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spencers-renaissance · 4 years ago

Text

this heavy humanness

Summary: Spencer leaves the oven on overnight, and Derek - whose pent-up emotions get the best of him - loses it, exposing secrets neither of them expected to be spilled, for two very different reasons. They get there in the end.

or; Spencer's suffered far too much abuse in his life and Derek knew about none of it. He shouldn't have found out like this.

Tags: est. rel., past abuse, arguing & making up, hurt/comfort, miscommunication, angst with a happy ending, hurt spencer TW: implied/referenced - child abuse, abuse & csa. trauma response that could be perceived as dissociation. misplaced frustration at neurodivergence. nothing graphic but message me for more info if needed.

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 3.9k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // Bad Things Happen Bingo

This fills the "Domestic Violence" square of my Bad Things Happen Bingo. It's a heavy one folks so please heed the tags, but fear not, as always we have a happy ending ahead of us! <3 Title by Rainer Maria Rilke.

Spencer knows it’s ridiculous. Derek will not hurt him: this much he knows for certain. Derek is safe, he is home, he is his person. Derek would die before laying a hand on him.

This objective knowledge does not stop the fear from building in his chest, fizzling through his veins until his whole body is alight with it, simmering under the surface of his cold skin as Derek shouts, his face contorted in anger. Spencer might know that Derek won’t hurt him, but that doesn’t mean he can forget what’s happened in the past when he’s put that same expression on crueller people’s faces.

“How could you be so irresponsible, Spencer?”

He doesn’t know. The sinking feeling of failure, of disappointing someone he loves so much settles deep in his stomach as he watches Derek pace up and down the living room while he stays firmly planted on the sofa, pressed as far into the corner as he can.

He didn’t mean to leave the oven on overnight. Again. It’s just that sometimes he gets so lost in his head, in the studies he reads just before bed that getting ready for bed happens on auto-pilot, and small things like turning the oven off slip through the cracks. Derek’s never got this angry over it before, but that’s probably because he’s never said “yes” when Derek’s sleepily asked him if he remembered to turn it off, not when he actually didn’t.

He answered on auto-pilot. He didn’t mean to lie, but that doesn’t seem to matter that much to Derek as he wears down the living room carpet with his pacing, visibly seething. He tracks him with his eyes. He can’t afford to not see the blow coming.

The blow isn’t coming, he tries to tell himself. It’s not all that convincing when Derek stops mid-pace, turning to look at him dead in the eye.

“We could’ve died, Spencer! Does that mean nothing to you?”

Spencer doesn’t reply. He wants to, he really does, but the words are stuck in his throat, choked by fear and confusion and emotion and regret, God why didn’t I turn off the oven, I should’ve been better, it’s all my fault—

“Do you seriously not have anything to say?”

Spencer stares. He has so much to say. All of it is trapped in his throat, tangled in a mess of please don’t leave me and please god don’t hit me.

“You know, I can’t deal with this right now,” Derek mutters, throwing his hands up in the air, “this is unbelievable.” Spencer watches as he shrugs a coat over his shoulders, pulls on his shoes, pauses only to grab his wallet and keys, and walks out the door without looking back.

The door slams behind him and Spencer jumps at the loud noise, jolting out of his fear-ridden stupor, wincing as he’s forced out of his head and thrust back into reality. It’s only ten past ten in the morning; a nice, sunny Saturday in late Spring, and maybe in a different universe, Spencer and Derek are packing a wicker basket with a picnic, heading off to their favourite park to feed each other strawberries and enjoy jam-filled sandwiches.

In this universe, though, Spencer drags his heavy bones to the bathroom, and peels off his clothes. He feels weighed down, tied to some point of gravity far below his feet as he avoids the mirror at all costs and lets his pajamas lay where they fall instead of gathering them into a ball and throwing them into the hamper like he usually does. He turns the water on and steps under the spray, allowing himself to revel in the warm rivulets of water caressing his cold skin.

Shampoo bottles stand untouched in the caddy to his left. He’s not there to get clean, he’s there to forget and to think all at the same time. Slowly, he sinks to the floor, leaning against the wall as the water cascades down his front, but not before he turns the heat up. It’s a small comfort: the water just on the right side of too hot running down his face and his torso and his legs, pooling at his feet momentarily before sliding down the drain, never to be seen by him again.

Today shouldn’t have started like this, and it’s a hard pill to swallow that if he hadn’t left the oven on, it wouldn’t have. Derek would have smiled when Spencer stepped into the kitchen, pulled him into his arms and kissed him gently before making them pancakes while Spencer sat on the counter-top and told him everything running through his head. Derek would listen, enthralled, whether to the sound of Spencer’s voice or the words he’s saying, and he wouldn’t shut him up, not even when they sat down to eat.

They’d finally get ready for the day late in the morning, they’d decide what they would do that day, and they’d make a point to steal as many kisses as they could; making up for the affection lost during long cases.

Spencer knows this because it’s happened so many times before. They may have only been dating for just over six months, but they already live together, having fallen hard and fast; Emily teases them for it, calls them her favourite lesbian couple, and they don’t care because they’re in love.

Despite that, though, Spencer still hasn’t told Derek.

There are nights he lies awake pondering how unfair that is. He’s held Derek as he sobbed over memories of Buford, as he spilled every awful detail of the abuse he endured; he’s comforted him after he’d tried and failed to bottom, falling into a flashback every time, no matter how much he wanted to try it.

But Spencer stays silent. He doesn’t tell him about his dad beating him, or his mom getting confused off her meds and smacking him, shoving him, even punching him that one time. He doesn’t tell him about Matthew, his first real boyfriend, trapping him in an abusive relationship that took him months to get the courage to leave. About how when a third person hurt him, he began to wonder whether it really was his fault. Whether that was the only kind of love Spencer Reid deserved.

He stays silent now, staring at the shower wall. The fear has left him now the threat has too, and a cold type of numbness replaces it, and even once the water runs cold, he doesn’t leave. He traces the same four tiles with his eyes, drawing the same pattern with his gaze over and over again as his thoughts turn to an endless cycle of he’ll leave me, he’ll stay, he’ll hit me, he won’t, until he’s not really sure what he believes.

Derek is a good man, but Spencer knows how he can be. He messes up, he forgets things, he doesn’t read situations right, he doesn’t behave the way people think he should, he doesn’t think like a neuro-typical person does. And a good man can only put up with that for so long.

The proof is in the pudding, after all. Derek has always been understanding of things like this in the past. He’s given him a hug and told him not to worry about it, that mistakes happen, and no one can be expected to remember small things like this all the time. But this morning, he was furious. Spencer’s not sure he’s ever seen him so angry in all his years of knowing him, and it was directed at him. All because of an oven left on.

Eventually, a sound from the upstairs apartment drags him from his head again, and he’s suddenly aware of the cold water, of the way his body is trembling and his fingers are pruning. He pulls himself out of the shower, turning the water off, but he stands in the middle of the bathroom, aimlessly, for a long time. By the time he finally has the sense to wrap a towel around his body, he’s basically dripped dry. His hair is soaking wet and the dripping water is freezing, but he doesn’t have the energy to find a towel for his head, too, so he leaves it.

He walks towards the bedroom and climbs into bed, pulling the fluffy duvet over his damp skin and laying his wet hair on the pillow. It feels awful, being wet and damp under the dry bedding, but he doesn’t have the energy to move, so he stays there, towel still wrapped around his legs, hair still soaking the pillow, and he stares at the wall.

He doesn’t know what time it is, and he doesn’t know when Derek will come back home. If he ever will.

⭐️

Derek slams the door behind him as he storms out of the apartment, rage consuming his every move, his every thought. The force of it rattles the door frame, echoing down the empty corridor, but he can’t find it in him to care as he marches towards the elevator. The buttons are pressed with perhaps a little more aggression than socially acceptable, but the woman already on board takes one look at his face and has the sense to stay quiet.

He gets in his car and steps on the gas, the squeal of his tyres against the floor of the garage as he speeds out satisfying him more than it probably should. His jaw is locked and tight as he drives through the streets of DC, his thoughts going a million miles an hour, quieted only when he turns the radio up loud, a blasting soundtrack to his ferocious getaway.

Adrenaline pumps through his veins as he speeds down the highway, heading out of the city towards Baltimore. He doesn’t have a destination in mind: he’s just driving straight. Straight away from the apartment. Away from Spencer.

It’s after more than an hour of driving that his jaw finally loosens and the anger that had simmered in his blood so fiercely fades into reluctant rationality. He’s somewhere in the middle of Baltimore, and the traffic — the tangled road system he actually has to focus on — drags him from the absent headspace the highway had allowed him to slip into.

“Fuck,” he mutters, and turns off the road he’s on, onto a quieter one. As soon as he’s able to pull over, he does, and he hits the steering wheel angrily. “Fuck!” He leans forward, pulling off his sunglasses and burying his head in his hands. It’s not the same kind of anger he’d felt earlier, no. This time it’s directed purely at himself, fuelled by dismal regret.

Before he can stop it, his brain replays the fight with Spencer over and over, the wall he’d put up to block it out crumbling down as images of his boyfriend flood his mind. He hadn’t registered it in the moment, but looking back, God. There was something on Spencer’s face, something so broken, so scared and he feels nauseous at the realisation that he put that there.

Over something as fucking stupid as an oven.

Truthfully, he wasn’t really angry at Spencer. Waking up to see the oven left on again, even after Spencer promised he’d turned it off, was just the straw that broke the camel’s back.

He’d fought with both his mom and Penelope yesterday, and he went to bed feeling like an utter failure, made even worse when Spencer had declined to join him, deciding instead to keep reading the series of papers he’d started earlier that evening. He woke up in a foul mood, and not even the sight of his peacefully sleeping boyfriend could make him feel better.

It’s his own fault. He should have communicated with Spencer: he should’ve told him about letting his mom down and saying the worst thing he possibly could have in his conversation with Penelope, but he didn’t. He silently stewed, and felt irrationally angry that Spencer wasn’t reading his mind. He knows for an absolute fact that if he’d asked Spencer to join him in bed last night, he would’ve dropped his studies immediately, and cuddled him until he felt better.

But he didn’t. And then he’d screamed at Spencer, in a way he never has before, over something he simply forgot to do. Derek swore to himself that he would never shout at or put Spencer down for his neurodivergent traits. Not in the way he’s seen so many people — regrettably, far too many of them on their own team — do before.

He’s always been understanding in the past, kissed Spencer’s hair and promised that it wasn’t a big deal, and he has always meant it. Because as dramatic as he’d been this morning, leaving the oven on wasn’t really the end of the world. He remembers ranting about the electricity bill, about how they were going to afford the house they were going to buy if he kept this up, about lying to him — even though he knew that was clearly an auto-pilot thing — about how dangerous it was. It’s a fan oven. They were never really in any danger.

What a god-awful way to let off the steam he’d built up and chosen not to let go.

As if he’s not already feeling shitty enough, though, his mind won’t stop circling back to the fear on Spencer’s face. The way he shouted back, but instead crammed himself into the corner of the sofa, never taking his eyes off him as he paced angrily back and forth.

He feels sick.

He digs his phone from the pocket in his sweatpants. He’s still in the clothes he sleepily pulled on in the dark this morning, and he hadn’t thought to bring his phone out with him, but luckily he’d picked it up off the kitchen counter that morning.

He clicks on Spencer’s name, listens to it ringing out as he desperately begs him to pick up. “Come on, baby, please,” he whispers, ignoring the tears burning behind his eyes. “Pick up, please.” He tries three more times before throwing it angrily on the seat next to him, allowing one more second of feeling the blind panic and the fury at himself before forcing himself to calm down.

Reaching over to his phone with one hand to turn the ringer up, he turns the ignition on and pulls back onto the road, heading back towards DC.

The traffic infuriates him, cursing as it takes thirty minutes to get back on the highway, but finally he’s back on the open road. It takes everything in him not to speed past the other cars, knowing that getting pulled over would only slow him down in the long run. He doesn’t turn the radio on. He just replays the fight again and again, each time remembering something new: something he said or something Spencer did.

He doesn’t wipe the tears away as they fall, lets them slide uncomfortably down his neck, under his collar, lets them drip into his lap, lets his nose run. It’s the only punishment he can afford himself right now.

Finally, finally, he pulls into their apartment building’s garage, finding their spot and parking roughly, abandoning the car as quickly as possible in favour of sprinting towards the elevator. He curses at the slow moving carriage, but it eventually spits him out on his floor, and he’s walking down the very corridor he stormed down just a few hours prior.

He pushes open the door to their apartment, closing it behind him softly. Suddenly, the nausea swimming in his gut isn’t just borne from regret, now fuelled by nerves and dreaded anticipation.

“Spence?” he calls softly.

He doesn’t know what to expect: he doesn’t know whether Spencer will be sad or angry, whether he’ll be screaming or crying. The kitchen and living room are empty, and the bathroom door is wide open, so he ventures into their bedroom.

Whatever he was expecting, it isn’t this.

Spencer’s tucked up in bed, duvet pulled up to his neck, facing away from the door. He doesn’t move so Derek thinks he might be sleeping, but when he circles the bed to check, he finds his eyes wide open, staring vacantly at a fixed point on the wall. They don’t flicker or blink or move when he steps into his field of vision, and Derek’s heart sinks, panic beginning to grip his chest.

“Spencer? Baby?”

When he still doesn’t move, Derek crawls onto the bed, and the movement or the sound or something must finally catch his attention, because all of a sudden his eyes are widening — in shock, surprise, fear, Derek doesn’t know — and he’s shifting under the covers.

“You’re back,” he says, and it’s so uneasy that Derek wants to cry.

“Yeah, baby, I’m back,” he says gently, “and I’m so sorry about earlier, I—”

He cuts himself off, because when he reaches to tangle his fingers in Spencer’s damp hair, he flinches. His hand freezes, but his stomach twists, because this is the confirmation he was both expecting and dreading. This is the confirmation of everything he prayed he had wrong, everything he wished he’d misinterpreted the whole drive home.

“Spence,” he whispers brokenly, withdrawing his hand, “I would never— never do… I’d never hurt you, God, I—”

A choked sob cuts him off this time, and another follows when he sees a tear sliding down Spencer’s face. A previously blank, emotionless canvas, his face is now full of sadness, tinged with the fear and guilt Derek hates himself for even suggesting was warranted in the first place.

“Derek,” he says softly, and his voice is so mangled with emotions he couldn’t even begin to decipher, it breaks his heart a little. He doesn’t say anything more though, eyes sliding shut instead as tears continue to stream down his face.

“What do you need, baby?” he asks, because it’s the only thing he can think to say. “Anything, I— anything you need, you can have, Spence, I’d give you the world, you know that.”

Spencer’s quiet for a long time, and Derek sits there on the bed anxiously awaiting a response while trying to summon all the patience he doesn’t have as he stares at Spencer’s crying face.

“A hug,” he decides eventually, and Derek almost collapses in relief because, God, he can do that.

He crosses the small space between them, and carefully folds Spencer into a hug, sighing in relief as he melts into Derek’s side, placing his head on his chest and cuddling into him. Their legs tangle together and Derek holds him as gently and as closely as he can, carding his fingers through Spencer’s damp curls while his other hand rests on his waist, his thumb caressing the bare skin there.

He’s still in his towel, he thinks sadly. He didn’t have the energy to properly dry himself before crawling into bed. As if Derek could possibly feel shittier.

They lay like that quietly for a while before Spencer finally speaks. Derek wishes he hadn’t. The words “I’m sorry”, uttered so brokenly, so miserably, have no business leaving Spencer’s mouth.

“Baby, you have nothing to apologise for,” he says fiercely. “This is all on me. I’m sorry. Sorrier than I’ve ever been, Spencer, because this is completely my fault. I wasn’t actually angry at you, that’s the first thing you need to know, and I know that makes what I did so shitty, because you hadn’t even done anything wrong, but I was so pent up and frustrated with myself and I didn’t communicate that with you and— fuck, I’m doing such a bad job of explaining, I just. I need you to know, Spencer, that I’m not angry, okay? And I’m so sorry for losing it like I did, that never should have happened.”

He pauses and takes a breath in, burying his face in Spencer’s hair as he holds him even tighter, trying to keep his grip as gentle as possible.

“I never told you,” Spencer whispers after a couple beats pass.

Derek’s heart seizes tightly and he swallows. Prepares himself. “Never told me what, sweetheart?”

“My dad, he… he wasn’t a good man and he… you know, he hurt me a lot. And then my mom, when he left and she stopped taking her meds completely, she’d get so confused,” Spencer admits, voice so quiet as he murmurs into Derek’s chest that he has to strain to hear him. “She didn’t mean to, but she’d… And then my last boyfriend, he—”

He cuts himself off as a heaving sob that seems to come out of nowhere strangles his words and it’s all Derek can do to hold him tightly as Spencer cries, whispering every reassurance he can think of through his own tears. It shouldn’t be like this, he thinks. I shouldn’t know this just because of an argument we had; just because I lost control. Spencer should’ve been able to tell me on his own terms, in his own time.

He tries to cry as silently as possible, but it’s not easy when the grief of knowing the pain Spencer’s suffered in his life is weighing heavy on his chest, and the acidic taste of guilt abounds.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers into Spencer’s hair. “I’m so sorry, baby.” He’s sorry for so many things he’s not sure he could list them all out, neatly and coherently, if he tried.

Spencer fists his hands in the soft cotton of Derek’s t-shirt. “I’m sorry I never told you.”

Derek balks at the guilt in his tone, as if he actually believes he has anything to apologise for. “Baby, you could’ve waited until we were old and grey to tell me and I wouldn’t be mad, okay? Trauma like this… it comes out in it’s own way in it’s own time. I’m not sure how or when I would’ve told you about Buford if everyone hadn’t found out the way they did. And if I’d waited to tell you, you wouldn’t be mad at me, would you?”

Spencer shakes his head.

“I’m so sorry that I triggered you the way I did, Spencer,” Derek says seriously, gently twirling a loose curl around his fingers. “It was inexcusable, and it was a problem of my own making. I know you didn’t mean to leave the oven on and I know you were operating on auto-pilot when you told me you turned it off last night, and nothing I said was true. I was mad about stuff that happened yesterday and I failed to communicate that. It’s all on me. Nothing about this is your fault, you hear me?”

“Really?”

The way Spencer cranes his neck to look up at him, the trusting innocence in his eyes both breaking and warming Derek’s heart. “Really.”

“I want to tell you, Der, it’s just—” He sighs. “I’ve never talked about it with anyone, and it’s hard. I don’t… I don’t know where to start.”

“We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, baby. You can tell me everything all at once, or drop tiny pieces of information when you feel like it, or never tell me anything else ever again, and any of that is perfectly okay. I just need you to know that what happened this morning will never happen again, okay? I promise you.”

Spencer shifts, moving from his position curled around Derek to prop himself up with one arm, facing his boyfriend properly. “Thank you,” he says earnestly, before leaning down to kiss him. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, baby. More than anything.” He kisses him again before moving the duvet and making to get up. “Now, how about I order us some pizza for lunch and we spend the afternoon in bed. You can read or we can watch some documentaries or a movie, whatever you want.”

A small smile crosses Spencer’s face, and nothing’s ever felt more like a win.

“I think that sounds like a plan.”

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @moreidtrash @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @reidology @i-like-buttons @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @goobzoop @marsjareau @garcias-bitch @oliverbrnch @enbyspencer @im-autistic @thataveragenerd @anxious-enby

#my writing #moreid #derek morgan #spencer reid #derek morgan/spencer reid #spencer reid/derek morgan #criminal minds #derek morgan x spencer reid #spencer reid x derek morgan #cm #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #moreid fic #moreid angst #tw domestic violence #tw abuse #tw csa mention #moreid fluff

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calaofnoldor · 4 years ago

Text

Drug of Choice

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 3,790

Summary: A night of drunken rambling leads to an unexpected change in your relationship status.

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol, feelings of inadequacy, very slight allusions of alcoholism/talk of drug addiction, reader likes the sound of their voice a bit too much when drunk, fluff, implied smut

A/N: written for @deanwanddamons 1st blogiversary and 2k follower celebration challenge! my prompt was “I wish I knew how to quit you“ which is bolded in the fic. congrats on the incredible milestone, sorry this is late! also for @spnfluffbingo and it fills the mood board square for @girl-next-door-writes‘ Make Me Feel Bingo challenge!

Square Filled: Kissed to Keep Quiet

MASTERLIST

It was four in the morning when Dean finally came home, and the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat before you atop the library table was over a quarter of the way through.

The heavy thud of his boots against the bunker floor drew your dark-adjusted eyes toward his shadowy figure, while the alcohol in your bloodstream loosened your lips, "How was she?"

"Jesus- Fuck!" There was a slight commotion before the lights flickered on, forcing your eyes to shut against the onslaught of sudden brightness. "Y/N??” Dean’s gruff, alarmed voice shattered the previously eerie silence, “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark by yourself?"

Your eyelids lifted an experimental sliver but you kept your gaze directed down at the glass of whiskey in your hands. "It wasn't dark when I started."

Dean narrowed his eyes when he noticed the slur behind your words. "Started what? Are you drunk?"

His second question prompted a dismissive snort from you, "Hunters can't get drunk; you should know that by now, Dean."

"Yeah alright, we need to get you to bed." The man of your dreams began to make his way over to you until your gravelly words ceased his steps.

"I can't sleep... you haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"How was she?"

"Who?"

You looked at him like he was crazy, "You know, the girl from the bar, the one with the curly hair… the one that was climbing onto your lap when I left?"

"I don't- there was no girl," Dean stumbled. His lips were parted and his eyebrows pulled together in an ever-gorgeous expression of bewilderment, but you were too busy examining the way the newfound light danced along the lustrous amber liquid between your fingers to notice.

"Oh," you grumbled in response, sounding a bit disappointed, which only served to deepen those adorable lines of confusion between Dean’s brows. "She sure was pretty though.” There was a pause as you pondered his declaration before blurting out in disbelief, “You really didn't fuck her in the back of Baby?"

"What- No! Y/N, there was never a girl and nothing happened, OK?" He sounded genuinely serious, so you conceded.

"I'm sorry."

"Why- why are you sorry?"

"I know you needed to blow off some steam after today, after I pissed you off by fucking up the hunt." You ventured a glance up at him through your lashes and the unadulterated pain in your eyes almost had Dean reeling back in surprise.

"What are you talking about? You didn't 'fuck up' the hunt," he argued, shaking his head as if to accentuate his point.

"Course I did. I got you hurt and I nearly let that dickbag get away."

A weighted sigh escaped Dean, "Y/N, you have to know that wasn’t your fault, and it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing for me. Besides, I wasn’t pissed off, I was... I was scared, OK?”

You were about to take another sip of your drug of the night when you lowered your glass to let the irrepressible giggle leave your system, “Scared? Since when does the big bad Dean Winchester get scared? And if he did, he definitely wouldn’t be talking about it out loud. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”

“I mean, I have been drinking but that’s beside the point. Look, Y/N, why don’t we talk about this tomorrow, alright? You’ve just gotta sleep this off.”

"Pft. This isn't something I can just sleep off. Trust me, I've tried." There was a tickle in your throat that alerted you of the oncoming word vomit, but your friend Mr. Daniels seemed to be gaining complete control of your tongue; it was all he was ever good for really, “I’ve also tried drinking it away, but clearly that doesn’t work either. There’s just- so much- of it, of you… and now, now you’re in me-“ Dean’s eyes went wide but you were no longer at liberty to stop, “and I can’t get you out. Sometimes I don’t even think I want to. But I don’t think I can keep going like this any longer either… all this waiting, and wondering, and watching.” Some fragment of sobriety within you recognized how ridiculous and melodramatic you sounded and it gave you enough sense to avoid eye contact with the subject of you’re alcohol-induced speech, as if that could help you elude further embarrassment.

“OK, you’ve gotta slow down, Y/N/N. What the hell are you talking about?” At this point, Dean had moved to take the seat across from you, subtly sliding the bottle of Jack out of your reach as he sat down.

A mirthless laugh was your reply, "Of course you don’t know. Why would you?“

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t I? Y/N, what’s going on?”

But you ignored his questions and answered with one of your own, “Why am I never enough? You know what, don't answer that; that was a rhetor- rhetor…”

“Rhetorical?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, flailing your index finger in his direction, “Yes, that’s the word. See, even your brain is too good for me.”

“What- why would you say that? Y/N, you know that’s not true. And why do you think you’re never enough? You’re plenty enough.” Concern now painted Dean’s features. He hated seeing you this way, broken and depressed, trying to drown your feelings in whiskey; he’d figured that was his trademark amongst the bunker residents. And he couldn’t understand how someone as incredible as you would think themselves unworthy of anything. Whichever son of a bitch made you feel this way would pay, Dean swore it.

“Then how come you never pick me?” you countered simply, deciding it was finally time to call out his hypocrisy.

The accusation floored Dean. He scooted back in his seat as he stared at you with a slack jaw, utter perplexity swirling within his emerald eyes. Over the years, Dean had garnered an inkling that you felt some kinda way about him, but he never really let himself believe, and not once did he think he could be hurting you. On the contrary, he always figured it was his own hopeful heart playing tricks on him. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he was hearing you correctly, or that your drunken state could be trusted, though he remembered you once told him that you were always the most honest version of yourself when you drank, whiskey in particular.

“I watch you go out with waitress after bartender after waitress, but I’ve been here the whole time, and you never consider me. It’s like I don’t even exist, like I’m not even an option, like I could never even help you scratch that itch, at least not as good as any barfly across the Midwest could.” You were aware that this was getting out of hand, but you couldn’t seem to find the brakes. “But that’s not even the real problem – I mean, sure, a roll around the hay with you would probably be mind-blowing as fuck – but it would never solve the root of it, never be enough for me.”

Dean had been studying you meticulously as you spoke, your words starting a fire to the embers of his soul, breathing life into a long-forgotten hope that brought him both joy and fear. “What would? Be enough for you, I mean?” His tone took on a raw sultriness that matched the intense, borderline predatory glaze of his eyes. Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected your sardonic laughter to fill the air, and your sudden frenzied, carefree state certainly took him off guard.

“Nothing!” you laughed, “I don’t think anything will ever be enough for me! C-cause you’re like this drug that I’m hooked on and it’s just so fucking hard to get off… I mean, it’s also hard to get off without you now, or thoughts of you anyway...” Your tangent was quickly overcome when you remembered the topic of your initial spiel, “But it’s like everything about you draws me in! From the way you reference classic literature even though I’ve never seen you pick up a book that’s not about lore, to the way you rebuild Baby from scratch like it’s no big deal, to the way you’re so good with kids even though you never got to be one yourself, to the dumb way you bottle up all your feelings and never let them see the light of day yet still manage to do so much good in the world, t-to the way you get excited over classic rock and crappy horror movies and pie, and don’t even get me started on the way you love Sam! I mean, it’s just all of it! It’s your strength and perseverance through literal hell, it’s your huge fucking heart despite the mask of swagger and charm, it’s that stupid grin you get when you make a dumb joke and Sam rolls his eyes at you, it’s just those god damn lips in general! And then you walk around looking like that!?” you gestured wildly at all of him, “I mean, who gave you the right?!”

Dean looked like he was about to respond, but you cut him off. There really was no stopping your tirade now, “I’m like an addict who can never get enough, and when you leave, I get feelings of withdrawal, and I don’t know how to fucking deal with those either… You’re so deeply ingrained in me; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to flush you out of my system. And I just-“ you took a rare pause to heave a large breath before admitting quietly, “I wish I knew how to quit you. I really do, because as much as I love you, and trust me, it’s a whole fucking lot – God, does it feel good to finally say that out loud – but for every ounce of love that I have for you, for every bit of you that I’ve inhaled, it hurts just as much. Because you don’t feel the same, and you never will, and I don’t blame you, because you’re Dean fucking Winchester and you could have whoever you want with just a wink and half a smile, and you deserve to have whoever you want-”

“Are you done?” Dean was quick to latch onto the brief respite in your monologue, “Fuck, Y/N, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you are to me?” His head shook in disbelief while his troubled green eyes searched yours.

“What I am to you? I’m your hunting buddy, Dean. The one you call when you need an extra hand with a vamp nest or an extra set of eyes to scour the books, the one who stays up with you when you have nightmares about the souls you tortured in hell, the one you sing rock songs out of tune in the car with, just never the one you go to for a booty call,” you finished with a bitter laugh.

Dean’s head had never ceased it’s shaking, even as he got up and walked around the table towards you. “Only because you’re worth so much more than that. Y/N, you deserve so much more than me.”

It was your turn to shake your head. How typical, you thought as you rolled your eyes and stood up to meet his eye line, “Don’t give me that bullshit, Dean. I know you’re trying to let me down easy and that’s nice of you and all, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well, Dean Winchester, and I know there’s no way in hell that- Mmf!“ The rest of your words were intercepted by Dean’s lips on yours.

The feeling was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. There was an urgent force behind the kiss as he pushed his mouth against yours with gentle yet firm ferocity, bracing your head with large hands cupping both sides. It felt as if he was desperately trying to convey a message to you, to disprove your woeful words of self-pity, or perhaps he just wanted you to shut up. You, of course, responded with tremendous enthusiasm regardless of his intent, grasping blindly at his forearms while slotting your tongue and lips around his in an increasingly frantic manner. You didn’t care if the kiss wasn’t good for him; this might be your only chance to take what you need from Dean Winchester, if only a tiny fraction of it.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting for air. Dean still held your head in both hands as he leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have done that; you’re drunk... Do you at least believe me now?”

A slight grimace contorted Dean’s features as his mind was suddenly bombarded by a multitude of conflicted thoughts and feelings, feelings of desire and regret and bliss and unease, but when he caught the dazed look in your eyes, Dean made up his mind, “Ah, what the hell, you’re probably not gonna remember much of this anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re wrong. I do feel the same way about you; I have pretty much ever since I saw that magnificent ass of yours.” Pausing to chuckle at his own words, Dean licked his lips, still able to taste the whiskey from yours.

“The only reason I fucked around with those other people was because I couldn’t stand not being able to have you,” he continued through closed eyes and gritted teeth before filling his chest with a deep breath, “Like today, when I saw that fucking werewolf come at you, I nearly lost it. The thought of anything happening to you scares me shitless, and I didn’t know how to process that feeling, so I let that girl at the bar get close. I was trying to fill the hole you created but it was pointless cause in the end, just like every other time, I couldn’t go through with it. Every time I try to forget about you, your face shows up in my head,” he growled in that low, throaty tone that always seemed to reverberate down to your nether regions.

“But I- I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve more than me. Y/N, you know me. I’m a broken, twisted, shell of a man. I’m-“

“Poison, I know,” you finally lifted your head away from his so that you could look directly into his dazzling eyes. Dean’s hands slid down along your neck and landed on your shoulders while yours remained on his forearms, not willing to lose all contact. “I know what you’re gonna say. You think you’re poison, that being with you puts a target on my back, that loving you is a death sentence… Did I get that right?”

Dean gave you a miniscule nod and a look of resignation as he reluctantly released you from his hold, forcing you to let go as well when he took a large step back. You suddenly felt extremely sober, the effects of the alcohol and that kiss all wearing off instantaneously, “And you hate yourself. No one hates you more than you, Dean.” Your voice was hardly a whisper now, “But that’s OK, cause I hate myself too, for never being able to make you realize that you are so much more than you give yourself credit for, that you deserve all the things you think you can’t have, that you can have them all and still be Dean Winchester.”

You watched as Dean’s eyes began to water and when a single tear rolled down his cheek, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Approaching him as slowly as you would a nervous animal out of its natural habitat, you stopped directly before him before cautiously raising your arm to wipe the offending tear away with your thumb. Your eyes seemed to be locked in a silent exchange of colossal magnitude, expressing everything mere words could not, from harrowing regret to agonizing self-inflicted torment to desperate desire. It was the yearning in his shimmering eyes that gave you the courage to speak your next words, a runaway tear of your own joining the whispered plea, “Please, let me show you.”

When your eyes fluttered open the next day, they were greeted with the most beautiful sight you'd ever awoken to. Dean’s face was barely a foot away from yours, and the man himself was already awake, staring directly at you. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards you, while your body was twisted to face his. A bedside lamp was on, allowing you to marvel at the breathtaking perfection in front of you, and despite the booze having long since evacuated from your veins, your mouth still imparted the first thing that came to your mind, “You know, I've always wanted to count your freckles,” you murmured honestly, “Maybe map them out like tiny constellations so I can memorize them better, so that one day I could trace them even with my eyes closed.” Your fingertips moved of their own accord as you spoke, gliding softly over his cheeks and across the ridge of his perfect nose.

Dean caught your hand in his and kissed it repeatedly as his magical olive eyes continued to bore into yours, never once leaving your face. His pouty lips curved into the slightest smile as if he were afraid to rear hope yet couldn't fight the peaceful thrill you were bringing him by simply lying next to him. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”

“Not unless it counts to be drunk on you… Sorry, that sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.” You cringed but Dean’s smile broadened.

“And no hangover?”

“No, I told you, hunters can’t-“

“Get drunk. Yeah, I heard. So does that mean you remember everything?”

“I don’t think I could forget that kiss if I wanted to; my brain wouldn’t let me.” You glanced down at his gorgeous mouth before meeting his gaze again, “I meant it all, you know? Everything I said was the truth. Every word.” You moved your thumb to graze his lower lip and he puckered his lips to kiss it.

“So did I, every word… Especially the part about that sweet ass of yours.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours roamed down to grab at your butt cheek with a hefty yet tender squeeze, causing you to squeal in delight. When you settled down, he moved your hand to place it above his heart, “You know I’m no good at chick flick moments, but you can trust me when I say I’m addicted to you too.”

The sincerity in his voice sent butterflies through your stomach and your smile felt invincible. “I hope you know that when I called you a ‘drug’ I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Some drugs are good for you. Some drugs can save your life,” you whispered as you fisted lightly at the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that what you did yesterday?” Dean was about to retort but you sent him a raised brow and a look that said ‘don’t test me, I’ve got loads more evidence where that came from’ so he simply looked down with a small grin. “Does it still hurt?” You motioned to the white bandage on his shoulder where the werewolf had scratched him up yesterday when he jumped in front of you.

Dean shook his head, “Right now I can hardly feel it. Actually, it hasn’t hurt at all since I kissed you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted some more at his words. “See, that’s what I mean. To me, you’re like coffee on an early morning, morphine when I’m hurting, tranquilizers when I’m freaking out, Zoloft when the world’s got me down, mixed with a shot of ecstasy, and quite possibly the most potent form of Viagra known to mankind.” You might have lingered a moment to chuckle at your own joke, thinking ‘it’s funny cause it’s true’. Dean belted a guffaw himself and you were quite pleased as you continued, “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, all wrapped up in one beautiful, self-loathing man.” You stroked his stubbled jaw and caressed his cheek, letting your words waft softly across the distance between you, hoping he could sense the veracity within them, “And I just want you to let me love you, let me get high on you, so I can show you how good you are. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

A wave a sadness flowed through Dean and he lowered his gaze from yours. “This could end bloody.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But it’s so much better than the alternative... It was getting a bit too hard to bear, even if you were only eye fucking all those other suitors. Besides, if it means I get to kiss you whenever I want, it’ll be worth it. And if it means I get a chance to prove to you how worthy you are, then it’ll be more than worth it.”

“I was only staying away because I wanted to protect you from me, but I didn’t realize it was hurting you. I never wanted to cause you pain; Y/N, I need you to know that.” Dean’s warm, calloused palm ran up your arm, it’s gentleness in stark contrast to his fierce tone, while yours continued to cup his cheek.

Astounded by the passion behind his words and the utter beauty of his face, you whispered in awe, “How are you so perfect?” Seeing the cogs begin to turn in his brain, you quickly moved your index finger to press against his plush lips, “Shh, just let me say it. Baby steps, Dean.”

He took your finger and guided your arm to wrap around his wide shoulders, careful of his injury, then reached out to pull you snugly towards him until your bodies were completely flush, your chest heaving against his. “Well do we have to take baby steps with everything? Cause now that I’ve finally got you in my bed, I was kinda hoping you’d let me take you for a spin in it. Maybe find out if it’s really – how did you put it again? – ‘mind blowing as fuck’ I believe were your words?” That signature smirk of his that always brought you to your knees came out to play.

Your laughter fanned across his face, and the smile on your face was effervescent, “You really are one hell of a drug, Dean Winchester.”

thank you for reading! as always, feedback is marvelously appreciated!

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beskarhearts · 4 years ago

Text

The Passenger (Din Djarin x reader)

gif credits @bestintheparsec

Connection series Pt. 14

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings: cursing, canon typical violence/death, ~sexual tension~

Word count: over 11K

Summary: A new passenger joins the Razor Crest crew.

Notes: As always, I hope everyone enjoys this! Please tell me what you all think, your opinions/predictions, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist! (also I didn’t edit this as thoroughly as I usually do but I promise I will later when I have time!!)

Previous Part ____ Next Part

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You looked over at Din and scoffed, placing your arms over your chest as you watch him stumble besides you. “You really should of let me carry something.”

“I am fine.”

“How about I grab a couple of bags to carry?”

“No.”

“You are being stubborn.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m being a gentlemen.”

“A gentlemen wouldn’t be covered in dried Krayt Dragon venom and saliva and goo.” you chirped back and Din sighed. “Although it is quite the look for you.”

Ever since the three of you had been stopped by those scavengers and the speeder bike was destroyed, Din had insisted on carrying everything. The man was so stubborn he tried to carry the child but you had demanded he stay in the pouch on your side. Otherwise, Din was precariously balancing everything you guys had on the bike, hanging bags off a rifle of his which he held on his shoulders. Din was strong but he had been walking like this for hours and it was simply getting ridiculous.

“You know, I am pretty strong. I think I can handle a couple bags.” you said, looking over at him but his head remained aimed straight ahead as he walked through the town. The three of you had just made it back to Mos Eisley and it was now night, the stars twinkling above and the heavy suns of the planet long gone.

“Well, we are here so you don’t need to worry.” Din said, stopping in his tracks as you made it to a cantina.

You looked over at Din and gave him a teasing smirk. “If you are trying to buy me a drink, you should have just said so.”

Din sighed and looked down at you. “Motto will be here.”

“How do you know?” you asked, peering into the doorway of the cantina and not finding her upon first glance.

“She loves to gamble.”

Din walked into the building after that and you followed. Sure enough, Peli was sat in a booth in the back. As you neared, you found an insectoid creature of some kind sat across from her and the pair were intensely focused on a game of Sabacc. You smiled when you saw the cards, remembering how your grandmother had loved playing the game so much and had taught you how to not only play it, but win.

Din made his way to the table, a hulking figure who stood above the two. The insectoid seemed to notice his presence but Peli on the other hand was staring at the board with so much focus that it made you chuckle quietly to yourself.

“I don’t know. Looks like someone’s gonna be goin’ home empty-handed.“ Peli said to the creature across from her. She finally looked up and seemed to notice you and the Mandalorian, raising an eyebrow as she looked over all the stuff he held. Her eyes landed on the helmet and she scoffed. “You finally found a Mandalorian and you killed him?”

“He wasn’t Mandalorian. I bought this armor off of him, though.” Din replied.

“What’d that set you back?” Peli asked inquisitively.

“Oh, just killing a Krayt Dragon. No biggie. He only got swallowed whole by it. Real piece of cake.” you sarcastically said.

Peli raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Is that all?”

“Yeah. Didn’t realize getting it would be so easy. It was practically a vacation.” you mumbled and Peli chuckled at that.

“He was my last lead on finding other Mandalorians.” Din justified.

Before Peli or you had the chance to make another sarcastic comment, the creature began speaking in his native tongue. Peli looked over at him and listened before turning back to the two of you. “Okay. Well, you might be in luck. Dr. Mandible here says he can connect you with someone who can help you, if you cover his call this round. It’s what he said.”

Din looked down at the board and sighed. “What’s the bet?”

“Five hundred.”

Din looked over at you, as if saying ‘you’ve got to be kidding me’. You looked back at the table and inspected the cards. It wasn’t obvious at a first glance but if you really studied where everything was, Peli had the upper hand. As long as the creature didn’t notice the play she was making, she would probably have it.

“That’s a high stakes game.” Din noted.

“Hey, he’s on a winning streak.” Peli said. You raised an eyebrow and looked at her. She gave you a lazy grin, knowing you could see what she was playing at.

Din let out a sigh as the creature began speaking again, the child on your side joining in on the conversation with a small coo. Din reached into his pockets and dropped the credits on the table. You couldn’t help but to silently giggle at the situation. You probably should of warned him so he wasn’t loosing out on credits, but you had to admire Peli.

“Is the pot right?” Peli asked and the creature responded. Peli smirked before putting her card on the table - an Idiot’s Array - and she gave a big, greedy grin. “Ha! Idiot’s Array! Pay up, thorax!”

Din grunted and you couldn’t help to laugh. “I thought you said he was on a winning streak?”

“Oh. Stop your cryin’. You’ll rust.” Peli scoulded.

You let out a big belly laugh at that and Din looked over at you. “You knew?”

You shyly chuckled. “I admire Peli’s initiative. What can I say? Also, we ruined that speeder she gave us so...”

“My speeder is ruined?” Peli asked, her nonexistent eyebrows shooting up to the top of her head.

“You mean the speeder I gave you?” Din asked, tilting her helmet at her. She rolled her eyes and gathered her winnings.

Dr. Mandible spoke again and Peli once again translated. “All right. He says the contact will rendezvous at the hangar.” He added more and Peli continued. “They’ll tell you where to find some Mandalorians. That’s what you wanted, right? All right, well, stop your mopin’. More importantly, did you bring back any of that dragon meat? Better not have any maggots on it. I don’t like maggots.”

You raised an eyebrow and made a disgusted face. “You are going to eat that?”

“Not to sound crude, but there isn’t much I wouldn’t eat. And roasted Krayt Dragon is delicious.” Peli said, looking satisfied at the mere thought of some food. “Also, your kid looks thrilled by the thought as well so don’t be too judgy.”

You looked down at the child, who was admiring the meat that hung off Din’s pack with a slightly awestruck expression, like he was looking at the most beautiful creature. You gave a small chuckle and pat his head, which he cooed to. “Let’s get you some food, kid.”

__________________

The child now looked like he was in love as he watched the dragon meat being roasted by a droid above a fire, which was dripping juices which the child eagerly looked at. You gave a small laugh as he cooed at it, his stubby hands reaching out.

Peli made her way through the door, looking at the droid that was cooking it. “Hey, don’t overcook it, Treadwell! I like it medium rare! I’m not some Rodian, for crying out loud.”

You chuckled as you looked up at Peli, who now faced you and Din. “All right, here’s the deal. A Mandalorian covert is close. It’s in this sector, one system trailing.”

“Are they the ones that left Nevarro?” Din asked.

Peli shrugged. “Don’t know. All I know is that the contact will lead you to them.”

“And what will this cost us? And don’t you dare say we have to kill something or I’ll lose it.” you said.

“Well, that’s the great news. It’s free. Aside from a finder’s fee, of course.” Peli said confidently but you couldn’t help but to notice a weariness from her which caused you to raise your eyebrow.

“What’s the not-great news?” Din asked, seeming just as hesitant as you were.

“Nothing. It’s all great.”

You let out a loud laugh, more like a bark. “Oh, please. The last time something went great for us was...well... Now that I think about it, never.”

“Well, there is one small skank in the scud pie.” Peli hesitantly said, giving you a look you couldn’t quite place.

“Bingo.” you muttered under your breath.

“Which is?” Din asked.

“The contact wants passage to the system.” Peli said.

You raised an eyebrow. “That doesn’t sound too bad.”

“Do you vouch for them?” Din asked.

“On my life.” Peli said plainly.

Din looked over at you and you let out a sigh. You wanted to be in the ship, just with him and the kid. Try to ignore the mad journey the three of you were on and be alone with Din. But, if this got you where you had to be, so be it. “Fine.” you mumbled.

Din sighed again and went to turn until Peli’s voice broke out again.

“And...no hyperdrive.“

Your head shot up and you looked at Peli with an expression of absolute bewilderment. “What?”

“You want me to travel sublight? Deal’s off.”

Peli huffed at his definitive answer. “It’s one sector over.” she justified but Din shook his head.

“Moving fast is the only thing keeping us safe.” Din explained and you nodded in agreement.

“We might as well just turn ourselves in.” you said but Peli looked exasperated, not seeming to care about your explanation. “Why do we need to travel sublight anyways?”

“These are mitigating circumstances.“

“What do you mean ‘mitigating’?” Din asks.

Motto simply turns around as a creature begins to walk through the door, letting out a croak as she saw you. It was a frog-like creature with two big eyes that stared at the four of you. Her skin was a blend of pinks and purples, and you couldn’t help but to feel your heart soften up as you saw what she had. On her back was a large tank that looked entirely too heavy, filled with what looked like orange eggs that bobbed in the glowing blue liquid within it. She walked over to where you were, seeming to almost smile as she looked between you and Din and Motto.

Din puts his hands on his hips, tilting his helmet to the side and down to look at Peli. “I’m not a taxi service.”

You couldn’t help but to gasp and swat a hand into his shoulder. He looked over at you and you shook your head at him. “What does she need?” you ask.

The lady begins to speak to Motto, who nods. “What is the cargo?” Din asked.

Peli turns to the frog woman, speaking in her language. The woman responds emphatically and you nod along even though you don’t understand a word she is saying. “It’s her spawn. She needs her eggs fertilized by the equinox or her line will end. If you jump into hyperspace, they’ll die. She said her husband has settled on the estuary moon of Trask in the system of the gas giant Kol Iben.”

“She said all of that?” Din said with speculation.

“I paraphrased.” Peli offered with a shrug.

“And she knows there are Mandalorians there?” you asked. You already knew deep down that you needed to help her. She had a tank full of offspring that held the key to her line’s survival. You weren’t technically a mother, but you could identify with her desperate need to protect her children and get them to where they needed to be, before it was too late.

The two women communicated before Peli turned to you. “She said her husband has seen them.”

You nodded, thinking that was enough of a reason to justify bringing her but Din continued. “Do you know the husband?”

“No. I just met her ten minutes before you walked in.” Peli said as if it was the most obvious thing. Meanwhile a droid moved up to her with a plate of meat which she grabbed with a grin.

“I thought you said you vouched for her on your life.” Din sarcastically responded.

She shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an excellent judge of character. That’s why I like this girlfriend on yours.” She grabbed the meat with her hands and placed it in her mouth, her teeth gnawing and tearing away at it. You smiled down at her, letting out a small giggle at her words.

“We can’t.”

Your head once against shot up to look at Din and you huffed. “Watch the kid, Peli.” You said before grabbing onto his arm and dragging him away from the creature and Peli, behind the ship so you two could be hidden away. “Din Djarin!” you whispered and he looked down at you, helmet tilted in confusion.

“What?” he asked and you shook your head in disbelief.

“We need to help that lady.” you said, completely exasperated by the fact that you had to even explain this concept.

“You want us to travel sublight?” Din asked incredulously, like you were saying the stupidest thing in the galaxy.

“The survival of her line is at stake. She has a container full of her potential offspring in there!” You threw your hands up.

“And I’ve got a child and riddur to protect!” He said.

You suddenly froze, your eyebrows shooting up and anger dissipating. “W-what did you just say?” you mumbled and you could feel Din’s whole body lock up with realization.

“I said I have a child and cyar’ika to protect.” He lied dumbly, his hand nervously going to his hips.

“No, you said-”

“We can’t take her.” He interrupted but your mind was still whirring from what you swore you heard him say. You took a moment to calm down your racing heart and focus back on what you were saying.

“We can, technically. And we should, morally.”

“It’s dangerous.”

“But not impossible.” you countered back.

“Are you trying to get us killed?”

“No offense sir, but you are the one who crawled into a Krayt dragons mouth so who here as a tendency to almost get killed?” You sarcastically responded.

Din grunted and you can practically feel him rolling his eyes. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“I have a good feeling about this. We can help her and find other Mandalorians. This sounds like a great compromise to me.” You explained and Din sighed. You tried to hold back a smile, not wanting him to know how pleased you were. You could feel him caving in and you knew deep down he would say yes. Din might be a tough Mandalorian, but he was a secret softie deep down and you knew he would always do the right thing.

“Sweet one...” He mumbled and you shot your hands up in victory, wrapping them around his neck to pull him into a tight hug.

“Yes! Thank you!” You whispered as his hands landed on your hips, pulling you away slightly so he could look down at you.

“I didn’t say yes.”

“Oh, please. You surrender. Let’s go let our new friend know!” You excitedly said, trying to turn away but Din’s grip on you remained strong. You looked over at him with confusion. “Din, we should go.”

“We won’t be alone for a while so just give me a minute.”

You shoulders sagged a little at the realization. You and Din hadn’t really had a moment of isolation together in days. You had either been in the middle of nowhere or with Tuskens or with Cobb. No opportunity to be completely comfortable with each other. Now that you thought about it, you had only kissed him once in the last few days. “Oh.”

“We were supposed to be alone after this. Just you, me, and the kid on the Crest.” Din said as he leaned his helmet against your forehead.

“And we will be soon. This will just take a couple days.” You whispered back at him, trying to find some optimism.

Din suddenly squeezed on your hip a little tighter and made you stumble back so you were pressed into the side of the Crest. He leaned into you, his chest plate rubbing against your front. You could feel the rise and fall of each breath he took and it filled you with peace. This wasn’t skin-to-skin contact but it was as close as you had gotten to it in days and it seemed to wake some uncontrollable urge in you. “You said all we had to do was kill the Krayt Dragon and then...” he trailed off purposely, allowing you to remember the moment outside your tents that night. The need you had felt for him and the desperation in his voice.

“You should have known nothing goes according to plan for us.” You muttered and Din pressed into you tighter, causing you to gasp. His helmet dipped down into your neck and you lifted your head up, letting out a small noise at the contact.

“I need you.” You wondered if he meant for you to hear it with how quiet he was but you did and the words sent a shiver down your spine. You brought your hands up to hold onto his shoulders, just clasping onto the beskar that covered them but it felt good to hold him in your hands.

“Din, we need-” your words got caught in your throat as his hands began to drift down, so slowly you barely detected it. “Damn it, Din.” you huffed, starting to get irritated with the effect he had on you.

“What’s wrong, sweet one?” you rolled your eyes at the way he was acting. Like he didn’t know what he did to you.

“Shut up and stop doing that.”

“Doing what?”

“Touching me.” you hissed but Din’s hand started to drift behind you and down.

“You don’t want me to touch you?”

“Yes, I do. But right now is not the time.” He hands rested on the lowest portion of your back and he began to lift the fabric of your shirt up, his gloved hands now planting onto your skin. You hissed at the contact and tried your best to look away from him but he just stared down at you.

“Maybe it is...”

“Din.” you whispered softly.

“Hey, what are you two doing back there?” You and Din jumped away quickly as Peli rounded the corner, looking at you two with a new hunk of meat held in her hands. She seemed to take no notice of the way your skin was flushed or how your shirt now rested a little higher than it had been before. Didn’t see the way your chest heaved and Din’s moved a little quicker than it had before with each breath. Instead she just took a big bite out of her food and looked between you two, mumbling her words through the food in her mouth. “Did you decide?”

Din sighed and looked over at you, as if hoping you could change your mind because of what just happened. Instead you looked away from him and nodded firmly. “Tell that friend of yours we leave soon.”

____________

“Now, I’m gonna ask you to stay strapped in whenever you’re seated. Traveling sublight is a bit dicey these days. Whether it’s pirates or warlords, someone either ends up with a nice chunk of change, or your ship.” Din told the woman who was now sat in the passenger seat where you normally were. You stood in the cockpit now, having offered the seat to her since she had been carrying the tank full of eggs, which now sat in the hull of the ship where the child rested. The frog lady began to speak in her language and you looked over at Din, hoping he was catching it.

“I don’t speak whatever language that is. You speak...Huttese?” He asked and followed it with something in another language that sounded similar to hers but by no means the same. She just stared at him blankly, not understanding a lick of what he spoke. Din looked over at you and you shrugged.

“Sorry. I don’t know frog. Skipped that class.” You responded and Din turned, flicking a switch on the dashboard and sighing.

“So, I’m gonna hit the rack. I’ve set the nav for our course. It’s gonna take a while. I recommend you get some rest.“ He explained to the new passenger and you couldn’t help but to smile. He knew she probably didn’t understand a word but he still explained everything to her, treated her like a person and not a hassle.

Din stood from his seat, heading down the ladder of the ship. You looked at the woman before following him down and gave her a warm smile. “I promise he is a big softie.”

“No, no, no, no, no!” You heard from the hull of the ship and you and the frog woman both looked in the direction of the sound. She started to rise from her seat but you held a hand up.

“It’s okay. Stay here. I’m sure he is just being grumpy or something.” You had no clue what was happening but if it was worrying Din, it wasn’t good. At all. You nervously chuckled before shimmying down the ladder and jumping down into the hull. You looked over at where Din stood hovering above the child.

Your eyes widened at the sight before you. The child was stood right next to the tank full of eggs and held one in his hand, staring at Din as he slurped one of the orange balls right up. “No!” you let out.

Din bended down quickly, closing the lid of the tank and grabbing the child who looked up at you two innocently, as if he wasn’t committing genocide. “That is not food.” Din sternly told him but the child seemed to take no care or notice.

“Oh my god, the kid ate a child.” You murmured quietly so the woman in the cockpit couldn’t hear.

“Technically it’s not fertilized so it’s just an egg.” Din reasoned and you looked up at him in bewilderment.

“You say that like that’s better.” You screeched in bewilderment and Din chuckled at the expression on your face.

“Sweet one, it’s okay.”

“I thought he kept looking at the eggs cause they were glowing and a fun color! Not because he wanted to end a whole line of creatures.” You whisper-yelled, feeling your voice rise. The child actually had the audacity to smile up at you and you swore your eyebrows shot all the way up your forehead.

“We will just make sure it doesn’t happen anymore. It was a one time thing.” Din explained and you nodded slowly, eyes still trained onto the child who seemed to be having a great time, a small yawn escaping his lips. Oh yeah, must be tired from eating a child. “Let’s go to bed.”

You paused as Din started to head towards his cot. He doesn’t realize you weren’t following after him until he placed the child down in his hammock and looked over at you. You smiled up at him almost guiltily. “Cyar’ika, what’s wrong?”

“Well, you see, I was going to sleep in the cockpit.”

Din tilted his helmet and planted a hand on hip. “What?”

“I want to keep her company. She is probably so lonely and scared.” You said with a little frown.

“She is an adult.”

“Yes, but I remember my first night on this ship. Back when we didn’t know each other and you were just some strange man. It was kind of... unnerving.”

“So, you are going to sleep up there?” Din questioned and you nodded.

“Yeah. Keep her some company. A friendly face, y’know?”

Din let out a sigh and shook his head. “You are a good person.”

You smiled at the compliment and walked over to him, resting a hand on one of his biceps and squeezing it reassuringly. You felt silly doing so but you planted a small kiss on his helmet, like you would kiss his cheek if you were allowed to see it. “Goodnight.”

“Good night, sweet one.”

You gently grabbed a blanket on your way up the ladder, pulling yourself up into the cockpit to still find the frog lady awake. She turned back to look at you and jumped as she heard you but you just help a hand up, trying to indicate everything was fine. “I thought I’d keep you company.” She just stared back at you blankly and you shrugged. “Even though you can’t understand anything I’m saying.”

She finally said something in her native language and you cocked your head, trying to see if you could understand even one little part of it but failing to do so. “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.” you said solemnly and she seemed to comprehend that you didn’t know a word she was saying as well. You slowly brought the blanket in your hand up and towards her. “Are you cold? I know this ship can be colder than Hoth sometimes.”

The woman seemed to understand that at least, bringing one of her webbed hands out to grab onto the blanket and pull it over her lap, giving you a gracious smile which you returned happily. You then made your way into the drivers seat and plopped down on it, sighing in relief. You and Din had been so busy the last few days and you hadn’t even realized how much it had beaten down your body, exhausting you in every way. It wasn’t until you sat down that you felt the deep ache in all your muscles and bones and the fatigue that washed over you. You looked over at the woman again whose eyes were finally closed and she seemed to be drifting into sleep very quickly. You smiled as you saw the blanket wrapped around her and nodded to yourself, glad you came up. You couldn’t do much but you figured this was a kindness you could show her that she could possibly understand.

You rested your head back completely, letting your eyes slip close and you began to drift off quickly.

____________

Wake up.

Your eyes shot open instantly and you jerked upwards in the seat, feeling your hands shake at the loud voice that rang through the cockpit. You looked over at the creature in the passenger seat, expecting her to be awake from how loud the voice was but she was still fast asleep, like she hadn’t heard a thing. You whipped your head around the cockpit but found nothing out of place. You felt crazy. You swore you had heard a female voice as clear as day, so loud it woke you up. It had sounded so familiar as well...

You tried to shrug it off, allowing your half asleep body to fall back into the seat. You closed your eyes, ready to slip back into the deep sleep you were in when it called out again.

Wake up.

What the kriff? You now stood up this time and looked around even more, trying to find the tiniest hint that something was up. But once again, you saw nothing out of the ordinary and certainly no woman standing in the room. You walked away from the chair, making sure to step lightly as to not wake up the passenger. You began to slip down the ladder, determined to find a source of the noise that didn’t just include you being crazy. You looked over at where Dins cot was, but the hatch to it was closed and he was probably dead asleep in there, more worn out then you even were from the last few days. You looked over at the refresher, but even that was empty, along with the hull. The only new thing was the glow of the tank of eggs on the floor. You shook your head, starting to turn around when you heard the voice again.

“Shit, this is harder than it seems.” The voice was coming from behind you, this you knew definitively. You also knew one thing for sure. The voice was one you completely recognized in every way, knew it like the back of your hand. It was warm and wise, but also a little crackly like it was aged. Your heart began to slam in your chest. That was your grandmothers voice. Clear as can be and it was coming behind you. You could also see a blue glow begin to illuminate the room but you couldn’t bare to turn around. You were imagining this, or at the very least dreaming. This wasn’t real and it would just hurt. “Gee, it’s been how many years and you can’t even give me a good look? I’m not naked or anything.”

You closed your eyes as you felt your emotions overwhelm you. It sounded so much like her; the inflection of her tone and the sarcastic nature that intertwined with everything she said. “I’m dreaming.” You muttered out loud, trying to break yourself away from the cruelty of it but you find yourself shocked when a laughter filled the hull. One that sounded easily like yours, just a little older.

“I come back to see you after all these years and you call me a dream. I ought to be offended. Or maybe it’s a compliment...”

You had to look. Maker forbid it was her and you didn’t look. You began to slowly turn around, your feet seeming to be made of lead and feeling so heavy with every step you took to turn completely. Once you finally did, you allowed your eyes to squint open and there she was. She looked like her, just like she had the last day you saw her, except it looked like she was projection or hologram, a blue haze surrounding her and seeming to wash over the any color. You opened your eyes completely as you watched her smile as you brightly, the kind of smile that had aways made you feel so worth it. “H-how is this... is this r-real or am I c-c-crazy?” You could barely speak as you stared at her, seeing the way she swayed slowly where she stood, like she had always done. She had driven your mother crazy because she always had to be moving, never could stay still. Everything she did screamed that it was her but you were still so hesitant.

“Oh, yeah. It’s me. This whole force ghost thing is a lot harder than it looks though.”

“Force ghost?”

“You know what happens when we all pass. We become part of the Force.” She said with a beautiful grin, the kind that could ease any worries.

“What are you doing?” You asked and she chuckled at the way you awkwardly mumbled it.

“I needed to talk to you.”

You paused to look at her as she continued to stand before you. You stepped forward to get closer, getting a proper look at her. You couldn’t help but to smile as you looked at every wrinkle, every strand of hair braided away, every breath she took. It was like she was right there before you. Like you could reach out and touch her. Part of you almost did but you didn’t want to do so and realize she wasn’t actually physically there.

“You thought we didn’t keep an eye on you, kid? Of course we did.” She said with a knowing nod and you felt a warmth bloom in your chest. You always liked to think they were watching, but bearding your ideas be confirmed brought you so much peace. “And may I just say, you have been having quite the time.”

You suddenly realized that she must know everything. About Din and the child. About how you were in love with Din and he knew what you were. She must have sensed the sudden change in your demeanor and she looked at you with a soft smile. “Don’t worry, my little one. I’m very happy for you.”

“You know-”

“Everything?” you look at her and nod dumbly to which she grins. “Oh, yeah. Everything. I mean I had to keep an eye on you. And trust me, I was none too pleased about a Mandalorian at first. But this one seems alright.”

She said the last part with a soft smile, the kind that expressed how he was more than just alright. You smiled up at her and decided to let the shock wash away. Even if this was just a dream or a extremely vivid hallucination, you wanted to enjoy this. “Yeah. I guess he is alright.” you said with a smirk to which she nodded. “Are... are you guys okay?”

She let her shoulders sag slightly, looking at you softly. “You need to stop blaming yourself.”

“I just-”

“You tried your best.”

“I’m sorry.” you blurted out.

“There is no need to be sorry.”

“You sacrificed yourself to save me.” You told her, now exasperated. You were working on accepting what happened but you couldn’t hear her say there was no need to be sorry. That is was okay.

“And you nearly died trying to protect me.” She retorted and you rolled your eyes.

“And I failed.”

“No. You did so well you nearly killed yourself.” She told you and you looked away from her stern gaze, the same one she gave you when she was teaching you an important lesson.

“You should of ran away. You would of lived.” You softly said, crossing your arms over your chest as you blinked your eyes quickly, not wanting to cry. She had already seen you so weak and damaged before. She didn’t need to see it again.

“I was an old woman who had lived long enough. I knew saving you with the Force would take everything out of me but it was worth it. I mean, look at your life. It has only just begun.” you heard the softness and kindness, but also the demanding, authoritative tone. The kind of voice that was going to tell you how it was and not accept any other answer. Her voice suddenly dropped. “Did you read it?”

You froze and stared at her with a bewildered expression, barely sputtering out “W-What?”

“The letter, kid. Did you read it?” she asked again.

You shook your head. “No. Maker, no.”

“Why not? I always told Mai to tell you if anything ever happened. You need to read it.”

“Tell me what?” you asked.

“K-kid-” Her holographic-like appearance started to fade away slowly.

“No, please. C’mon, stay.” you begged, feeling like a child as tears started to well up in your eyes.

“Read it.” was the last words spoken by her before she faded away completely, the hull of the ship going back to complete darkness.

You let out a shaky breath, looking down to find your hands trembling. You grabbed onto a crate, sitting down on it and letting your whole body sag. Your heart was racing a mile a minute, along with your mind. You still weren’t entirely convinced what had happened was real, and not a figment of your imagination or some complex dream. But she had seemed to real. Like she was there and close enough to touch. When she spoke to you, it was her. All the little quirks and the inflection of her tone had been identical to the woman you missed so much.

Your eyes slowly trailed from the spot on the floor you had been to looking at to the corner of the ship, where your bag laid. You could see the crumbled paper on top of it. What the hell was so important? If that was real, why had your grandmother done that just to tell you to read a letter? If it was so important, she should of tone you. If not back then, at least now she should have.

You should read it. You know that deep down. You started to rise slowly from your seat you took on the crate, you legs still trembling as you took one small step. You were about to take another when a small croak filled the space. You turned around to find the frog lady’s head peaking down from the cockpit, looking down at you. You made eye contact and she let out another small croak.

“You okay?” you quietly asked.

She let out another croak and her eyes followed the container of eggs that sat in the hull. You looked over at it and smiled softly. “They are okay.” you said, giving her a small thumbs up in hopes she understood that.

Another croak was let out and you sighed. “I’m coming up. Let’s go back to bed.”

You gave the letter one last glance before making your way to the ladder of the cockpit, climbing up it slowly.

____________

You had been wide awake when a small beeping sound began ringing out through the cockpit, emitting it’s way into the rest of the ship. You looked over at the frog woman to find her still asleep, seeming to be undisturbed by the noise as small snores that sounded like small croaks left her. Your head turned back to the dash of the ship, looking at all the buttons and controls. You eyes met the comm and you raised an eyebrow, looking out the window to see nothing out of the ordinary.

A clanking of metal rang out and you looked back at Din who pulled himself into the Crest. You slowly brought a single finger up to your lip, indicating for him to be quiet as your head gestured to the frog lady. “She’s still asleep.”

Din nodded. “What happened?” he softly asked.

You shrugged, pulling yourself out of the drivers seat so he could slip into it. “Wasn’t us. I think it’s someone trying to comm you.”

Din grunted and a small smile made it’s way onto your face. You were sure he was pleased to not only be woken up, but woken up by somebody trying to talk to him. Din flicked on the comm as you rested a hand on his shoulder. Part of you had wanted to crawl into his cot after the bizarre happenings from earlier. Let his arms envelop you and spread a warmth through your body you had never felt before. But you decided against it, still feeling it was best to stay with the new passenger and let Din sleep.

“Razor Crest, M-One Eleven. Come in, Razor Crest. Do you copy?” a voice rang out into the pit.

You once again looked back at the lady, seeing her still asleep and funny enough, it slightly reminded you of the child. Sometimes he’d wake up at the slightest noise. You could make one step and he wouldn’t fall asleep for the rest of the night. But other times, he could sleep through anything. A TIE fighter could probably soar past and he’d still peacefully sleep through it, like nothing was happening.

“This is Razor Crest. Is there a problem?” Din asked. Your hand tightened onto his shoulder and he leaned into it slightly.

“We noticed your transponder is not emitting.” The man spoke again.

“Yes, I’m pre-Empire surplus. I’m not required to run a beacon.”

“That was before. This sector is under New Republic jurisdiction. All craft are required to run a beacon.” You raised an eyebrow, looking over at Din who just shrugged.

“Thank you for letting me know. I’ll get right on it.” he responded.

“Not a problem. Safe travels.”

“May the Force be with you.” You looked over at Din, both eyebrows raised high as you nearly laughed. You had never even heard the man say that once. If anything, you were convinced that he used to not believe if the Force, thinking it was a whole bunch of gibberish until the kid walked into his life.

“And also with you.” the man responded, cutting out.

“May the Force be with you?” you quietly asked, smiling down at where he sat.

“Isn’t that what they say?” Din said, his hands landing on your hips softly as he turned his seat towards you.

“Yeah but I’ve never heard you say that.” You nearly yelped when he pulled you down onto his lap with his hands still clutching onto you. You tossed your head over to look at the frog lady who was still asleep. “Mando, she is right there.”

“Say my name.”

You looked at him with a soft smile, placing a kiss on his helmet which made him let out a small hum that filled your heart with joy. “Din, she is right there.”

Din let out another small noise, pulling you closer onto him. “I don’t care. I miss sleeping in a bed with you.”

“Me too. But we will-”

The beeping resumed, interrupting you. You let out a small whine, slipping off of Din’s lap and warm embrace as he turned towards the comm. Before flipping it on, Din let out an aggravated grunt.

“Just one more thing.” The man’s voice from earlier rang out into the ship again.

“Yes?” Din curtly said, shaking his head.

“I’m gonna need you to send us a ping. We’re out here sweeping for Imperial holdouts.”

Your head whipped over to look at Din, his helmet still trained forwards. You couldn’t send out a ping.

“I’ll let you know if I see any.” Din responded but you knew it wouldn’t be good enough. They were going to insist.

“I’m still gonna need you to send us that ping.” the man countered.

“Well, I’m not sure I have that hardware online.” Din said but even you could see through that lie.

“We can wait.”

Din finally looked at you, seeming to be contemplating what his options were. You slowly mouthed ‘what do we do?’ but Din seemed to settle on a decision shortly. “Yeah...I...I...doesn’t seem to be, uh, working.”

“That’s too bad. If we can’t confirm you’re not Imperial, you’re gonna have to follow us to the outpost at Adelphi. They’ll run your tabs.”

Fuck, no. No. You couldn’t stop at Adelphi. You had this women’s eggs and the child and Din.

“Oh, wait. There it is. Transmitting now.” Din said but you just saw him flip the auto-pilot switch off. You stepped back, leaning against the wall in anticipation of what was next.

The frog lady then decided it was a good time to wake up, letting out a loud croak as she looked over at you two. “Be quiet!” you and Din both simultaneously whispered at her.

“What was that?”

“Uh, nothing. The hypervac is drawing off the exhaust manifold.” Din excused, but you rolled your eyes. Din knew his way around a ship well enough to know that was a shit excuse.

The frog lady continued croaking, not seeming to catch a hint. Din looked over at her and you could feel the annoyance radiating off him. You snapped your fingers, bringing her eyes to look at you and held your finger up to your lips, trying to gesture to her to be quiet. But she didn’t seem to catch a hint, croaking back at you and bringing her own finger up to her mouth in confusion.

“Carson, can you switch over to channel two?” Another man’s voice spoke out, causing the woman to finally quiet down as she looked at the comm where the source of the noise came from.

“Copy.” the other man spoke.

You looked at Din, seeing his hands ghost over the accelerator. “Oh, shit. Hold on.” you said, clutching onto the passengers seat.

Din hit it, beginning to soar through the galaxy at a terrifying speed that made the frog lady begin wailing in fear. You held on tightly, feeling your body plop down onto the ground from the abrupt change in speed. Din suddenly began dropping to a nearby planet, causing your butt to lift off the ground and the frog lady begin to croak with a very anxious tone. Din soared over the clouds as the cockpit to the ship began to shake.

“Mando, this isn’t good!” you yelped but Din paid no mind to your words.

“Razor Crest, stand down. We will fire. I repeat, we will fire.” A man warned and you cursed.

Din whipped around a corner, pulling the ship which caused it to tremble even more. “The Crest can’t handle this!” you called.

“It’s going to have to.” Din grunted, bringing his hands off the accelerator. You let out a deep breath until you saw him turn the engines off.

“Mando!”

The ship instantly began to plummet, dropping down into the clouds and revealing more of the icy planet Din had flown so close to. The frog lady began to full-on scream, her voice filling the cockpit and drowning out any thoughts you had. Glaciers began to finally fill the view of the pit and Din then engaged the engines again, flying down into a canyon.

“Oh, fuck. Are we going to die?” you yelled.

Din continued to fly through the canyon, narrowly avoiding jagged icicles that could easily shear into the metal of the ship. “Come on, Razor Crest, don’t make us do it.” a man spoke again.

The Crest whipped around a bend and straight towards a cavern which the back side of the ship slams into, causing all three of you to grunt. You looked up at Din, seeing his chest fall and rise quickly. You realized he was just as nervous as you, just more quiet about it. “Hold on.” he said.

“Oh, now we have to hold on...” you muttered sarcastically, grabbing onto the chair even more (which you didn’t think was possible). You tried to anchor your feet onto the ground, still sitting on the floor and thinking how the Crest needed a third seat. The frog lady responded with a grunt and croak and you thought how she was probably regretting getting on this ship.

The Crest began to slam into more glaciers, causing the ship to shake and all of your to jerk about. It then began to slide along a sheet of ice. Din tried to turn on the engines so it could shoot up but it it just slammed into more ice until coming to a stop under an overhang.

Din began panting, along with you, relieved that the ship was hidden away and had finally stopped moving. You couldn’t help but to notice the chill that had filled the ship, your body shivering and the hair on your arms begin to stand up. You hesitantly let go of the arm of the chair, wrapping yourself up with your own arms as you tried to not let yourself dwell too much on the cold.

“I’ve lost visual. He’s got to be around here somewhere. You head north. We’ll cover more ground.” The voice barely crackled through the comm, cutting out which was a good sign. Meant they were far enough.

“Fucking hell.” You muttered, looking at Din who was pushing and flicking an assortment of buttons.

“You okay, sweet one?” Din asked, finally looking over at you.

You smiled weakly. “Oh, just dandy.”

“And your friend?”

You looked over at the frog lady, who was gasping and groaning, beginning to rise from her seat. “I think she is just worried about her eggs.” you softly said.

Before you could ask how he was, loud cracks filled the space. It took you a second to realize it was the ice which meant...

You couldn’t warn Din of what was to come before it was too late and the ship broke through the ice, dropping down. You could hear everything in the ship tumbled about and your mind instantly went to the child. Oh, shit. He was probably in his bed with the door shut but you felt fear consume you entirely. The ship suddenly dropped down, causing everyone to slam forward. The last thing you felt was a sharp pain your in your head before everything turned back, your body falling back.

____________

Din let out a loud groan as he slowly blinked his eyes. His whole body was aching and his back was screaming in pain. His mind felt groggy and clouded as he slowly lifted his helmet from where it had landed. He blinked more quickly as he shook his head, letting out more grunts as he tried to become more aware. Last thing he remembered was falling and the frog lady’s screaming. And his cyar’ika...

“Fuck.” Din grunted, whipping his head around (not the best choice on his part) and looking down. He dropped from the chair, crawling down on the small space of the floor where she laid as flecks of snow fell off him. A large bruise was already forming on her head, probably from slamming into the back of his chair or something. She hadn’t been in a seat so she had taken the brunt of the force. Din felt his hands shake as he clutched her, pulling her closer to his chest and leaning her head against it, patting softly at her hair. “Sweet one, wake up. Please be okay.”

Din felt instant relief flood through him as she grunted, her eyes barely opening and seeming to not register what was in front of her. She let out a small cough and Din felt her whole body was shaking, whether from the crash or from the cold he didn’t know. Din held on tighter to her, bringing his cape over his body so some of it could drape over her. “Cyar’ika, are you okay?”

She groaned again, her eyes now blinking some more as she began to make out the shape of his helmet. Behind him he heard the frog lady begin to croak and groan in a painful manner, bringing herself up with the assistance of the chair. Din didn’t look over though, his eyes trained on the woman in his arms. “F-fuck.” she finally muttered, her eyes looking up at him as she slowly brought a hand up to rub at the bump on her head.

“I’m sorry, sweet one.” Din said, pulling her closer and feeling guilty as he saw the injury on her head. He slowly let a hand graze her cheek.

“I hate this ship.” She sputtered. Din let out a small chuckle, glad to see one of the corners of her lips quirk up into the lopsided smile he had come to love so much. “And you are good at crashing this thing.”

“Are you okay?” Din asked.

Her eyes looked up at his softly until her whole body jerks and her eyes widen, a terror stricken look coming over. She suddenly pulled away, flopping over to her hands and knees so she start to stand up, her legs shaking. “The...the kid!”

“Sweet one, sit down. You probably have a concussion and you-” Din couldn’t finish before she was flailing down the ladder of the cockpit, thumping on the ground with a groan. Din rose from his spot on the floor, looking over to see the frog lady looking at him, croaking in distress. Din sighed, realizing she was I’ll find your eggs, don’t worry. Gotta get you some blankets, keep you warm.”

Din dropped down the ladder, letting out a loud groan as he saw a huge hole through the side of the Crest, letting into a flurry of snowflakes. Sparks flew from various areas of the ship and everything was coated in a layer of snow and ice. It couldn’t have been more than a couple hours that they had been passed out, but the temperature of the ship had dropped considerably and the layer of ice proved how dangerous this terrain was. “Damn it.”

The frog croaked again from the cockpit and Din sighed. “Hang on, I’m looking for your eggs!”

“No! How?” He suddenly heard his cyar’ika speak. He looked over to see her standing up barely, her whole upper half hunched forward as a hand held back a piece of cloth. Din made his way over, making it to her side to find the child with the egg canister and... dammit, an egg in his hand.

“No. No... I told you not to do that.” Din scolded, bending down to close the canister and picks it up. He looks over to find his cyar’ika with a bewildered expression on her face, staring down at the child in disbelief who innocently looks up.

“We crash. Nearly die. And this kid is eating children like nothing happened! Look at him, he looks fine!”

Din also felt a little shocked as he looked down at the child, who appeared to have sustained no injuries nor shock from the events, just holding onto one single egg. He looked as happy as ever, perhaps a little disappointed his favorite snack had been taken, but no signs of distress otherwise

The frog lady croaked again and Din looked to find his cyar’ika whimper. “We found them!” Din called out.

“We have to tell her that our kid is a murderer.” Din tried to ignore the way his heart warmed at the way she said ‘our kid’, instead opting for a small smile she couldn’t see.

“He isn’t a murder-” Din was cut off with a slurping noise, looking down as the child swallowed the egg whole. “How many did you eat?”

The child let out a small burp as he swallowed down the egg.

“What were you saying?” she sarcastically said, looking over at Din with a critical expression.

“It’s fine.”

“She is going to notice her children are missing! Her poor little baby eggs! They had their whole lives ahead of them...” she trailed off with a small whimper.

Din sighed. “You grab the child. Let’s bring her the eggs.”

Din began to walk back to the cockpit, hearing her scold the child she now held in her arms. “You did a very bad thing. Very bad. I know they are a fun color but they aren’t a snack! They are little baby eggs and you are eating them like a monster. Oh Maker, you don’t even understand me, do you? Or you don’t care cause you are a tyrant...”

Din couldn’t help but to chuckle as he listened in.

____________

“Are you okay?”

“If you ask that one more time, I will fight you. And I promise you that it will be very embarrassing to be beaten by a concussed mechanic.” You said with a small smile, staring at the bunch of wires you were twiddling away with. The Crest was a disaster, no other way to put it. There was no way you would be able to put it back to normal by yourself or with the limited amount of tools at your disposable. This would be a job for a mechanic whose talents far exceeded your own. Your goal was just to make the ship flyable at the very least and make sure it didn’t explode into a million pieces even if the ship could make it off the ground.

“I’m being serious.” Din said softly, crouching down to bend next to you. You looked over, gazing lovingly into his visor and brought your hand up to pat at it. Din had been manically asking you if you were okay and how you were ever since the crash from earlier. You definitely sustained a concussion and one of your ankles had a sharp shooting pain that ran through it and was very possibly broken. Not having been in a seat when the accident happened was a big mistake on your part but what was done was done. You had wanted to focus your efforts immediately on fixing the ship and helping Din repair as much of the damage as possible, despite his desperate pleading for you to lay down and not move an inch. You had won that argument but Din kept sending long glances your way and rushing to your side if the slightest whimper left your lips. You wouldn’t admit it as to not embarrass him, but it was perhaps the most endearing thing you had ever seen.

“I am fine. My head hurts a little but it’s okay.”

“I mean, besides the head. You seem off.”

The crazed events of the day so far had combined with the events of the night before to create an almost nauseatingly overwhelming sensation through your whole body. You couldn’t even begin to think about what had happened without feeling so completely perplexed. Part of you was still convincing yourself it had been a dream. It wasn’t your grandmother, but a mere fragment of your mind playing cruel games with your emotions. But it had seemed so real and you couldn’t stop thinking about it, even with how busy you were trying to keep your mind preoccupied with the ship and making sure the child didn’t commit any more genocide.

“I had a weird dream or something... Guess it’s still on my mind.” you mumbled, shrugging.

“What was it?”

“It was... just my grandmother and the letter.” your voice drifted off as your eyes widened. “Shit! The letter!”

You hadn’t even thought to look for the letter once the ship was damaged. But there had been a gaping whole in the side of it with winds coursing through, winds that could of snatched the letter away before you had the chance to read past the first paragraph. You tried to jump up from the spot on the floor where you had been sat but your body fumbled on the way up, your face scrunching up in pain as you put pressure on your ankle.

“Sweet one, be careful.”

“I need to make sure the letter is still here. And my bag. Oh Maker, my bag!” you yelped. The frog lady sat in the ship looked up, croaking in confusion as to your newly frazzled state.

You waved your hand at her and began to limp towards where your bag had been, wincing every time your ankle even grazed the ground. “Your ankle is broken.”

“Meh, it’s not.” you grunted, trying to hide your pained expression but Din stayed by your side, keeping his hands close to your body in case you fell. Once you reached your bag, you let out a sigh of relief when you saw the crinkled paper, sitting there with a light coating of snow layered over it’s folds. You slowly dropped to your knees, grabbing the letter and lightly dusting away the cold flakes. “Okay. Good.”

“Are you going to read it?”

You shoved the letter back into your bag and shook your head. “Not right now. One day though.”

“You sure?” Din asked.

“Yeah. Now isn’t the time.” you began to rise from your spot, trying your best to apply as little pressure as possible to your ankle. But despite your best efforts, your head was spinning from some of the sudden movement and you tumbled forward, landing on your ankle. You let out a loud hiss. “Dank farrik!”

Din rushed to you, grabbing onto and pulling you up slowly. He let out a grunt and murmured, “What were you saying about it not being broken?”

“Shut up.” you muttered, allowing Din to lead you to the small cot you had once used as a bed so he could set you down. “No. I need to work!”

“You need to rest. We all do.” Din commanded, laying your blanket over you softly.

You shook your head, letting out a grunt. “Bah, rest is for the weak.”

“You have a concussion and broken ankle.”

“You say that one more time, tin can.” you warned, aiming a somewhat playful finger at him.

Before Din had the chance to speak, the child who had been sat on the floor let out a loud coo that captured your attention. You looked over at him to find him waddling towards your outstretched legs, big eyes looking up at you in concern. “I’m fine, little guy.” you cooed back, feeling your heart warm a little from his adorable expression.

The child let out another garbled noise, eventually reaching your feet and resting a hand on your injured ankle. You let out a small hiss at the contact, expecting the child to pull back but he looked back at you with a look you an inexplicable look. You had always felt a deep connection with the little one, one that sometimes confused you. Part of you hoped it was just that you two had a natural inclination towards each other but another knew deep down it had to do with the Force. Perhaps it was simply because you were the first person he had seen in who knows how many years who had the same thing he did. Or maybe it was the mysterious way of the Force that brought you two together. But as you looked at him and felt his little three-fingered hand settle onto the skin of your ankle, you felt a peace and understanding wash over you that felt deeply shared.

The next thing you felt was a deep warmth throughout your ankle. Not the sharp heat that accompanied the pain like you had been feeling but a beautiful warmth, like a hug from a person you loved or the sun on the first day of summer. You didn’t know how long the child had done it for. Whether it was a minute or multiple minutes or only mere seconds but once his little hand pulled away, you felt like you had been broken out of trance.

You blinked a few times dumbly as the kid wobbled slightly and landed on his butt, his eyes drooping as he let out a small yawn. “The kid just-just...”

“Yeah. He has done that before.”

You whipped your head around to look at Din. “He has?”

Din nodded. “I think it’s his magic powers or something.”

You looked back at the child. No pain longer radiated throughout your ankle. You rotated it with ease, no sharp throbbing accompanying the movement like it had been. It was as if nothing had even happened. You didn’t know exactly what is was called but you knew the child had used the Force to heal you. You couldn’t even begin to comprehend how but the sensation you had felt was one you had experienced before. One your Grandmother had used on you when you were on the brink of death. One that had taken everything from her.

But the child that sat before was fine. Tired but seemed perfectly healthy and even gave you a small smile as you continued to look at him. “He really is powerful.” you mumbled under your breath.

“I’m going to get the frog lady from the cockpit. We all need to rest and eat.” Din said.

You nodded dumbly, eyes still trained on the child as Din rose from his spot on the floor and made his way to the ladder.

____________

“If you hadn’t guessed, we’re in a tight spot.” Din stated as he tidied up a few small things. The frog lady that sat across from you in the hull stared plainly up at him, her tongue whipping out in a flash to catch food from the container that Din had given her.

You let out a small sigh as Din continued. “The main power drive is not responding, and the hull has lost its integrity. I suspect the temperature will drop significantly when night falls.”

“Pretty much this is a complete and utter shit show in every way.” you said, huddling further into the blankets Din had given you. Despite your ankle being healed by the child, he had insisted on you relaxing for the rest of the night, stating how he could handle the last few things on his own.

You looked over at the kid who sat next to you with a small box of food in his lap. But instead of eating it quickly like he normally did, he practically swooned as he stared at the container of eggs that sat next to the frog lady. You let out a scoff and tapped his little arm, but not even that could break him from the trance of his new-found favorite snack. “Stop being a demon.” you whispered at the child, giving the frog lady a guilty smile as she looked over at you.

“I’ll have a better idea of our prospects tomorrow.” Din continued. You wondered if he was speaking to the frog lady in hopes she could understand or just to fill the space, clear his thoughts. Either way, the sound of his voice made a soft smile dance across your lips as he finally brought himself down to the floor, sat closely next to you. The child waddled over to him as you felt his thigh brush against your leg and his shoulder press into you. He leaned his head back against the wall of the ship, letting out a small sigh.

“Mando.”

“Yes?”

“I lo-”

You were interrupted by the frog lady letting out a loud croak, gesturing to her eggs as she continued to speak. Your face softened as you saw her concerned expression and you couldn’t understand the words, but there was passion behind them.

“I’m sorry, lady. I don’t understand Frog. Whatever it is, it can wait until morning. I recommend you get some sleep.“ Din said. The child crawled onto his thigh, settling into the armor. The frog lady let out a defeated croak, bringing a blanket to her container of eggs to wrap it, protectively patting it.

You gave her a soft smile. “I’m sorry but I promise we are trying our best.”

She let out another small croak, settling back into her space and closing her eyes as a hand stayed on her container of eggs. You also leaned back, looking over at Din. You watched his chest rise and fall evenly, falling into a slow pattern that you admired. You brought a hand out from your blanket, sneaking into over to Din’s hand that rested against the floor. You gently grazed his gloved fingers and Din made the next move, his warm leather hands grabbing onto your own and intertwining the fingers. You smiled softly as you let him pull you just slightly closer to him, his hand squeezing yours in a way that made your heart burst. Your eyes drifted to the child, who was now tucked into the beskar plate on Din’s thigh and sleeping away peacefully.

“Sweet one?” Din whispered out and you looked up at him to see his helmet tilted down to look at you.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

Tag List: @ilikethoseodds @dindaddy @poguesvixen @starspangledwidow @fangirlalexia @the-scandalorian @ka-x-in @keepcalmandblogstuff @the-lady-of-stars @orneryscandalousevil @spaghetti-666 @afootnoteinyourhappiness @the-darkempress @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @dee-vn @eury-dice3 @rb4writers @just-me-and-my-obsessions00 @lxdyred @queen-since-97 @honey-hi @periptill @seninjakitey @guiltyegg @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @altarsw @itsaviicf @greeneyedblondie44 @buffnatalieportman @tanzthompson @archaeoheart @wintrrrsoldier @welcometothepedroverse

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eclipsingbingo · 10 months ago

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Eclipsing Bingo Rules

One. You must fill out the forms sheet in full to make sure you get a bingo card that is best suited for you. Make sure to read it and double-check your answers because if you fill out something wrong it may change the whole of the bingo card or I may not be able to get it to you as you have typed in a username wrong.

Two. You can always request a new bingo card but we encourage you to do it only after you complete an already existing bingo card. If you get a 3x3 card and wish to get a new one, you must complete all 9 prompts on it. If for some reason you really don't want to or can't complete the already existing card, let us know and we will get you a new one.

Three. Both SFW and NSFW fics are allowed, just make sure you tag it properly.

Four. There is no word count requirement. The fic can be as long or short as you wish.

Five. If you would like to pair a prompt on this bingo sheet with a prompt from another, that is totally ok, but you might want to make sure the other bingo sheet allows it.

Six. When posting for this bingo, the fic you have created must be new. It also must be complete if you want it to be properly marked off on your sheet.

Seven. Multi-chapter fics are allowed. If doing this, only one prompt is allowed per chapter if a prompt applies. Multiple squares can't be used in the same chapter but a while fic could be based on a bingo sheet if you have the right amount of chapters.

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Nine. Any use of media can be used for this. I know it's been referred to as fics when reading these rules but if you would like to create a piece of art, a mood board, edit, etc., for this, you can.

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Apply for a card here

#eclipsing bingo #eclipseingbingo #fandom event #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #ao3 #ao3fic #angst bingo #fluff bingo #fic prompt #fanfic writing #fanfiction #fanfic #whump prompt #writing prompt #bingo card #dialogue prompt

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lilyclawthorne · 3 years ago

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Escaping Expulsion Thoughts (once again very stream of conscious-like while i rewatched the episode so there’s a bunch of stuff here)

i fucking knew odalia was gonna be an oracle, i knew and i hate that for her family. i’m not sure if this necklace thing is specifically a form of oracle magic or not but im assuming it is, and either way the second i saw it happen that made my stomach twist. the fact that she just keeps this direct line to her daughter at all times feels so disturbing

so, i get that the joke with glyph lessons here is that eda and lilith are probably acting the exact same way they did when they were younger, but it does also feel a little odd for me. in my post for episode 1 i talked about how it felt like lilith probably missed the structure of the coven, and maybe even having an authority figure, and it does concern me a bit that it could be projected on to luz here.

also, i saw someone mention that they thought lilith could be regressing a bit, which is interesting seeing as she’s been in the coven since basically being a child and now that she’s out, she could be going backwards because that was probably the last time she had a personality of her own instead of one that was carefully crafted to be socially acceptable for others. and to be fair, the few moments in season 1 when we see glimpses into the true lilith, she is pretty childish.

anyways lilith has such pretty handwriting i love it

gus!! witch puberty!! do not worry buddy eda will get your name eventually. probably.

amity went out and murdered those fairies for luz didn’t she

i need to know why the heck bump has no choice in the matter of the expulsion. typically a pta (or pca in this case) wouldn’t have power that much stronger than the principa?? so i wonder if the blights have something over bump, or if its even just something such as donation money they’d withdraw

odalia blight you gaslighting bitch “I’m appalled you’re not in class right now what are you thinking” YOU MADE HER COME HERE

PLEASE i know gus and willow are sad here but the whole “live off the land” thing and “water you one last time, with my tears” are so fucking funny ok

GO LUZ, YOU TELL OFF ODALIA

i feel like alador doesn’t really care what’s going on and just wants to be back home making his abomination inventions, also he seems to have an affinity for different creatures as well which is an interesting detail

i love that willow stated they would get back in on their own right in front of alador and odalia. these people fucked up her friendship and caused her a lot of trouble that she shouldn’t have had to deal with so i love that she’s unafraid to speak like that in front of them

between the first & second episode, and some of the seasons trailer, it seems like Lilith may have an affinity for ice magic? which is interesting seeing as eda was always a fan of her “spicy toss” aka some fire magic. interesting to see the two of them as fire & ice basically

i LOVE how much bump loves luz, willow, and gus. it’s kinda really sweet, but again it feels so concerning that he had no choice in the matter. makes me think he’s more likely to eventually rebel against the standards that have been in place for so long at some point. (also abominations coven for bump!! interesting!! i appreciate seeing the coven marks included on the adults so far)

what is it with these kids and being dragged off by their hoods in this episode

love that the blights address includes “right arm”, also i took a quick look up of the word “bruegal” which is boulevard they live on, and it’s probably just a coincidence but the first google result was actually for a european think tank that specializes in economics

yknow i actually have wondered about layering glyphs on top of each other and making a super glyph the way eda did, so good to know that would NOT work out

luz you’re really gonna give the blights their own flowers??????

it goes by so fast but please take a moment to take in and appreciate the design of that blight entry room/living room-esque area and it’s combination of abomination and oracle decor. also the blight family portrait.

i could talk about alador and odalia and their relationship dynamic here, when luz is meeting with them, but i think it’s best to save for the end, but i will say i don’t think it’s just odalia controlling everything (though she does control a lot) and alador just suffering and being silent.

the more i stare at odalia’s hair the more i feel like she has an odd receding hairline

love that the abomination kept the cat shape luz gave it and that amity knew immediately from that

WILLOW’S DADS!!! I LOVE THEM! I love how much they want their daughter to have a great education even if they have to be the ones to do it! (even if it could come across as a little intense) Although, the fact that they’re prepared to teach plant magic to her makes me question why they put her in abominations once again. (wish we could’ve gotten a glimpse of their coven marks!)

odalia is definitely the one who handles more of the parenting and alador is more distant. at least that’s what i get based on the twins specifying to amity not to tell their mom specifically

absolutely insane that odalia is just letting the abomiton destroy the whole place to kill a child

“stay away from my luz!” oh my god,ohmy GOD

i like how lilith can’t tell if these are normal noises or distress ones. really sums up life in the owl house. also lilith? kicking doors in?? this combined with “I AM A WITCH, UNHINGED” tells me she’ll be as chaotic as the rest of the owl house in no time and i am here for it.

the music when amity jumps in to protect luz is absolutely killing it here i need a soundtrack now

YES AMITY DESTROY THE NECKLACE (and oh god please don’t let odalia give you something even harder to remove or destroy)

Luz is blushing!! The feelings are starting to be returned!!!

“Luz, Willow, and Gus are my friends!” love it. love the open declaration. love that she’s telling her mother off. love that i have something to check off my bingo board already.

okay, i know a lot of people have already suggested that alador is smiling here because he can tell luz and amity like each other, but i’m pretty sure it’s only because he’s noticing how much amity’s magic has grown and improved

small detail but i love the smoke from the units order sign filling the background while odalia is fuming herself

oh? alador has had the ability to tell odalia off and successfully calm her down this whole time? and chose not to use it till now? yeah he sucks too. he very clearly has a plan for amity as much as odalia does as well, but he’s much better at seeing the long-term goal

“the glyph combo, copyright me, lilith” im screaming, lilith you DORK

ok i really wish eda or lilith asked where luz had been. i’d kill for these sisters to go off about how much they hated the alador and odalia in school, as well as threaten to hurt them for hurting luz.

the statue lilith made and her reaction to the gold star she received re-emphasizes my concern about her need for approval and for an authority figure. (ok but her noise at the gold star WAS very cute tho)

alright lets get down to business on the blight parents. so far i definitely do not view their relationship as being one-sided with odalia in control. honestly, i think they do have a sense of mutual respect for the other. to me it seems like all alador really wants to do is focus on his work and nothing else, and odalia seems not only more than happy to let him do so, but willing to take care of everything else the company needs, and he seems fine with that and going along with whatever because he only has to do his part. and clearly his abomination tech combined with her showmanship/advertising (and honestly probably some oracle magic) has clearly made them successful.

so what im saying is that i think their power in their relationship is actually pretty balanced, if it looks otherwise that’s just because that’s how they best function together, with odalia being more forward and alador being more distant, and therefore they’re very much both to blame for shitty parenting.

also I know some people have joked about the blight family name coming from odalia (which is also a dumb joke like why is it funny if the family name comes from the woman and not the man) but anyways I definitely do think blight is aladors family name and odalia married in simply because he takes the whole blights keep up their end of the deal thing much more seriously than odalia. probably something that’s been taught to him since he was a kid yknow, whereas she was super ready to ignore it when it inconvenienced her.

as for the very final scene with them and the golden guard, i had an interpretation of it that i saw, but it seems that everyone else ive see react to it so far saw something different than me so maybe i’m just plain wrong. but like, i have this feeling that maybe the blight parents, while they do want power, might not be as aligned with the emperor and his coven as we may think?? not saying they’re good people, just that there could be more going on here. but idk, i’ve seen no one else interpret it that way yet so i won’t go off about it unless either someone wants to know more of what i thought or if i ever actually make myself get around to making a separate post about it.

#the owl house #owl house #toh #escaping expulsion

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gatheringfiki · 3 years ago

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GatheringFiKi Interest Survey 2021 - Results

Hi folks,

First of all, huge thank you to those who took the time to fill in our recent survey. We have now reviewed the results and have a couple of points we’d like to share.

1) Existing Events:

12 Days of Christmas - 123 points

FiKi Week - 153 points

Fandom Raffle Exchange - 172 points

Durin's Day Gift Exchange - 174 points

AUpocalypse - 200 points

Kink Bingo - 209 points

Drabble Challenges - 212 points

Trick or Treat - 218 points

H/C Bingo - 220 points

Fanfic Rec Bingo - 222 points

Show Some Love - 225 points

Fic of a Fic - 235 points

Secret Admirers - 243 points

Round Robins - 335 points

No surprises near the top, AUpocalypse did well for itself, as did both Bingos and Trick or Treat - suspect because they're new. Interest in Drabble Challenges seems to be waning (ran too often?), rec-type-events have not been popular for a few years now, Secret Admirers took a dramatic fall from grace (???) and nobody liked Round Robins.

I thiiiiiiiiink that we need to do some sort of a guide for 'I'm an artist - which events can I take part in and how?' because there are very few purely aimed at writers, and yet outside of 12 Days and DDGE (if it runs) we get very few art responses.

2) New Events:

'I miss the twelve days when we churned out twelve chapters of the same story over the time period' - I don't remember us ever running this event. Submitting prompts - see: Raffle and Drabble Challenges.

Physical/Digital FiKi Zine - going by how many people did the survey, there are 20-30 people in this fandom. Even IF each of them wanted to actually buy/read a copy, we're all over the world. And that's before considering how to create actual content for it. The economies of scale say: 'no' :(

Kink/H/C Meme - see: Kink and H/C Bingos. ;)

Round Robins with the whole story known - this event scores SO consistently at the very bottom, that we won't be running it again, in any format.

Tale Teller’s Fright Night - interesting idea, but I think we'd have 2 challenges: a) this assumes that we all have a fairly uniform knowledge of films/songs/whatever of a particular theme and we don't - we come from very diverse backgrounds; b) while we do occasionally incorporate elements of 'first come first served' in our events, it's always a risk: we're in different time zones, folks with anxiety start stressing about it, and if all the things you wanted are gone, you just won't take part. Thank you for the suggestion though ;)

3) Events Frequency:

Not often enough - 7.4%

Just often enough - 85.2%

Too often - 7.4%

We will carry on doing what we're doing :)

4) Attracting New People:

Simple photo collage event / summer reading logs / a game of tag - thems are really new event ideas. I think that we already have such a range of events that if someone new wanted to get involved, there is already plenty of opportunity to find something for your interests. You can bring a horse to the water but you can't make it drink...

How to participate in our events link - every event is slightly different and we don't really have an 'etiquette' that would apply across the board. There is a clear instructions post provided at the start of each event though. Again, horse, water...

Hobbit Re-show - not sure I fully understand this one - please elaborate?

FiKi Discord Channel - @shinigami714 Do you know if it's actually active? If so, could you please do the linking there? Let's discuss on chat.

Putting a GatheringFiKi link in author's notes on AO3 - yes, good idea, only we have no way of enforcing it! Please feel free to do so if you wish, though - we'd be very grateful <3

We wanted to also take this opportunity to thank everyone for the wonderful and humbling words of encouragement we’ve received. We do what we do because of the people in this fandom and we will continue our work for as long as there is interest in it. It’s what being in a fandom means to us and hopefully it inspires some of you too :)

A Calendar Post for 2022 will follow.

One final point: Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey first premiered in December 2012. That makes 2022 its 10th anniversary year (yes, a decade we've been in this glorious dumpster together!!).

To commemorate this momentous occasion, we were thinking (circumstances permitting) of organising a joint re-watch of Hobbit: AUJ, just after Christmas 2022. By which I mean synchronised start of the film + Skype open side by side for live commentary. There may also be other, little nods towards AUJ throughout the year ;)

Happy New Year, peeps!

~gatheringfiki

#GatheringFiKi #Interest Survey #Fili/Kili #FiKi #Durincest #the Hobbit #Mitchers #Britchell #DarkHawk #IoLuke

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captaincravatthecapricious · 4 years ago

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I Thought I Could Trust You- Prompt Fill

CWs: panic attacks, mental health issues, suicidal thoughts kind of? (Jon wishing that if someone is going to kill him that they would just get it over with), paranoia, insomnia, season 2 Jon and all his issues. Yes basically same as last chapter. Oh and Food and asthma.

This is basically a follow up for It Was My Job to Protect You

For Someone on Ao3 whose name escapes me because I haven’t slept well or recently and I am so sorry. If it’s you please let me know!

LAST BINGO! FINALLY. I am taking "things you said" prompts, come drop me one of those prompts for Jon, Martin, or Tim! I am very tired and can't remember if I proofread, so sorry in advance, or in past tense I don't know anymore time is fake and so is the order in which we perceive events. Have a lovely stretch in your existence. Card by the wonderful @celosiaa! Also very much inspired by @janekfan

Jon can hardly keep his eyes open. The stairs were almost too much for him. Wavering before his eyes and pulling on his heavy limbs, aching and shaky from his earlier panic attack.

It’s not like he can ask for help. And even if he could, Martin is just as badly off. And Tim... Tim scares him.

Tim is loud. Tim is angry. Which is Jon’s own fault. If he hasn’t been following Tim, Tim would be boisterous, not shouting. Jon wouldn’t have learned to flinch when he talks. To flinch when he moves.

And he wants to trust him but he’s afraid. And if Martin didn’t kill Gertrude, that makes it all the more likely that Tim did.

But no. No. Tim is his friend, right? Was his friend.

But all worry of letting him into his flat vanishes when the climb steals his hard-earned air from his lungs. Leaving him swaying and gasping on the landing.

Tim’s speaking and Jon flinches away. Almost teetering down the stairs, before he’s caught. By Tim.

“Oi, steady on, boss!”

Almost drown out by his breathing. Narrow chest heaving with effort and none of it reaching his brain.

“Hey Jon, could you maybe hold off on passing out on me until you give me your keys?”

Is that what Tim had been talking about?

Keyes, he can do that. Right?

But enervated fingers fumble with them in his pocket and he can’t grasp them. To his unending shame, he feels tears on his cheeks.

At least Martin is too out of it from his own panic attack earlier to notice. Much as the comfort would be welcome. It would also be stifling and even more embarrassing.

“Jon?” Still too loud. Tim’s too loud too close still steadying him physically which is still sending him further off balance. “Never mind, I’ll use mine.”

Because right. Tim had a key. Which Jon has been regretting because too loud too angry Tim could slit his throat while he sleeps but he doesn’t have it in him to change the locks so he’s been putting wedges under all of his doors. Ugly old wooden things that scuff the floor but that’s fine if it keeps him alive a little longer. Warns him early enough to arm himself. Although. Dying quickly without any fuss sounds... like a luxury.

Tim guides an overly pliant Martin to Jon’s understuffed and threadbare sofa. He tries to guide Jon to the bedroom before Jon’s knees buckle but Jon doesn’t want to be put to bed. He doesn’t want Tim in attended. He wants to trust Tim. But he can’t.

Much as Jon wants to sink into his bed and make up for all the sleep he’s missed over... well over the course of his whole life, he can’t leave Tim alone. Unsupervised.

Can’t let Tim kill him. Or poor, exhausted Martin on the couch. Or risk some other person breaking in and killing them all.

Jon isn’t sure if it would be better to be killed by someone he knows and once called a friend.

He isn’t sure.

But when Tim goes to the kitchen to make them all some food which Jon’s lackluster supplies, Jon follows.

Jon can’t keep his eyes open. Hyper vigilant to the sounds of the kitchen. But he can’t keep his eyes open. And… it might be welcome if Tim’s curry ends up killing him. So long as the poison does its work quickly.

He doesn’t want to die, not really. He’d very much like to survive, but surviving is exhausting, and maybe he wouldn’t mind too much if he just… wasn’t. He doesn’t want to be a mystery, but he doesn’t want to be afraid anymore… to Hurt anymore. And he is so exhausted that he does Hurt. Endlessly. Not to mention the ragged holes in his skin, still inching ever closer to being ugly scars… or they would be if he could stop worrying them… making them bleed.

But as tired as he is, it doesn’t stop him from being afraid. Afraid of dying? Or maybe just the fear of not knowing When the end is coming. If he only knew, then he could relax until it was actually imminent. Not just remaining alert every moment.

Christ he wants to sleep.

And… he does… in a way. He dozes while Tim cooks.

But he’s afraid that it’s poisoned. He is afraid Tim will be angry if he can’t make himself eat it for fear… then again it probably won’t be dangerous because Tim and Martin will presumably also be eating…

He wakes up to a clatter of something. He wakes up with numbed arms and a pounding pulse. He wakes up with Tim too close holding a knife.

And later he can parse out, Tim is only too close because he is picking up the cutting board that fell off Jon’s cluttered and diminutive counter, but all he sees is Tim with a knife, Tim cursing loudly. And he can’t even scream because his chest is too tight.

This is it. This is the end of Jonathan Sims.

He’s going to die. He is certain he is.

He shrieks. And aborted, choked off sound. Pathetic.

And he almost thought he could trust Tim. He almost thought he could trust him. Almost.

When Tim drops the knife and makes his posture as non-threatening as possible, Jon hates himself. Still unable to draw a full breath, and he Hates himself.

He’s broken Tim’s trust again by not trusting him. Again. Not even the first time today. He wants to tear himself up from the inside out, flacking little bits of old and poorly preserved parchment. Wants to make those lines appear and send tiny flakes of paper and dust flying and have no more of himself. Nothing left. Just this gaping chasm. Which is all he deserves really. Leaving nothing but a mess, just like always. Horrible… wretched… selfish… guilty… pathetic… What is WRONG with him. This is Tim. Tim. His first friend at the institute. Tim who has always been there for him. Until Jon went and Fucked it up. Properly fucked it up, with no way back. And.. And… FUCK.

He’s crying again. Making a proper fool of himself.

“Jon?”

He can’t look at Tim. Can’t catch his breath. Catching and wheezing in a way that is pitting the asthma against the panic and making them both all the worse.

Tim isn’t as gentle as he can be when he shoves the inhaler at Jon for the second time today. But Jon’s been sitting at the edge of a panic attack for weeks, and this time, it had been his fault. Not his fault that Jon’s been a jumpy paranoid wreck, but his fault for being loud and angry and threatening and waving a knife around in front of the nervous wreck that used to be his friend.

“Jon, you’ve got to use the inhaler. If you don’t breath, I’m gonna wake Martin from his nap. And he’s gonna be pissed at me, and if he gets pissed at me, I’m gonna get pissed at you, and you don’t want that.”

Probably a mistake to threaten the person afraid of you, but he can’t fix his anger in one day. Not until Jon puts in the work too.

Okay he gets it. Jon can’t exactly help being paranoid. He isn’t gonna shame Jon for having shit mental health. That would make him a bloody hypocrite. But… Jon did not handle it well. You’re supposed to reach out if you’re having a breakdown! (Yes he knows… he’s still a bloody hypocrite but Less of one). So… Jon’s gonna have to make an effort, and Tim… will try to be less …threatening? Loud? Big?

Jon stops stalking him, Tim takes a good snoop around his flat, they take turns keeping watch for monsters so maybe they can get some goddamned sleep. Simple enough!

If Jon can stop having a panic attack while he’s trying to cook!

No… No. Not gonna be angry at Jon for having another panic attack. Hardly even came down from the last one. Still too paranoid to leave Tim alone in the kitchen, stubborn bastard. And what kind of an idiot only has a few withered vegetables in his fridge?

(The kind who is too paranoid to eat non-packaged food, Tim does NOT think to himself).

Still. Jon should have reached out. should have said something before it got this bad! This isn’t Tim’s Fault. He didn’t help, sure, but it isn’t his Fault! And he isn’t going to apologize and he isn’t going to forgive Jon. (At least for now).

Jon has to be better. Try to be better. Tim will meet him halfway, but Jon has to make the first step, and use the goddamn inhaler. But the threatening just made it worse.

Jon looking frail and skinny and tired, hands over his head again, bracing for an attack. Just like in his office, just like on the stairs. Crumped up in such a way that even if he weren’t having an asthma attack and a panic attack, it would probably still be hard to breathe.

“Boss, you’ve got to breathe. We did this earlier, I didn’t kill you then. Not gonna kill you now.” Tim moves slowly so Jon isn’t surprised, and guides him a little straighter in his chair, holding the inhaler for him, as Jon’s finger tips (and lips) are going blue.

And Jon’s still fighting him, although quickly losing what little strength he had to begin with.

It takes some soothing before Jon lets him near enough to get the inhaler in his mouth. “That’s good, boss. That’s it, bud. Now breathe with me.”

He has a hand on Jon’s narrow chest now. Sticky with cold sweat, heaving unevenly. And Tim can’t believe how fragile his friend(?) has become.

But as soon as Jon has breath in his body, the apologies start flowing out.

“Hey, now. None of that now. You can apologize until you’re blue in the face once you’re not, ya know… literally blue in the face. I do want those, but not until you’ve gotten some sleep and you eat some of this damn fine curry that I am somehow making from your truly pathetic supplies. I’ll take the first watch, then we can talk about it, and you can actually start doing better. Because that’s what I want. I want you to stop hiding from us. I get it, you can’t trust right now. Fine. But what you’ve been doing isn’t okay. You don’t trust me. That’s …well not fine, but I get it. I do. But stalking us, and yelling at Martin, and hiding from us isn’t how to deal with that. You don’t trust us, so tell us how to help. How can we prove to you that we aren’t gonna hurt you? So you can’t help being a paranoid wreck, that’s understandable, but you can’t take that out on us. That isn’t okay. So first curry, then sleep. Then we’ll talk. Okay?”

And Jon nods. Allowing himself to be helped to the couch while Tim finishes dinner.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #timothy stoker #tma fic #cw food #cw panic #cw paranoia #cw panic attack #cw mental health issues #cw suicidal ideation #cw insomnia #my writing #my fic #hurt/ comfort #cw strained friendships

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ofbardsandmonsters · 4 years ago

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Fill for square N5 - “pets” for the @stb-bingo ! read it here on ao3

***

Steve texts Tony when he gets home, just to be sure his boyfriend is still out and their apartment is empty. As soon as the affirmative response arrives, he pats the box sitting securely in his passenger seat and jumps out of the car. He only has a short window of time before Tony arrives home from work, and he wants to make this surprise perfect.

He leaves the box for the moment and pops his trunk, hands on his hips as he tries to plan the most efficient way to get all of the bags into the house. Part of him says to just take all of the bags at once, that way he can come back for the box and have everything done in two easy trips. But he can already hear Tony scolding him in the back of his head, so he starts with just a few. It still only takes him three trips, the last allowing him to take the remaining few bags in one hand and heft the huge bag of dog food onto his other shoulder.

Then all that’s left is the box.

Once all of the supplies are spread out on their living room floor, Steve jogs down the front steps of their apartment building and goes for the passenger door. He leans in, carefully picking up the slightly wiggling box on the seat. A little nose pokes out of one of the holes on the side, making him chuckle. Holding the box securely in both arms, he uses a foot to kick the door shut and heads back up the two flights of stairs to their apartment.

Inside, Steve sets the box down on the floor and sits next to it. There’s a soft bark from within the box, and as soon as he opens the flaps, two big ears and a curious little face pop out. He holds out his hand with a grin, and the little french bulldog puppy sniffs it for a second before eagerly bathing it with her tongue. The sensation makes Steve chuckle. He lets her go for a minute before lifting her out of the box and tucking her against his chest. Her tiny body looks even smaller in his large hands.

She’s small enough that he can hold her securely with one hand while he picks up a couple of the bags with the other and carries them into their bedroom. The puppy starts wiggling as they enter the room, excited to explore the space. So Steve sets the bags on the bed and crouches down to gently set her on the floor. He watches her waddle around on her squat little legs, nose to the carpet to sniff the space. The sight makes his heart swell even bigger.

Tony was going to lose it when he sees her.

Steve keeps one eye on the puppy while going through the bags from the pet store. He sets the plush bed in a corner of the room, tucking a soft blanket and one of the plush toys inside. The other toys he leaves in the bag and sets them on the dresser to be scattered around their apartment later.

He finds the newest member of their little family with her paws on the bathtub, staring intently at the porcelain. Steve laughs, scooping her up and carrying her back into the bedroom.

“What’s so fascinating in there, little miss? Are you gonna be a prima donna and enjoy taking long baths like your daddy?”

The puppy gets deposited on the bed, and Steve hopes the height will be a deterrent to her jumping off and getting into anything while he goes to hide her food and treats out of the way in the kitchen so Tony doesn’t seem them the minute he walks in the door. He doesn’t want the surprise to be spoiled too early.

Once he has everything stowed out of sight in the kitchen cabinets, Steve goes back into the bedroom, a pretty collar and bow in his hand. The puppy sits in the middle of their big bed, and she yips at him as soon as she sees him. He sits down next to her, scratching under her chin before tugging her into his lap. She goes without protest, watching his fingers as he unclasps the collar. As he moves to put it around her neck, she nips at his fingers and he winces at the sharp bite of her pointy puppy teeth.

“Easy there, you little hellion. You really are gonna be as bad as Tony, aren’t you?”

Steve figures out how to dodge her teeth fairly quickly, and gets the glittery gold collar clasped without any more bloodshed. The puppy scratches at it a little before ignoring it to tug at the big red bow he attaches next. But she’s easily distracted by one of the toys, just in time for Steve’s phone to chime with a message from Tony. His boyfriend is about twenty minutes out, so he leaves the puppy to chew on the toy and goes into the kitchen to start dinner.

There’s pasta boiling on the stove and Steve is steadily working his way through a small pile of veggies for a salad when he hears Tony’s key in the lock.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Steve snorts, grinning down at the cutting board while carefully working the knife. “In the kitchen!” A few moments later, two arms wrap around his waist and Steve feels the shorter man squish his face in between his shoulder blades. He sets the knife down and covers Tony’s hands with his own. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”

Whatever Tony tries to say is muffled in the back of his shirt, and Steve chuckles before turning around and pressing a kiss into dark curls. “What was that? I didn’t quite catch it.”

Tony huffs, but leans back just enough so he can look up at Steve and speak clearly. “I said, I hate interns. They all stare at me like they’re either terrified of me or completely starstruck. Or both. There’s only one in the entire bunch that actually looks promising.”

The blonde smiles and lets his hands drift down until they’re cupping Tony’s gorgeous backside. “They’re all in awe of your brilliance and your beauty. I thought you liked being admired by the masses.” He takes pleasure in the blush that spreads over Tony’s cheeks and down his neck.

“I need brilliant young minds working for me, Steve, not a bunch of starry eyed fans. Besides, you know the only person I want admiring me is you, hot stuff.”

Steve’s powerless to resist leaning down to steal Tony’s breath away with a kiss after that statement. They kiss for a minute, before the sound of the pasta water starting to boil makes Steve step away and turn to pour the raw noodles into the pan. “Can you go into the bedroom and get my phone off the charger? I wanna check the recipe again.”

“Sure thing, babe.”

He listens as Tony goes down the hall, holding his breath as he waits. He hears the door creak open, and then there’s nothing but silence until…

“S-Steve? What…”

Steve comes around the corner and finds Tony standing in their bedroom doorway, one hand still on the knob as he stares wide-eyed into the room. The puppy is oblivious to both of them, looking tiny in the center of their king sized bed where she’s laying wrapped around the toy Steve had used as a distraction.

The blonde comes up behind Tony and tugs him back against his chest, a mirror of the position they had been in a few minutes ago. He leans down a little to tuck his chin over the brunette’s shoulder. “Surprise, honey.”

Tony’s eyes well up a little with tears, and Steve can feel the way he trembles as his hands come up to clutch Steve’s arms.

“Steve… what is this?”

Steve walks them slowly into the room, and the movement finally catches the puppy’s attention. She abandons the toy and waddles on her short legs towards the edge of the bed, stubby little tail wiggling hard enough that it shakes her whole body. Tony collapses onto the bed and holds out his hands, the tears in his eyes finally spilling over when she comes to him immediately and climbs into his lap. Steve sits next to him and reaches out to scratch behind her ears.

“The one thing you’ve talked about more than anything, the entire time I’ve known you, is how much you always wanted a puppy but Howard always forbade it. So I made a promise to myself that one day when we had a place of our own, that’s the first thing I would get you. I went down to the shelter today, and there was a whole litter of them that had been abandoned. One look, and I knew she was meant for us. Her name is Daisy.”

Tony cradles the puppy in his still shaking hands, and carefully holds her up so they were eye to eye. Steve could see the instant the younger man fell in love, could see it in the brilliant smile that spreads across his face.

“Hello, Daisy. You’re just the prettiest girl in the whole wide world, aren’t you?”

She yips, as if agreeing that she was in fact the prettiest girl. Both men laugh, and Tony pulls her in to cradle her against his chest. He sighs, a soft and content sound that Steve knows well. Mentally, he’s cheering at how well this surprise worked out.

“You know I’m gonna spoil the shit out of her, Steve. This is your one and only warning, and I’m not sorry.”

Steve barks out a laugh, turning his head to press his forehead against Tony’s, eyes closed.

“I know, baby. I knew exactly what I was getting into when I picked her up. And don’t underestimate me. I’m probably going to be just as bad.”

“I love you, Steve.”

“I love you too, honey.”

#stb bingo #stony #stony fic #stevetony

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moonlitceleste · 4 years ago

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straight up villain (Villain AU)

This is a songfic based on “Villain” by K/DA ft. Madison Beer and Kim Petras. There’s really no plot to it; I started with a vague idea and just went along with whatever my brain told me. It kinda jumps around and I didn’t proofread this at all, so sorry if it’s confusing!

I’d suggest listening to the song and watching the visualizer video because it’s honestly such a vibe. If I could animate I’d totally make a video full of epic fight scenes, but unfortunately I don’t have that talent learned yet.

This version of the song is a little more chill, so if you find the original too intense you can always listen to the slowed one instead.

On the low Only love myself, no more Take you to the grave, I'll ghost I know I can be so cold In the dark Where I like to keep my heart Know I'm all bite, no bark Like to catch you way off guard

A shiver ran down the crime boss’ spine.

His eyes darted around the room, searching through the darkness.

Shadows flickered. He swore he could see movement in them.

The night was crime’s time to rule; people feared the darkness it brought.

Now, he was the scared one.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“Who’s there?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, revealing his false bravado.

Shaking hands gripped the gun around his waist, knuckles turning white with pressure.

Creeeakk.

The man whipped around, heart hammering in his chest.

Who—or what—was lurking in the shadows?

A snap echoed through the air as he fired a round.

Silence.

The only sound came from distant echoes of Gotham’s nightlife and the frantic beating in his throat.

He swore he had seen something sweep out in the corner of his vision, if only for a moment.

Perhaps it was the paranoia.

He slowly lowered his gun, shoulders relaxing—

Only to whip around when he felt a phantom hand brush his shoulder.

A pair of eyes flashed in the darkness, gone the next second, but he knew what he had seen, what he had felt.

Icy fear seized his body, taking hold of his limbs.

Something was watching him.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

“Stop toying around.”

The gravelly voice was met with a cackle, almost cat-like in nature.

That was his only warning before it stepped from the shadows: a creature out of his nightmares, shrouded in darkness like part of the night itself.

Sharpened black claws glinted under the streetlights, and dark black orbs pinned him in place as it slunk forward. He couldn’t move, frozen like a deer in headlights.

The thing was so human-like in shape, but it was too monstrous to be one.

A wicked smile spread across its face, and his face blanched as he caught sight of the fangs protruding from the top.

The creature stalked forward like a predator chasing its prey.

Then, it pounced.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of drеad 'Til you go pow

It was common knowledge within Gotham’s criminal underworld that the Arkham Knight worked alone. He played by his own rules, merciless in his distribution of justice.

But lately, it was rumored that the Knight had an ally.

There was no proof of this, no sightings to go by, but there was a subtle shift that could be felt—an underlying sensation of imminent danger.

Gunfights and confrontations lessened, and the Knight’s enemies started disappearing without a trace. No blood, body, or evidence of struggle could be found; it was as if they had simply ceased to exist.

Whoever this new player was, they were dangerous.

Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind And I treat you likе a prize, then I throw you to the side? And am I really that bad if l love to make you mad? And get happy when you're sad, only care about a bag

Jason shook out his hair, metal helmet in his hands, and leveled a glance at his companion.

“Did you really have to take so long to kill him?”

The two were in one of their few safe houses, recuperating after their long night of fighting.

“It’s the thrill of the chase.”

Marinette, no longer transformed, stated this as if it were obvious—which it was. Jason had been with her long enough to understand her concept of fun. She leaned forward and stretched, looking much like the animal after which her magic ring was themed.

“We can’t waste time playing around. There are more important things to be done,” he growled.

Marinette simply giggled, bounding over to bat her eyes at him with mock innocence.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Her smile grew wicked, arms darting out to wrap around his waist.

“You look so good when you’re mad,” she purred.

Jason leaned down, and their lips met in a kiss.

In control That's how I like it and I'm never letting go, nah Never had a soul (soul) So you ain't taking nothing from me when you go, nah

Crack.

Marinette smirked as her staff made contact with the target’s skull.

Normally she would use Cataclysm for a more swift kill, but the remains were needed in order to send a message to Arkham Knight’s enemies.

They were growing more volatile, more desperate to expose whatever they thought she was.

Phantom Killer, they called her. The name sounded like something out of a badly-written horror movie. Marinette much preferred the one she had already: Reine de L'ombre.

Of course, she didn’t need a title, but Jason had come up with it. She was pleasantly surprised by his naming skills—it meant Shadow Queen, for she was a queen, and Jason her knight, as he put it.

She didn’t feel any remorse as the pile of bodies below her grew. Perhaps this made her soulless, but she didn’t need one anyway.

Marinette had all she wanted right beside her.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“...you do what you gotta do, am I right?”

Marinette nodded at the man standing across from her, a smile on her red-painted lips.

He had been leering at her from across the bar the whole night, and although that was the goal, she was still disgusted. He had to be at least twenty years older than her. Heck, he was old enough to be her dad.

The intel she and Jason had acquired said the businessman had a thing for younger women, which was apparent. According to the same source, the company he ran was also a front for trafficking and drug rings.

Marinette wanted to see him bleed.

“How about we take this to my room?”

The comment was abrupt, and Jason would probably kill her for her indiscretion later, but she was getting tired of the man’s blabbering.

Her hand moved up his arm, the expensive material of his suit cool against her fingers. She bit her lips seductively, which seemed to convince him.

Bingo.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (yeah, yeah) Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

Marinette gritted her teeth as the man tried to reach for her butt again.

She attempted to stop him by saying she wanted to wait until they entered her room, but he was persistent. She couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

As soon as she opened the door to her hotel room, she shoved him inside and up against the wall. He seemed to be expecting a kiss, but she punched him hard. For a crime lord he certainly wasn’t a good fighter. Maybe it was the drugs she slipped into his drink earlier that contributed to his quick defeat.

Marinette cuffed his arms behind his back with a pair she had stashed earlier. She could have waited for the man to undress so she could ensure he didn’t have any weapons, but she had gone through enough torture already. Her eyes didn’t need to see that.

She turned him around, giving him a smile that promised warmth and kindness, before pulling out a dagger and pressing it to his throat.

“Now talk.”

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread 'Til you go pow

“Claws in.”

Marinette’s black suit faded away, revealing her now blood-spattered red dress.

She flopped onto the couch, not bothering to remove her shoes or dirty clothing.

After hours of trying to get information out of the businessman, she only managed to wring a few coded phrases from him. He seemed to only be a figurehead of his shady organization rather than its actual leader.

A Cataclysm later and here she was, back to the drawing board.

“Jay?” Marinette called.

It was unusually quiet in the safe house; usually after solo missions they’d greet one another with a kiss. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Jason?”

Silence.

Marinette huffed. She knew exactly what this was about.

Bang, bang You can do anything No fear, no pain Listen to your brain go Go stupid, go dumb, go stupid and Then we go insane, woah Just do what I say Follow me, I'll lead the way

“Are you jealous?”

Jason whipped his head around, caught off-guard by the appearance of his girlfriend in his doorway. It seemed as if she wasn’t wasting any time.

“I’m not jealous. That guy couldn’t get you if he tried.”

“Then why are you mad?”

His jaw clenched.

He wished he hadn’t agreed to let Marinette extract the information alone; Jason almost wished he was there to see the man in pain.

“He was putting his hands all over you.”

“It was for a mission. Besides, I thought you said he couldn’t get me even if he tried?”

Her last words were said with a lilt, and Jason knew she was riling him up. He couldn’t stay mad, anyway—she had a point.

He deflated and leaned forward to brush his lips against her. Marinette smiled into the kiss, then pulled away. She looked him up and down, a glint in her eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, hmm?”

She paused, then wrinkled her nose.

“After I take a shower. I don’t want this guy’s blood on me any longer.”

Maybe they acted stupid sometimes, but the two always followed one another in the end.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price (Woo-ah) All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain (Yeah) Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (Woo-ah!)

Marinette panted deeply, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A mass of bodies surrounded her, but she wasn’t paying attention. This wasn’t just a battle. It was war.

It was a fight for her life, and she wasn’t going down now.

Reine de L'ombre tore through her enemies like a terrifying force of darkness, one after the other. The Arkham Knight fought by her side, fueled by pure destruction.

Maybe they wouldn’t make it out, but they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread

'Til you go pow

A week later, a couple rose hand-in-hand from the ranks as new rulers of the Gotham Underworld.

Reine de L'ombre and the Arkham Knight—a queen and her king.

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh

#maribat #celestewrites #jasonette #cel's fics

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freckledmountain · 4 years ago

Text

Lulling comfort

By @freckledmountain for @romeoandjulietyouwish

Rating: Gen

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark

Summary:

"Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between. … He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again."

Or, an AU where you hear whatever your platonic soulmate sings or hums! :D

For the @friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Read on Ao3

Chapter 1: Change

Some-

BODY ONCE TOLD ME

the WORLD IS GONNA ROLL ME

I AIN´T THE SHARPEST TOOL IN THE sHE-ED

Peter´s endearing screech and dramatics at the starting notes startles a fond laugh out of Tony, making DUM-E beep in curious surprise.

The bot has a screwdriver in his grasp and usually Tony´d chastise him for grabbing tools without permission (he has not forgotten the last lab incident, thank you) but right now he´s much too preoccupied resisting the urge to join in the kid´s slumber party via his own singing.

God bless karaoke.

Peter had looked sheepish when he´d mentioned it to him, the little get-together his scary girlfriend and Ned had planned this weekend at the latter´s place after a ridiculously long week of exams. Tony had absolutely no problem listening to his kid´s voice in his head, but it was still sweet of Peter to ask beforehand.

“You know I work best with music anyway.” He´d said, remembering all the times he´d listened to Peter perform dramatically to songs on the radio.

Peter´d hunched his shoulders a bit, smiling. “Yeah, okay, okay, I just wanted to make sure because Ned might ask me to duet to Take on me again, and last time I sang it you were on a meeting and FRIDAY sent me that video of you mouthing the words and Ms. Potts looked like the disappointed dad from that Shawn Mendes vine- “

…even if he had no idea what the kid was talking about sometimes.

He´d gasped and placed a hand to his chest, feigning offence. “Have you forgotten the time you had Call me maybe on loopin my head for an entire day?”

“…It was a dare?”

“Hmm” he´d said, raising an eyebrow playfully as Peter dissolved into laughter. “whatever you say, bud.”

His smile softens unconsciously at the memory as he methodically tweaks a few things in his nanotech suit, still listening to Peter belt out lyrics in his head. Truth be told, he misses the kid working alongside him like usual, but he knows how important spending time with his friends is to Peter.

(The parenting books say it´s imperative too, although of course he hasn´t ever read, purchased five on a whim or fret over anything of the sort. Obviously.)

He hopes Ned and Michelle´s respective other halves don´t mind the kids crooning 80´s rock on a Friday evening, but he guesses if they´re anything like them, they probably won´t complain. Soulmates are cool like that.

He remembers all the times Rhodey had told him about his soulmate´s voice inside his own head, how he´d suddenly perk up and grin at whatever melody he could hear, how he´d start humming randomly to join in.

Tony had grown up hearing nothing but his own treacherous thoughts for the longest time, almost losing hope completely at the possibility of having a soulmate right up until adulthood. Heavy metal music blasted over his speakers constantly whenever he was busy in his workshop, but he never joined in. There were moments when he´d thought his love for singing would be soured forever, since apparently the universe or whoever was in charge didn´t have a problem leaving him without someone out there to share it with him in his head.

Thankfully, he always did have Rhodey, and boycould he kick-start the fun in singing again with his flawless Mariah Carey impressions. He´d loved the few times he´d heard Pepper sing too, and there´d even been one memorable instance where he´d surprised Happy vocalizing in an unexpectedly pleasant lilt.

Hearing Peter sing though...simply put, there was nothing else like it.

-and we could aLL use a little changeeeeeeeEEE

…Yes, nothing was quite like it.

Tony shakes his head, smiling, and grabs his phone to text May about the kid´s shenanigans. She´d been more than a little concerned when Peter and him had figured out who the other was, (that was one heck of a superhero fundraiser) but now they´ve become much closer, and Tony can genuinely say they´re friends. He´s glad to have her on his side, because May Parker is, in Peter terms, a very kind powerhouse, and not someone he´d like to mess with.

He´s about to press send when the lights in the room flash red.

Tony´s up and summoning his gauntlet attentively in a second, right as FRIDAY pulls up screens around him, showing footage of the emergency.

“What am I looking at, FRI?”

“Around 30 heavily armed machines have emerged in Midtown Manhattan, boss.” She responds, as the room fills with projections. The robots on screen are huge and ugly as heck, about the width and height of three school buses together. They´re making their way through the streets surprisingly quickly for how heavy they look. People run away, steering clear of their illuminated blasts. “They appear to be releasing high frequency blasts approximately every ten seconds. Local police have just arrived at the scene and are requesting backup, since the blasts are causing structural damage to the surrounding buildings. The source of these machines is unknown.”

“Tell the team to suit up and meet me there.”

“They have already been alerted, boss, but I´ll relay your message as well.”

The rest of his suit materializes around him, and he makes haste to get to the nearest window, half worried and half downright annoyed at whoever was behind this.

“Another one for the robot bingo card on means of world domination.” He says to himself, unimpressed. Just one week without this crap…

He soars above the sky nonetheless, blasting his way towards the fight.

Please stay put kid, he wishes, even as the singing stops.

---

Three blocks.

He´s three blocks away from where Peter is making his way back when it happens.

As big and fast as the robots are, Tony can tell they weren´t exactly made by the finest of the loons who regularly try to take over New York. Not to mention they´re absolutely appalling to look at, whoever designed these things had absolutely no taste, Tony thinks, crushing his twenty-second bot with the suit´s repulsors. It hasn´t exactly been easy, since the wretched machines have no real apparent motive but to blow up everything in their path, but within an hour it seems they´re done with the worst of it.

He can see Nat and Wanda dealing with the remains of one of the last ones below, while a little way away Cap´s talking with a few cops, scoping out the damage. Even though the air is permeated with smoke and there´s rubble in some places, there are no casualties, and they´ve thankfully emptied out the buildings that got wrecked. SHIELD will take care of the rest.

He flies over the skyscrapers, keeping an eye out for any other bots, but it seems like FRIDAY´s finished identifying all of them. He activates a private line on the comms to talk to Peter.

“Done securing the area from whatever that disastrous colour scheme was?”

He can hear Peter´s good-natured groan as his location pops up on Tony´s screen, six blocks away.

“I know, right? I can wear mismatched socks for a week and rock them no problem, but blue with like, eye-melting neon? Yikes.”

“Exactamundo. Couldn´t agree with you more, kid. But hey, it looks like you might actually be able to get back to your sleepover after all. Can´t wait to hear what alarming chorus is going to keep me up until midnight.”

“Oh you just wait, we´re doing ABBA next and it´s gonna be so-“

FRIDAY tears through the conversation with an alarm, but it´s precious seconds too late.

A gasp. An abrupt thud resounding through the comms. A scream. Peter´s.

Tony´s blood freezes in his veins.

“Peter? Peter!?”

He gets there in less than a minute and sees one of the bots with its blaster pointed at Peter, still smoking from the shot.

He obliterates it without a second thought, his mind swirling with fear and rejection at FRIDAY´s next words as he runs towards Spiderman´s crumbled figure.

“No heartbeat detected, boss”.

Chapter 2

The first time he´d ever heard Peter´s voice, he´d been running on three hours of sleep, a frankly heart-attack inducing dose of caffeine, and no motivation whatsoever to sit down with stuffy board members for five hours.

It didn´t exactly come as a surprise that for the first few milliseconds of the “Itsy bitsy spider” chant in his head he´d thought, confusingly, that it might just have been his mind finally resorting to the resurface of old nursery rhymes as a way to tell him to go the frick to sleep.

His heart however, was another matter.

As ridiculous and improbable as it sounded, a new something in his chest rose even before he knew what was happening. He might not have been a machine, but something slowly and irrevocably clicked into place the more he heard that gentle voice go on about water spouts and suns.

He´d stopped short in realization. Blinked.

And then smiled wide enough to lose himself in the mirth of it.

He´d run back to his workshop right after that, laughing like mad with the absolute mayhem of emotions coursing through his whole being, almost crashing into Pepper in the process. She´d looked back at him in concern, questions already forming in her lips, before Tony had frantically mimed at her to keep quiet, wanting to listen to the soft voice´s final notes.

Once the song finished, Tony may or may not have let out a loud shriek of sheer joy and told an increasingly delighted Pepper all about it, practically bursting with excitement.

“Pep! Wait, what do I do now!? Do I- Do I sing it back to him? Do I sing another- crap I don´t even know any children´s songs, JARVIS, JARVIS!”

In the end he´d had to phone Rhodey to yell the news ecstatically to him, because he´d just found maybe the universe hadn´t wanted to screw him over after all, and he felt like screaming it from the rooftops. The little voice was sweet and shy and boyish and happy, and about the best thing Tony had heard in his damn life. He couldn´t have contained himself if he´d tried, and heck if he was going to any time soon.

(“Tones, what- “

“Rhodey!”

“…was that you or a screech owl.”

“It happened! There´s- a little kid! Somewhere! Spiders! My soulmate!”

“The- wait what-? “)

Music had gotten an entirely new meaning after that, from Disney songs to musicals to classic rock, and everything else in between.

…

He´d do anything to listen to Peter sing to them again.

Burning.

He´s burning all over.

Screaming in pain, he tries to escape from the scorching heat, but it´s everywhere, it´s everything, he´s the pain, he´s the fire, everything hurts-

And then as soon as it appears, the pain is gone.

He opens his eyes, blinking woozily.

“Oh, thank God.”

His vision blurs all over for a minute. There´s dampness in the corners, left over from tears.

Tears?

He makes an attempt to sit up, but there´s a hand holding his shoulder gently. He blinks again.

Tries to decipher his surroundings.

He´s laying down in a mostly deserted, grubby looking street. A figure kneels close to him, some sort of red and gold robot type thing. He narrows his eyes at it, trying to figure out why it feels so familiar…but finds, to a detached kind of surprise, that he can´t.

He has no idea what happened.

The robot seems to be very relieved for some reason, just staring up at the sky for a couple of seconds, taking a deep, wheezy breath.

Even with his head feeling like wet cotton, he looks at him with concern. The robot sounds seconds away from fainting. Is he…alright?

When the robot´s face opens and a man´s head peeps out (cool!), he almost jumps back in surprise.

And then…

Well. He still doesn´t have a clue who this person is, but as soon as he sees the man´s expression of utter joy and relief, something inside him settles. Safe.

He blinks in confusion at the feeling. He knows this person. He does.

But who is he?

“Pete? You´re back bud. Do you feel okay?” The man´s (man? robot? man-robot? cyborg? figment of his imagination?) smile fades slightly, looking at him in worry. “FRIDAY” Friday? Who on earth is he talking to? “didn´t you say the CPR made his vitals-“

“I´m- I´m fine” he says, because enormous confusion aside, he is. Maybe his head is scrambled, and he feels exhausted, but he has a feeling he´s been in worse shape before.

A feeling.

The man (he´s decided on man) starts going on about robots, and getting him to a tower with someone called Dr. Cho, but all he can do is blink back, his confusion increasing.

“I´m really sorry” he interrupts, knowing he´s probably going to disappoint the man, but needing to push forward even so, “who- who are you? Are you-? “

He tries to put a word on the feeling seeing the man´s face had evoked in him before, tries to remember who he is or what he has to do with the man or why he feels so…safe. So safe. With him there, even with all the questions going round and round inside his head.

“Are you my dad?”

The man´s face stills. For a second, it looks like his brain short-circuits.

Mood, a thought rings out in his head, unbidden.

That´s when he hears it.

A huge metallic…thing coming through the street towards them, and he doesn´t know why but it makes his heart thump like a rabbit´s in a cage, and suddenly he gets a flash of remembering pain, and he knows these machines, these machines are dangerous, and what if the man gets hurt too-

He pushes the man behind him as he desperately tries to look for somewhere they can hide-

-but the man grabs his hand first and hurries them both towards the sturdiest-looking car on the street, crouching so they´re out of sight.

“Uh, alright. I- this must be really weird for you, but it´ll be okay. Just stay here for now, ´kay? I´ll- We´ll figure this out. You with me?” The man holds his gaze for a second, and it´s so sincere, he finds himself nodding.

The man smiles. “Okay. Give me a sec.” And then he gets up and turns towards the robot.

What the-what´s he doing!?

He reaches out clumsily to drag him back, but the man´s face gets obscured by his robot mask once more and he…

Flies?

The frick? He thinks in bewilderment, as he sees the man lift off and attack the robot with blasts coming from his hands. My maybe-dad can fly!?

Either he lives in a sci-fi novel, or he´s going absolutely nuts.

Could be both at this point, frankly.

The whiz of gold and red fighting the robot is almost quicker than his sight can keep up with, but he persists, looking out anxiously for any opening the robot might have to take the man down so he can try to warn him about it. There is none though, the robot might be exceedingly fast, but the man remains unyielding. He takes another look at the giant machine and sees it´s blaster-

And then it´s like someone takes his brain and shakes it around everywhere, and the throbbing is so sudden he kneels and clutches his head tightly to keep it from falling apart. His thoughts feel shattered and tampered with, and the pain-

He cries out in agony, and tears fill his eyes again.

The man! I have to look out for him!

He tries to listen to the fight again, but just as he tries to focus in on it it´s like a tsunami of yells and police sirens and voices washes over him, and noise, why is there so much noise-

Overwhelmed, he kneels until his forehead touches the grainy concrete, and wishes he would just pass out.

He doesn´t, though.

Among the oversaturated ocean of noise, one adds to the mix.

Except this one isn´t grating. This one doesn´t make everything seem like too much.

Because it feels like it´s coming from within himself.

He´s at a loss for what´s happening, but the voice slowly and lightly blocks out all the other noise, grounding him in a gentle tune. In a flash, he recognizes the song. He knows where he heard it last.

Mr Stark.

And he remembers.

“Kid? What are you doing up?”

He shrugs, sinking deeper into the couch cushions. Baby Tarzan laughs onscreen.

He half expects Mr Stark to push him for more details, but he seems to understand Peter´s not in a talking mood and walks up to him solemnly.

“Scoot.”

He does, and Mr Stark plops down next to him, wordlessly extending his arms out in invitation. Peter falls into the hug gratefully and sighs. Exhaustion pulls down on his bones, but he´d rather not get back to the nightmare he woke up from. Mr Stark snorts softly at something in the movie, and then they both jump a bit at the sudden loud gorilla roar. They keep watching the movie, and Peter´s curls are brushed back gently in a soothing motion.

He wants to sleep. But he can´t.

But he´s safe here, isn´t he?

His chest grows heavier as he thinks of the dream, and when he blinks, his eyelids dampen. He hasn´t shed a tear yet, but Mr Stark must sense something again because his hand at Peter´s hair stills.

And then he starts singing.

It´s a lulling comfort, and Peter melts into the embrace, allowing his tired eyes some rest.

He´s safe.

Come stop your crying

It will be alright

Just take my hand

Hold it tight

I will protect you

From all around you

I will be here

Don't you cry

He´s safe.

With a final shot from Iron man´s repulsors, the robot powers down, and Peter runs out to meet Mr Stark, almost crushing his ribs in a hug.

“Woah, woah!” The helmet´s visor pulls up, revealing a grinning Tony. “Did that actually work? FRIDAY told me you were freaking out and I thought it might help calm you down.” He says, hugging him back. “But it did more than that, didn´t it?”

Peter´s too relieved to do anything but nod happily into his shoulder, but he gets the point across.

They stay there for a full minute, just holding on to each other. Until Tony grumbles out a “and I can´t believe you remembered Phil Collins before Iron man, seriously.” and Peter bursts out laughing, lightening the mood.

“The man didn´t sing that soundtrack in five languages for nothing, Mr Stark. It slaps.”

Tony hides his smile in Peter´s curls, and hugs him close.

#Writing #The friendly neighborhood exchange #WHOOO #irondad and spiderson #I love them #platonic soulmates

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