, clock ticking in the corner as he rushed to clock in on time.

"Thanks, I knew I was your favourite." He called over his shoulder as he ran through the laundry room.

"No, it's definitely Kie." She yelled back.

When she finished her shift after lunch, JJ is waiting for her outside. His white shirt creased and rolled up to his elbows and hat swiped backwards, his body leaning against his bike. He cupped the cigarette balancing between his lips and clicked his lighter, no flame sparking from the metal case.

"Are you waiting for me?" She interrupted his swearing and he glanced to her. Beads of sweat rolled down her forehead, uniform clinging to her frame from her shift. The downside of working in that part of the hotel was the heat, the upside no Kooks. Plus the added bonus of her doing her own laundry on her break.

JJ nodded, stuffing his lighter in his pocket and cigarette behind his ear. "Of course, Smalls." He positioned himself on the bike and kicked the stand down, patting the seat for her to join. "I just need to stop off and pick up some stuff for later." He glanced over his shoulder as she shuffled about, bag slung back over shoulders weighing her down.

"As long at you drop me home, I don't want to know what you guys get up to." She leaned into him, but tried not stick too close and become even hotter in the sun. Her hair scraped back out of her face since she arrived at the hotel.

She leant against the bike scrolling through her phone. JJ grabbing some stuff from Pope before they made their way back to the chateau.

JJ brought back a plastic bag of snacks, giving her one of her favourite ones before hanging bag from the handlebar. She'd always been fond of JJ, these small acts of kindness chipping away at her cold exterior. He seemed to bring out a more relaxed side of her.

They pull up at the chateau, battered shoes scuffing the gravel when she found stable land. She still couldn't get used to the ride no matter how JJ drove. "Thanks JJ." She patted his arm and trudged to the house, bag dropping to the floor as soon as she was through the door.

"Hey, we're going to..." John B appeared from his bedroom, beer can in hand and map in the other.

She held her hand up stopping him in his tracks. "I don't want to know." She closed her door and fell into her lumpy bed, face burying into her pillow. Least she had tomorrow morning off.

✨ Just a small fic inspired by my john B older sister headcanon - Yiiyii :) (not edited but also dyslexic so probably mistakes).

#jj maybank #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank headcanon #obx fanfiction #obx fic #john b sister #outer banks fic #outer banks fanfiction

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atonalginger · 4 months

Text

WIP Wednesday

@bearlytolerant reminded my it was Wednesday (or more like was going to be Wednesday soon for me but same difference) and so I'm going to take care of this now:) I'm also tagging loosely by saying if you see this and you have a WIP you want to share, tag you're it.

my chunk is from Ranger and the Deputy and the second arc, which focuses on the mission to find Barrett, Heller, and Lin. This chunk comes with a tw: death for a side character. Will throw the chunk under a cut

He could see Kitty already moving for the crash, her suppressed Rattler in hand. He hurried after her while Jazz made her way to the Frontier, calling out to Vasco about the busted radio. Del pinged Kitty’s suit and waited for the line to open.

“I don’t know what happened to the radio, I couldn’t understand a word you were saying,” she said, her voice bouncing with her foot falls, “Vasco picked up a distress signal from this ship as soon as we got in orbit. He said it was set after the crash and had a hidden message in it from Barrett.”

“Jazz is going to look at the radio, I’m just glad you got here in one piece,” Del finally caught up to her, “that’s a clever set up Vasco discovered.”

“Be better if it wasn’t attached to a crashed ship,” Kitty skid to a stop with a gasp. He looked out in front of them and saw a body hunched over in a dingy white spacesuit with orange panels. There was no movement from the body. Kitty dropped her pistol and broke into a sprint, “No! Heller!”

Delgado ran after her, hoping his eyes were wrong. Suits were bulky after all, they didn’t move with people’s breath like street clothes. He could just be hurt, they could rush him to Akila City, Dr. Cartwright would get him patched up.

Kitty knelt next to Heller and leaned down, checking his suit systems. Through the open channel she was panicking, “no, no, no, no, no…”

Del joined her and looked over her shoulder. All systems were offline. Heller’s skin was blue with a gray overcast, eyes closed, deep bruising around the sockets. His lips were purple. His body was completely limp and slumped over onto the ground when she went to sit him up. Kitty sobbed, gasping for breath. Del reached out to her and drew her close, panic knotting his stomach. He was not equipped to handle a breakdown in the best of times and these were definitely not the best of times.

Kitty’s sobs fell away with a firm sniff and then a sudden stillness fell over her. Her words, when she finally spoke, were ice cold, “where is everyone else?”

“That’s a good question, deputy,” Del decided to keep things professional, “we should look for clues. A slate or notes, anything to point us in a direction.”

“Should we try inside the ship?” Kitty was arranging Heller’s body so he laid comfortably on the ground. As she lifted his right hand a slate fell to the ground. She scooped it up quickly, “or maybe…” She pressed play:

Unknown Voice: You’ve given the Fleet a lot of trouble, Barrett.

Del knew that voice. That was Matsura, a Fleet captain he thought he had control of, one of his only inside lines to the Crimson Fleet. Matsura shouldn’t have been in the Narion system at all. He realized that's where he knew Brogan’s name from: Brogan was one of Matsura’s lieutenants.

Barrett: Hey, since when is surviving being attacked ‘causing trouble’? Hey, pilot, could you move your arm a little bit to the left? I can’t make out the console.

Matsura: Don’t move! He’s trying to figure out our destination! Probably transmitting this conversation right now while we’re still in orbit.

Don’t sound so excited, Matsura, Del thought. He knew that was part of the bastard’s plan.

Barrett: Well, yeah. Thought I was making that pretty obvious. Okay, okay. Put the gun down. I’m done, see? My retinas are pointing away from the console and towards this lovely view of space we have out the window.

Matsura: Tie him up. Once we get back to the base, the fun starts…

“It’s all just a game to him,” Kitty said flatly. She was looking through the meta data on the transmission again, “Bessel III.”

“That’s where Matsura’s base of operations is,” Del said.

“What?” Kitty turned around, her eyes burning with rage, “you know the asshole who did this?”

“He’s not supposed to be in this system!”

“How many more are there?” she was shaking, her face turning red.

“It’s a part of the job!” he shouted defensively, “you find the ones willing to play ball and cut deals for information. He was supposed to be staying out of Freestar systems and in exchange I didn’t raze his fucking base to the ground. He broke that deal so now we’re going to wipe his shitty home off the fucking map.”

#starfield #starfield fanfiction #atonalginger writes #starfield spoilers #wip wednesday #fanfic #Ranger!Delgado #Kitty Lincoln #Delgado x starfarer #starfield delgado #this whole act is heavy and angsty from beginning to end and #I'm both very excited and anxious to get it edited and up #but once this is up I can focus on more action with less depressing drama attached #tw: death

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girlwiththepapatattoo · 6 months

Text

The Unlikely Similarities Between Kittens and Vampires, Chapter 16

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, slight angst

Summary: Teasing and setting sail.

Notes: The further we go into the story, the darker it's getting. Which is very on point, but I'm definitely going to intersperse the darkness with light, cute moments. Because I love writing them all adorable.

Hope you enjoy! <3

Read on ao3 here!

Previous chapter | First Chapter | Interlude 1

Sovereign Spaw was very pleased to hear that they killed the slavers, and the group’s reward, of course, was another job. Astarion has to stop himself from rolling his eyes as Sable agrees to kill the True Soul Nere. He supposes it’s not too much of a hassle, considering they’re killing all the absolute cultists anyway, but still. She doesn’t have to say yes to every request that’s asked of her.

“Come on, let’s take advantage of these merchants while we’re here,” Sable says to the group. “Who knows when we’ll find another.”

They sell their junk and unwanted items, and while there, a particular ring catches her eye on the merchant’s table. The merchant herself, a woman who deals with mushrooms of all things, shrugs when she asks what it does. “Dunno,” she says, handing over some gold to Shadowheart. “Had it a while though.” Sable glances around. “Gale, could you come here for a moment?”

“Of course! How can I help?” the wizard asks, stepping up beside her.

“This ring here. Could you identify it?”

“Certainly.” He reaches out his hand, a gentle blue glow suffusing his fingers, and hovers it over the ring for a few moments. “Ah, that’s a nice find! It gives a person’s weapons attacks just a little more damage. Acid, if I’m reading this correctly.”

“Oh! Thank you,” she says with a smile to him, and he gives a gracious bow and moves away. She nibbles her lip just a little, and finally hands over the gold. “Astarion?” she calls, searching for the man.

“Over here, darling,” he calls, and she looks around. He’s sitting over on some rocks nearby, taking the time to sharpen his daggers. “Having fun?” he asks with a faint smirk as she settles next to him.

She smiles in response and holds up the ring to him. “Here.”

He blinks in surprise, and his lips twist into a teasing, mischievous smile. “My dearest kitten, it’s a little early to propose, isn’t it?” Her eyes widen, and her face flushes with heat. “I’m flattered of course, but really, give it another year before we-”

“Astarion! That isn’t–I wasn’t going to–”

“Easy darling,” he cuts in, amused. “I’m only teasing.” He plucks the ring from her grasp, his fingertips brushing over her palm and making her blush deepen ever so faintly. “Is this just a pretty bauble, or…?”

“Ah, no. According to Gale, it will give you a little bit of acid damage when you attack something. I figured you could put it to best use.”

His eyes light up, and he slips the ring onto his finger. “Oh, I most certainly can,” he all but purrs, his grin as sharp as the daggers in his lap.

She smiles. “Good. You’re welcome.”

“Hm?” He glances at her from where he’d been admiring it on his finger, then sighs, pretending to be put out. “Oh, thank you, I suppose.” And he leans over and kisses her cheek.

As she ducks her head with a pleased little smile, she hears Karlach say, “Awwww!”

Astarion throws the tiefling a wink, wrapping an arm gently around his bashful kitten’s shoulders.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Fighting on the deck of a ship that has no railings is…well, Astarion can’t say it’s fun, but it’s certainly interesting. The water from the dark river makes the wood slick underfoot, and in this gloom he can only see so far. But he supposes he has it better than the melee fighters, who are jumping between ships and nearly skidding overboard to get to their enemies.

Karlach’s roars and Lae’zel’s battle cries echo into the cavernous space, and he hears Gale close by, muttering some incantation or another. Halsin and Sable are standing next to each other, the small space and tricky footing making wildshape a bad idea. So they’re healing and shooting elemental attacks as needed.

Astarion pulls the bowstring to his ear, taking sight on an enemy trying to flank Lae’zel, and he releases, the arrow flying true and burying itself in the duergar’s throat. The slaver falls, blood bubbling from his mouth, and Lae’zel spares him a nod before rushing to the next.

He sees movement out of the corner of his eye and watches a duergar drop invisibility, her sword raised to stab Sable in the back. Astarion’s moving before he even realizes, before he registers the dread. An arrow catches the dwarf in the side before he yanks his dagger out with his free hand, shoving her to the floor and plunging it over and over into the woman’s face. He’s lost in a panicked rage at the thought of anyone harming his kitten, and he only stops when gentle arms wind around his waist, when her voice in his ear douses the fires of his anger.

“Astarion, she’s dead,” Sable murmurs. “It’s over, and I’m okay. You can stop.” She steps around him, getting between him and the mutilated body.

He stares at her as he comes back to himself. He’s covered in blood, he realizes, the scent cloying, sticky on his skin. “You’re not hurt?” he murmurs, licking crimson droplets off his lips.

“No, I’m fine. We’re all fine, actually,” she murmurs. “Are you okay?”

“Am I…?” He laughs, his mirth soft, and he cups bloody hands gently around her face. “You’re fine. That means I’m fine.”

“Brutally slaughtering your lover’s attacker?” Lae’zel says from nearby. “Finally, Astarion, you do something worth praise.”

“Everything I do is worth praise,” he shoots back. “You just haven’t been paying attention.”

He stands, pressing a kiss to Sable’s forehead, and walks to the edge of the ship. He kneels down and scrubs his hands and face clean in the dark waters of the river. He pauses there, hoping to catch some sort of reflection in the gentle current…but there’s nothing. He looks up as water drips slowly from his features, watching Sable as she speaks with Halsin and Karlach about something or other.

She’s fine. She’s fine, so I’m fine.

I’m fine.

#baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 astarion #my writing

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foomoosworld · 2 months

Text

Stars Too Far

CHAPTER 10 - I’ll Bring The Girl To You

Pairing - Mandalorian x fem reader

Summary: The Mandalorian crashes on an uninhabited planet, or so he thought until you save him from a gruesome death and mend his wounds. You then work together to get off the godforsaken planet of Sypar where everything will kill you. (Please note that this story has progressed past this plot point, however, I cannot disclose further informaiton due to those who may start reading here and not have read the past chapters.)

A/N I've come down with some shit illness that won't make me fully sick but consistently makes me tired and stuffed up and sneezing so I apologize in advance for grammatical errors. It was a bit of a rough ride writing this chapter. Especially since I had to juggle and interweave a lot of plot points to bring things together for the next few chapters. No smut in this one, amazingly. Nudity, fluff, drinking, violence, smoking, language and some questionable decisions characters make that even made me scream at them, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!? STOOOOOP!"

Anyways....

Minors DNI 18+ only on all of my work.

Din bolted to Barac’s side as he bled profusely in the cockpit. He tore off a piece of his cape and held it Barac’s neck which spurted blood. He opened a comlink on his vambrace and frantically called for a medic to the Razor Crest. Flustered, he bolted to the fresher of the ship, skidding as he caught the doorframe. His gloved hands shoved everything in the small cabinet out of the way until he grasped all of the bacta patches he had, a meager two and ran back to Barac’s side. He untethered the scrap of cape he had used to try and stop the profuse bleeding from his neck and secured a bacta patch then placed another on his face. His eyes darted frantically back and forth as he used his bloodied cape to try and stop the bleeding from his mangled arm and attempted to comfort him with shushing and “You’re going to be okay” as his heart jumped out of his chest.

Barac wasn’t buying it, even as he went into shock from his wounds, he raised a trembling forearm which Din took and leaned in to hear him gargle,

“I always knew you would kill me before Bylon did…”

Barac’s eyes rolled back as he passed out from blood loss and Din gathered him up in his arms like a frightened animal, then opened a comlink to his mother.

It beeped and beeped but she didn’t pick up. He could hear the sirens of the medic speeders racing to approach in the distance.

“This was foreseen.” A voice rung out from behind Din. He swiveled his head around wildly to see Barac’s mother, the psychic, standing in the cockpit doorway, a black scarf wraped around her head in place of her usual tall and elaborate wig. She stepped toward her son, passed out on the floor in a pool of his own blood. The hundreds of tied, dirty, faded multicolour strips of rags forging her dress swayed as she knelt down next to her son and began soaking up the blood on the floor like a paper towel. She reached out gently and picked Din’s arms off from clutching her son and took his place on the floor holding Barac. She smoothed Barac’s blood soaked hair then looked up at Din.

“I… I didn’t -” Din stammered as she held her bleeding son.

“Your job, now, is to take care of her.” She said with an eerie calmness but brute accent on the words “Take care” that insinuated she may have had a stern double meaning. Din backed off, not sure what to think or how to handle the situation and stormed into the cargo hold to find you. He knew what she had meant when she said “look after her” so sternly.

You were frozen in carbonite. Your face was an expression of terror and your hands were outstretched like clawing tree limbs from the stone. Din pulled is blaster and pointed it, shaking, at your carbonite slab then grunted loudly, banged himself in the head with overwhelming frustration and confusion with the butt of the blaster as if to knock sense into himself then spun around and steadily aimed the blaster at your frozen face again as he heaved breaths, almost as if anvils were on his chest. His eyes stared through his visor at your frozen face. He stepped forward and shoved the blaster into your stone skull. Tears were trailing down his face beneath his helmet as his face wrenched and gasped for sanity. His finger twitched on the trigger, being told to press down and hold back by the same thought.

“FUCK!” He screamed, flailing away and crumbling down to the floor in exasperated sobs. He turns on the floor to look at you and shakes his head forlornly, confused and giving up. Slowly he shuffles over to the carbonite slab you’re frozen in and nuzzles up to your stone body. He reaches up and holds your frozen hand then begins to sob quietly at your feet.

……………….

The air was frigid but the sun shone brightly. It was the time of year where the sun was still shining its optimistic energy on the world, however, it was tainted by the cold bite of incoming winter.

Din had unfrozen you from carbonite and you flopped, unconscious, into his arms, blind and lifeless from the carbonite, but still breathing. He carried you to the small cabin, kicked the door open with a cloud of dust strode a few long steps in and laid you in the middle of the main floor. He was about to turn and leave when he paused and realized he was leaving you with nothing. Turning his helmet slightly back to see you, helpless, still naked, shaking with weakness from the carbonite, in a heap on the floor, he let out a small sigh of resignation then exited the cabin.

He got the hover skid, loaded it up with six months of ration packs and some blankets and clothes then slowly lead it back to the cabin. He unloaded it into the middle of the floor next to you, carelessly dropping a pair of clothes over your body. Just as you were struggling to regain your strength and could barely see through the fade of your vision he stepped out and closed the cabin door.

You pulled your body up, shakily and stumbled a few weak steps to the sink, overflowing with ship parts, to look out and see The Razor Crest taking off, right above the rusted-out razor crest of your family that had crashed on Synpar decades ago.

You crumpled on weak legs back to the wood, dusty floor and hid your head in shame in your angled arms, clutching the back of your head as you grimmaced in excruciating sorrow, fear and disappointment.

You were home.

You screamed.

………………………

Din set coordinates to Navaro. He wanted to talk to Greef Karga and see if he had a place to tuck your tail and lay low for awhile. In the least, he wanted to have a few drinks somewhere with someone.

Din’s vision flashed between you in carbonite, to Barac gargling blood, to his mother and he pushed the thruster handle forward to force the Razor Crest through space.

He shook his head and reached for the button that sent the Razor Crest into hyperspace… your button.

His fingers hesitated and trembled for a moment before he jared his hand into submission, pushed it, inhaled and held it long enough to strangle his feelings as the Razor Crest jumped into hyperspace. He looked once over his shoulder out the window to see Sypar disappearing into the blur of hyperspace as if being erased from his life.

Navaro soon crept up in the windshield of the Razor Crest and Din navigated through the atmosphere and landed in the port. He strode down the ramp and looked to the small gaggle of teenagers, smoking and joking between themselves, waiting for him to toss them credits to fill up the tank and give a once over on the ship. Barac took a drag of a rolled cigarette, leaning against one of the other boys then crushed it under his foot on the ground with a knowing nod at him.

Fuck. He was halucinating. He had left the dying hellscape of Bylon lightyears away but Barac’s image was still haunting him. As he blinked again he saw that Barac and the group of teenagers were actually elderly aliens and a few droids. He hurried off, not fueling up and made his way to the city to see High Magistrate Karga.

………………..

“You do not have an appointment.” The tall droid shifted its head, jerkily, at Din.

“I know. He’s a personal friend. He will want to see me.”

“You do not have an appointment.” The droid repeated, dryly.

Din pulled out his blaster just as Karga’s office door swung open and he stepped out of his office.

“Whoa, Mando!” He laughed, “Don’t break it unless you buy it!” He jovially laughed with open arms. Shooting the droid a dirty look, Din reluctantly holstered his blaster. The droid stiffly walked up to Karga and said,

“High Magistrate, this Mandalorian wishes to seek your council. Do you accept this me-?”

“Yes, yes!” Karga waved off the droid and stepped to Din “Mando!” Karga exclaimed happily and opened his arms for a hug. Din offers his hand. Karga shakes off the formalities and shakes his hand.

“Do you accept this meeting?” The droid says next to Karga’s face.

“DF-7,” Karga turns to the droid, “Mando, here is an old friend. He is always welcome.”

“Do you accept th-”

“YES I ACCEPT THE MEETING!” Karga yells annoyed at DF-7. The droid awkwardly nods and ambles away. “My apologies, Mando. As each day passes I begin to admire your stance of ‘ no droids’ more and more.”

Din eyes the droid as it stands, watching in the corner of the room.

“Hm.” he says unamused. “Why don’t we go get a drink?” Din offers. Karga arches a suspicious eyebrow and leans back.

“Mando wants to socialize?”” He states as if star-struck.

“Do you accept this meeting?” the droid rushes up and repeats from the corner.

Din unholsters his blaster, turns it to the droid pointing it at the droids head and shouts, “Do you accept THIS meeting?!?”

“Mando,” Karga cautions to try to regain the peace and slowly pushes Din’s blaster down with his hand. Din turns his head, enraged, to Karga who merely shrugs, innocently “It’s hard to find good help these days.” Din, again holsters his blaster.

Karga flops an arm around Din “You seem stressed, my friend. Have some thoughts and feelings you’d like to unload? Maybe some drinks at the cantina is just what we need.” He leads the two of them out into the street, “I have just the place to bury some memories.”

Karga leads him to a local Cantina and they sit in a small dark booth at the back of the pub.

“Should I ask where your lady friend is?” Karga asks weakly, yet knowing that this is, most likely, the cause of his discomfort and surly disposition.

Din shifts uncomfortably.

“Two shots of Flameout!” Karga announces at the waiter droid and waves his hand. The jenky droid beeps his approval and shambles to the bar.

“The Luc, right?” Karga asks, slowly arching his eyebrow.

Din knits his fingers together on the table in front of him and with his head slumped down slightly nods once, uncomfortably.

The droid comes back to the table with the shots. Karga takes his and Din sucks his up through the small straw supplied.

“Gah!” Karga slaps his back. "If it’s any solace, if you had a child I would have put a bounty of billions on its head if it was a boy!” He laughs. Din turns his head abruptly and Karga immediately back pedals, seeing his concern. “In the old days, of course! I’ve left that life behind now.”

“Why would you put a bounty on our child?” Din tries to hide his horror, but Karga still picks up on notes of it.

“What?" Karga shrugs as if it should be common knowledge, "Lucs are extinct now and male Lucs are like gold on the black market. Combine that with a Mandalorian father, after the exile…. It would be a killing machine. Great for making soldiers. Add the fact that the females are little murderous monsters when in heat, it makes for some pretty terrible options for mating. I assume that’s why their population was always so small. Only a male Luc could tame that beast… or be understanding that their mate naturally loses their mind every now and then until they get pregnant.”

"When they go into heat... they go insane?" Din queries.

Karga laughs and leans back and stretches his arms over the back of the booth seats, "Female Lucs go into a murderous heat. They kill anyone that seems like a threat to their mate. I assume that's some sort of genetic thing because they can only have one child. Probably nature proteting the species, right?" Karga laughs then stops suddenly when he notices Din starting intently at him. "You didn't know that?"

Din waved two fingers for another drink at the droid.

Din’s next shot shows up and he stares at Karga then sucks it up the straw in one gulp. His mind is racing and nerves have jumped into every inch of his skin.

Karga pauses and stares at Din searching, “Did you mate with her?”

Din looks away.

“Is there a possibility of a Mandalorian Luc male being born?”

Din tips over his empty shot glass and watches it roll around.

“Not anymore.”

“Huh.” Karga leans back, folding his arms in disbelief.

“Where did you drop her?” Karga asks slyly.

Din flicks his eyes up through his visor and says simply, “A planet on the inner ring with friends who are more versed in looking after her.” He lied.

Karga leans back, crossing his arms and nodding slowly, not buying a word of it.

“Sure.”

The pregnant pause hung awkwardly in the air until Din cleared his throat. “I need a place to stay for awhile. I was thinking of Nevarro… just for awhile. Somewhere… secluded.”

Karga nods slowly in thought, “I think I have somewhere for you. It’s not much, a little house just outside of town. It’s on the edge of a swamp but you can squint through your visor and pretend it’s a lake. It has all of the amenities and privacy you will need. I can’t go with you right now to show it to you, but I’ll have one of my staff meet you at the outskirt of town in 20 minutes with some speeder bikes. They can show you the property.”

“Good.” Din nods, “Thank you. I appreciate the hospitality.” Din says standing up.

“Anything for you, Mando.” Karga smiles at him.

With a swish of his tattered cape, Din turns and strides out of the Cantina to meet the staff member. Karga nods his head and calls to a man at the bar, “Katah,”. A Gamorrean seated at the bar turns his head and lumbers over to Karga's table. Karga pats the seat next to him in the booth for him to get in closer. Katah obliges and slides in next to him.

“I need you to put your feelers out to find out if there is a Luc woman who’s been dumped on any planet by a Mandalorian,” He slides a velvet bag of credits to the Gamorrean, “And keep it quiet. Report back to me asap.”

The Gamorrean snorts his understanding and sternly turns and stomps out of the cantina.

Karga shakes his head in disbelief and smiles to himself before he knocks back his last shot then stretches his arms over his head and crosses his ankles with a wide, carefree smile.

……………………..

Slowly the door creaked open to the old, small house and the staff member stepped in, taking the key out of the lock and spreading an arm to motion Din into the living room.

“It’s not much…” The staff member said with an unsure shrug, “But it sure is remote. You’ll have your privacy.”

Din nods and slowly walks through the living room and kitchen combination, tracing his gloved hand on surfaces and inspecting the surroundings. It’s old furnishings but it had a decent amount of space for one person.

“There’s shutters that lock on all the windows and the front and back door have locks… and the bedroom door in case you need-” She clears her throat, “Privacy.” Din looks back at the young woman who is still standing in the front doorway. “Bedroom and bathroom are through there.” She motions, aprehensively. Din takes a quick look into the bedroom then nods.

“This will do fine, thank you.”

“Um…” The staff member pulled a large bottle out of her satchel and presented it to Din, “High Magistrate wanted you to have this as a welcoming present.” She holds her arms out offering the bottle, but appears frightened to enter the house. Din steps towards her and sees her flinch slightly as he takes it from her hands and he has to admit, something about that flinch turned him on. He looked her up and down as she refused to make eye contact and looked down at the floor.

Din leaned an arm against the door frame above her and exhaled a long breath as he looked down at her.

“Do I scare you?” He asked coldly.

She shifted in her anxiety beneath his large frame.

“No.” She whispers in a mousey voice.

“Come in and have a drink with me.” Din offers. She looks up at him through her eyelashes and wide eyes.

“O-Okay.” She felt like she had broken a boundary the moment her foot stepped into that living room and Din put a gentle hand on the small of her back, leading her to the couch. He found two dusty glasses in the kitchen, rinsed them out and poured both of them some tall drinks, his with a straw.

“You don’t look that intimidating when you have to drink from a straw.” The staffer giggled as she took a sip of her drink. Din put an arm around her,

“Do you want to see how intimidating I can be?”

……………..

“High Magistrate, A Gammorean has arrived without an appointment.” DF-7 announces as he rigidly presents the hulking figure who snorts a hefty breath through his snout then shoves the droid to one side as he enters Karga’s office.

“Ah, Katah, my friend! You took longer than expected…”

“Four months is not long when searching the entire universe for someone." The Gammorean snarks. KArga nods and raises his hands defensively,

"You are correct, my friend."

I’ve found the Luc girl you are looking for. She’s on the planet of Sypar.”

“Perfect!” Karga claps his hands together. “How long until you can go retrieve her for me?” The Gammorean snuffs uncomfortably,

“Katah will not go to Sypar. Too dangerous.” He grunts. Karga instantly looks disappointed and cross, “But-” Katah continues, “I have found someone who will…”

In the distance DF-7 is continuously rambling, “Do you have an appointment? Do you have an appointment? Do you have an appointment?” as footsteps come closer and closer to Karga’s office.

Mayfeld pushes past the nosy droid and steps into Karga’s office.

“I know Sypar.” He states simply. “I’ll bring the girl to you.”

Back To Stars Too Far Masterlist

#star wars #mandalorian fluff #mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #razor crest #mandalorain fluff #mandalorian #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #migs mayfeld #mayfeld #greef karga #navarro #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fluff

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triplesilverstar · 5 months

Text

Touching Grass

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Vash X F!Reader

CW: Body dysmorphia, Pre-Canon, Illnesses, Major Illness, Major Character Injury, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Experimentation, Medical Examination, Dreams and Nightmares, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Feels, Heavy Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Fever, Running Away, Communication Failure, Soft Vash the Stampede, Mild Smut, Not Beta Read, Heartbreaking, Imprisonment, Dark Past, Murder, Cartoon Physics, Vashs' Coat as a blanket, Needles, Nightmares

Word count: Roughly 2.3K

A/N: Chapter four of Even sand can't hide all the skeletons in your closet. I love the title for this chapter so much it’s not even funny

Hearing the sliding of the pressurized door has Vash rousing from slumber, trying to keep his legs steady as he stretches his back, not wanting to wake you. Rubbing his eyes before looking down, only to be greeted by dimness.

“Huh” a moment for the haze to be chased away from the recesses of his mind, there isn’t a weight on his thigh. Or any heavy breathing. “Mayfly!?” Hands scrambling as he searches for you, a sudden wetness clinging to his fingers. Like a lightbulb going off in his mind he dashes for the door to hit the light switch, flooding the area in the glow from above.

You aren’t there. But his jacket is.

His heart sinking lower in his chest, the bloody IV laying on the floor a puddle of stark crimson and clear fluids, and perfect small circles of red leading away. Eyes following the trail. He needs to find you and fast. “just hold on Mayfly. I”ll find you.” Fear gripping his heart, he shouldn’t have let himself fall asleep, not when he had expected you to respond so negativity when you woke up.

All he can hope for, is you haven’t gotten far. Unsure how he’s going to react if you’ve found a way out of the ship, into the swirling sandstorm when you were so weak. “Please be ok.” Feet thundering under him as his lean legs eat up the length of the hallways, following the unintended trail you’ve left behind.

Rushing through the long hallways you don’t stop, no matter how much your legs are screaming, the logic in your body still trying to recover is being overridden by the instinct to run.

Instincts don’t care if your legs haven’t supported your weight in several days. Don’t care that you're still dehydrated. Don’t care that you’re still fighting off your sickness. They’re just telling you to bolt.

Muscles spasming from the lack of use in the last few days.

All you want to do is get away. As fast as possible.

Additional damage done to you be damned.

Chest heaving as you take a turn at a corner of the hallways. “Shit!” Hissing as an older man in white walks out from a doorway, bags under his eyes.

“Hey. Stop!” He’s moving to block your path, legs and arms spread out to give you less space. Letting your momentum carry you, you drop to your side, feet first and sliding under his legs clear to the other side of his body. Your knees are burning from the impact but you aren’t stopping, rolling from your side to your front and pushing yourself upwards with your arms.

Adrenaline overriding the pain as your first step is a lunge to keep your speed going, knowing your body is going to be screaming at you later. Hell it’s screaming at you now but you’re too stubborn to listen. Taking another turn and seeing what looks like natural light flooding the hallway you’re racing down towards it.

Brad is watching as you bolt. “How the hell can she move like that when sick?” Dumbfounded a bit by your speed and reaction time to him, a hand on his chin knowing at his age he’d never catch you. Turning at the sound of sole clad feet pounding against the tiles of the hallway.

“Brad! Did you see her?” Skidding to a stop so as to not take out the older man, panting hard. How much of a head start did you have on him?

Jabbing a thumb over his shoulder where a splash is red is staining the light coloured floor. Smeared blood, making Vash swallow “she sure can move it for someone sick. You need a hand catching her?” He might not be able to chase you but he can block off hallways and paths. Or try too.

Shaking his head at the other man’s concern. “No. If it’s more then me trying to catch her she might freak out more. Did you see which way she went?”

“It looks like she’s headed for the atrium. I’ll go find Luida, and meet you there in a bit. If you haven’t caught her by then you're gonna need the help.” Nodding at the wisdom of the older man’s words Vash is running after you again.

“I’ll see you soon.” Yelled behind him, who’d have thought with all his years of running he’d be chasing after someone for once instead of the other way around.

You can see it, just a few more steps. The natural light flooding the hallway almost blinding you, blinking rapidly as you bound out into the sunlight. Only to find your steps slowing as your head whips around.

You’re still inside.

The light flowing in from the massive glass panes of an atrium, and for the first time since you arrived on this barren planet you see greenery.

The shock and awe overtaking your instincts to flee, still moving but it’s more like an amble instead of a full on sprint. Feeling the blades of grass as they prick up between your toes, tears coming to your eyes. Blue flowers in the center, you haven’t seen a space like this in a long time.

Lost in wonder you don’t hear Vash running after you, his own steps slowing as he watches you wander around the atrium clearly in awe at the space. And what looks like recognition. Measured steps trying to keep out of your line sight and feeling his throat growing dry. The blood drops he had followed had been spread a decent distance apart, an indication you had been terrified of something, and felt the need to bolt. A nagging suspicion based on the last time you had tried to run from him, because how you had come back to him gasping as your body restarted itself after he thought he had lost you.

Seeing movement in the corner of your eye, black clothes, you get ready to sprint once more, the terror clear on your face, eyes reflecting despair.

Vash doesn’t let you get away this time, even if you hadn’t been aware he was after you, wrapping you tight in his embrace feeling you struggle as he shifts his grip to keep you confined against his body. “I’ve got you Mayfly. I swear you’re safe. Please baby please, don’t fight me. You’re still recovering.” Words rushed and cracking as he tries to contain his own anguish, the unabashed fear he had seen on your face forcing his heart to shatter. You were afraid of him. Trails of tears running freely down his face, he never wanted to see such a look on your face because of him. “Please baby.” Whispered against your hair, your struggles growing weaker as everything you had done since waking catches up to it, slumping forward exhausted in his arms hands trying to push him away.

“Just let me go. I’m not worth the pain or the trouble.” Your blubbering, words broken as you hiccup while trying to speak.

“Yes you are.” Three words and they’re the steadiest he’s said.

Both of you fall to the ground, a controlled descend on his part as Vash keeps you held in his arms, letting you hide in his chest as you keep muttering you aren’t worth it. Just a monster that doesn’t deserve his kindness. That he should just let them cut you open to see what makes you tick.

“Never. You make me whole.” Trailing his hand down your back, watching as Luida and Brad appear at the edge of the atrium. Watching the two of you while Vash lets you sob against him. He doesn’t care that they have a front row view of him pressing his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words of comfort while you keep telling him you’re not worth it.

“Please. I can’t. You’re too kind for me.” Everything is draining you, from that stupid strange dream memory, to waking up and seeing Vash reading about your past, running around this place and now finding a hidden paradise. “Too whole.” You just want to run, well aware you don’t have the energy for it anymore. “Just let me go.”

“I can’t” his grip on you loosened so his flesh hand is tangled in your hair, fingers dragging along your skull trying to sooth you in your despair. “Mayfly, you’re still sick.” His voice growing thicker, and over the sound of your fading sobs you can hear him swallow. “You had me so worried, you weren’t getting better. I had to do something, I knew you’d panic, if I had known it was this bad I wouldn’t have brought you here. It wasn’t worth you never getting better.” More of him breaking, because the thought of losing you might not have hurt as much as seeing you afraid of him.

“You should have just left me behind.” It pulls at you, knowing you’re the cause of his pain at the moment. It’s all you’re good for, causing pain and suffering with a hint of destruction. Now you’ve inconvenienced him from getting to his next destination, because wherever this is has to have been out of the way. “I just slow you down.”

“No baby.” A hitch in his throat, you still haven’t opened your eyes since the two of you settled in the grass. Far too afraid to open them. “I could never leave you behind when you’re that sick. You don’t slow me down, you never will. Just a few more days and you’ll be back to your old scowling self. Then we can be on our way again, together.” An attempt to alleviate some of the grimness surrounding both of you. The hand that had been in your hair is sliding across your face, tilting your chin up “come on Mayfly. Show me those pretty eyes I can’t get enough of.”

You do open them, certain they’re red ringed and bloodshot doubting that they could ever be pretty. The vision that greets you makes you want to slam them shut once more, Vash’s sunglasses aren’t on his face and you have a perfect view of the sorrow he’s swimming in shining from his blue orbs. Trails from his shed tears standing out starkly against his red cheeks, his lips swollen and bruised from biting the tender skin between his teeth.

It’s a struggle but you release the balled up fabric from one of your hands, fingers hesitant as they land on his jaw. “You shouldn’t cry for me. I don’t deserve those tears.” They burn your throat as you speak them, but it’s a raw truth, turning your face away from his as he tries to close the distance. Feeling those soft yet broken lips as they press against the side of your face.

“Let me judge that.” You can feel the vibration of his lips against the thin skin near your ear, along your jaw, how can he say that? He should be judging you, in the worst way possible. “Just know I can’t judge the things you’ve done in your past, not when I have my own sins to bear.” What does that mean? From what you’ve seen Vash only carries the pains of others, those he thinks he failed because he wasn’t fast enough. Wasn’t strong enough. Wasn’t clever enough. All things you know he’s wrong about.

“Not to break up whatever this pity party is. But I don’t think you should be sitting out here covered in grime and dripping blood.” A voice of reason cutting across the bleak mood that you and Vash seem to refuse to want to leave. The same man as before. And he has a stare that conveys beyond a doubt he’s willing to scrap if he needs to.

“Well. It’s nice to finally meet you when you’re awake young lady.” Turning in Vash’s hold, noticing the older woman, she’s gazing at you like you’re something more than you are. Something to cherish. A soft smile, and her weathered eyes are crinkled. “I’m Luida. I’m the leader of this ship. And this” a delicate wave of her hand towards the gruff looking older gentleman besides her. “Is Brad. I heard you met briefly in one of the ship corridors.” Met briefly. That was certainly one way to put it.

“Hi.” It strikes you just how underwhelming that single word sounds, your voice small and weak, the tiredness in your body taking over. The levels of exhaustion starting to take hold, even if you still wanted to run now, you wouldn’t have been able to. Not even certain you trust yourself to stand upright.

A light airy laugh leaving the older woman, eyes gentle. “Hi. Brad is right, I’m certain after the last few days you might want a chance to freshen up. Get into some clean clothes, and it won’t hurt to wrap that arm.” As if you are moving in slow motion you look down at your arm, seeing the mass of skin and tissue you took with the IV when you’d ripped it out.

“Ow”

“Did you really just notice that now?” Brad is sighing, slapping his palm to his face, exasperated. “Figures Vash would find someone as clueless as he is.”

“Huh”

“Don’t mind him.” A small dainty hand held out to you, as you meet Luida’s gaze and it makes your heart thunder inside your chest again. She’s either an excellent liar, or she really is a woman filled with compassion.

Swallowing past the cotton that has formed inside your mouth, you take the smallest leap of faith, disentangling from Vash who is slow to let you go and settling your hand in hers. Your fear is still running deep inside of you, ingrained in your bones, but if this lady wants to slice you open she’ll find a way regardless.

Even a baby step towards trusting them, is a step forward.

Back to Masterlist for the series

#vash the stampede x reader #vash the stampede #trigun stampede #trigun #twink writes #Bullets Bandits Ghosts & Typhoons #tristamp

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simpingwriter · 1 year

Text

Cal Kestis x Kyra Yarmot

In the Name of Love' Pt.2

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For anybody who likes this new series...if you want me to continue writing for them...I beg you...interact with them beyond likes. Comment, Reblog, whatever you do...seeing only voice-less likes doesn't tell me about what you liked about the chapter!

Also, I will try to reply to all future comments, but it will be with my main account, since this is a secondary one. The main one will be obvious in its name, so don't worry about seeing it.

Word Count: 3.048

___________________

If you could, you would hold your ears shut. But then you would have to drop the noise nuisance source-

The slightly high pitched screaming of Cal in your arms made you cringe, grumbling against him, "Maker, shut up Cal! I won't drop you!" "How can I be sure?!?"

Instantly, you dug your claws deeper into his bigger body, clarifying you're not dropping him without many words as he lets out a whimper instead of more screaming and flailing.

In the distance, you see a Stinger Yacht…that desperately needed a new color coat. "That is yours? A luxury yacht?" He grunts a quiet 'yes', your claws not loosening up any bit after his kinda hurtful comment. What kinda Rebel Crew owns a yacht of all Ships possible? It can't be exactly on high defense, let alone offense.

"Careful, coming in hot! Tell them we're coming, I don't need another blaster pointed at me today!" With his free arms, he fished for his comm, pushing the right button to open the frequency channel. "Cere!? Is the Mantis ready to fly as soon as we are there?!" Was the first thing he practically shouts into the device, the wind from the current speed mostly likely getting picked up as well. "Cal? What do you mean we?!"

But you were already descending fast.

"Just don't shoot at us!"

You see the ship's door slide open, the thing peeking out, ironically, was of course a blaster, then the head of an older woman. "I repeat, coming in hot!!!" You shout, which the woman now picked up as well, clearly not expecting Cal to come back from above as a look of shock jumped to her face. Feet first, you skid onto the floor, running the last distance to slow to an eventual halt, Cal stumbling from your arms like a drunk pirate. But you had no time to twaddle around, that's why you didn't take your time for a proper landing like usual.

"Who is she, Cal?!" "We do not have time for this, Cere, the Empire is here and definitely has followed us from the ground!"

Or in short:

"Just get us out of here!" You would have time to explain yourself later once you're not being actively hunted down.

For a moment she looks at Cal's face, distress clear on it before she looks back at you, no distress but annoyance at her over cautiousness. You would tell her that, if you had in mind to take them out, you could've done that a minute ago, but you doubted that would help your situation a lot.

Then Cal spoke up again, "Listen, if she had planned to kill us, she probably would've done so already…she…she's something else."

Or he says it...

"Fine, hurry then. Greez, start the Mantis right away!" She ushers you two into the ship, turning around to shout an order to 'Greez' at the front. You took it that Greez is the Captain of this literal yacht.

The door shut just at the right moment as a blaster bolt was shot at it, the right height to be a headshot for your height. Your green eyes widen at that slight tingle of fear in the back of your head, seeing the heat imprint it left slowly fading. Thank goodness even Yachts have better hulls by now…

"Karking hell…" you curse, slumping down against the door, one hand on your knees as Cal exhaled exhausted, leaning down onto his knees. Flying for the first time was a lot to take in at first, so you weren't saying anything about it.

For a minute, as the ship left the inner atmosphere and entered space once more, it was all silent except your shared labored breaths. Then Cere cleared her throat, most certainly expecting an explanation.

"I am certain I once heard that Dragon People have gone extinct years before Order 66…" Was that her biggest concern? What are you to her, an animal that could magically talk or a person that shared some animalistic traits?

"Is that your biggest problem with me being here? Because if yes, count me as relieved and concerned at once."

What kind of team leader asked first what the new one was instead of who she was??

"The last I saw of your kind was a dying elder. That was 15 years ago." Oh and now she pours salt in your wounds. Thanks.

Cal pulls a grimace at your sour expression, "Cere, I highly doubt she wanted to know that…" "No. It's fine Cal. I know they are all dead. Either Killed or enslaved and their brains fried to obedience, nothing of their former warrior-selves. I know all of that."

But what you didn't need was some outsider telling you about it like it was fresh gossip. Like it was an excuse to stare at you like a rare treasure. Like the rare creature you are.

There had been so many things and thoughts that preoccupied your mind at night about this exact thing. While the Jedi were losing just themselves, you had two roots to lose forever.

"I think we should start from the beginning, don't you think so aswell?" The ginger asked, trying to defuse the glare you subconsciously started to throw at Cere, who tried to dodge it in her best attempt. "Would be better." Your words were cold but neutral in the end, knowing most people aren't all bad from the start, most weren't ever fully evil (or good) either.

You taught yourself to stay calmer at other people's fuck ups a while ago. But your past, your…whatever is even left of it, it would always stay a sore spot that rendered your common sense close to null.

"Her name is Kyra…" He goes quiet again, you still hadn't told him your last name. You throw him a half grin as you shake your head with fake disappointment, it's not like he asked. He had asked for your name, not your last Name.

"Yarmot. Kyra Yarmot." You help him out, meeting his gaze, to your surprise again on your tail. "And why did he bring you with him?"

Well except helping him on his mission, drawing the Empire to yourselves and then helping him escape mostly unscathed because of you fucking up?

You didn't really- oh yeahhhh…

"Because I am a Jedi as well."

"WHAT!?" Her whole former defensive stance changed as she first looked at Cal, trying to look for anything in his eyes that called you out as a liar before she walked closer to you, hope in her eyes. Her hands on your shoulders a moment later surprised you so much you froze in your spot.

How was she able to change her attitude towards you so quickly?!

"Does that mean…were you part of the spike in the Force Energy the Radar picked up?! How many of you are there stillon the planet?!"

How many?

"Well…there is me." She expected you to actually go on, "well and me." Her smile falters, mouth hanging open, "But this amount-" "Was her, Cere." Cal interrupts, seeming to notice your slowly more defensive stance, you thought she didn't believe you two.

Just then an older Latero came from the front of the ship, cursing under his breath. "Cal, why do you always pull danger with you on the most simple mission? Now even a girl that could kill us all, look at those claws! …This keeps getting better and better, this is how i die!" He continued mumbling, walking past you three without batting more of an eye, apparently accepting his potential death at your hands.

Cal smiles comfortingly, brushing Cere's hands off your shoulders for now, "You'll get used to him, he's a great friend once you get to know him…actually, talking about friends, there is someone else you need to meet!" More people…ughhh...

Cere was about to stop you two from walking away, still baffled and stuck at Cal's words that confirmed yours. In some way, you understand her, it would surprise you as well. After all, alone Cal's existence took a good ten minutes to properly get shoved into your head.

"You can talk more about her force sensitivity tomorrow. She's probably tired…but she needs to meet Merrin beforehand, she probably hasn't even realized i'm back already since she wanted to work on one of her rituals today..."

It looks like Cal doesn't speak up or against Cere all too often, the pulled up Eyebrows as she slowly nodded telling more than any words.

He introduced you to this Merrin right after, knocking on her door, almost too gentle for anybody to hear it. But magically, she did.

"Cal, you're back al- who are you?" She asks obviously surprised and that's when you realized what Merrin was. A Nightsister.

Also basically a dead race.

"Kyra Yarmot! She's…she's also a Jedi, Merrin, can you believe it?!" Where did he still take all that enthusiasm from?

While he was excited, she glared at something behind you. Your wings?

"Didn't you go extinct?" How often did you have to hear this karking question today?!

"If I had a Credit for the amount of time I get asked that exact question, I wouldn't have had to hitchhike across the Galaxy all the time. Yes, my species is extinct, if you're so curious. Just like yours."

Her glare became a caught off guard, bitter frown as she looked at anything but your wings and Cal was just about to step in, noticing that maybe your attitude came from you being way too tired. Which to be honest, it did. You're very nice and easy to talk to usually, but you hadn't slept in two days. Before he ran into you, you had been in a 48 hours long training period.

"Don't worry about it Cal. I don't care if people actually ask that. But what actually bothers me is when they ask something hurtful they wouldn't wanna be asked back themselves." Merrin lifts her head at that, eyebrows knitted together with a guilty look on her face, "I'm seriously sorry…" With a sigh, you place one of your hands on her shoulder reassuringly and shake your head, "Really it's fine. I absolutely don't want to start out on the wrong foot, now that Cal probably doesn't wanna let me run off again-" "Oh you're right about that, Kyra. Now. If you don't mind Merrin." He pulls you two apart again, holding back a laugh as Merrin quietly complains at the separation.

"But I wanted to talk to her more…", Cal motions for you to continue down the hallway, probably to wait for him as he turns back to the Nightsister, "We can all talk to her more tomorrow, alright?" A disappointed hum was all you had been able to hear before the door of her room slid back shut. "She's gonna hold that against me all night, would you believe it…maybe she will try to hex me again..." He chuckles as he joins you in the back of the ship.

A messy workbench was at the end of the platform, next to the open door was enough space that made it seem like that's where Cal did his meditations, glowing Jedi scribbles - that you didn't bother to read right now - on the ground making it more certain.

"As long as she doesn't hold it against you for longer…I don't want to cause any more drama and trouble than needed. Which, from experience, is none." You return a bit worried, inspecting the Workbench a bit closer. Cal was directly behind you, watching you fumble with the tools. Too tired to actually imprint any of their uses for now, so it was more playing around than anything else.

"She won't, trust me. Also, once you get your lightsaber back, we can share the tools by the way." He adds the last part, snorting at your grunt of annoyance when a bolt falls from your fingers, tumbling to the ground.

If you did manage to get your lightsaber back...

That noise must've alarmed something down below you, on the wider platform connected by the ladder to the side. A beep. Multiple excited beeps.

'You're back Cal! You're back! You're back'

Leaning over the railing, you blinked twice, a puzzled 'huh' slipping from your lips at what you saw. A tiny Droid, the paintjob was a bit used and coming off but the Droid itself looked lively. And to be honest, very cute.

"BD! I'm sorry that I had to leave you behind for this one, but it wasn't me who forgot to go on charging mode, was it?" Cal teased, also looking downstairs now, a bright smile etching onto his face when he saw the BD Unit hop up and down. It was the first time today you saw him so happy, he must really like his little buddy.

And you could see why, such a little charmer.

Little charmer because when BD saw you next to its Owner, you assumed at least that Cal owned BD, it beeped excessively, twirling a bit.

'Cal, you have a new pretty friend! So pretty!'

This was a first for you, getting a compliment from a Droid-

"He said he likes y-" "I think I heard that he said I was pretty." Cal stops as you interrupt his little white lie, a blush now also creeping on his cheeks, something incredibly obvious with his pale skin. "You speak Binary?" You nod, waving down at the still excited BD, now even more when he knew you understood what he said. 'Finally someone else to talk to!'

"Hey!" Cal playfully calls out, faking the insulted tone, "Well, good to know that he likes you…?" He mumbles awkwardly, trying to find something interesting on the metal trash on the workbench. A bent and rusty six-corner screw apparently caught his attention impressively quick.

Now, with all of today's trouble finally over, for now, you had actually some time to look at Cal the same way he seemed to study your appearance ever since you two met. Was easy for him, since the whole time it was you kicking Trooper bucket-ass…

The most obvious aspect of his was the fiery red hair, something you must confess…you haven't seen quite often in your years of hitchhiking and running across the Galaxy and all the Rims and Regions. It seemed nicely kept for someone that did missions like this basically every second day from what he told you while you were looking for the Rogue informant.

Then there were his scars. From the amount he had on his face, thrown into the masses of his bountiful freckles, you doubted that those were the only ones he had.

His eyes were a weird thing, sometimes, in just the right light, they looked brown, then green again. You remember your old Master calling it 'Hazel', that type of eye color, but you weren't sure.

"You got really nice eyes…"

Well shit, you just said that out loud-

"And I have never seen a more beautiful green-"

You both stopped yourself in your tracks, stuck looking at each other for a split second, studying said eyes of each other before he coughs, laughing awkwardly at you two's comments.

You two are Jedi. This was against the code.

But what code was there still left to follow anyways? A code your master secretly taught you to look at more critical instead of blindly following it like the rest did.

"A-anyways…let me show you your bed. Unfortunately we…we don't have many rooms on the Mantis." He climbs down the ladder, waiting for you to follow as he now properly greeted the Droid that waited for you two. But he was quite quickly set aside, BD jumping over his shoulder and at you. BD can thank your quick reflexes that you caught him in time, feeling the small metal feet trying to keep their balance on the uneven surface that was your hands.

"Really? You're ditching me for her?" Cal scoffs and whines, tilting his head to the side, looking almost like a kicked puppy as he squints his eyes at the Droid and you, "Not even an answer, how rude-"

'I met one of you once' he suddenly beeps, catching both of you off guard.

'Long long ago. With my old master.'

Of course it was once again long ago. Now even long long ago…

"Come on BD, let Kyra rest for now. You have enough time to spend with her from now on." He assured BD, taking him from your hands with obvious protest from BD's side. Which was in the form of fruitless struggle but it did look hilarious. 'I want to talk nowwww' he drew his beeps of annoyance out but gave up in the end. The way he now "sat" on the floor reminded you of a pouting child.

"You have a talent for pulling everyone's attention, don't you?" He jokes as he leads you to the furthest corner of the ship. There were two single beds, one kept very neat and it definitely hasn't seen use in a while.

The other was a tangled mess of a blanket, the pillow somehow halfway stuck in the drawer under the bed, maps and books all over the mattress. "Oops, forgot to clean that up I guess. But don't worry, that isn't yours. The clean one is!" He laughs at your slightly shook gaze. "Cleaning up is not your strong suit, is it?" You ask baffled, eyeing him for an answer.

In the background, you heard the amazingly quiet ship engine, even during hyperspace. For the engine room, which this definitely was, just refitted, this was very surprising.

"We can sort your few things out tomorrow…but we really should get some shut eye now…"

He changed the subject very quickly at your question regarding his bed, you noted with a chuckle you hid behind a hand but agreed with his decision of going to bed. With awe, you noticed that both beds had a small window at the sides, leaving a perfect view of the hyperspace you currently zipped through to get away from the Empire's radar for now.

"Wait, I forgot to show you…I didn't need it till now but…" mid sentence, he pulled at a small rod stuck in the middle of the hallway the beds had been in, pulling out a whole fabric partition, not much but enough to give both of you enough privacy if you stayed near the beds.

But probably no soundproofing.

"Oh. That's pretty neat! I did worry about not being able to change out of my clothes right now. But that's dealt with now, I guess!"

He hums in agreement, the tiredness now taking over you both, the moment you couldn't see each other anymore, the motivation to communicate with words mostly gone. But that didn't mean he kept quiet for long.

As you slipped out of your ripped and dirty pants, the last piece next to your old underwear, the black partition wall shook for a moment along with a thud on the ground as he grunted, caught off guard. "You good, Cal?" "Yeah. Yeah…just tripped on my own feet." Cal whispered back in the same volume, a tired chuckle mixed into it.

Settled under the sheets, having to find a good position for your tail and wings on the small bed, you let out a body-trembling yawn, a growl from your throat mixed in.

"Goodnight, Kyra. Sleep…well…" He also yawns back, hearing his sheets ruffle and the mattress squeak under his body mass turning various ways on it. "Yeah, Goodnight to you too, Cal…"

For another few minutes, it was a tumble and ruffling of blankets, the old mattress screaming for mercy under the added weight of your appendages and a collective of yawns…beeping yawns(?)…but eventually it finally becomes quiet and you two were goners to dreamless sleep…

Your first bed in three months.

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I highly doubt I will manage to keep this a long slow burner 😳

#star wars fallen order #star wars cal kestis #Cal Kestis #cal kestis x reader #cal kestis x oc #fallen order cal kestis #fallen order cal kestis x reader #why are these tags so long

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pjmparadise · 1 year

Text

one of those moods | PJM x KTH (drabble)

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆🧸⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

pairing: park jimin x kim taehyung

genre: fluff, idol!au, a little bit of angst if you squint, established friendship, drabble, oneshot

word count: 798

summary: jimin misses the members and can't sleep. sweetest taehyung comes to save the (night) <3

warnings: profanity (briefly), some angst, crying, minor injury, mentions of feeling sad & lonely

rating: +18 always

A/N: happy birthday tae!! <3 i came up with this short little scenario of the two comforting each other and being sweet pals bc it's quite literally almost 4 am here and i miss them! i know they must miss each other so here's this :p anyway! it's totally random and not meant to be interpreted as me shipping them, this is just them being friends and being sweet to each other as they are :] if you liked this, let me know! a like, reblog or comment make my whole day!

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆🌙⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

2:50 a.m.

I wonder how the guys are and what they’re doing right now. I wonder if they’re awake right now. What time is it in Mexico? And New York?

Jimin is lying in bed, sprawled over a pile of laundry he’s yet to put away, and his comforter snakes around his leg, but he doesn’t budge. The clock beside him is glowing a bright red, flickering a slow announcement that it’s nearing 3 in the morning. Groaning, he flips over, facing a pile of clothes that taunt him. Uncaring who he might wake, he shouts, kicking his sheets and thrashing his arms above his head in a full tantrum. Moments later, a thumping overhead breaks the silence, and someone calls back: “Shut up!”

Out of breath, Jimin wills himself to sit still and, face down on his pillow, begins to weep. It’d been a long time since the last time he’s felt this lonely and even longer since the last time he was home without the members. Where is everyone? Why don’t they call?

As if reading his thoughts, the sound of his phone compels him to look up from the tear-soaked pillow. The dark room is briefly illuminated as the quiet pinging of several messages surges through, and he’s moving so rashly that he forgets his comforter is anchoring his leg, and as he shoots up out of bed, he falls to the ground with a loud thud. He winces, rolling over in agony, his hand continuing their reach for his phone. “Siri, read my messages.”

He sits up, leaning against the bedpost, rubbing a sore leg vibrating in pain.

Siri: “You have five new messages from Kim Taehyung. Kim Taehyung said: Hi Jimin-sii, you’re probably asleep, but I just got back from Mexico and have some snacks… Oh Jimin, do you want me to bring you banana milk?… Jimin, I don’t want to bother Namjoonie, so I am coming over…I miss you, Jimin! Heart emoji, happy face emoji, purple heart emoji, peace sign emoji…I’m five minutes away and just coming in, OK…Would you like to respond?”

Jimin grows teary-eyed as his lips tug into a big grin. Shaky hands begin to detangle his leg from the comforter when he hears the front door unlock and the muffled shuffling of his friend entering with plastic bags.

“Jimin-ssi!” Taehyung’s voice calls. Jimin can hear the smile in his voice.

“Ah, Taehyung! Come help me!” He’s laughing at the sound of his upstairs neighbor protesting once more.

He can hear Taehyung shuffling toward his room, his slides skidding across the floor as he opens the door and peers in. Illuminated by the light from the open door, Jimin sees the familiar boxy smile invade Taehyung’s face. Without asking, he walks over, kneels, and assists in the disentanglement.

“You fell?” He’s laughing in the dark, his long fingers quick and effortless in freeing Jimin’s leg. “I brought you banana milk; want me to bring it in? Let me sleep here.”

“Ah, Taehyung,” Jimin says quietly. In the darkness, he wipes at his eyes, but his voice's quiver alerts his friend. “You can always sleep here.”

“Are you crying, Jimin?” Taehyung's voice softens, and after a brief moment of quiet rustling, the bedside lamp flicks on. “Oh, Jimin…”

Jimin looks away, abashed. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he chuckles at himself. “I was in one of those moods,” he explains, sniveling. “I just felt like everyone was gone for so long, and I don’t want to think negatively, but I couldn’t sleep and kept wondering what you all were doing, and I felt so lame.”

“I brought you something from the beach,” Taehyung says, smiling.

“Bitch?” Jimin replies, laughing.

“Beach.” They both look at each other, laughing, shaking their heads. Taehyung slides on the bed face down, crawls toward Jimin and is face level when he says: “You’re not lame, Jimin. I always think about you guys, even when I don’t text. I could text more. I got those feelings when I was flying out; I felt so weird being without you guys. Come to bed so I can hold you.” He pats the spot next to him enthusiastically, and Jimin obliges with a shy smile.

The two slip under the blankets and Taehyung sprawls his right arm across the pillows for Jimin to rest on. “Tell me about Mexico,” Jimin says, his eyes beginning to close.

“I’ll tell you all about it, and if you fall asleep, I will tell you again tomorrow.” And Taehyung clears his throat for dramatic effect as he begins his recounting. Jimin is asleep, curled into Taehyung, and he doesn't hear him, but Taehyung interjects his story to wish Jimin goodnight and, quietly kissing his friend’s soft hair, adds: “I missed you.”

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#taehyung fluff #jimin fluff #jimin imagines #taehyung imagines #taehyung x jimin #jimin fic #taehyung fic #bts fic #bts fluff #kim taehyung #park jimin #bts oneshot #jimin angst #jimin drabble #taehyung drabble #happy v day

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