#crashing my head into a brick wall without a helmet

[slytherinshua]

oh… oh :( uhm it’s 6:08 and my alarm went off at exactly 6 so yk I woke up and immediately grabbed my phone so I could read this dkdjksjdksksksk UHM WOW :((( that was so perfect axe :(((( like srsly that’s everything I love in a fic I’m gonna cry it’s so perfect!!!!! wookie:( even tho it’s angsty it’s the good kind of angsty cause hurt comfort angst is the best 👹👹👹👹 and like stop the mention that his heart hurts more than his injuries and just the softness and intimacy of the entire fic I’m so :((( THE VIBES YK 👹👹👹👹 like I wanna bite gunwook also I wanna make another deal w u asap hello I need more of this I’m literally obsessed with this so bad I’m gonna read it again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again and again like

GUNWOOK 💔💔💔💔💔💔

UGH I LOVE IT SM ITS THE PERFECT ANOUNT OF FLUFF AND ANGST AND GUNWOOK IS SO DKDJSKJSKSKSMDJ I KNEW THIS WOULD SLAY I LITERALLY KNEW IT WOULD SLAY SO GOOD AND U DIDNT BELIEVE ME U WERE LIKE NO 👹👹👹👹 ITS BAD 👹👹👹👹 SHUT UP AXE MY BABY ILY BUT U SLAY HARDER THAN U REALIZE EVERY SINGLE TIME CAUSE UR AMAZING AND UR WRITING IS AMAZING AND ILL NEVER GET TIRED OF IT AND PLSPLSPSKSKSLSK WRITE MORE FOR GUNWOOK I NEED IT SO BAD DKJDKSJDJS

also screaming at the mental image of him in red plaid pyjama pants and a black shirt oh ur absolutely insane for that literally ur going to jail for that I’m locking u up rn I know I asked for it w the glasses too NO UR GONNA GO TO JAIL 👹👹👹 THIS IS NOT OKAY IM NOT OKAY MY MENTAL SANITY IS GONE IM GONNA JUMP OUT THE WINDOW

promise

# author's note ... oh i love making deals w zanna bc i get to write this banger (idk what possesed me) and she will write me pt 2 of this masterpiece mwahahahah (go read it btw its so good like vampire hanbin>>>>>)

# setting ... boxer gunwook

# summary ... gunwook comes home after a fight, missing a date... but he can't understand why are you quiet

# warnings ... angsty, hurt to comfort (i think...?), mention of wounds n blood, nursing trope (its me n zanna, come on.... if uve been around for a while u know we r sucker for nursing teehee) also it was written at 2am so sorry for any misrtakes !!!

# word count ... 1k

the door opened quietly but gunwook could swear it was the loudest noise ever. your small but cozy apartment was dipped in the darkness of the night, only occasional beams of moonlight shining on the floor. 

however, there was one more source of light coming from the kitchen. gunwook sighed and took off his shoes. 

his footsteps were soft, trying to keep the noise as low as possible. maybe you’re asleep. maybe you forgot and just left the light on… 

his hopes died upon seeing your silhouette. your back was facing him, legs crossed and head resting on something (probably your arm). 

“you’re home” 

your voice was cold and stung like frostbite but gunwook knew it was well deserved. 

“i’m home” he whispered and you finally turned around. 

now it was your turn to sigh upon seeing his bruised face, busted brow and dried blood on his cheek, along with some cuts. 

“couldn’t you at least take care of yourself?” you murmured and stood up, reaching for the usual spot with a heavy heart. 

gunwook stayed silent because you both knew the answer. he preferred when you took care of him. 

without additional words from you, he went to change into fresh pyjamas that he kept at your place. then he swapped his eye contacts to his glasses, scanning his injuries in the mirror. 

guilt washed over his gut, wounded knuckles turning white from gripping the sink. you’re too sweet for him. 

“wookie?” your soft voice called him, causing a pang in his heart. 

your boyfriend soon enough came out from the bathroom, a sad look on his face. if it wasn’t for his savaged face, you’d think it was a normal night. his black t-shirt, red and black checkered pj pants, glasses resting on the bridge his nose and framing his handsome face. even his raven-colored locks were still slightly wet, probably after the shower he took at the gym. 

gunwook sat on the chair you were previously sitting, spreading his legs and resting his fists on top of his thighs. 

you took a quick glance at the clock, which read 1:31am. your boyfriend caught your worried look and bit the inside of his cheek. 

there were so many things you could say, yell. how he forgot about the date that he promised you two weeks ago. how late it was. how he got hurt again. how he didn’t let you know where was he… or if he was fine. it puzzled gunwook; why were you so quiet? 

he closed his eyes, unable to bare your eyes on him. focusing on the calming feeling of your fingers instead, he tried to think of a reason. maybe you will break up with him? 

you both knew that with his lifestyle of a boxer it won’t be easy. you knew he wouldn’t give up on his passion and way of living but he promised you to stop being careless. 

your fingertips gently caressed the unharmed skin of his right cheek. then he felt a stinging sensation on the left onr, just where he got hit by someone’s fist. 

gunwook felt two or three fingers tucking his hair away from his forehead softly, followed by a feather light kiss on that spot. 

only then he realized it’s your way of speaking. the kiss meant ‘i love you’. the fingers tracing his nose gently to see if it’s broken shouted ‘you should’ve been more careful!’. a slightly wet smudge being smeared by shaking fingers right under his busted brow meant ‘i was worried’.

gunwook's eyes shot open and he realized you’re crying, crystal tears trickling down your face. 

“hey, it’s fine. i’m here now, i’m fine. look, i’m in one piece” he choked out and grabbed your hand to cup it against his right cheek. you just nodded your head, trying to silence the sobs “y/n…” 

you raised your other hand to your eyes, hiding your face into your elbow. 

“you’re so reckless” a muffled cry leaving your lips made his heart clench “and… and, it’s not even about the date anymore. i just wish i could fall asleep without worrying about you, about your life” 

you’re standing right in front of him, between his legs, shaking and crying. and gunwook felt helpless, also taken aback by your words. 

he knew you were worried about him but every time he’d miss a date because of his fights you would say you’re angry. angry because you didn’t get to go on it, angry because you wasted time preparing. 

now he just realized it was a lie. it was a cover up for your true feelings, for your energy draining and - so it seemed - endless worry. 

“you don’t have to worry about me, sunshine. i know i get home looking like something tan me over but i always win” gunwook hummed, his thumb tracing over your knuckles. you just shook your head, face still hidden in your elbow. 

your boyfriend moved his hands to your hips and pulled you down into his lap, ignoring the stinging bruises on his legs. 

instantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck and started crying your heart out into his shoulder. his large, calloused from fighting, hands found its way to your back. rubbing it in soothing motions, gunwook gave you time to let it all out and eventually calm down. ignoring his own aching wounds (the biggest one being the red muscle clenching inside his ribcage), he let the time pass. 

finally you leaned away, eyes puffed. gunwook immediately gently cupped your face with one of his hands, wiping the wet traces after your crystal tears. 

“you didn’t answer your phone” a faint, barely audible, whisper escaped your lips. gunwook moved his thumb and wiped it over your upper lip. 

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what i was thinking” he replied honestly, locking eyes with yours. 

“i know you love boxing, wookie. but promise me…” your voice trailed off, hand wrapping around his wrist. gunwook looked at you expectantly, already willing to agree on anything “promise me to come back home safely. to me. please” 

“i promise” your boyfriend hummed and sealed the promise with a long, passionate kiss. despite his aching body - and even more aching heart upon seeing your state - he put all of his energy and life force into that kiss. and you felt that. because if there was something gunwook was passionate about other than boxing, it was you; loving you.

masterlist <3

taglist. @slytherinshua ,, @haecien ,, @weird-bookworm

[doc-roe-gave-me-rabies]

I Got Tagged 3:

rules: you will be given a word. share one sentence/excerpt from your wip(s) that start with each letter of that word.

@daretobeking has seen god and killed them. My word is PROTECT

P

“Probably was, baby-face.” Spina teased, much to the chagrin of Babe.  “Hey! I am not baby-faced!” Chuckling and shaking his head, Spina waved his hand at nothing in particular, “You’re young, they call you Babe, you still got a bit of freckles and a fresh look in your eyes. Very baby-faced.” That earned him a lighthearted punch to the knee, which he merely retaliated gently. Like a pretend schoolyard scuffle. All rankings and experience between the two were forgotten in that moment.

R

Roe whipped his head around to stare at him, and he ducked his head, pulling his helmet over his eyes.  “You really gotta work on that poker face, Spina.” The Cajun drawled after a moment, clapping him on the shoulder.  “My poker face’s just fine if I don’t have to laugh,” He challenged, knocking on Roe’s helmet. 

O

“Oats’s dead.” Spina bit his tongue. “Plane crashed. Took Meehan down with it too.” He’d heard of rumors surrounding Sobel’s forced reassignment from easy, but the death still came as a surprise. “So Winters’s in charge now. I see.” Roe was watching him for signs of stress or anxiety, as he often did. And as Spina often did, he kept his face a mask of playfulness and nonchalance.

T

The elder shoved his hand in the younger’s face, trying to pry the energetic boy off of him, but only twisting himself further into the dirt. Distantly, he recalled the possibility of his father scolding him about getting grass stains on his shirt, as well as hanging out with that “bad influence of a boy”, but that didn’t matter much now. His hand twisted from where it was pinned under his torso to grab and rip a handful of grass out of the soft dirt. “I’m warning you, Bill!” 

E

“Europe, huh?” A voice from the bunk above him mused, and a head poked down. He was a redhead with bright blue eyes, a lopsided smile. He couldn’t have been much older than 20, with the optimism of a teenager still clinging to the roundness of his cheeks.  “Europe.” Spina mused back, righting his position so he was propped against his arm rather than laying down. “You’ll be a long way from home, kid.” “I’m not a kid.” The man—practically a boy—shot back, and Spina merely raised an eyebrow.

C

“Clear from the streets! British armor incoming!” Came a shout from the crowd, and suddenly there was a wall of people pressing him backwards. Spina might have been crushed if he hadn’t felt a hand yank him to the side and back… Into a wall.  The hand caused him to stumble and slam into the stone brick, then fall back against a chest. “Motherfucker!” He hissed. It didn’t hurt, but it damn well caught him by surprise.  Above him, a voice grumbled, “Payback, asshole.” That was all Guarnere said as he shuffled past, placing a hand against his chest to keep him pressed against the wall.  “For what?” The medic demanded, but he disappeared into the throng of people without giving an answer.

T

Through the field, into the trees, then into a ditch beside a road embankment. Babe was moved up the line, back to Guarnere’s and Bull’s platoons while Spina stayed sandwiched between soldiers, watching and waiting for orders.   Soon enough, they were moving again, crossing through a field. Ahead of him, two men were having a conversation, but before he could attempt to overhear, Al crept up to his side. “Why’ve you got a knife, Spina? Thought we weren’t allowed those.”

I don't have mutuals in this fandom. Wah.

[dccomicsimagines]

A Long Day - Jason Todd x Reader

Requested by Anon - Can you make a oneshot or hc on Arkhamverse!Jay where he comes home real beat up and tired and hurt so (wife)reader has give him a bath or else there'll be blood everywhere and just like 2 cups of fluff and a dash of angst? (Also, not NSFW)ak

***

His entire body felt like an open wound with salt rubbed into it for good measure. A deep, primal groan came from deep in his chest as he heaved himself through the window of the apartment and crashed onto the floor. Soft thumps came from the ceiling. Jason sighed. The upstairs neighbors were at it again. Like rabbits. He rolled over to glare up at the ceiling.

"Jason." An angel appeared in his vision, looking down at him. Their brow furrowed. "Are you alright?" The angel disappeared and Jason heard the window shut tightly. The lock he installed clicked firmly.

"Just a little...sore." He pulled down his hood and took off his helmet. His stomach twisted at the thought of showing his face, but he forced himself to relax. The feeling never went away, no matter how many years had passed.

"Yes, this looks like a little." You appeared over him again. That little smile pulled at your lips. Jason's heart skipped a beat. How did he deserve someone like you? "You got blood on the carpet again."

Jason moaned, pushing himself to sit up. "Sorry, sweetheart. I'll clean it up." He shrugged off his leather jacket. You kneeled down to help him wiggle out of the arms.

You hummed. "I think a bath is an order. You're not going into our bed like this." Jason undid his belt and handed you his guns. You checked the safety and moved to put them away. "Can you get to the bathroom on your own? I'll prep the bath."

"I'll be fine." He stripped where he was to avoid getting dirt, blood, and grime everywhere else. In only his boxers, he picked up his suit and took it the bathroom. He froze at the sight of you kneeling beside the bathtub. Your hand was in the water, testing it.

You turned to look at him. "Jay? You okay?" The love in your eyes hit him like a ton of bricks. How could he still be so surprised? It's been years. The J burned into his cheek stun like it always did when he remembered it was there. How could you love him when he was a messed up, tortured man?

"Fine." He dropped his suit and jacket on the floor before he covered himself up with them. Part of him wanted to hide his scars from you. The shame was still there, even with the reassurance you had already seen every scar he had. You nodded, adding bubbles and salts to the water.

"I have to say. I'm relieved to see most of the blood isn't yours." You eyed him. "You busted your knuckles again, huh?" You got to your feet and grabbed the first aid kit. "May I?" You held out your hand carefully.

Jason blinked, confused. He realized he had been staring at you the entire time. "Oh, yeah. Thanks, sweetheart. I knew I married you for some reason."

Your laughter was music to his ears. "I knew it." You winked at him before you tended to his knuckles.

He flinched, hissing when you dapped the cut on his knuckle with alcohol. "I'm surprised you are still awake. I thought you would have went to bed."

"It's hard to sleep knowing about...well...you know." You bit your lip, not meeting his eye.

"(Y/N), you don't have to worry. It won't get bad this time. I have it covered." He pulled his hand away from you and hugged you. "There won't be another gang war. I'm stopping it."

"Jay, I know you're working on it, but you're only one person." You rested your cheek against his bare shoulder.

"One incredibly awesome person." Jason tightened his arms around you. "We'll be fine. Gotham will be fine." His eyes widened as tub was almost full. He jumped away from you to turn off the water.

You flinched at his sudden movement. "Oh." You laughed in relief. "I thought it was another rat."

“Another rat?” Jason blinked. “Did you find another one?” 

“No, but when you see one, you kinda expect another.” You shivered. “Maybe the landlord actually took care of it?”

“Not likely. I’ll have another talk with him.” Jason slid off his boxers and climbed into the bath. The water was so warm, melting the soreness from his muscles like wax from a candle. 

You smiled at the sight, picking up his suit. “I’ll rinse this off. Are you hungry? I can make you something quick.” 

“Anything is fine, sweetheart.” Jason closed his eyes, leaning his head back. He heard you leave. The walls of the apartment were thin. If he listened carefully, he could follow your movements throughout.

Another series of thumps came from the ceiling. Jason opened his eyes at glare up at it. “I should get us a new place, a better place without rats or noisy neighbors,” he mumbled to himself. 

He started to wash himself, wincing as his muscles complained at having to move. Just when he dunked his head under the water to wash his hair, you came in with a freshly made omelet and a glass of milk. 

“That smells delicious,” Jason said, sniffing the air once he surfaced. You laughed, kneeling down by the side of the tub. You wet your hands and shampooed his hair for him. 

“I need to go shopping soon. We’re almost out of everything.” You kissed his cheek. He closed his eyes, relaxing completely in your hands. 

Jason moaned. “I’ll go with you.” 

“Of course you will.” Your hands pulled away. “Dunk again.” Jason went under the water and rinsed out his hair. He surfaced with a gasp and happily took the plate when you offered it to him. “Eat up. I have your suit hanging to dry in the kitchen. Don’t worry. It’s out of view of the window.” 

Jason hummed, inhaling down the omelet like it was the only food he saw in months. It reminded him the first meal he had after he had escaped from the Joker. He had sat down in a diner, using the twenty bucks he stole to pay for a plate of bacon, eggs, and toast. It was the best food he ever remembered having until you cooked for him that is. “Good. Don’t want the neighbors to have a show.” 

You sat on the edge of the tub, watching him eat with a smile. Jason met your eye. He smirked before offering you a bite. You shook your head. “I’m good, honey. You eat.” 

“Are you sure?” Jason waved the bite in your face. He winked at you. “Come on.” 

You sighed and opened your mouth to let him feed you. The two of you finished off the omelet, enjoying each other in silent company.  After the plate was empty and Jason had downed the glass of milk, you left with the dishes. 

The water was getting cold. Jason sighed, stretching his arms until they cracked and slowly got out of the bath. He unplugged the tub and wrapped himself up in the pink towel. Why did he let you buy pink towels? Jason chuckled. Right, it was because they were on sale. 

You were in the bedroom when he entered. Jason’s skin tingled as he watched you change into the pajamas he had bought you for your birthday last year. He enjoyed the sight, but his body was too tired to do anything about it.

“I love you.” Jason came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist to press his chest against your back. You laughed sweetly, music to his ears. 

“I love you too.” You turned your head to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Are you ready for bed?” 

Jason smiled, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Only if you are.” 

You hummed, giggling before you pulled away. “You’re not though, unless you want to sleep with only the towel around your waist tonight.”

“I wouldn’t mind.” Jason closed his eyes. “Are you okay with it?” 

“I suppose.” You took his hand, leading him over to the bed and tucked him in. Jason sighed deeply. You crawled in next to him and curled into his side.

Jason felt all his stress and pain fade away as he nuzzled his nose into your hair. “I love you.” He chuckled. “I think I should take you on vacation. We haven’t taken one since we eloped.” 

You hummed. Your eyes were closed, your body going limp. “Whatever you want, Jay.” Your hand moved to rest on his chest, just over his heart. Jason smiled and closed his eyes. 

The sounds of the city were quiet for this time of night. He couldn’t imagine sleeping without it, just like he couldn’t imagine sleeping without you. The nightmares he used to get haven’t caught up to him in years. You chased them away. Jason opened his eyes to look at you. “You make my life better. You make me better.” He kissed the top of your head gently.

“Me too.” You mumbled, flinging your leg over his hips. “Go to sleep, Jay.” 

Jason sighed. He fell asleep with a smile on his lips.

[tommyhardyx]

Mr Solomons - Chapter Five

** Updated Version **

Pairing: Modern!Alfie Solomons Word Count: 4.4K Summary: It's finally time for your date with Alfie. Warnings: smut, swearing Note: And here we go it's time for the first date! I hope you enjoy and please let me know if you do!

Ever since you agreed to the date with Alfie you’ve struggled to keep the man out of your mind.

The days leading up to Saturday begin to drag, work becomes boring and repetitive as you spend your days researching an upcoming article, and you find yourself constantly checking the clock hoping it’s getting closer and closer to the weekend so you can finally put all your focus into Alfie.

At coffee, with friends, you tune out unintentionally, your mind always going back to him. You had spoken to him a couple of more times since he asked you out, trying to coax the meaning behind why you need a leather jacket to go out to dinner with him but he never breaks, never gives you anything more to go on than ‘just trust me, you’ll need it’.

When Saturday finally rolls around, the mixture of excitement and anxiety for the night ahead wakes you earlier than intended and after a morning spent pacing around the house with nothing better to do than think about what might come from tonight Nancy finally has enough, dragging you out to your favourite coffee shop to take your mind off Alfie, refusing to address any mention of him and for the first time since you said yes you find yourself distracted, Alfie banished from your mind finally.

By the time you get home it’s late enough to start getting ready, Nancy blasts loud music to get you in a good mood while she helps you decide on your outfit for the night, helping with your makeup and hair, keeping you smiling and laughing until it’s only a few minutes to 7. She gives you one last tight hug before sending you out the door, a smile of luck and an encouragement not to come home tonight.

Waiting on the pavement outside your building, butterflies flying up a storm in your stomach, a smile pushes its way onto your face as the reason for Alfie’s confusing text asking you to wear a leather jacket finally makes sense.

He pulls up to the curb right in front of you, the motorbike he sits on loud enough to drown out your thoughts of worry as he turns off the engine and pulls off his helmet grinning at you, his eyebrows lifting as he looks over you.

“You look incredible,” he says, taking a moment to look over your body. “You ever ridden one of these?”

You shake your head as he offers a second helmet to you, his smile a comfort as you reach out a hesitant hand to take the helmet.

“All you gotta do, yeah, is hold on tight.”

Slipping the helmet over your hair, praying it won’t mess it up too much after all the time you and Nancy spent on it, you ease yourself onto the bike behind Alfie, your arms immediately slipping around his waist as you push your body against his back.

“Good to go?” he asks, and you nod. He must notice your anxiety, his hand moving to squeeze one of your own gently “Don’t worry love, I won’t let you get hurt yeah?”

Nodding slightly you rest your head against his back and say quietly. “I trust you.”

Your hands grip each other as Alfie revs the engine, your stomach doing a little flip as he pulls out onto the road and you swear you hear him chuckle when your arms tighten around his body.

It’s surprisingly easy to distract yourself from your fear as you focus on the feel of Alfie’s body beneath your arms, feeling his muscled torso this close to you has you thinking less about the possibility of crashing and more about what he might look like without his shirt off.

You’re so distracted by your thoughts that you don’t realise at first that you’ve slowed to a stop, and that Alfie has cut the engine until he speaks.

“So, how was that?”

It takes a minute for the question to sink in, and you’re sure he knows what has got you so distracted by the smirk on his face. He swings himself off the bike, waiting for you to take your helmet off to hold a hand out to you.

“Not as bad as I thought,” you admit, taking his offered hand as he helps you off the bike. “Still terrifying though.”

“Told ya I wouldn’t let you get hurt,” he says with a wink.

You smile up at him, enjoying the feeling of his large hand holding yours so much that you squeeze it tight when he tries to pull away, his smile mirroring yours at the motion.

“Right, well we’re in here,” he explains, pointing to a Jewish restaurant in front of you. “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all! You’ll have to tell me what’s good though, I haven’t eaten much Jewish food before,” you admit.

He nods, holding the door open for you. “I can do that.”

The inside of the restaurant is small, cozy even, setting you at ease as a waiter guides you to your table and Alfie holds your chair out for you.

Both of you hang your leather jackets over the back of your chairs, Alfie’s outfit underneath finally showing itself properly. The crisp white shirt, combined with the black slacks and vest is a good look for him. He has the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, giving you a glimpse at some of the tattoos that litter his skin.

Alfie helps as you read through the menu, pointing out some of his favourite dishes always with little anecdotes of his mother making them for him when he was young, his love for her clear every time he speaks about her.

As your food is placed in front of you, you give him a look.

“I’m putting my trust in you, if I don’t like this it’s your fault,” you tease and he gives you one of his wide grins.

“Then I guess I’ll just have to make it up to ya if you don’t,” he promises with a wink.

“I’m holding you to that,” you tell him, pointing your fork at him before taking your first bite.

The food is delicious, the slight moan you let out on purpose causing a smirk to spread onto Alfie’s face and you’re sure you notice his tongue flick across his lips.

“Alright then?”

“It’s incredible,” you mutter, digging into the dish once again and enjoying the way Alfie smiles at you as you eat.

The conversation flows as the meal goes on, your nerves disappear the more he asks about your life and your family,

As dinner comes to an end and the two of you make your way back outside to his bike you realise you don’t want the night to end quite yet, though to come out and just say you’d like to go back to his place might sound a little desperate. He hands your helmet to you, the question on his lips as he intently looks you over, looking for any sign you might want to get out of this now.

“Do you want to come back to my place for a bit? I’m sure Cyril would like to see you again,” he says, the offer of his dog making the offer sound a little less like all he wants is to get you into bed.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you almost whisper, slipping the helmet back on.

When you reach Alfie’s building, you have to make an effort not to allow your jaw to hang open. The massive brick building looks to be an old factory that has been converted into flats, and approaching the large brown metal door, you wait a step behind Alfie as he types in the code for the door.

“This is where you live?” you ask, and Alife smirks as he opens the door for you.

“It is,” he says, following you inside and guiding you through the foyer to wait by the elevator with a hand resting on your lower back.

Built into the exposed brick wall beside the elevator is a bench lined with red velvet and you sink into it while looking around the room, glad to get off your feet for a moment.

“This place is incredible,” you tell him, looking around in an attempt to take everything in.

Alfie watches you, one hand in his pocket while he twists one of his rings around his finger.

“Used to be a piano factory in the 1800s, then a photography space, and now apartments. I was one of the first to buy ‘ere. It’s close to the distillery and big enough for Cyril not to feel cramped,” he explains.

The elevator door opens, and he holds out a hand that you happily take as he helps you off the bench and into the elevator, your feet still burning from your shoes.

“Oh well Cyril is of course the most important,” you say, grinning at the man.

Inside the apartment you can’t help but look around in wonder, the place is huge with a gorgeous open kitchen and massive curved sofa facing a wall of bookshelves with a large TV in the middle. Just like the foyer the apartment is filled with exposed brick walls, and metal, all to great effect.

You’re so preoccupied with the apartment you almost miss the thumping sound of heavy paws on the wooden floors.

“Hello Cyril,” you say as the dog comes running over, his tail wagging madly behind him and Alfie holds onto the dog’s collar to keep him from tackling you to the ground. You reach to scratch behind the dog’s ears, smiling at the way he leans into your touch.

“Think he missed ya,” Alfie says, squatting down to the dog’s level.

Watching Alfie with Cyril never fails to make you smile, the man’s face lighting up at the mere sight of his dog, his chuckle making your stomach flip in the best possible way as he scratches under the dog’s chin.

“How’re you doin’ mate?”

You make your way to a wall of framed photos, there’s one of a woman you assume is Alfie’s mother holding a young boy which could be no one but Alfie himself in her arms, another more recent photo of Alfie and Ollie outside the distillery, and another of Alfie with his arm around a girl that must be his sister.

“Is this Hannah?” you ask as Alfie comes to stand by your side.

“Hm? Yeah, that’s her, made me take that photo with her,” he admits, running a hand over his beard.

“What’s she like?”

“She’s brilliant. Fucking smart, don’t know where she got that from, she’s an engineer. She’s also a pain in my arse, but I love her,” he explains, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I’d love to meet her someday,” you say as you turn to the photo of him and Ollie. “When was this taken?”

“Day we opened the distillery. Fuck, I was terrified that day, had no fucking clue if we would fail or succeed. Ollie kept me from panicking. Yeah, he kept me calm. He’s good at that,” he explains.

He rubs a hand over the back of his head, a move that almost seems like nerves as he keeps his gaze on the photo in front of him.

“He encouraged me to ask you out, so if this goes well expect him to never fucking shut up about it,” he mutters, making you laugh.

The two of you make your way to the couch, the conversation flowing long enough that Cyril gets bored with the lack of attention and goes off to occupy himself some other way and you find yourself moving closer to Alfie, his arm resting along the top of the couch just beside your head.

As the two of you continue to talk, your eyes move from his face down his toned body and you begin to wonder just what he looks like underneath those clothes.

Alfie’s hand settles on your hip, his face mere inches from your own so close you can feel his warm breath on your skin. His eyes search your face, moving from your eyes down to your lips and your heart pounds with anticipation as you wait for him to make his move.

“Are you going to kiss me or stare at me all night?” you whisper.

He grins, his free hand reaching to cup your cheek as he finally presses his plump lips against your own. Your hands move slowly up his chest, fingers grasping the material of his shirt.

“Finally,” you whisper, mouth breaking into a grin as he rests his forehead against yours.

Alfie matches your grin, his hands settling firmly on your hips as he lifts you with ease, settling you onto his lap as his lips find yours again his tongue slipping into your mouth tangling with your own.

Your hands move up his muscular arms, the feeling of them beneath your fingers making you groan into his mouth.

“Let’s move to the bedroom yeah?” he asks, voice gruff as his lips press along your jaw.

“Yes,” is your breathless response, your fingers tangling in his hair as he stands, your legs wrapping around his waist.

His hands find your backside, squeezing the skin as he carries you to his bedroom, kicking the door closed before Cyril can find you and follow you in.

Alfie sets you down on your feet and you immediately reach for the buttons on his vest, desperate to see the body you’d felt beneath his clothes on his bike. You manage to get the vest off, pushing it down his arms and immediately do the same to his shirt, grinning at the sight of his muscular, tattoo-covered chest.

“See something you like?”

“I do indeed,” you tell him, reaching up to kiss his lips as your hands find the buckle on his belt, easily getting it open before unbuttoning his trousers and shoving them down his hips.

“Right, your turn then,” he says.

His hands are rough as he pulls off your clothes, the outfit you’d painstakingly picked out for tonight mixing with his own discarded on the floor.

Alfie groans at the sight of you in just your black lace underwear, and when you reach to hook your fingers in the waistband his hand is quick to cover your own.

“Leave ‘em on,” he mutters, his lips finding yours once again as he pulls your body against his.

His hands roam over your back, moving down to your lace covered backside, fingers digging into the skin as he lifts you up and carries you over to the bed, dropping you onto your knees.

Alfie watches, hungry expression on his face as you lie back against the mattress, your legs opening to give him a view that makes his cock twitch, but he ignores it as he climbs onto the bed, hands reaching for your legs as he pulls you closer to him.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he breathes, hooking your legs onto his shoulders.

His lips press a trail of kisses down the inside of your thighs, his beard brushing softly against your skin as his fingers brush along the lace of your panties, hooking a finger along the strip of material hiding your slit from view.

A gasp leaves your lips as his tongue first runs along your slit, flicking against your clit. He clearly knows what he’s doing, he’s well practised and you both know it so you let your head fall back and enjoy it, his tongue feeling incredible against the most sensitive part of you.

Your grip in his hair tightens as you feel your orgasm impending, his tongue working you faster as you move your hips rubbing yourself against his face.

The moan that escapes your lips as your orgasm crashes over you is louder than any you’ve let out during sex, and your fingers grasp his hair tighter as you come down from your high.

“Fuck,” you mumble, head tipped back as Alfie pulls away, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand watching you with a grin your grasp on his hair finally relaxing.

“Alright, there love?”

You groan, looking down at him and rolling your eyes at the smug grin on his face as he takes hold of the black lace between his teeth and slowly pulls them down your legs.

Discarding them, Alfie kisses his way up your body and once he’s close enough, you take his face in your hands, pulling him closer so you can kiss him, tasting yourself on his lips as his hands find your waist.

“You have condoms?” you whisper against his lips.

“In the drawer,” he mutters, pulling away to reach over to fish a condom out of the drawer. He stiffens as you reach down to grasp his already hard cock in your hand swearing as you begin to slowly stroke him.

Alfie settles onto his knees, fumbling with the condom while trying to get it open as you continue you stroke him grinning at how distracted he is with just one hand on his cock.

“Need some help?” you ask, earning a glare from him as he finally tears open the packet.

“Got it,” he mutters, swatting your hand away so he can roll the condom on himself, stroking his cock a few times as you lie back against the pillows, smiling up at him as he watches you, mesmerised by your body.

He lines himself up with you, rubbing himself along your slit as you reach for him, your arms wrapping around his neck as you pull him down closer to you.

“Fuck,” Alfie groans at the same time you let out a gasp as he finally slides into you, his thickness filling you up. He pauses for a minute, his lips finding your own once again and your nails dig into his back as he starts to thrust.

He feels perfect inside of you, much better than previous lovers. The way he holds you as he thrusts into you, his lips kissing every inch of your skin he can reach, your nails scratch paths down his back as you wrap your legs around his waist.

You try to match his pace, moving your hips back into him as he trusts, but soon enough he takes over, and you do nothing but lie there and let him, the feeling of him making your fingers grip him as tight as you can, your toes curl, and your lips unable to say anything other than his name.

His thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive ball of nerves as you find yourself getting closer to the edge again.

Your lips collide with his as you both find your climax, your tongues tangling together as you moan into his mouth. He continues to thrust until you’re both spent, finally pulling out as he pulls his lips away from yours.

Alfie rests his forehead on your chest as he catches his breath, his hands holding your waist as you run your fingers through his hair, feeling guilty for how hard you pulled on it earlier.

Soon enough he sits up, pressing his lips to yours.

“I’ll be back in just a minute,” he says, his lips brushing yours.

He gets up and you watch his bare arse as he makes his way into the en suite.

Left alone with your thoughts, you sigh as you sink back into the pillows, slipping beneath the blankets as the cool air makes a shiver run through your naked body. This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go, you never do this on the first date, never go this far so quickly. But somehow, with Alfie, it doesn’t feel wrong. It feels right.

Alfie makes his way back into the room and climbs into bed beside you, those big arms reaching towards you to hold you tight against his body and tucking your head in under his chin.

“So you’re a cuddler are you?” you tease, settling into his chest.

“You can’t tell me this ain’t fucking nice,” he says, lips pressing against the top of your head.

It is nice, so nice that you don’t want to leave. But this is only the first date, you never intended to have sex on the first date and now you’re on the verge of already spending the night with him when all you intended for tonight was to have dinner.

You can already imagine the look on Nancy’s face if you come home tomorrow morning, still wearing the outfit you’d worn tonight. The idea of that smug look alone is enough for you to shift so you can kiss him softly.

“I should go,” you whisper against his lips.

“Stay the night,” he mutters, his arms tightening around you as you attempt to pull away. “I’ll cook ya breakfast in the morning.”

“Oh well that changes things,” you tease.

“Just stay.” Alfie’s eyes are drifting shut, his face softening as he holds you a little tighter and while you’re telling yourself to take this slow, that you really should leave and give yourself time to process the night’s events, everything about him is telling you to stay.

Gently you press a kiss to his chest, your hand gently rubbing his side as you settle in against him. His fingers brush softly along your arm and a tired smile stretches across your face.

“Alright, I’ll stay.”

The first thing you notice the following morning is Alfie’s arms still wrapped around you.

It takes you a minute to work out what’s going on, where you are and why arms are holding you against a solid chest, but soon enough the night before comes back to you. Alfie’s promise of breakfast and his tired voice asking you to stay the night brings a smile to your face as you glance up at him.

“Good morning.”

He’s awake but just, his eyes half open, a deep frown on his face as he reaches to rub his eyes with one hand.

“Mornin’,” he mutters, voice deep from sleep.

You press a kiss to his chest, earning a grumble from him as he throws his arm over his eyes to block out the light breaking through the gaps around the edges of the blinds.

“Not a morning person?” you ask, fingers curling in his beard.

“Didn’t I fucking warn you ‘bout that?”

“Nope. It’s cute though,” you tell him, laughing when he grunts in response.

You sit up, pulling out of his grip and glance around the room looking for wherever your clothes ended up last night.

“Third drawer, grab a shirt if you want,” he mutters, pointing to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room.

“Thanks,” you say, leaning in to kiss his cheek before sliding out of the bed.

As you approach the drawers, you hear the sound of scratching on the bedroom door followed by a loud whine. Cyril.

“Fucking hell,” Alfie mutters.

“Where do you keep the dog food? I’ll feed him,” you offer, slipping a grey t-shirt over your head and your underwear back up your legs.

“It’s in the kitchen. Can make yourself a cup of coffee while you’re out there if you want.”

“You want one?”

“I’ll get it when I’m awake,” he mutters, turning over to bury his face in the pillow. When he speaks again, his voice is muffled. “Don’t go making any fucking breakfast, told ya I’d do it.”

Opening the bedroom door, you manage to slip out without letting Cyril in to disturb Alfie and lead the large dog out into the kitchen. You fill up both his food and water dishes before making a cup of coffee, sinking into the couch with it and smiling when Cyril comes to join you, his head resting on your lap.

The morning is quiet, peaceful, as you sip your coffee and gently brush your fingers through the dog’s fur.

Soon enough Alfie emerges from the bedroom, dressed in a matching shirt, his hair a mess atop his head.

“You awake now?” you ask, watching as he makes his way over to you, his frown hidden partially behind a pair of glasses you’ve never seen him wearing before.

“Partially,” he says, stopping to pat Cyril’s head.

“I didn’t know you wear glasses,” you point out, smiling as he leans in to press a kiss to your head.

“I wear contacts when I go out. Too fucking tired this early in the morning to put ‘em in,” he explains, swiping your cup of coffee from your hand and taking a sip.

He twists his face up in disgust, handing the mug back to you as you laugh.

“Fucking sugar. How do you drink it so sweet?”

“It’s because I’m so sweet,” you joke, earning another kiss to the top of your head.

“That’s true. Now, breakfast,” he says, clapping his hands together startling Cyril who quickly lifts his head to see what the noise was. “Relax mate, only me. Pancakes sound good?”

“Sounds perfect. Do you want help?”

“Nope. You keep that pretty arse of yours right there, yeah?”

You grin up at him, angling your chin just right before speaking. “Okay, now come give me a kiss.”

He happily obliges you, leaning down to press his soft lips to yours before heading off towards the kitchen. You watch over the back of the couch as he cooks, looking content as he cooks and you decide to join him.

“Thought I told you to stay over there,” he says as you pull yourself up onto the benchtop.

“I wanted to be a little closer to you,” you tell him.

Alfie grins as he comes to stand between your legs, your hands finding his hips as you bring his face down to yours.

“If they burn them cause you’re fucking distracting me you’re eating the burnt ones,” he mumbles against your lips.

“Worth it.”

He chuckles against you, his chest rumbling with laughter as he presses a kiss to your forehead. With ease he pulls himself from your grip, so he can flip the pancake in the pan.

“Too bad you put your shirt back on, should have left it off,” you comment, grinning at the glare he shoots at you.

“You think so aye?”

You nod, grin widening as he sighs and strips off his shirt, playfully throwing it at you.

“Much better.”

Watching Alfie, his hair a mess, bleary eyes hidden behind his glasses, mouth stretched open in a yawn as he cooks you breakfast, you find yourself yearning for more of this in the future.

Tags: @tommymcartney @misselsbells06 @lauren-raines-x @innerpaperexpertcloud @lizyshores

Next Chapter

[mandoalorian]

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader] SMUT

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 8: The Truth ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2200>

Warnings: more angst and feelings! 18+ SMUT; unprotected p in v (wrap it before you tap it), f receiving oral, fingering… very soft sex andddd a praise kink because it’s Din’s first time giving oral :’)

AN: Please reblog to spread this around! It’s not showing up in tags! i think i’m still semi-shadow banned:(

Series Masterlist

Din didn’t say anything for a long time. He didn’t understand. Not the Manda’lor? How could that be possible? If you weren’t the Manda’lor, then... who were you? As if you were reading his thoughts, you closed your eyes and turned around so you were facing the brick wall behind you, and tried your very best to explain the truth. You had to at least make an attempt. You ignored the choked nervous knot in your throat. You couldn’t bear to look at him.

How could you ever even begin to explain this to him. You’d never spoken about what happened back on Mandalore to anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all this time. It was so painful. But you had to try.

“My mother was Duchess Satine Kryze, and I am, by technicality, the Princess of Mandalore. I always will be. When my mother died, fifteen years ago, I became heir to the throne. I became the Manda’lor, and... everything was fine. I had everything under control, and, dare I say, I was a good leader. Until one night, there was a planned attack by the Imperials on my city and they slaughtered everyone. They raided homes and killed children…” a single tear slipped down your cheek. “Moff Gideon came to see me. He wanted… the darksaber. So he had his troopers raid the palace and they found it. And once he wielded it, he became the rightful ruler of Mandalore. And, I still don’t have it back… I’ve-- I’ve never felt so helpless. And responsible for the murder of my people.”

You were crushed. You thought by admitting all of this, it would take the giant burden you’d been holding this entire time off your shoulders, but it didn’t. It only made you dread all the built up pain and anguish you had in your heart… for letting this happen and for lying to Din. You really had failed everyone around you, but most importantly, you’d failed yourself.

Bringing your hand to your wedding ring, you twiddled it around your finger and took a shaky exhale. “Din, I understand if you want nothing to do with me anymore. I can leave, and you’ll never see me again. I promise you that much. But I will get the darksaber back and I will be the rightful ruler of Mandalore. These were my people he killed. He stole it from me. And I won’t let the Imperial’s take anymore than they already have. Not without a fight.”

Compiling all the remaining bravery left in you, you turned back around to face Din and opened your eyes.

And your heart stopped.

His eyes were big and brown and sad. He had short, shaggy brown hair and a light stubble which grazed his jaw. His pink lips were parted slightly as he looked at you with his own eyes. No visor modifying his vision of you. This was raw, and completely him. He’d taken off his helmet.

You tried to ask him why, but no words came out.

“So that’s why the Imperials were chasing after you?” His jaw ticked but Maker, his voice without the helmet was as soft as silk. Rich and velvety.

He was handsome too. More handsome than you could’ve ever even imagined. In a rugged way, not in your typical Prince of Mandalore way. But you liked it a lot.

“Yes,” you swallowed thickly. “Moff Gideon imprisoned me in the palace and he never wanted me to leave. He made me promise to never tell anyone that he had the darksaber, because no doubt, any Mandalorian who found out the truth would venture after him to try and reclaim it for themselves. I was forced to live this lie. But I had to do something. That’s when I sent out the distress signal to coverts around the galaxy. That’s when you came for me, and helped me escape.”

Din tried his hardest to process your words. It… made sense. His gaze fell from your face and he looked down at the ground. He looked so sad and your heart ached. If there was a way you could fix this, you were pretty sure you’d do anything. In that very moment, you didn’t even care about the Mandalorian throne or the darksaber. You just cared about Din.

“Din, I’m so sorry.” you began, preparing to fully beg for his forgiveness, but before you could say anymore, his lips came crashing into yours.

He didn’t have anything to say to you, really. He was just so enamoured by you, that he didn’t care. You could lie to him a million times over and he’d forgive you, because you were just too perfect. You were, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. And he loved you.

He should be mad, he knew that much. But he couldn’t bring himself to hate you when all he could think about was just how beautiful your lips were. The entire time you were talking, he was fighting the urge to kiss you. Until finally, he just couldn’t resist anymore.

His mouth was soft and fit perfectly against yours. Your eyes snapped shut and a surprised moan fell from your lips as he took you in his arms and held you. You loved the way it felt… his hands on your body and caressing your skin. Was this… the first time he’d kissed? He was so passionate yet gentle, and Maker, you didn’t want it to end. He was absolutely gorgeous, and such an amazing kisser. When you thought he was going to break away, you raised your hands to his face and cupped his cheeks, swiping your tongue over his lower lip and signalling for him to continue the kiss. He did so, and you opened your mouth, granting him deeper access.

A minute or so later, when the both of you were practically gasping for breath, he pulled off you and rested his forehead against yours. If he was unsure about his feelings before, he knew for certain now.

“We’ll have to leave at dawn,” Din said eventually, huffing and looking into your eyes. His hands were still planted firmly on your hips and he nudged his nose against yours. “There’ll be less Imps around, the earlier we leave.”

You were baffled. “I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“We’re getting the darksaber back,” he confirmed. “You’re getting the darksaber back. You are the rightful ruler of Mandalore.”

You couldn’t believe it. He still wanted to help you, even after admitting to him that you’d been lying. He no longer had a duty to protect you, and yet he was doing this not because he had to, but because he wanted to.

“Are you sure?” you gasped, completely exasperated. “Are you sure you still want to help me?”

Din nodded his head wordlessly before kissing you again. “We should rest before our escape tomorrow,” Din breathed. “I have a room here.”

“Take me.” you begged, curling your body into his.

Din’s room at the covert was no different to the many other rooms that were habited by other Mandalorians. It was a small boxy room with a bed in the corner. At least it was a real bed though, and not Din’s poor excuse for a bed back on the Crest. He closed the door behind him and turned on the light, although it wasn’t bright whatsoever. It barely illuminated the room in this dull, amber colour, but it was just enough to cast your shadows on the wall.

You gulped, not tearing your eyes from him once. “I think you’re very handsome,” you blurted out, smiling when you noticed a rosy blush cross Din’s cheeks. “And I think it’s a real shame that you have to hide your face. I just know that those brown eyes could charm you out of trouble.”

Din chuckled nervously. “I think you’re very pretty too,” he said. “But you probably hear that a lot.”

You shook your head, the smile never leaving your lips once. “No.”

When Din kissed you, it felt like heaven. As the moment became more and more heated, both of you ended up undressing, and discarding your clothing and his armour into a pile on the floor.

Din carefully laid you down on his bed and hovered over you, planting kisses down your neck, along your collarbones and down your chest. He brought his hand over to your breasts and began with giving them a few experimental squeezes. He brushed his thumb over your hardening nipple and pinched it, earning a moan of pleasure from you.

Not taking his lips from yours, he dropped his hand down your body and to the hem of your panties, dipping his finger under the waistband and feeling just how wet you’d already become. He chuckled to himself, his thick and deft index finger tracing quick and tight circles across your clit. You arched your back into him, a foggy haze crossing your vision as he worked you into a complete state of euphoria.

You chanted his name like it was a prayer, caressing his biceps and holding onto him. After he drew out your first orgasm, he tapped on your thigh. You lifted up your ass so he could pull down your panties and take them off completely. You were an absolute sight to behold, there was no denying that. Your folds were slick with your arousal and Din done everything he could to contain himself. Licking his lips, he knelt down between your legs and began to lap his tongue around your bundle of nerves, even sucking occasionally on your sweet spot.

“Does-- does that feel good?” Din asked, briefly pausing just before you were about to cum again. Your legs were shaking with pleasure and Din just wanted to make sure you were alright. “I’m-- I’ve never done this before.” he confessed.

“Oral?” you asked breathlessly, rolling your head into the pillow.

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nibbling and pressing lovebites into the soft flesh of your thighs. “Never took off my helmet.”

You moaned something incoherent when the curve of his nose rubbed against your clit and you felt the warmth of his breath fan over your core.

“It’s good Din, so good,” you sighed longingly. “You’re doing so good. Please don’t stop.”

So Din kept at it until eventually you were a heaving, quivering mess, and he drove out your second orgasm. When he pulled away from you, a trail of his saliva pulled between your wet cunt and his lips, but he immediately licked himself clean and leaned over your body so he could kiss you again. The way you could taste yourself on his mouth felt so erotic.

You pulled his hard and leaking cock from the confines of his underwear and began to pump at his length. He was hot and heavy, and somehow, he was even better than you had imagined. Even as you stroked him, you yearned for him, and you could feel your cunt clench around nothing as you wished for him to fuck you already.

Din loved how you were a needy, squirming mess beneath him. He positioned himself at your entrance and slowly pushed his engorged tip inside of you, taking a few moments to allow you to adjust to his length. The wet noises as he thrusted into you were lewd and obscenely loud, and if you were with anyone else you might’ve felt embarrassed -- but as Din built up his rhythm and held on to your hips, you couldn’t even think straight enough to feel embarrassed.

“Din,” you cried out, letting your fingers curl in his brown locks of hair. “Oh Din.”

His own hips began to stutter and with a loud gasp, you felt his cock convulse inside of you and a spurt of his creamy hot seed rope your walls.

Din let himself soften inside of you as he caught his breath, eventually rolling off you and laying by your side. He wrapped his arms around you and spooned you, whispering sweet nothings into your ear until eventually, you fell asleep in his arms.

“You will reclaim Mandalore,” he whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “I promise.”

_________________________________________

Borrowed Time taglist in the replies!

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[polaroid15]

Parker Luck

Summary: Two weeks after the Vulture-incident, Tony buys a parenting book. Too bad there isn't a chapter on Parker luck.

Read on Ao3 HERE :)

------

Two weeks after the Vulture fiasco, Tony buys a book called ‘Parenting for Dummies’.

He almost immediately regrets the purchase and hides it in a drawer in the lab, not yet brave enough to face it. Then one day he spends three hours squished against Peter’s side, listening to the boy ramble about everything under the sun while they adjust his web shooters. It hits Tony like a brick wall, and when Peter bounces out of the lab after teaching Tony a complicated handshake he knows he’ll never remember, he swears under his breath.

He shouldn’t be surprised, really. He had known it from that very first moment in the kid’s bedroom in Queens.

For once, denial has gotten him nowhere.

After his eyes ache from staring at the door Peter had disappeared from, Tony stands, stretches out a kink in his lower back, and grabs the book from the drawer before he can lose his nerve. Still standing, he traces his thumb over the word Parenting on the cover.

Retreat, his mind begs. Stop. Before it’s too late.

But deep down, he knows he’s already in too deep.

With a heavy sigh and a pressing warmth in his chest, Tony flips the pages to chapter one.

--------

Peter calls it ‘Parker luck’.

Tony calls it the source of his ever-increasing gray hair.

When Peter stumbles into the Tower covered in blood and delirious from a nasty hit to the head, Tony thinks he’ll pass out from the sudden weight of his worry. It only takes some gentle coaxing and seven stitches to make it better, but the unease sits in Tony’s gut long after Peter falls asleep. When the boy wakes up, he apologizes until Tony snaps at him not too.

“It’s the Parker luck, Mr. Stark,” Peter tells him, his head wrapped like a mummy on halloween. “It gets me everytime.”

Parenting for Dummies Chapter Three: Listen. “A nasty concussion doesn’t exactly sound like luck to me, kid.”

“Oh, well it’s not good luck,” Peter clarifies with a weak smile. “In fact it’s really bad luck. Exceptionally bad.”

“You’re killing me here.”

“Did you know that I slipped on a banana peel once? A banana peel. I was on crutches for three weeks in middle school.”

Tony’s worry melts into a hesitant amusement. He sits back on his stiff medbay chair and makes a distant note to invest in a better one. “That is pretty lousy luck, kiddo.”

“And it just keeps getting worse,” Peter says. “Getting bitten by a radioactive spider, crashing Flash’s car, or the fact that I spent homecoming destroying a plane while fighting my date’s dad.”

“I hope this Parker luck of yours isn’t contagious,” Tony jokes, but something in Peter’s eyes darkens. He leans back against the white sheets, chewing on his bottom lip. Tony thinks again of chapter three, of the subtitle that prompts to push at the right times, and takes the liberty. “What is it, kid?”

Peter closes his eyes and gives a watery smile. “Nothing, Mr. Stark. Sorry.”

And because he’s an idiot, Tony believes him. Something tells him he needs to buy Parenting for Dummies 2.

--------

When Peter saves a school bus full of third graders from a thirteen car pileup at the expense of his collar bone, Tony rereads his book, this time with a highlighter in hand.

He wishes there was a section on Parker luck.

This time, he’s less careful about where he reads. Pepper catches him one night, her eyebrows disappearing behind her bangs in her surprise. Her smile is genuine. “Is that what I think it is?” she asks.

“Maybe.”

“Oh God, please don’t tell me you’re pregnant.”

Tony rolls his eyes and dog ears his page before setting it aside. “I am, actually. And sorry to break it to you, but you’re not the father.”

Pepper laughs and sits on the arm of the couch. She runs her hand through his hair and he can’t help but lean into her touch. “This is about Peter,” she says.

His first instinct is to deny it. He feels vulnerable in a way he isn’t used to. “So what if it is?”

“He’s a good kid.”

“I know.”

“He’s making you soft.”

Tony scoffs, but doesn’t deny it. Not with Parenting for Dummies on his lap. “He’s stressing me out, is what he’s doing.”

“He really cares about you, Tony. I see it every time he’s over here.”

His body betrays him by the gentle swoop in his stomach. His mouth twitches in a smile. “I care about him too.”

“You’re a good example to him. He needs someone like you in his life. Especially after what happened to his parents. And his Uncle.”

And then it clicks. Parker luck. Tony’s mouth goes dry.

“I’m trying,” is all he manages to whisper. The book in his lap seems to increase by ten.

Pepper leans over him, pressing her lips into his hair. “I know.”

---------

It’s his and Peter’s fifth mission together.

Today, they’re going up against “the Detonator”, a crazed woman with an affinity for making bombs and setting them off in busy neighbourhoods. She’s armed with a team of rocket-launcher-wielding henchmen, and it’s taking every effort to keep the city in one piece.

Most of the block has been evacuated, thanks to Peter. Tony remembers chapter seven and shoots the boy some praise over their coms. Steve, who’s joined them for the day’s fight, agrees with clipped enthusiasm.

“Thanks guys!” Peter says in his usual animation. “These rocket launchers are no joke. Have you ever seen the movie-”

But whatever it is, it’s lost in the deafening sound of an explosion. He hears Peter swear over the com and Tony’s blood runs cold. Three blocks down, an orange fireball balloons into the air. Steve is already running, his shield tucked into his chest.

Tony shoots off into the sky.

---------

Peter thought they had everything under control.

Until rocket launcher man number 3 decided to explode the bank off 47th street, that is.

He feels the heat from the explosion before he can process what happened. It rips across his back and throws him off his feet into a hot dog cart across the street. Rubble and ash rain down on parked cars and their alarms begin to sound.

“Crap,” Peter groans, shoving away the dented cart and stumbling to his feet. His ears are ringing.

“Pete?” Tony’s voice cuts through the haze. “We’re on our way. You alright?”

“Yeah,” he responds, breathless. His shoulder aches. “These guys are not in a good mood.”

“You can say that again.”

The man who had fired the shot runs up the steps of the bank, bypassing chunks of concrete. Peter limps after him.

“Sorry man,” Peter says when his opponent’s back is still turned. “It’s after hours.”

Startled, the man spins. Peter fires a web to disarm him and it only takes one swift punch to finish the job. He webs him to the floor and kicks the rocket launcher into the corner.

“Kid?” Tony lands beside him, faceplate lifting and his hands reaching to grab onto him. His grip is tight on Peter’s arms, and Peter is unsure which one of them Tony is trying to comfort. “You still in one piece?”

Peter’s ears are still ringing, a high pitched whine that makes his eye twitch. His ankle throbs and he can feel warmth spreading down his back from a cut on his shoulder. He nods anyway. “Are you?”

“Better now that I see you haven’t been barbecued.”

Steve joins them as Peter laughs off Tony’s worry. He’s breathing heavy, his forehead streaked with ash. “Someone sighted the Detonator. She’s heading east towards the Empire State Building.”

“Of course she is,” Tony sighs. Finally, he lets Peter go. “Ready for a field trip?”

But just as he says it, another violent explosion lights up the street across from them. Peter stumbles against the force. Tony grabs his arm, and Steve his shoulder, and he steadies. Through the black smoke, a child cries.

Chest tight, Peter takes a step forward before he’s yanked back. It’s Tony. His helmet hides his expression, but Peter can tell from his stiff posture that he’s worried. That he doesn’t want to separate.

As if sensing it too, Steve places a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Peter and I will clear the rocket launchers. You go take care of the Detonator.”

“But-”

“She can’t get to it first, Tony. You’ll be the fastest.”

The crying continues, and Peter takes another step. This time, the metal fingers wrapped around his elbow loosen, letting him go. “You better watch him, Rogers.”

“Mr. Stark-”

“Don’t do anything stupid, kid.”

And then Tony is off, blasting off into the sky. Peter shivers against the hot air his exit leaves before turning to run towards the smoke and debris, Steve hot on his heels. Without hesitation, he jumps over the small flames and emerges on the other side, his throat closing up against the smoke.

The first thing Peter sees is the child, snot-nosed and hidden underneath the bed of a truck. His eyes widen when he sees them, a cry stopped short. “Spider-Man!” he yells.

“Get the kid,” Steve says. “I think I see our guy.”

And then he’s gone.

Peter doesn’t dwell on it, vaulting over a smashed mailbox and a stretch of broken glass to reach the kid’s side. He’s trembling, but his hands reach out. Trusting him.

“It’s alright,” Peter says, accepting the kid’s outstretched hands. “We’re okay. Do you know where your family is?”

The boy shakes his head, lip wobbling but obviously trying to be brave. “N-no. I lost them over there,” he says pointing down the street.

“Okay. No problem. Let’s go find them.”

He doesn’t give the boy an option to walk, but instead guides him to rest against his back. Small fingers lock together at the base of Peter’s throat, holding tight.

“What’s your name?” Peter asks as he heads in the direction the boy had pointed. Keep him distracted.

“Benny.”

Peter’s breath catches. “Nice to meet you, Benny. I’m Spider-Man.”

“I- I know.”

“Oh yeah?”

The boy’s head bobs against his back. “I see you on TV. And on the newspapers on the street. You fight bad guys.”

“I try too.”

“You’re awesome,” Benny says, and the shaking quality to his voice recedes.

“I think you’re the awesome one. You’re being so brave.”

“Brave?”

“Yeah, Benny. Even though it’s scary right now you’re still going.”

Benny sniffles. “Are you scared?”

“Nah,” Peter says. “I’ve got you to protect me.”

Against his back, Benny’s chest swells with a breath of a response, but before he can let the words lose a relieved cry erupts from their left. A woman in a pastel headscarf runs towards them, her arms outstretched. “Benny! My little Ben-”

“Mom!”

Peter maneuvers him to the ground and as soon as his small feet hit the ground he’s running. The pair meet in the middle of the street, their arms wrapping tight and their tears mixing. The mother’s eyes meet him from over Benny’s shoulder. “Thank you,” she says, every ounce of her emotion leaking into her words.

“Of course,” is all he can manage.

Once he’s sure they're safe and off the street, he deviates his attention to his coms. “Steve?” he asks over a private channel. “Where are you?”

For a long time, Steve doesn’t respond. Then just as Peter’s worry spikes the man’s voice fills his ears, pinched and strained. “By the river. I’m cornered.”

“Karen-” Peter starts, but Steve’s location pops up on his screen before he can ask further. He changes the trajectory of his swing and just barely avoids clipping his hip on the corner of a building. Then, to Steve, “I’m on my way!”

He finds the Captain in worse shape than he had expected. He’s hunched against an upturned car, it’s tires melted from the sheer heat of the destruction on the street. His shield is raised over his head to protect him from debris raining from the crumbling buildings.

Across the road, three of Detonator's accomplices are shooting the buildings around him, shrieking with glee whenever new glass shatters. Peter glides between the chaos before landing beside Steve. He scrapes his hands on the landing.

“Oh my god,” Peter says, flinching from another loud explosion. “What do we do?”

Steve grimaces, and it’s only now that Peter sees how messed up his leg is. It’s twisted at an unnatural angle, the material of his suit singed and still smoking around it.

“What the hell happened?” Peter gasps, feeling sick.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to get out of here.”

“Not with those crazy rocket guys standing guard. You can’t walk!”

“I can try.”

Adrenaline courses hot through Peter’s bloodstream. He peaks over the car and reassesses their opponents. “I can take them.”

“No. Tony said-”

“Tony isn’t here,” Peter argues. “Besides, I have my Peter tingle. I’ll be fine.”

“Peter tingle?”

“Be right back.”

“Wait!”

But Peter ducks out of cover, knowing that Steve won’t be able to stop him. He runs towards the one closest to him and hopes the element of surprise will be enough to take them down. It is, but barely, and now his cover is blown. The other two turn their weapons towards him and before he can suck in a breath, fire.

Peter swears and jumps high, the rockets whistling as they pass under his feet. They hit the edge of the sidewalk by the river, blowing it open and skipping chunks of debris into the water. Not wanting to wait for them to reload, Peter swings and takes them both out with a single kick. He lands in a messy roll, disoriented by the quickness of the fight.

“We’re clear!” he yells over to Steve, but even as he says it dread sits heavy in his gut. He takes one step towards the car before he hears it- a sharp release of air.

Fire blooms up at the base of the building closest to Steve, the crack of the impact enough to rattle Peter’s teeth and throw him to his knees. It’s the last straw. The building makes a horrible noise of grinding cement, like a scream, and Peter knows enough from experience that it’s close to collapse.

“Steve!”

He sprints to where the man is trying to limp away. His eyes find him, their blue shocking through the dust and smoke. “Peter. You have to get out of here-”

“Not without you.”

Before the man can object, Peter pulls his weight over his shoulder and makes it his burden. He wonders distantly where the fourth rocket launcher is and why they haven’t been blown sky high yet.

But then glass and cement falls down around them like rain, and Peter realizes. Because the building will finish the job for them.

“We’re not going to make it,” Steve says through ground teeth. His hold on Peter’s shoulder is bruising. “Peter, please.”

The building sways again. They have a couple seconds. Nothing more.

Then Peter sees it. A manhole.

“Here,” he gasps, dropping to his knees and tearing off the cover. Every alarm bell in his head is screaming, but it’s the only option. The only way they’ll both have a chance. “Go.”

Steve drops in, disappearing into darkness and landing below with an aborted shout. Peter kicks his legs in just as the building crumbles. Fear stops the breath in his chest and he slides the rest of the way in. He falls and lands hard, head spinning, before finding Steve’s arm in the darkness and pulling him deeper into the sewer.

There’s a couple moments of silence.

And then the world erupts.

Peter will remember later how the force of the impact threw both of them off their feet and how it was impossible to keep his grip on Steve’s arm. He’ll remember the deafening noise of the building smashing onto the street above them, of the great plume of dust that filled the tunnel and blinded him.

He’ll remember falling, his legs jelly, and struggling to his knees.

He’ll remember wishing he had called Tony.

But none of it registers in the moment. There’s only terror.

And then there’s nothing.

----------

“Peter. Come on. Work with me here.”

Awareness brings pain. He strays.

“Nope. No. Peter. Open your eyes.”

The voice belongs to Steve, Peter realizes in a stilted disorientation. Steve, who had been hurt. Steve, who sounds very much alive.

It’s enough for Peter to lift his heavy eyelids. His surroundings are dark, but he can see the Captain’s worried face swimming in front of him, warping in and out of focus as both of them release a breath of relief.

“Thank God,” Steve says.

“Are you okay?” Peter murmurs, surprised for a moment by how unwilling his vocal cords are to cooperate. There’s new blood on Steve’s face and the torso on his suit is torn.

“It’s you I’m more worried about.”

“Mm. Why?”

Steve might respond, but Peter doesn’t hear it, his awareness slipping like the close of a stage curtain. Strong hands shake him and the sting of his injuries are enough for him to struggle back into wakefulness.

“Stay awake, kid. Alright? Tony is on his way. Keep your eyes open.”

Peter didn’t remember closing his eyes, but sure enough, when he tries they open. “Tony?”

“He’ll be here soon.”

There’s a tightness in his chest, and Peter coughs against it. It sparks a sharp pain behind his ribs and he curls his fingers into the ground as Steve braces him by his shoulder. His ribs are definitely broken. His leg throbs and the skin on the right side of his face itches terribly with drying blood. He blinks a couple times to try and alleviate his double vision, but it does nothing.

“What happened?” Peter asks.

“You don’t remember?”

“Not really.”

Steve’s expression pinches like he’s just eaten something sour. “The building above us collapsed, but don’t worry about it too much. Tony will be here in a flash.”

Collapse. Peter sucks in a panicked breath and it makes him cough again. It hurts worse this time, and his vision goes gray. He comes back to himself in Steve’s lap, his whole body shuddering and then man’s hand clamped protectively against his back.

The new perspective shows Peter a growing red stain on the Captain’s side.

“Steve,” he gasps, uncoordinated fingers reaching out to press against the wound.

“It’s nothing.”

“It’s not- it’s not nothing-”

Before Steve can retaliate further, their coms crack back to life. Peter winces against it, his fingers reaching up to struggle with the edges of his mask. Steve pushes his hand away. “Leave it. It’s helping filter your air.”

“Peter? Rogers?” Tony’s voice comes through in a mess of static. It reminds Peter of Ben’s favorite radio station that had been broadcasted too far to have a good connection. “I’m here. Oh Christ, I’m here. Are you okay?”

“Steve’s hurt,” Peter mumbles. It’s important Tony knows.

“Rogers?”

“Just hurry, Tony,” Steve says. There’s a pressure in his voice that Peter’s too tired to translate.

“The explosion caused the river to flood. You’re under about three feet of water right now.”

“We’re airtight.”

“For now.”

Peter feels himself dip further into Steve’s lap and the man’s steadying hand is delayed. Weaker. “Peter? What did I tell you about staying awake.”

“What’s wrong with Peter?”

“Queens. I need you to put pressure on this for me. Don’t give up on me now.”

Peter groans. For once, he doesn’t care how young it makes him sound. He struggles up anyways and replaces his hand obediently over Steve’s side. It paints his hands red and he tries desperately not to think of Ben.

“Rogers-”

“I got it, Tony.”

There’s a weighted silence. Peter bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself lucid. The static in his brain reminds him of the time he had gotten stabbed, and wonders if he’s bleeding somewhere too.

“Okay. I found a weak spot. It shouldn’t cause too much damage. Are you ready?”

“Go for it.”

There’s another lurch of shifting rock. Peter can’t help but cry out, his muddled brain struggling to comprehend that this time, it’s to help. Then there’s a loud crash, a weak beam of sunlight, and the rush of water.

Within seconds, the cold spray is up to their waists. Peter grinds his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut against reflexive tears the biting temperature brings. It gives him a boost of adrenaline, and when he opens his eyes again, his vision is more clear.

Tony is with them moments later, hovering above the water. His hands reach for Peter, but Peter shys away. “Steve first,” he pleads. “He’s bleeding-”

“You’re bleeding too-” Tony starts, but even as he says it, Steve lists dangerously to the side. His face is pale, his breathing shallow. Tony catches him by the shoulder. “Don’t move,” he tells Peter, and works to lift Steve up towards the hole.

The water is up to Peter's chest now. It steals the breath from his lungs and he scrambles to stand. Somewhere in the journey the ground above him groans and he loses his footing. He hears Tony yell out for him, feels metal hands push him hard, and then he’s completely underwater. There’s more noise. More pain.

He breaks the surface, stuttering on his breath and his teeth clattering. More sunlight has entered the tunnel, and it’s easy to piece together what had happened.

“Tony!”

Peter fights against the current to reach his mentor’s side. His suit is pinned under a large slab of concrete by his left leg, the water already sloshing up to his neck. Peter practically collapses beside him and digs his fingers under the weight, but his ribs scream in protest so violently that his vision goes white.

“Easy!” Tony yells, catching him by his arms when he falters. “Kiddo, listen to me. The suit will let me breathe for a while. You need to get out of here.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“You have to. FRIDAY took some damage, but she’s recalibrating my boosters. I’ll be able to get out.”

“No,” Peter chokes, trying again to lift the concrete keeping Tony pinned. “I won’t leave without you.”

“Peter-”

“I’m not losing you too. I can’t- I can’t-”

Tony’s voice is more gentle, his hand reaching to cradle the side of Peter’s face. “Listen to me, bud. I know this is scary. But you have to trust me. You have to go. For me.”

Peter shudders. Feels hot tears pool under the tight confines of his mask. “Told you I have Parker luck,” he says.

Tony finds it within himself to laugh. The water is at their chins. “I know, kiddo. But you don’t have to be afraid anymore. We’ve got each other now.”

“Tony-”

“Go.”

The water rises over his mouth. He wouldn’t be able to answer even if he wanted to. Then Tony’s head is submerged, and icy terror closes around Peter’s heart.

He dives under and reaches once more for the weight on Tony’s leg. He pulls and struggles and feels Tony’s hands on his arms, trying to pry him off and pull him away. The light is gone in the murky water.

Please. Please.

The concrete shifts. It takes everything in Peter not to gasp out at the pain it causes, to waste the precious air he has left.

Please.

It shifts again. Tony has given up on trying to push him off and is instead helping to lift the weight. Just a little bit more.

Peter screams, tiny bubbles escaping and carrying whatever he had left away. His body loses strength just as the concrete is alleviated. He thinks he feels Tony’s hands close around his numb body. But really he can’t be sure.

Tony is safe.

And it’s all that matters.

-------

“Peter. Don’t do this.”

“Breathe, Queens. Oh God-”

“Steve. What do I- I can’t- I can’t-”

“Keep the compressions going, Tony. Keep going okay? Don’t stop.”

“I can’t do it without him. I need him, Steve. I need-”

“Keep it together. He’s going to be fine. Right, Peter? You’re going to be fine. You just have to breathe for us.”

“Kiddo. Baby. Please.”

It’s all water down a drain.

A swirling, murky mess.

And it takes Peter with it.

-------

Parenting for Dummies: Chapter 12.

Love them unconditionally.

Tony hasn’t left his kid’s side for hours. He’s been glued to him, the boy’s limp hand pressed between his own like a lifeline even when the doctor’s had worked to splint his leg. Every breath, every rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a miracle, and Tony stares at the heart monitor until his eyes burn.

May is dozing in a recliner in the corner, her glasses crooked on her face. It’s just nearing three in the morning.

There’s movement behind him, and Tony turns to find Steve. He’s traded his hospital gown for a pair of loose sweats and a white shirt, the skin on his arms wrapped with thick bandages. The Captain turns and sees May. When he speaks, his words are almost a whisper. “How is he?”

Tony shrugs, a sudden lump monopolizing in his throat. “He’ll be okay.”

“Has he woken up yet?”

“No.”

Steve sighs. He limps to Tony’s side, but still manages to keep some distance. “He was brave today.”

“If by brave you mean dumb, then yes.”

“He saved our lives. We both know that you wouldn’t have been able to blast out of there by yourself.”

Dread sits heavy in Tony’s gut, because it’s true. He would’ve said anything to get Peter to safety. His blasters weren’t recharging. Weren’t even close to functioning.

But the kid had been too selfless for his lie. Really, Tony shouldn’t be surprised.

And now every time he closes his eyes he sees Peter. Hurt, small, Peter. Jerking with the last of his energy to free Tony. Of going limp in the water, no more air leaving his lips and remaining totally unresponsive as Tony fought to return the life to him.

“I wish it didn’t have to be him,” Tony says.

“But it is. It was.”

“I know.”

Steve lays a hand on Tony’s shoulder. He’s too tired to flinch away from it. “Let me know when he wakes up.”

And then he leaves.

Tony runs his thumb over Peter’s knuckles. “Wake up,” he says. Pleads.

But with his usual stubbornness, Peter doesn’t show signs of waking for another hour. First his fingers twitch. Then he groans. His eyelids flutter and Tony nearly collapses in his relief. Soft and weary eyes turn to find him, and Peter’s lips turn into a smile.

“You’re okay,” he murmurs.

“You have no idea how angry I am with you right now,” Tony says, but any heat behind his words is lost behind his relief. Peter must see it because his smile only widens.

“You don’ look angry.”

“Furious?”

“Nope.”

“Enraged?”

Peter laughs, then winces. He looks down and notices Tony’s hand clamped on his own. “I’m really glad you’re okay.”

“Well, the feeling’s mutual.”

Peter looks up. Tony tightens his hold.

“Maybe I don’t have Parker luck after all.”

“We’re breaking the cycle,” Tony agrees. He lifts Peter’s hand and presses a firm kiss to the back of his hand. Peter smiles again.

“Pepper told me you bought a parenting book,” he says, eyes drooping.

“That woman is nothing but a liar.”

“Mm. I believe her.”

“Sorry to break it to you kid, but whoever would want to willingly parent a danger seeking, heart attack inducing kid like you would have to be crazy.”

Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. “Sorry to break it to you, but I guess that means you're crazy.”

Tony’s heart compresses with warmth. “Yeah kid,” he says, “I guess I am.”

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

[shiftysdogtags]

So i decided to do Speirs as my first official comeback fic. I think it has the potential for a second part so if someone could request it so i dont feel like i threw it upon people that would be great😂 but if people would like a second part please let me know👀 I’m nervous about posting this after so long so any feedback would be appreciated.

Basically the plot is secret feelings hidden by stolen cigarettes and i tried to be fluffy? 1.5k words.

Stolen Cigarettes

"Are you creeping around on me?" Ron asked to the apparently empty room, except for him of course. Y/N jumped out from behind a half-blown up wall, trying to scare him. She was somewhat successful, while he did jump, it wasn't out of fear or being frightened, he just hadn't expected someone to jump out from somewhere and cling to him.

Ron half expected her to follow him, it was as if she followed him around in this war to play innocent pranks on him. Y/N and Speirs have been friends since they first landed in Europe, Y/N saving his life on D-day. To say the friendship was unexpected, by the other men, and both Ron and Y/N too would be an understatement. Y/N liked the way he treated her, as one of his equals. He never for a moment doubted her capabilities or treated her like a fragile flower that needed to be protected or kept from harm, but he always looked out for her. It was a rare occurrence to see one without the other, Ron always had her at his side.

"I got you, Sparky.” She laughed as he tried to push her off him. Eventually, she untangled herself from his back and placed her two feet back on to the ground. Unwrapping her arms from around his shoulders, she grabbed the cigarette from his mouth, placing it into her own with raised eyebrows, daring him to do something. If looks could kill Y/N would be dead. He flashed her his signature death glare. The silent yet murderous way his eyes followed her every movement would have anyone fearing for their lives, but Y/N wasn't phased.

"I hate you." Ron blew out the smoke in his lungs, watching Y/N take the last drag of his stolen cigarette.

Y/N rolled her eyes at the man sulking before her. “You love me."

What she didn’t know was he did in fact love her, Ron loved her more than anything. He never expressed these feelings to her, deciding there was a place and a time and in the middle of a war wasn’t either. He just watched her and hoped she couldn’t hear his heart beating against his chest. While he knew Y/N didn’t mean what she said in that way, he couldn’t help but wish she did.

Ron watched her lips wrap around the end of his stolen cigarette and knew she was hoping to get one very last drag out of it before she had to put it out. He knew he spent too much time admiring her, but at the same time, he wondered what her lips would feel like against his. Would they be soft or slightly chapped from all the time she spent biting them?

“Making me your best friend was the best decision you have ever made.” The sound of her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, yet his eyes didn't leave her body. He never thought he could find someone stomping out a cigarette so attractive, especially the way her hair fell him her face.

He couldn't agree with her more, even if she was purely messing with him. While they were complete opposites at times, they were more similar than either realised. They knew each other as well as you could hope to know another person. Both knew what the other would say, or do, or how they would react before they had a chance to do anything. They were similar and by contrast, completely different from one another. Y/N was fierce like him, yet she was soft in ways he was rough. Whatever he couldn’t be she would be for him, and he would be whatever she needed him to be. He would be anything she wanted him to be. He would willingly surrender into the unavoidable feelings he held for her.

Y/N couldn’t pinpoint the moment she knew she had fallen for him. Maybe it was somewhere between the long nights they spent sharing foxholes and the playful bickering that unfolded between them behind closed doors. All she knew was the man that stood in front of her, her best friend, was the man she couldn’t live without.

"Shut up." Ron groaned with a badly hidden smirk returning to his face he rolled his eyes. They stared at one another for a moment, neither needing to say anything, just enjoying each others company. What both didn’t know was the other was trying to memorise every feature about them as neither wanted to forget what they looked like just in case the unthinkable happened. To break the silence he lightly pushed her shoulder forcing her to step backwards, her foot getting caught on a loose brick lying on the ground. She fell back onto her ass with a screech that could only be compared to a cat.

At first, she was unimpressed, the look on her face evident and her shoulders began to shake. He was really worried that he had hurt her, that she had survived months of bullets and bombs flying past her only for his playful shove to be the thing that got her sent home. The last thing he needed or wanted, was to hurt the person he loved, whether she knew it or not.

The fearful expression on his face was the thing that set Y/N off, the thing that caused her to audibly laugh. His facial expression made her wish she had a camera so she could capture the moment and relive it when she needed a reason to smile. Relief washed over him, and the breath he never realised he was holding was let out, his body relaxing immediately. He joined in her laughter, also finding the situation humorous. Tears were in his eyes, making it difficult to see the girl lying on the ground in front of him. Neither of them could stop, one look at the other caused them to start all over again. He never thought he would find a time to laugh during war, but here he was shaking with laughter with the one person he never intended to get close to, the person who turned out to be the unknown love of his life.

“Ron?” She called his name, holding her hand for him to help her up but he was still laughing and didn't notice. She called his name a few more times but nothing happened. Y/N took her helmet off her head and threw it towards Ron with all her strength. It missed him of course, he moved at the last minute, causing the helmet to land somewhere behind him. He continued to laugh and he began to walk away. “Don't you walk away from me after causing serious injury to me."

He was walking towards her helmet, to pick it up for her, all the while still giggling like a small child. Ron gathered himself enough to reach a hand out to her. With a small 'oh' escaping from her mouth, she took his extended hand when he returned the confused look she had on her face. He pulled her up with all the strength he had within him, causing her to crash into his chest face first with a small thump. With a mumbled apology, Ron looked down at her and only noticed how close he was to her when she looked up at him with her beautiful eyes. Neither one moved away despite knowing they should.

Taking a deep breath, it was Y/N who made the first move, and not the one she truly wanted to make. Instead of leaning forward to kiss him, she stepped back, but like they clumsy person he always reminded her she was, she almost fell again. Without thinking, Ron caught her in his arms as if it was instinct to keep her safe. A sweet smile crossed her face and once steady on her feet, she dusted her OD's off as best she could. After several attempts, there was no improvement due to the permanent layers of dirt that lived on them. She gave up, realising she wasn't going to get any of the dirt or grime off them. It caused her to wonder if a person like him could ever really love her.

Looking up at Ron, she nodded towards her helmet, silently asking for it back.

“Are you going to throw it at me again?” He ruffled her already messy hair, thrusting her helmet into her chest. As tough as she was, he was still stronger than her, and it almost winded her.

Y/N took hold of it, placing it back onto her head before he gave out to her for not wearing it, not as her best friend, but as her Captain. She punched his shoulder as payback for pushing her, and because he dodged her helmet when she threw it. ‘Asshole’ she mumbled jokingly as she pulled him by the front of his shirt towards wherever she could find them both a semi-decent cup of coffee.

"You stole my cigarette."

"I borrowed it, you big baby."

@likeyourfuckingsergeant @curraheewestandalone @liebegott @vintagelavenderskies @inglourious-imagines @happyveday @easy-company-tradition @sydney-m

[beskarberry]

Krayt’s Teeth

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 3 (The Mandalorian x f!reader)

The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead of you, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 6.7k

Content warnings: Canon typical violence, killing in self defense, headcanon angst, FLUFF, sensory deprivation, body worship, oral sex (f receiving).

A/N: These are my headcanons regarding Mandalorian culture in terms of sex, I didn’t find much lore on it so whether it’s accurate or not idk but I like them and that’s all that matters! Enjoy~

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You could have slept forever, even on that horrible little cot you were so comfortable that you could have been out for days, but the only one on it was you. You did’t know when Mando got up from the tiny space you both shared through the night, or how he managed to get out from your tangled bodies without waking you up. You opened your eyes to tiny green baby hands tugging at your fingers. 

“Hey booger, is it time for breakfast? Where’s your papa?” You started to sit up, but the horrible sticky mess underneath you made you reluctant to move, a mix of passion and pain from the day before. “Yikes. I’m gonna run all his water out if I have to keep using the fresher. Come on, let’s get scrubbed up.” The baby gibbered excitedly at you, though you weren’t sure how much of what you said he actually understood. You scooped him into your arms without looking back at the sad little cot and all its stains. “You’re water proof, right?”

The ship’s engines were rumbling away, so you guessed tin man was up in the cockpit flying you towards your next bounty. Or Nevarro. You would have to find Mr. Mystery later, the grossness that was you had to be dealt with. Between you and the child your shower took forever, the two of you getting water and soap bubbles from top to bottom. You didn’t care. You had been on Tatooine for months without having a real shower, being consigned to the sonic freshers that vibrated the sand off of the moisture farmer’s bodies; and this was the second real shower you’d gotten to have in twice as many days. You spent a good deal of time trying to get your chatty friend to hold still long enough to be dried off, the little fart squealing with joy every time you went for him with the towel.

An ordeal later you were both fresh and presentable, but your host was still nowhere to be seen, though the ugly sheets had thankfully disappeared from view. The ship was quiet now, without the engine running you knew you had to be back on the ground, and you could hear a distinct hum of activity coming through the walls. Space port? He flew us into town? The thought was replaced immediately with a rich, savory smell coming through the air vents: FOOD! Your gut grumbled loud enough to resonate through the cabin and earn you a confused look from the baby. When was the last time you really ate? You’d been living on ration packs for the last couple of days. That was going to change right now.

“Ya hungry buddy? Me too! Maybe that’s where your dad is, hmm?” Grabbing your old backpack and hooking the baby under your arm you started punching buttons on the wall to get the door open, sending walls sliding and cabinets opening before you got one of the access ramps open. Bright double sunlight nearly blinded you, and on reflex you covered the baby’s giant googly eyes. It took a moment for your own to adjust to the radiant light of the Tatooine morning, and the smell of cooking food hit you like a ton of bricks, making your mouth water. As your eyes adjusted you were able to take in your surroundings: though it was bright outside you were parked low inside a maintenance bay, the walls of which soared high above you; littered with engine parts and humming with droid activity. Sound was the last input your hungry brain could process, but when it did you didn’t like what you heard. The sounds of an argument echoed around the hangar, high and shrill.

“I already told you, you can’t park here! You’re bad for business!”

“I just need to park here long enough to get supplies.”

“Well you’re gonna have to pay up, Mando! I’m not running a charity here! You got credits for supplies you got credits for parking! Up front this time!”

Oh no.

Of all the mechanics and docking hangars in Mos Eisley he had to pick this one. The fireball of a woman barely came up to your partner’s chest, but she made up for it with unbridled fury; and the giant cooked animal leg she was swinging around like a club between bites made her look even more formidable. She noticed you coming down the ramp and stopped grilling your comrade long enough to glare daggers through your skull.

“Oh NO! No nope nuh uh! You can turn right back around and get back on that ship, missy! I knew it! I knew you were bad for business, Mando! What’re you doing running around with her? I hope she’s your bounty because she’s your problem!”

“Peli.” Your words were cold as ice, but the squirming baby in your arms took all the malice out of your stance. He wiggled until you set him down, and he ran towards the mechanic with open arms.

“Baby! You can stay but your dad’s gotta take the mean lady somewhere else! She cheats at sabacc!”

“You lost fair and square, Peli! Try playing a better hand next time!”

“Ladies please!”  Mando cut through your bickering, holding his arms up between the two of you like he was trying to corner a pair of wild blurgs. “If I let the child stay with you for the day, will you let me park the Razor Crest here? Just for a couple hours?”

Peli bounced the child on her hip, offering him a bite of her breakfast. The baby squealed happily while he sank his little teeth into the mighty snack, though the size of it comically dwarfed his itty bitty hands. “I’ll tell you what, you let me keep him and then maybe I’ll let you park here in a week.” Mando cocked his helmet at her with disdain and she huffed loudly, “Well if you put it that way, I guess you can park here, but you gotta put five hundred credits down, and not a cent less!”

Mando reeled, stabbing his hands to his hips with indignation. “Five hund- absolutely not! What am I going to buy our-” You interrupted his tirade with a hand on his shoulder, waving a slew of credits in front of his eyes. Peli snatched them out of your hand, fanning them out like cards to count them.

“Who’d you cheat these outta?”

“Don’t worry about it.” You leaned casually against your metal man, eyeing Peli with a smug look on your face. “Let’s go, Mando. Bye baby green bean, have fun with Auntie Cheats-at-Sabacc!” You spun him around by the hand and dragged him towards the exit, ignoring the insults being slung at your back. “We are getting breakfast and that’s final!”

The Mandalorian allowed you to pull him along a few feet before grinding his heels into the sand, shaking his head. “You have to stay here.”

Now it was your turn for sassy head tilts. “I just paid for your parking, buckethead, that makes me in charge and I’m hungry! I’ll buy you breakfast too if you want.” He didn’t budge, fixing you with that intense stare of his and grabbing you by the shoulders.

“You are still being hunted. Mos Eisley isn’t safe for you.”

Ah.

You knew you could look after yourself, and he himself had compared you to a ferocious rancor just yesterday. You groaned loudly, “Shit balls of hell. But dad, I’m huuunngry!” The man bristled at your paternal harassment, sighing heavily and letting his helmeted head fall to the side like the world was ending. He glanced around the hangar exit, his shiny beskar snapping to each object of interest until he located a protocol droid corpse that was missing everything from the waist down. He strode over to it and held it down with one boot, yanking it by the head until it popped off. He began prying the droid’s vocorder apart at the mouth, pulling it wide until the droids face plate broke off with a snap! Tossing the rest of the logic processing unit to the ground, he held the face plate up to the light, inspecting the clarity of its photo receptor casings. He bent back down to the junk pile and fished out a stray wire to thread through the ruined audio processors, then tossed the finished creation to you.

“Put that on.”

You turned the makeshift mask over in your hands to check for sharp edges before you pressed it to your face. The bug eyes on the front were dirty, but you could see well enough. Before you could clean them more thoroughly you felt the weight of fabric on your head, his cloak now worn as your own. The thought of how you must look made you giggle. “You make me take my clothes off, now you want me to put clothes on. It never ends with you, Mando. Next you’ll be forging me beskar. Now can we eat something, please?” Without a word the armored man turned on his heel and walked out the hangar exit. I’ll take that as a yes.

Mos Eisley buzzed with life, people and animals and things you couldn’t explain made their way up and down the bustling streets. The smell of food led you to a vendor selling something that could have been a root vegetable, covered in herbs and spices and grilled to perfection. You couldn't wait, all thoughts of self-preservation went out the window as you hauled ass to the stand, waving two fingers in the air. When you had both of your prizes in hand you stuffed the savory veggie under your mask, sighing contentedly at the taste of real honest-to-Maker food. “Hey tin man, I hope you like... whatever this-” You turned to offer your partner something to eat, but he had disappeared from the crowd. “Alright... more for me.”

Taking a newspaper from the vendor you wrapped the extra snack up tight and threw it in your pack for later, continuing to chow down on your own. You would find Mando eventually, and you had credits to spend. You had held onto your hush-money for months to avoid suspicion, but now it was burning a hole in your pocket. Wandering the streets of Mos Eisley from merchant to merchant you began accumulating a small hoard of supplies, ranging from bacta to hand tools, and food. Whatever you could get your hands on that would survive hyperspace when you inevitably left this fucking dirtball for good; though you still weren’t convinced that you wouldn’t be making that flight in carbonite. You picked out new clothes and underwear, a much-needed bedroll, and some soft bantha-wool blankets. Something further down the marketplace caught your eye, and you made your way to the fancier items that glittered in the double daylight. You didn’t wear jewelry yourself, a poor choice of attire for a hunter, but the way the trinkets caught the light still made you wistful. Your hidden eyes danced over the glittering treasures; jewels and geodes that had been found deep in the sands and polished to a radiant shine.

You spotted something opalescent at the end of one table and found a pair of krayt teeth, each about the size of your palm. They had been sanded to a smooth, flat finish and carved with intricate desert patterns. The backs of them had tiny fittings that could be sewn on as buttons, or pulled off to reveal magnets. Something about their shape seemed familiar, though you couldn’t imagine why in that moment. You purchased the unique pieces anyway, something to remind you that even the harshest of places could hold hidden beauty. After a while you had so much junk piled in your arms that you could barely see over it, and tin man was nowhere to be found. You spotted a courier droid and paid for it to deliver your treasures back to Hanger 3-5, though you kept the pricey teeth in your pockets. With your arms free you started looking for your missing comrade.

The streets were busy with people, you would have to get somewhere out of the way in order to scan the crowds. Your eyes went from shimmer to shimmer, looking for his reflective chrome dome. “Big jerk,” you mused to yourself “‘Mos Eisley’s not saaafe...’ If he’s so worried then where the hell is he? Bah!” The scratched-up photoreceptor casings of your mask made it a challenge to see through the crowd, and you took a moment to adjust the iris apertures so you wouldn’t have to keep squinting into the double sunshine when you felt a hand on your back. Finally. “Mando, where have you-”

“Mando? Whos’sis man-do? Nah sssweetheart, I think you got me confused wi’ sssomeone elssse.” The slithering voice in your ear made your blood run cold. Not Mando! You rocketed your elbow backwards, connecting with the gut of the stranger on your back with an -oof! The hand let go long enough for you to make a run for it, and you tore off down the streets of the busy spaceport, smashing into bystanders in your wake. You cast a quick look behind you to see a large reptilian body flying after you, brownish scales catching the reflection of the noonday suns. Though you had your blaster, the risk of hitting a civilian was too great, so running would have to do. You were thankful for the courier droid that had freed your hands just minutes before as you barreled down the busy streets.

Market stalls flew past you, your boots kicking up sand and dust. The mask on your face, as dirty as it was, kept the debris from your eyes as you raced through the sunburnt city. You had to lose this fucker and fast. You turned down an alley, left, right, another right, leaping over supply crates and low fences like a lothcat. You turned to see if you had lost your chaser, breath heaving and heart pounding. Behind you was clear, but you took your eyes off your path for just a second too long, and were taken by surprise when a heavy weight fell on you from above.

The Trandoshan had gone over the low sandstone roofs, chasing you easily through the alleyways of Mos Eisley while you were none the wiser. He pinned you under him quickly, ripping your blaster off your hip and pointing your own barrel in your face. “Tha’ss enough, princesss! Nice n’ quietlike now. You gonna make me a pretty penny you are.” The lizard’s words dripped with metaphorical venom, though you were sure by the look of those fangs that real venom was probably right behind. “Ahm gonna cart yer arse right back to th’ Guild’n I’ll become th’ most famous hunter in th’ galax -urk!”  With a sickening gag the hunter above you grew a shiny new fang in the back of his throat before falling down dead on top of you, a vibroblade protruding from back of his skull.

“Took you long enough!” You hollered at your chrome companion, who was stepping forward to kick the carcass off of you. “Where the fuck have you been? Getting your rifle polished?” He pulled you to your feet, handing you your blaster while readjusting the mask on your face. You swatted at his fussing hands, but when you looked at him you were shocked to see not one but three blinking bounty fobs dangling from his belt. On the ground by the dead lizard was a fourth, flashing rapidly in the sand.

“I told you you weren’t safe! We need to leave right now.”  You were barely able to grab the remaining bounty fob while you were being tugged away by your allied hunter. He had a death grip on your hand, pulling you along behind him towards what you hoped was the docking hangar. You would have to cross the main street to get there, and as the pair of you plowed across the dusty, busy road there came shouts from either side. More hunters, fucking Guild! You didn’t have a single second to assess them before you were lead through an alley on the other side of the street. These were darker than the ones you had run through on the west side of town, and shady bodies moved quickly out of the way of your living locomotive.

At the end of a narrow alley you both burst through a door leading into an abandoned building. The darkness was almost worse than the blinding sunlight, you would need time for your eyes to adjust but the Mandalorian had enough sensory detection equipment that he ghosted through the ruinous building with ease; never once letting go of your hand as you tripped and stumbled through the dark. The sound of crashing and shouting was hot on your tail, the other hunters had followed you and were gaining fast. You saw a light rapidly approaching ahead, and the two of you burst out into the brilliant daylight to the worst possible place: a dead fucking end.

“There! Get down!” Mando pointed at a pile of rubble, probably big enough to hide behind, but that’s not how you handled business.

“Fuck you! I’m not going down without a fight!” You pulled your blaster out and aimed at the incoming assailants. He growled at you and stepped closer, putting his body in between you and the door. The reptilian hunters burst from the darkness of the warehouse, firing rapid shots of blaster charges that bounced off of Mando’s beskar. You fired over his protective arm, taking out the first one and tripping up the second, who fell over his cohorts limp body. Mando took shot after shot to the chest, reeling with each impact. His other arm cocked back and shot out, sending a wall of fire into the last of the Guild’s hired guns.

Both of you were panting, shaking and sweating from flying through Mos Eisley, but the sound of blaster fire would draw attention and you knew there was no time to waste. You stepped over the incinerated corpse, making sure the fob it carried was melted, the second body still squirmed in the dirt, and you weren’t going to let it get a second chance, firing your blaster through it’s scaly skull. You picked the remaining two fobs and stuffed them in your pockets, making a run for it back through the building with Mando right behind, the blaze of his flamethrower lighting your way.

You took a different door out of the building and were relieved to see the words ‘HANGAR 3-5′ painted in bright blue Basic straight ahead. You skittered through the entrance, rounding the corner and dropping down behind the edges of the hangar doorway. Mando did the same on the other side, both of you pointing your blasters back towards Mos Eisley’s dark heart. Bootsteps behind you made you snap around, and you nearly shot your mechanically inclined host.

“You kids have fun out there?” Peli stood over where you were hunched, and you lowered your blaster to the ground. At her feet your little buddy was holding onto her pant leg, making big puppy dog eyes at you. You looked over to Mando to make sure there weren’t any more coming, but he still held his blaster out ahead. After a few tense seconds he lowered it down until it was back in its’ holster, then pulled himself to his feet.

“We can’t stay any longer, we’re putting you in danger. Time to go, kiddo.” His charred beskar still shimmered when he bent down to pick up his adopted son, who chirped with delight. “Thank you for watching him.”

“He can stay any time! Oh and thanks for all the snacks you made that droid bring me!” Peli called after the three of you as your party quickly boarded the Razor, making you turn around and stick your tongue out at her. She happily flipped you off and started closing the ground entrance to the bay, letting you board the ship uninterrupted. Fortunately, the courier droid’s delivery had made it to the ship, though you couldn't help but notice a few of your most carefully picked snacks had been taken as collateral. Fucking Peli. As much as she infuriated you, there wasn’t another person on all of Tatooine that you would rather play sabacc with.

The old rust bucket rumbled to life, taking off into the midafternoon sky and pointed towards the stars. Finally! Bye motherfucker. The hazy atmosphere of the outer rim planet fell away below you until the light of the bright yellow world illuminated the Crest’s stern. The pre-Imperial scrapheap started howling with noise, and you were almost thrown to the deck when it blasted into the safety of hyper space.

Your heart was still racing and you struggled to catch your breath. Once you had yourself in order you started busying yourself with putting the supplies away, filling the food larder to capacity. The child was contentedly telling you about his day with his auntie in his cute baby gibberish, and you picked him up off the ground to give him a much needed hug, pushing your stolen identity onto the top of your head to give him kisses. You almost wanted to ignore the sound of heavy armored boots hitting the floor panel under the ladder, their wearer opting to jump down from the cockpit rather than climb. You could feel the fury coming off of him as he stalked over to where you were sorting your treasures.

“You could have been hurt! I knew it was a bad idea to let you go wandering around, even with your face covered. What if they’d caught you? I picked three of them off before you even saw one!”

“I had it under control, Mando! I’m not some princess that needs you coming to her rescue at every sign of a struggle. And you don’t get to let me do anything, you don’t own me!” The man under your scrutiny paced the cabin on stiff legs with his hands on his hips, helmet snapping with rage.

“I know you can handle yourself, but I need to protect you.” He said with a huff, “And that lizard was... he had you pinned down, had his filthy, scaly claws on you... Nobody should touch you like that! What if.. what if he... I- I- didn’t like that he was...” Listening to the sound of the gears jamming in his head made you realize the ridiculous thing he was trying to say.

“Are you.. Mando are you jealous?”

“No! I- I’m.. Cyar’ika I... ”

Oh no, you don’t get to be cute right now. “I don’t know what that means, Mando! What is that, some kind of sexy little pet name you use on all the girls you take underneath of you?”

“NO! I didn’t- I would nev- I’ve never had... There’s never been- no!” Oh how you wished you could see his face, watching him flail trying to defend himself from your accusation, he was probably white as a sheet under all that armor.

“Never what, Mandalorian?”

“I’ve never had anyone in this ship before!” The Mandalorian’s confession lost steam halfway through as embarrassment and fear crept into his throat, threatening to choke him with his own secrets.

“Wait.. wait wait. Never? You’ve never had anyone in this ship or...” You started approaching him, analyzing his visor for hints of meaning. “Or you’ve never had anyone at all?” The Mandalorian stopped his pacing, but his shoulders looked like they were carrying the weight of the galaxy. His silence told you everything, and the last piece of his puzzle fell into place. “Mando...was I your first?”

“Y-yes.” His visor tilted up to you, hands fidgeting at his sides. His voice was faint and sheepish, a stark contrast to the thunderstorm you were arguing with a moment ago.  Your eyes were full of questions, all racing through your mind so quickly none of them made it to your mouth. The metal man answered them all for you in one singular motion, raising his fist to knock a couple times against his beskar helmet. His creed.

“So, what, you guys aren’t allowed to have sex?”

He sighed his heavy, trademarked sigh and plopped down on the nearest supply crate with a defeated thud, cradling his head in his hands. “No it’s not that. Not... not exactly. In Mando’a the word we use is me'dinuir. It means ‘to give’, specifically to give yourself to another. And... when you give yourself away to someone-“ He turned the black gloss of his single eye up to you, “-you belong to them. That is The Way.”

The weight of his words made your blood cold. He was jealous, but not just because that other hunter had put his scaly hands on you. Everything about his attitude around you suddenly made sense, the way he had looked at you when you were presenting yourself to him that first day, why he never threw you in carbonite when he probably should have, and how he had stayed with you through the night after you nearly died hunting his bounty. His mysterious way of life decreed that giving his body to you meant that he had also given you his soul, and that made you just as important to protect as his foundling.

Mando reached out to pat the fuzzy green head of the baby you were still holding, who gibbered sleepily up at his armor plated papa. “I’m sorry to put that on you, and I’m sorry for how I acted. You’re not my bounty anymore, and I shouldn’t try to control you. I understand if you don’t want to continue with me to the next bounty. You can take whatever you want from the armory when we land next. I’m.. I’m so sorry.” The monolithic man looked so tiny now, sitting on the edge of the crate with his shoulders hunched. He reached his arms out to take his infant son from you, hugging him to his blast-burnt chest and smoothing his massive ears. "I didn’t get to thank you for washing him earlier, he smells really good.”

You desperately needed to know more, though the sight of him fawning over his sleepy son made your heart swell. “I kinda got the feeling that you were rusty when we met, but that was actually your first time? And what does that mean ‘you belong to them’? How can you belong to me? I don’t even know your name.”

"It means that I’m now sworn to protect the one that carries my soul. I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian.”

His words made you feel sick, ashamed that you had taken something so sacred from him without a second thought, but how could you have known? He could have stopped at any time, you were the one in cuffs that day, not him. No, out of trillions and trillions of sentient beings in the galaxy he chose to give himself to you, knowing full well what his heritage decreed. Why you? Arms crossed, you dug deeper. “You’ve never seen another naked body than your own?”

He shook his head. “Just... holo-vids...”

You were going to have to ask him about those later. “Nothing? You’ve at least kissed someone before though, right?”

“Kissed?”

Maker fucking help you. “Yeah you know, kissing? The thing you do with your... oh, right." You reached up and tapped him twice on the beskar. “You need your face to do it.”

He cocked his helmet at you. “Can you show me?”

The innocence of his question made you melt. Fuck you, tin can, you’re not supposed to be cute when you’re in trouble. You reached your hand out, demanding he give you his, and shyly he obeyed. You pulled his hand to your lips, unsure of how much he could actually feel through his thick leather gloves. You pressed his hand to your lips and watched his whole body snap straight. “Kiss, like that.”

He was staring at his hand like he’d never seen it before, and after a moment he pulled your locked fingers to his head, tapping his forehead with the back of your hand. “Kov’nynir, But we do it with our helmets.”  At this rate you’ll be speaking Mando’a in no time. He still held your hand gently, running his thumb over your fingers. “I think I like your way better. Could... Could you do that again?”

So polite, maybe having him stuck with you wouldn’t be so bad. You pulled his hand back to you, giving him another soft kiss on the side of his thumb, and you heard the sound of his breath catching in his modulator. Your lips pressed to each of his knuckles, and then you turned his wrist to kiss his palm. “How’s that?”

“That’s amazing.”

“You like that? Watch this.” Addressing the bantha in the room would have to wait. You tugged his glove off, revealing the warm bronze skin underneath and kissed him again. The hitched breaths coming out of his modulator were honey to your ears, and you turned his wrist over to kiss his bare palm again, hunting for more sweet sounds. His body was so stiff, so tightly wound you thought he might snap. “Are you ok? Do I need to stop?”

“I- I- want to... Can... Can I try?” You nodded, your heart jumping to your throat at the thought of him removing his helmet in front of you, but instead he gently reached up to the busted droid face you still wore on your head. With a twist of a knob the armatures inside of the eye casings coiled shut, and when he slid the mask down into place you were thrown into total darkness. “Can you see?” You shook your head. “Promise?”

You sighed, long and frustrated. “I promise, dark as a sarlacc’s backside.” You were met with only silence. Then, after what felt like an eternity you heard the sliding sound of metal as the child’s pram shield slid closed, then the shuffle of armor being removed, and lastly the dull thunk of something heavy being set down on the crates. His hand found yours again, and he pressed his lips against your skin. They were hotter than you were expecting, and soft, almost plush. You understood right away why he was so rigid when you were doing the same, it was amazing. Gentle kisses made their way over the back of your hand and made heat flood through your veins. He moved slowly over each joint, following the same pattern you had shown him, then turned your hand over and kissed at your fingertips. Something fuzzy brushed along with his lips, and you imagined that he might have a mustache. The shivers that crept their way up from your captured hand knocked all the strangeness of your conversation out of your mind, but when he reached your wrist he stopped.

“Where else do you kiss at?” You nearly fainted at the sound of his unfiltered voice, a rich baritone that dripped with dark intentions and stole all the words from your mouth. You could only point with your other hand at the forearm attached to the hand he held. Again you felt his lips on your wrist, then slowly, inch by agonizing inch he made his way up your arm, each kiss slower than the last until your toes were curling in their boots. When he reached the edge of the tunic’s sleeve that hung at your elbow he paused again. “Where else?”

“Everywhere.”  Your tormentor hummed at your consenting words and let go of your hand to run his palms down your clothed thighs. When he reached your knees he pulled on their joints, bidding you to bring your legs up over his lap. When you were seated on him he resumed his trek up your arm, kissing at the crease of your elbow and then upwards over your tunic until he reached your shoulder. When he got to your neck you almost buckled over, but his hands were at your back in an instant, wrapping heavily around your waist. Your own hands made their way to the nape of his neck, and your fingers found the edge of his hairline that you had felt before. To your delight you felt that the tousled curls went all the way up, and you tangled your fingers in them, exploring their softness while he explored you.

His journey led him up your neck to the base of your jaw where he nipped gently at the sensitive skin like you had done to him last night, sending a fresh wave of goosebumps from your head to your toes. When his nose bumped the edge of your mask you were suddenly aware of how silly you might look with your big bug eyes. “Can I take this thing off?” you asked in a whisper. “I won’t look.”

“I have a better Idea. Hold on tight.” You dug your hands into his shoulders and felt his arms wrap under your legs as he stood up, lifting you with such ease that you wondered if he felt your weight at all. His boots echoed through the cabin until he stopped at the other end. You hung on for dear life while he climbed the ladder with you still wrapped around his front. When you both reached the top you let yourself unwind from him and scooted on your butt over the floor, listening to the sound of him pulling himself all the way up. You remained seated as your host fussed around the flight deck, the noise of buttons pressing and switches being thrown the only input to your deprived senses.

You were only unattended for a moment, then his hands found your waist, fishing for the edge of your shirt. The tunic was pulled up and over your head, taking your mask with it, and you squeezed your eyes shut to protect his modesty; unsure of what his unconventional oath to you included in the fine print. Your diligence was rewarded with a kiss on your forehead, then down to kiss both of your closed eyes, and then lastly to your lips. The searing heat of his mouth on yours threatened to throw your eyes open, but when they fluttered all you saw was darkness. The transperisteel’s blast shielding had been closed, and the only light in the cockpit came from a handful of illuminated buttons on the dash.

He was lying over top of you on the metal floor, one arm wrapped under your neck for support. The cold decking under you was uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to care, letting yourself be consumed by his kisses and becoming drunk on the scent of leather and adrenaline. The soft fuzz of his facial hair tickled slightly as he pressed into your lips, and you couldn’t help but smile. Your hands went to his face, running your thumbs over his cheeks and feeling what you weren’t allowed to see. His face was scruffy but not unkempt, and the bristles went all the way from his jaw up to the bottom of the defined nose that bumped against your own. You felt the creases on the corners of his eyes, wishing you could see his smile lines and all the stories they would tell.

You kissed him back, letting your tongue glide over his plush lips and making him inhale sharply. You licked into him again, and this time you were met with his tongue as well, just the faintest touch of its tip. He hummed in your mouth, and the sound of him so close made your belly pool with heat and your kisses bolder, sending your tongue deeper into his mouth until he was almost vibrating with the sensation of you exploring something as forbidden as his human body. He mirrored you as best he could, rolling the smooth muscle over your lips and the edges of your teeth until you were both lost in each other’s taste. He pushed his forehead against yours, pulling his mouth away with frantic breaths that spread fire over your skin. “Everywhere?”

You pushed your lips against his again, giving him an ambitions ‘Mmhmm’ as an answer. His growl made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you realized where his goal was. He kissed and nipped his way down your throat, letting his tongue glide over your skin. He made his way to your breast, taking its’ tender tip between his teeth and making you gasp. He sucked at it gently, rolling his tongue around it while it grew harder for his efforts. The hand not under you groped at your free breast so it wouldn’t be ignored.

"Beep!”

An urgent chime echoed in the tiny space, the hyperdrive indicator was flashing its countdown warning: 10 minutes remain.

The Mandalorian’s growl on your breast made your blood turn to ice and your core flush with heat at the same time. He wanted to devour you, taste every single inch of your exposed skin, but time was not on your side; and he became a man on a mission to prove himself worthy of you. Bristles dragged over your skin as he slid down your belly until he hit the edge of your pants. They were yanked off so fast you briefly worried about the krayt teeth that were still in their pockets, but you didn’t have long to think before Mando was poised over the apex of your thighs, kissing at each leg to make his intentions known. Those must be some good holo-vids you’re watching, tinman. You let him push your legs apart with his chin, receiving a soft kiss on each one once they were far enough apart for him to stuff his face in between.

Your back arched, hard, followed by the most ragged moan you‘d ever heard escape your throat. The grip on your thighs kept you in place as he lapped at your clit, sucking and teasing in an experimental way. His inexperience didn’t seem to matter, his hunger for you fueling his efforts and making you squirm in delight. Your hands sought desperately for something to grab onto to keep yourself grounded, finding his lovely curls to bury your fingers in deep. It was all you could do to hold on for dear life, tangling in his hair and struggling to breathe as he worked you into a frenzy.

The noises coming from below your waist were heavenly, wet and greedy in between his hums of contentment. It took you a while to realize they weren’t hums at all, but alien words of worship being prayed at your sinful altar; but the blood pounding in your ears and the gasps from your throat were too loud for you to hear his devotion.

“Beep beep!”  Five minutes remain. Fuck.

The Mandalorian’s efforts doubled, running his tongue almost too quickly in his attempt to eat you alive. You let your hips grind into his mouth, begging him to bring you your release, and it wasn’t long before he succeeded. Stars flashed behind your eyes as you came into his hot open mouth, but he refused to leave until he had drank his fill of you. Eventually he pulled his face away from your spent heat with agonizing slowness, as if he would rather drown than address the impending drop from hyperspace. He kissed at your shaky thighs, your soft belly, and each breast before pressing his lips into your panting mouth, pushing the taste of you onto your own tongue. His breath was ragged, and you could feel the sweat of his brow where it was pushed against your face. 

He lifted away from you, and the weight of the handmade mask was draped over your face, making you groan with the displeasure of your passion being cut short. However, once it was in place, it was almost immediately pushed under by strong fingers to lift its edge, and you were given one last kiss to swear his promise of return to you.

“Din. My name is Din.”

<-Previous Next->

TAG LIST  @mrsparknuts​ @cookiejuicedesu​ @mandoinevarro​ @kaermorons​

[pro-fangirls-unsocial-life]

Overload

A/N: Hello everyone! Look at me! Being productive! So this a fic inspired by THIS amazing art by @sorry-but-no-sorry of Hunter. I hope you guys enjoy! This one was a bit personal to write, cause I pulled some of the feeling described from my own experiences with panic attacks and sensory overload but I hope its still good all the same! And a big thanks to @captainrexisboo, my sword wife, for helping me out with one of the scenes!

Length: ~2200 words

Warnings: descriptions of panic attacks and sensory overload. Angst. Hurt/comfort.

“Hunter!”

  Though each and every clone valued their name more than life itself, Hunter wanted nothing more than to be nameless in this moment. Every time the syllables came tumbling from his brothers mouths and crashing into his ears, it was like thousands of shrieking whistles all began their assault on his senses at once.

  They all still smelled from their most recent mission. Hunter could make out every scent that they had brought back with them as they all mixed together and bombarded his nose. He could feel every single spec of grime that was caked onto his body. The way that it cracked as he moved felt like a million tiny blades all piercing his skin at once.

He was too hot and too cold all at once. The sweat slowly making its way down his forehead left a searing imprint on his mind as he tried to force himself to ignore it. He needed to keep being strong, to be the image of composure that his brothers needed him to be.

  He still had to deliver his report to Admiral Tarkin, a feat that was never easy. The admiral's cold gaze would always burn right through him and would send waves of pure panic coursing through his veins. Like a predator stalking its prey.

  Tarkin knew he had this effect on the Sergeant regardless of his desperate attempt to hide it, and he used it to his full advantage. The moment Hunter's image appeared in front of him, he would begin doing everything that he could to send him spiraling. This new clone force was far too successful, and he needed something to try and prove their inadequacy.

  Hunter knew what Tarkin was doing. He knew that if he let his panic slip through the cracks in his mask, things would only get worse for him and his brothers. So, he would not let himself break. He would not give Tarkin the satisfaction of seeing him fall apart. He became the perfect soldier, shoving everything down until he could be alone, pleading with his mind to show him even the slightest bit of mercy.

  The meetings would always be a blur in the moment but as they carried on, they would be forcefully engraving themselves into his mind, not granting him the small bit of solace he craved once they were finally over.

  He would always send the others to go relax while he finished the briefing, always thanking every God he could think of when they chose to go outside.

  He almost didn’t hear the sneering “very good Sergeant” that was spit out at him before the screen flashed to black over the panic that had broken through his defenses and had begun making its way back into the forefront of his mind.

  But the second the image of the admiral was no longer plastered across the screen and the hurricane of sounds and frequencies had finally stopped coming through the speakers, Hunter forced out the breath he had been holding, now gasping for air inside the empty ship as everything came rushing through his now broken barrier.

  He tore off his armor, letting each piece tumble to the metal floor with a loud clang. He rolls the sleeves of his blacks up to his elbows, not knowing if he feels comforted or completely overwhelmed by the feeling of the fabric on his skin.

  The light was blinding, shining brightly into his eyes like a star gone supernova.

  Everything is too much. Even though the ship is almost completely silent of everything but his shuddering breaths, every sound thunders against his eardrums, echoing throughout his mind and making him feel as if he is being hit upside the head with a brick with every new vibration.

  The steady hum of the ship’s machinery, a sound that is soothing to others, now roars in his mind with no end in sight. The rhythmic drip of a leak that they have been meaning to fix, once a welcomed background noise, now a piercing spear through his head. His own heartbeat, the only real thing he has to himself, the sound he finds solace in while he tries to will himself to sleep and while blocking out the darkness that threatens to consume him, now an endless assault that has risen in his ears, trying to drag him toward a never-ending expanse of torture.

  His hands didn’t feel like his own. They were heavy, weighted bags that dragged his spirit down. He felt his soul trying to leave through his throat.

  Shaking. Everything was shaking. His teeth, his fingers, his shoulders. As if he could reset, he tried to focus the energy; recalibrate his hands by flinging out his wrists.

  In that single movement, everything came crashing down, and a wave of emotion he’d been keeping at bay tore through him in a ripping shout. A shout that reverberated off the walls of the small space, coming back toward him to assault his ears once again.

  His ears were ringing. Every ripple of sound, every nauseating smell in the air, every feeling of every substance that was plastered to his skin was attacking him from every direction.

  He heard his name called from outside accompanied by far off footsteps and his hands flew up to his ears while his eyes screwed shut. He began pressing his palms up against the sides of his head so forcefully, that his whole body began to shake.

  He fell to his knees, each muffled call of his name rapping against his head, causing him to curl in on himself and making his forehead come to rest against the cold, grimy floor.

  He felt like he was drowning. With each gasping breath he took, it felt as though more and more weight was being cruelly added to the suffocating press on his chest. The feeling of tears beginning to roll down his face registered in his mind, adding to the uncontrollable spiral that he was being dragged down without mercy.

  More voices. More footsteps. More unbearable, ear-piercing noise.

  “Hunter? You ok?” Echo carefully walked up the steps of the ship, scanning the area just inside, looking for the origin of the shout he had heard. “Hunter? I, oof—”

  He toppled to the ground, turning to look at what had tripped him and finding Hunter's helmet at his feet. It was then he heard a tiny whimper come from across the ship. A whimper so soft that he almost didn’t hear it over the ships steady hum.

  He looked up, finding Hunter's trembling form curled up on the floor, his hands pressed to his ears and a sheen of sweat covering his body.

  “Hunter,” he asks, concern creeping its way into his voice. “Hunter?”

  Another small whimper falls from Hunter's lips, his body flinching each time Echo says his name.

  Echo scrambles over to Hunter, his hands hovering over Hunters back, not touching him. He stops, thinking back to when he would walk in on Hardcase in this same position, before lowering himself down so that he is lying on his stomach on the floor.

  “Hunter?”

  Hunter flinches again, his muscles straining as he presses his hands impossibly harder up against his head.

  “Hunter,” he whispers again, trying to get a look at his brother's face.

  “I-Its s-so loud,” Hunter chokes out. He gasps for breath, more tears falling from his face onto the floor. “I-I want it to s-stop. M-make it s-stop.”

  “I know. I know,” Echo softly says. “Let’s get you to your room. You’ve sound proofed it yeah?”

  Hunter takes a few heaving breaths before nodding his head.

  “Ok,” Echo says. “Now, I’m gonna have to touch you to help you get there. Is that alright?”

  Two more rasping breaths before another nod.

  “Ok. I’m going to get up and go turn off the lights before I come back and help you to your room. Ok?”

  Another nod.

  Echo quickly pushes himself up as quietly as he can before making his way over to the light panel. He flips a switch, turning off the main lights and leaving only that night cycle floor lights glowing. He gives his eyes a moment to adjust before making his way back over to Hunter.

  He crouches down, pressing himself to the floor again. “I’m going to touch you now so I can get you to your room. Ok?”

  Hunter nods, flinching slightly when he feels Echo’s hands gently touching his body.

  Echo slowly pulls him up off of the floor, not wanting to overwhelm Hunter more than he already is, before carefully guiding him down the hall toward his room.

  When they finally make it to the end of the hall, Echo presses the panel for Hunter's door and it whishes open, causing Hunter to flinch in pain at the sound. They make their way over to the bed and Echo sits him down on the edge, crouching down so that he is looking up at Hunter.

  “Do you want the boots off?”

  Hunter nods, cringing as he feels the movement against his skin and the sound of his boots and socks being set at the end of his bed.

  “The bandana?”

  Another nod.

  Echo reaches up and carefully pulls the fabric, now soaked in sweat, off of Hunter's head and places it on the shelf next to the bed.

  “Alright,” Echo whispers. “I need you to stay sitting up for just one second while I go get something to help you. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  Hunter gives a small nod, and Echo quickly exits the room.

  He hears water running and the sound of something being rung out. It is far away, but still rippling loudly in his mind. He reaches his hands back up to cover his ears and once again, screws his eyes shut. He hears Echo making his way back, being careful not to make any noise.

  Opening his eyes once he hears Echo step into the room, he sees him holding a washcloth and a glass of water.

  Echo comes back down to kneel in front of Hunter, offering him the glass. “Do you think you can drink some of this for me?”

  Hunter reaches out, grasping tightly at the glass being lightly pushed into his hand. “I’ll try,” he says, his voice soft and breaking.

  He shakily brings the water up to his mouth and presses the cold hard glass against his lips, taking a small sip.

  “Good,” Echo says with a small smile. “Very good.”

  Hunter hands the glass back to Echo, his hands still shaking. Echo takes it, and lightly sets it on the shelf next to Hunter's bandana.

  “I think you should lie down and try to get some rest now.”

  Hunter weakly nods, swinging his legs onto the bed and placing his head on the pillow.

  “Do you want the blanket?”

  Hunter shakes his head no.

  “Alright,” Echo says softly. “I have a wet washcloth here. Do you want it for your head?”

  He nods and closes his eyes, sighing as Echo gently moves his hair out of the way and places the cool washcloth on his forehead.

  “Alright. I’m going to go send the guys into town so that you’ll have some quiet. I’ll stay here and be just down the hall if you need me, ok?”

  Hunter nods, his breathing beginning to even out. He hears Echo take a breath before standing and quietly tiptoeing out of the room.

  “Echo,” Hunter gently says, opening his eyes slightly.

  Echo stops in the doorway, turning questioningly to Hunter.

  “Thank you.”

  Echo gives him a small, warm smile. “Get some rest vod’ika.”

  Hunter smiles and closes his eyes, laying his head back on the pillow.

  With that, Echo walks back out to the main area of the ship, leaving Hunter's door open so it won’t make any more noise as it closes. He goes outside and gives his three brothers some credits and tells them to spend the day in town.

  “Make sure you stay out of trouble,” he calls after them.

  Wrecker looks back over his shoulder and laughs. “When have we ever?”

  Echo shakes his head and chuckles, climbing back up into the ship, careful to avoid Hunter's armor on the floor. He could take care of it later when it wouldn’t make so much noise for Hunter.

  He walks down the hall quietly, peaking in to check on Hunter. His chest steadily rises and falls as he breathes in and out. His head is angled slightly toward the door and his mouth is hanging slightly open.

  Echo smiles and goes back out to the main area, sitting down in a chair. He picks up his data pad and opens up his copy of his favorite book.

  It was one that Fives had picked out when they were on leave after their first mission as ARC troopers. Nothing special. Just a typical hero’s journey fantasy adventure. But to Echo, it was the best book in the entire universe.

  He opens it up to the page he left off on and takes a deep breath, angling his head toward the ceiling. He smiles. “Just like old times, aye Fives?”

  He looks back down, taking another deep breath before diving back into the fantastic adventure that he and Fives always happily shared together, feeling his brother in every word as he peacefully read in silence.

[giggles-and-freckles]

Okay okay for the prompts: "I thought you were dead." With Obi-Wan and Ahsoka if you want!!! Because I absolutely love how you write them and I live for angst :)

annnnnd part 2/2! part 1 is here. (from these prompts)

From the back, the orphanage looked almost normal. Most of the back wall was completely in-tact and the windows on this side hadn’t been blasted out in the impact of the Separatist bombardment on the city centre.

But the building wasn’t supposed to sway the way it did with every gust of wind or creak and groan like it was going to topple at any moment. And from the front–the damage was evident. The entire entryway to the orphanage was decimated. Blown into bits by the heavy fire the city had been under for the past several days,

“There’s no entrance back here,” Cody said. “We’re gonna have to go through a window.”

Obi-Wan gave a small nod.

“Can you…feel anything?”

The Jedi closed his eyes, his hand grazing along the bricks of the back of the building as he walked. He mentally sifted through the layers of brick between himself and what he hoped would be his alive and breathing Padawan. They hadn’t established a training bond, yet, but her Force signature wasn’t so easily concealed from any Force-sensitive. Bright and warm, beaming through darkness. She glowed like an ember in wait, anticipating the moment she would become a fire.

His eyes shot open.

“Here.”

“Boys,” Cody called to Boil and Vix. Boil attached the small boost clam to the nearest window while Vix powered it on. The window shattered under it immediately. All four men braced themselves as a large shudder rippled through the entire back of the building in response. It groaned a little louder. But settled. They all breathed in relief.

Boil climbed through next, followed closely by Vix.

Cody paused. “You’re sure you don’t want to wait here, sir? We can–“

Obi-Wan cut him off by limping through the window. He felt Cody sigh and follow close behind.

Then–

“Stop moving!” That was Boil, further ahead of them inside the crumbling building. Obi-Wan and Cody froze.

“Boil?” Obi-Wan called. “What–“

“We found her, sir!”

“Ahsoka?” he shouted back, through the darkness.

It was Vix who responded. “There are children here, too! But the room–it’s–“

Obi-Wan didn’t hear the rest, crawling as quickly as he could through the piles of caved-in ceiling and ruptured floor. He nearly crashed into Boil.

“Careful, sir. The walls are–“

He shoved past the clone. “Ahsoka.”

And then he saw her. In the centre of the room, arms above her head, muscles straining against something unseen. Her eyes were clenched shut as tears streamed down her face.

“Master?” she choked out without opening her eyes or moving. “Is…that–“ The building groaned around her and she shut her mouth, a small whimper finishing her sentence.

“Don’t talk,” he said quickly. “We’re getting you out of here.”

“Can’t–“ she managed, her arms shaking in uncontrolled spasms. And then he understood. She was…holding the building up.

“I’ve got it,” he demanded, moving toward her. He lifted his arms until they were even with hers and closed his eyes. “You go.”

“No,” she grunted back. “Get the…kids–“

Obi-Wan opened his eyes again to take in the rest of the room for the first time. Five Rodian children huddled in the corner, shivering in fear. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened, but Cody was too good at his job.

“Boil. Vix.”

Both clones had a child on each hip within a moment. Cody scooped up the last girl.

“They’re safe,” Obi-Wan breathed. “Now go. Let me–“

“Out,” she bit off, the muscles in her face twitching in physical pain and exertion. “Have to…out.”

Pieces of ceiling fell around her. Boil and Vix carefully crawled their way out of sight, headed back to the window. Cody hesitated at the corner, pulling his helmet off and giving Obi-Wan a significant look. The Jedi shook his head and motioned for Cody to go.

Cody gave a long-suffering sigh, but dropped his helmet onto the head of the little girl and began his crawl out.

“No, my dear,” Obi-Wan said, redirecting his attention to the straining Padawan, “you have to get out. You’ve…there’s no time for argument–you can’t hold this any longer.”

“But–you–“

“Ahsoka. I’ll not lose another Padawan. Do you hear me?” he barked. He lifted his arms again, pushing the ceiling up and out. “Go!”

As the burden lifted from her own body, she cried out. “NO. Master! Just–“

“Get out!”

“Please–no. Master, I just–“

“Anakin!” he screamed. “Get out of here! Now!”

She froze at that, wide eyes on the man in the centre of the room, with the entire building on his back. His chest heaved in pain and grief.

The building groaned.

“We’ll go together,” she said quietly, placing a light hand on his shoulder. With a deep breath, she brought the weight back down onto her before evening it out. “We can–“ she grunted, “move…toward the exit. And–still…hold–“

He nodded jerkily.

“Keep it…behind you–“ he managed.

So they walked. One step at a time, together, balancing the weight of the ceiling between the two of them. It was a short distance back to the window, but every step ripped and pulled at their muscles and consciousness.

“Almost–“ he rasped, turning the corner of what used to be a hallway and spotting the light form the window. “Drop it…on….three.”

“And…run.” she choked.

He nodded. “One.” They took another step. “Two.”

Then, together, they sighed, “Three.” and ran.

Obi-Wan made it through the window first, his already broken leg shattering further under the weight of it all. He tried pushing back up, but it was too much this time. The pain, the exhaustion. He collapsed back onto the ground.

The ground “oof!”ed next to him.

“Ahsoka?”

“Here,” she said in a voice far too small for a girl destined to do so much.

He released a shaky breath of relief, pulling himself closer to her on the ground. She threw an arm over his waist, clinging to him.

“Master,” she sighed. “I’m sorry–I didn’t–“

“Shh,” he breathed. “You’re okay.”

“I’m okay,” she nodded, burying her face into his shoulder. “We’re okay.”

“Earlier, I–I thought you were…dead.”

“I got separated. When I…when I went with Waxer and–“ She took another gasp of fresh air. “I couldn’t find them. And the kids–“

“They’re safe.” He smiled, widely at the sky, his back still on the ground as he held her next to him. “You saved them.”

“No, I–“

“You saved them,” he insisted.

She didn’t speak for a moment. Just tightened her grip around him. “And you saved me.” A pause. “Thank you, Master.”

He dropped his forehead to the dip between her montrals. “You’re welcome…my Padawan.”

[idga-buck]

Some and Others, 3/?

Earth’s mightiest heroes save the city again, but that’s never the end of the story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,301

Content: canon typical violence, death, destruction, swearing

Bucky was going to call. He just didn’t. He was surprised you hadn’t and overwhelmingly disappointed that it meant if he was going to apologize, it was a conversation he’d have to initiate himself. It could wait though. Just a little longer while he figured out what he wanted to say.

A week later, the Post ran a story about the same gossip site that had leaked your photo of him being shut down after many of their stories and photos were found to be fake. A rarity for the world of journalism these days, Sam noted casually as they stopped at a newspaper cart. Bucky bought a couple candy bars and watched the man with the thick black mustache and the gold chain slip copies of the article in front of a few of his worst sellers. Could he actually be that lucky? It was an easy out after a week of dodging questions and trying to remind the world to stay out of his business.

“So that photo of you? The secret girlfriend?” Sam waited for Bucky to respond, but when the centenarian opted to buy a Pay Day instead, he watched closer. Bucky hated that. Sam said he had a staring problem, but Sam was the one with x-Ray vision. He could read people, read a room, read Steve’s body language from across a battlefield and adjust his position without being told. As annoyed as Bucky acted when paired up with Sam Wilson, he was one of the few people in this century that Bucky Barnes respected. Truly. Except for that moment on a street corner when brown eyes were scanning his complete lack of guts and deciding what was worth commenting on.

“Yeah,” Bucky ripped open the wrapper a little too aggressively and responded with peanuts between his teeth. “It wasn’t real.”

Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets while Bucky stuffed his face. “I don’t know how you land the fake girlfriend story, when I’m right here,” they started walking away from the stand while Sam jabbered on. “And lookin’ as fine as I do? Come on, man,” he danced ahead of Bucky a few steps, forcing him to look up. “You know this would make a better story.”

Before Bucky could say anything, a loud crash echoed between the buildings. Nothing was visible from their block, but both men, trained for combat, were instantly on alert.

“That for us?” Sam asked, eyeing the busy intersection.

“No,” said Bucky, a clipped tone in his voice as he shook his head and started walking again.

Another crash, this time accompanied by the faint human noises that usually follow tragedy.

“You sure about that?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up.

Sirens from every kind emergency response vehicle blared in the distance, growing louder then quieter again as they wove their way through the streets, changing directions to avoid traffic.

Bucky pointed at a passing fire truck, waiting until it had turned down another street before speaking. “See? They got it.”

Then Sam’s phone rang and Bucky swore, planting his hands on his hips while whoever was on the other line confirmed that the emergency growing in the distance was in fact for them. Sam placed the call on speaker and gave their current location. Stark’s voice was muffled and metallic, the way it usually was while calling from inside his fancy helmet, but he told them to stay put as he did a fly by with Sam’s equipment.

“Tell the Tin Man he’s got a special delivery,” Tony informed them from somewhere overhead.

“They're your wings,” Bucky grumbled, looking up from the ground as the familiar glare of Iron Man’s thrusters came into view. “And your robot.”

“First of all,” Sam informed him. “Red Wing isn’t a robot. He’s a drone.”

“It,” Bucky corrected, “is a robot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” said Sam before pointing up to where Iron Man had doubled back to get a better angle. “And… unlike some of us present, my body is exactly as God created it, flesh and bone.”

“Pop up, deep center,” Tony’s voice rang out obnoxiously through Sam’s phone once more.

Bucky watched a black bundle falling from the sky, trying to position himself under it and pushing more than one pedestrian out of his way to do so. “Actually, I was a catcher back in ‘32.”

“THEN CATCH!” Sam hollered just before the EXO Falcon gear landed square in Bucky’s chest, forcing him off his feet and onto his ass, skidding to a stop on a sidewalk while the people around them scattered, gasping and grabbing at their phones to take pictures of the two Avengers. Bucky laid flat on his back, both arms still wrapped around the bundle, and took a deep breath when Sam stood over his head, arms shooting out to his sides as he yelled “SAFE!”

Bucky groaned and tossed the black bag up into Sam’s arms, hard enough to make him stumble but not enough to knock him down. “Should have said ‘out.’” Bucky grumbled and Sam chuckled as he dug through the bag for his equipment. “Safe makes it sound like I-”

“You really wanna argue about baseball right now,” Sam laughed, securing his wings over his torso and releasing them both with a flash as if stretching before a fight. “Or are we gonna go save the world?” Bucky didn’t answer, just took off running in the direction of the screams. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam to himself, shooting up into the air.

…

Robots. Drones. Whatever they, Bucky Barnes has decided that he hates them.

Fighting Nazis was easy. Not physically. Not when your gun isn’t really yours and the food sucks and you’re almost as worried about losing your toes as you are losing your team. But it made sense. These men in their wool coats wanted innocent deaths. Something in Bucky that had been there all along was born anew in the war. He was a protector. Of his sisters, of Steve, of his country. It made sense.

Nothing about Hydra made sense and the therapist he stopped seeing told him it was okay to think about those years differently than the rest. So he did.

When T’challa presented him with a black vibranium canon for his left side, the enemy was otherworldly. Literally. They didn’t bleed like men. They made horrible screeching noises when they died, but even that was different from me. They rode disgusting creatures with teeth that could have scratched his arm if he’d let them get close enough. They were invaders, their leader sought destruction on an even greater scale than the War. Bucky was a protector again, protector of Earth, of life in the universe. An unimaginable title for the boy he’d been, sitting in front of the radio with his family and marveling at the president's voice. It’s not like he was eager to do it again, but space invaders whose goal was universal genocide would be met with the business end of Bucky’s favorite rifle.

Fighting robots, however, was fucked up.

Bucky was still processing his new life, still getting used to the idea that people carried plastic cards in their wallets and could pull money out of the walls with just a few buttons. There were movie theaters with screens two stories high. Cars plugged into the sides of hotels. The cell phone in his pocket was overwhelming as is. In a few minutes, he could buy all the clothes he’d ever need, pay for dinner, and talk to people across the country. It was baffling.

All this technology, all this progress, and of course there were people who weaponized it. Bucky hated that. He remembered science fairs, remembered Howard Stark’s big promises. There was so much hope in him as a young man. He’d live to drive a flying car, his children would learn about the world through a holograms in their livingroom, his grandchildren would live on the moon. The possibilities were endless. So much so that people with horrible intentions for the world also believed that the possibilities were endless, forcing Bucky into his current position.

His thighs were wrapped around the base of a machine, arms wound near the top. He threw his shoulders back with all of his might, squeezing his legs in the process, and didn’t stop until the metal gave way. Bucky fell onto the pavement with his own momentum, the enemy in two pieces with wires exposed and frizzling as they died. He dropped the robot and rolled to his side, observing the scene around him. Steve used a cleaner approach and sent his shield flying through the air. Three more bots’ were sliced in two, the last of which was pinned by the shield into the side of a brick building. Sam circled above, with Redwing swooping below to draw laser fire away from bystanders while Wanda tried her best to herd them away, spinning to throw angry red energy at anything that came their direction.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The familiar and overly excited voice of the kid in blue and red spider gear startled Bucky. The kid swung in unexpectedly, decked out and ready to help. Bucky didn’t care that he was probably skipping school to do so and swung his vibranium arm behind him, the metal of another droid crunching under his elbow. “How can I help?”

Bucky squinted, a little dumbfounded at the question. There was a six block radius being overrun with droids, drones, robots- whatever- and people were terrified. “Pick something,” he grunted, taking the robot's head… top part, between his hands and twisting until it gave way and the bottom half dropped powerless to the ground.

Just then the sound of metal screeching pulled both their eyes to a city bus being thrown around like it was weightless, crunching the vehicles nearby, and sending more people into a frenzy as buildings were still evacuating onto the street. “That! Pick that!” Bucky commanded and the kid flew away, attached to a white string like a kite. Two more robots were approaching from the sidewalk, red eyes glowing and ready to fire. Bucky looked around the street for something, anything that he could use before deciding on a minivan. The windows looked clear, driver and passengers already scampering away at the first sign of trouble, so Bucky planted his boot into the back door and kicked. The door caved in and the vehicle flipped onto its side before skidding to a halt on the sidewalk and crushing the robots beneath it.

“Uh! MISTER BARNES, SIR, SARGE-!”

Bucky turned back to look at Peter, propped up on a light pole and leaning so far back his body was almost parallel to the ground. The only thing keeping him upright was the two thick white webs attached to the bus, one at the front and one at the back. It was tipping over dangerously low, trapping a small group of people between the bus and two buildings, one that had smoke billowing out the windows. This was a mess.

Bucky ran through the street, jumping onto the hoods of abandoned cars to avoid weaving between them before leaping off an SUV and rolling back into a run on the sidewalk. A laser struc Peter, knocking him clean off his perch, and the webs supporting the bus went dangerously slack as it started tipping toward the trapped people again. Bucky jumped, wedging himself between the building and the collapsing bus with great effort. His shoulders dug into the brick behind him and his thighs burned as he shoved the bus away from the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt it slowly start to tip away from the ground. The kid was now on the ground somewhere out of sight and Bucky had to hold back from sending the vehicle flying, lest he squash Stark’s favorite spider in the process. The tension in his legs grew as he held it steady, adjusting his feet and shoulders until he felt it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey!” He called out to the people below him. “Get out of here, go!”

There were rushed thank yous and lots of tears as the crowd dispersed from their trapped position. But one voice stood out among them and it made Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Bucky?! Oh my god, BUCKY!”

Bucky’s eyes were closed under the strain, but he’d know your voice anywhere. He opened them just in time to see Peter recover and zip off in a new direction. Bucky released his breath and shoved his feet out hard, tipping the bus back. He dropped from the wall and grabbed you as the bus wobbled precariously in both directions before finally falling into traffic and directly onto the roof of an empty red sports car.

Bucky hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until you said his name again and the word was broken. His arms relaxed a bit, but you made no move to run away… or let go of his jacket. The two of you just stared at each other, breathing heavily, before screaming drew your eyes away. The small crowd of people you’d been stuck with were running away from where you stood, but the two in the back collapsed, their bodies charred and heavy as they hit the ground. You screamed then and Bucky pulled your back into his chest, hugging your stomach as you keeled over. He’d seen so much death in his hundred odd years, it was hard to witness it with these fresh eyes. You weren’t prepared to watch two innocent people’s skin melting under lasers. Hell, neither was Bucky and while you cried in his arms, the smell of burning flesh stung his eyes. He’d never get over that smell, no matter how many world wars he participated in. His face was buried in the back of your head, shushing you as he lifted you up. He took careful backwards steps until you were both hidden in the same alley you’d just been trapped in. Bucky looked up at the burning building and decided he had a minute before you were both in danger here.

“Hey,” he said softly when you went limp against his chest. “Hey now,” he repeated, spinning and almost dropping you when he realized you hadn’t just relaxed… you were unconscious. “Shit,” Bucky dropped to his knees and let your body lean up against his chest, slapping at your cheeks and calling your name to try and wake you up. Half of your face was red with blood from a wound he couldn’t see somewhere in your hair. Break up or no break up, he couldn’t leave you like this. Any other person, he’d run them to safety and double back to continue clearing the streets. But this wasn’t any person. It was the girl he dumped in the middle of a restaurant and had continuously put off calling to explain himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clear the air and leaving you to wake up in a few hours in the middle of a destroyed midtown was just too cruel. He did like you and now it felt like he owed you.

Bucky picked you up like a doll and slung you around to his back, crossing your arms over his chest as your legs dangled behind his knees. That wasn’t going to work, he decided after only a few steps. “Can you hold on a little-“ Bucky drifted off as he turned his face to see your face hidden behind him, your forehead limply resting against his shoulder. “Of course not,” he berated himself and stopped to adjust again. This time he stooped, grabbing one of your arms and one of your legs with his hands. You were slung over his shoulders like a backpack, the same way he carried goats in Wakanda, only much easier since you weren’t kicking or screaming and he had two hands with which to wrangle you.

His steady march out of the fray was interrupted once by Wanda. After directing pockets of people to safety, she’d sought out the source of the invasion. Bucky looked around for a safe place to stow your body and found an SUV that was abandoned but still running with the doors unlocked to lay you out across the backseat, carefully tucking your feet in before slamming the door behind him. He liked Wanda, despite not knowing what exactly she was capable of, but liked her a lot less when he found himself immersed in a glowing red forcefield and being lifted into the sky. When he was forced through the large glass window of another building only to look up and find her floating gently through the hole his body had created, she shrugged.

“This way was faster,” she said, Sokovian accent much softer than their first meeting.

“Right,” Bucky groaned, making a mental note of how many Avengers could zip through the air with ease and the odds of being the one she found on the ground.

They raced up the final set of stairs and Bucky ripped the maintenance door to the roof off its hinges. It was unlucky that Bucky and Wanda had been the ones to find the bastard responsible. If it had been Steve, he’d been bound and handed over to the authorities. Tony might have thrown him in armored vehicle and shook him around a bit before demanding answers. Bruce… depending on the day wouldn’t have been much better. Nat would have gotten answers easier than either of them and Sam was easily the most noble of the bunch, so Bucky had no idea what he’d do. The right thing, whatever that was. But Wanda wasn’t particularly fond of people who harmed innocent people. The motivation didn’t much matter to her when the sounds of children crying could be heard in the streets. Bucky didn’t have much grace for people who were smart enough to help, but broken enough to hurt. Like the bastards in Hydra, who healed him, kept him alive, gave him extraordinary strength then weaponized him. Anyone who had this level of technological advancement and chose to bring destruction with it was a waste of air. Wanda hoisted the man up into one of her angry red orbs while Bucky broke the control panel into as many pieces as he could, destroying anyone else’s opportunity to learn from this guy. Neither of them had anticipated this guy to be so well armed. It looked like a pistol, but whatever it fired managed to get through Wanda’s energy field and pierce her shoulder, breaking her focus just enough for him to drop back onto the roof. He took off running to the edge and leapt, but Wanda recovered faster, using her powers to yank him back. Bucky caught him in the air and squeezed, locking the man in a painful hold until he noticed glowing red numbers counting down behind the man’s neck. Shit.

“Bucky!” Wanda pointed at the man’s hands, wrapped threateningly around a plunger that could only mean one thing.

Without a better option, Bucky turned back to edge. He released the man and as he tried to stumble forward, Bucky’s boot landed square against his sacrum, launching the man through the air and into a neighboring building in a ball of fire. Both Avengers watched the corner offices go up in flames, disgust and horror in both their eyes.

“The whole block was evacuated,” Wanda said softly and Bucky nodded. There was a distinct lack of screaming coming from the direction of the building and sirens soon flooded the streets below as first responders made their way into critical areas. From the ledge, both of them watched as the remaining bots dropped to the ground before their team, disengaging en masse. Steve looked up from atop a bodega and saluted the sky in their general direction, lifting the shield as a second acknowledgment before jumping down to the street to start… whatever Captain America does once the threat has been neutralized. The PR and clean up stuff wasn’t Bucky’s scene and he turned away, making it all the way across the roof, still observing the scene below, before remembering that you were somewhere, either still unconscious or just waking up, deeply confused in the back of a stranger’s car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure before asking Wanda for any favors.

She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, black nail polish and red blood looking menacing and downright witchy against her pale fingers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, eyes already glowing red as she prepared to offer more aid.

Bucky stopped her and nodded over the side of the building. “Gimme a lift?”

She snorted and waved her fingers without looking at him and soon enough, Bucky found himself falling on his ass once again. He needed to work on his dismount if this was going to become a regular pairing. Thankfully or maybe not, you were trying to wake up as Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat and commandeered the vehicle. He turned back to watch you whine in pain as you tried to sit up, before slipping back into sleep when he told you to stay down. You were in and out for most of the drive, which helped Bucky weave up and over curbs to avoid stagnant areas where everyone had abandoned their cars out of fear.

…

You woke up with a headache, exasperated by the bright lights of the emergency room. Bucky could see the moment you came to by the hard squinting that melted into a grimace. You’d had a couple false starts, but when your eyes opened and locked on his, Bucky knew it was the real deal this time. He stood to pull back the curtain and immediately a nurse was shimmying her way into your space, brushing her chest against Bucky’s in the process. He nodded and gave her a tight smile. It had been like that since he walked into the ER with you. Avengers carrying blacked out civilians get a lot of attention, but they also get speedy service. Which is what Bucky told himself when he stuck around once you’d been admitted. You’d get better care if he stayed with you, so he did. Feet propped up on the end of your bed and dropping whenever someone came to run another test. He wasn’t family and didn’t claim to be, so they told him nothing, but nurses managed to smile flirtatiously in between doing their job. In another life, Bucky would have… done something. Anything. He smiled. He was a hundred, not dead, but there was something off putting about receiving these looks when you were asleep right there between hanging curtains in an overrun hospital as ambulances and families started to arrive from the mess he’d just left.

You answered their questions slowly, but correctly. Your name, where you were, what year it is, who the president is. The doctor would be in soon and Bucky took the minute of alone time to scoot the chair they’d brought in for him. You were watching him expectantly as the legs scraped across the floor, just a few inches before he could reach a hand out to yours. You looked down curiously at your hand in Bucky’s.

“They spelled my name wrong,” you murmured and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as you lifted your joined hands to observe the little plastic bracelet closer. He shook his head, wanting to apologize, but also hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots that he’d given them your information incorrectly. “Bucky?” He looked up to find your eyes wider than usual, a little more vulnerable than he was used to seeing you and wanted to do something to make you feel better. But like the entirety of your relationship, he had no idea how to do that.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, telling himself as much as he was telling you.

“Thank you,” you squeezed his fingers as your voice shook.

Just then a man in a white coat, pushed back the curtain and Bucky stood reflexively, dropping your hand in the process. He turned back and saw your face fall before crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the doctor addressed him first.

“Bucky,” he corrected without thinking and turned his body, opening up the room a bit and directing attention back to what mattered. The patient. You.

“Thank you for bringing her in,” the doctor continued, then looked back and forth between the two of you. “We’ve got it from here, if you need to-”

“He can stay,” you piped up. The doctor asked if you were sure, but you were. The doctor nodded, turning fully toward the bed and while that was Bucky’s goal, he now felt completely out of place in the tiny space.

“First things first,” the doctor started. “You and the baby are just fine, so I don’t want you worrying about that at all. Do you have a OB or a-”

Bucky stopped listening at that moment and focused on the roaring ocean in his ears. He looked to the bed where you were listening intently to what the doctor was saying, nodding and shaking your head mechanically. While he stared, you stole a glance in his direction. Your face was blank and he didn’t spend much time trying to read it.

“This sounds personal,” he said, voice flat and vibranium hand already reaching for the curtain at the end of your bed. “Take care.” Without sparing another look, Bucky walked through the busy emergency room with his left hand tucked into his front pocket, making him invisible to anyone who didn’t know he was there.

A/N: Here we go! It’s happening. I’m not sold on the way this ended but it was getting long as is and don’t worry, Bucky will have his chance to make it up to you.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg @learisa

[wordsfromthesol]

Safety Precautions (1/2)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist:@zphilophobiaz Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: You need help finding someone and who better to help than the prodigy bats. Though it looks like you may need to ask them for a few favors. Warnings:  Fighting, wounds, cursing, all the good stuff. Word Count: 1.9k

Part Two

“Oh look, a birdie in need of help.” You called down to Nightwing, who was fighting off a hoard of armed men. You jumped down to join him, taking one out with your landing before pressing your back to his. The men began to circle around you.

“Thank goodness, now I don’t have to call Red Hood for backup.” Nightwing quipped as he began counting the men. 

“Anytime, I’ve been meaning to ask for a favor anyways.” Before the conversation could continue the fighting commenced. As you lunged at one of the men, another pointed his gun at you and shot. The bullet lodged itself with the suit.

“Buddy, all that’s gunna do is bruise and make me angry.” You knocked the man in your arms to the ground and stared at the culprit. His eyes widened as you sprung forward, pressing him into a wall.

“How about at a closer range.” The man mumbled out as you pressed your arm to his throat. It was too late before you realized his gun pressed against your abdomen. He fired. You threw your head back and launched it into his, content as his body went limp and slumped to the ground. You unfastened your utility belt and placed it higher on your waist to cover the wound, just as Nightwing’s hand fell to your shoulder.

“We’re missing people. There should be 3 more.”

You just shrugged, “Maybe they ran off.”

“Unlikely, I’m afraid these guys would rather be caught by me than their boss.” Just as Nightwing got to the corner, a hand flew out and collided with his nose. You watched as a gun then rounded the corner. Quickly, you kicked Nightwing’s legs from under him, forcing him to collapse to the ground as you slammed your forearm into the assailant’s wrist. His hand struck the brick wall, the force causing his finger to pull the trigger. Another bullet right into your shoulder. You slammed his hand again into the wall, causing the gun to drop. Nightwing pulled the man’s legs from under him and his head crashed against the concrete below.

“Alright, 2 more. I’ll go left.” Nightwing called out as he darted around the corner. You stalked around the corner to the right and noticed an unsuspecting victim. Quickly, you wrapped your arm around his neck. He was on the ground in minutes. You continued, rounding another corner, where you saw Nightwing deliver a punch which caused the final assailant to collapse to the ground. You tried to ignore the growing pain and eyed your compatriot.

“Where’s you ride?”

“Two blocks…why?”

“I told you, I need a favor.”

The two of you made it to the motorcycle without any more fighting, but you looked at it wondering how you were going to hold on. Before you could try and reason through it, Nightwing tossed you a helmet.

“Safety precautions.”

“Right.” You put on the helmet and all you say was black. “Is there a reason the visor on this thing is blacked out?” you commented hoping it wasn’t your vision in general.

“Like I said, safety precautions.”

You took off the helmet and climbed on the bike behind him before placing it back on your head. “You bats are ridiculous” you mumbled. Halfway to the cave, Dick noticed your grip loosening around his waist.

“Eclipse?” No response. “Hey Eclipse, are you okay?” Dick felt you begin to slide and threw his arm out, catching you as he brought the bike to a stop. “Shit.” He felt the warm liquid plastered over your shirt. Dick ripped the helmet off, “Eclipse, I need you to wake up…we are almost there.” No response. “Can’t just make this easy, can we?” He picked you up and put you in front of him on the bike, holding you firmly against his chest with one arm.

**

You woke up in an unfamiliar place. You tried to piece together the information you remembered. Okay, you were last with Nightwing. This is probably a safe house. Or base of operations –. Your thoughts were cut short as you realized your mask was missing. Carefully, you pulled yourself up and noticed your left arm in a sling that hugged your chest. Your chest that no longer donned your suit. As you swung your legs over the side of the bed, a familiar face ran over to you.

“Woahh, let’s take it easy.”

“My…my…mask.” You voice croaked out.

“Oh yeah, we had to take it off. You were having trouble breathing.” Dick reached over to a nearby table and picked it up, handing it over to you.

“You all know then?”

“Just me and Red Robin are here. Well and Alfred, who patched you up.”

You nodded and put the mask back on, just in case. “So that favor…”

“What, patching you up wasn’t what you had in mind?”

“Ha ha, very funny.” You leaned to get up, Nightwing stepped to your side placing his arm firmly around your waist. Normally you would complain, but you were pretty sure this Alfred character had given you too much pain medication for you to care. You pointed over to the computer where Red Robin was seated. “I need you to find a missing person.”

“Someone you can’t find?” Red Robin questioned your motives.

“I could but using my connections…let’s just say someone else could find them too. Someone who can’t find them.”

“Alright, I’ll see what I can do, but you’ll owe me one.”

“Deal, name should be Lily Capcini. Born September 17, 2002. 5’-2”. Green eyes. Last known hair color was a chestnut brown…that was almost 2 years ago though.”

“I’ll get to work.” Red Robin nodded your way before turning back to his computer.

“And I’ll be getting home, thanks.”

“Uhm…I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“I wasn’t really asking.”

“At least let me get Alfred to check you over once more.”

You sighed but agreed to Nightwing’s terms. Almost as soon as the elevator doors closed, Red Hood strolled through, from what you assume is some sort of garage area.

“Didn’t know we were taking visitors…wait Eclipse? What happened?!”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head, Hood. I’m fine.”

“Heh yeah you didn’t almost fall off the bike on the way here.” You heard Red Robin mumble from his seat at the computer.

“You what?!”

“That was hours ago. Apparently your pal Alfred stitched me up good. I’m about to head out.”

“You’re just letting her go?” Red Hood yelled towards his companion at the computer.

“Dude, you know there is no way to stop her.” Red Robin began to reason just as the elevator doors opened, revealing Nightwing and Alfred.

“Miss…erm…Eclipse.” Alfred caught himself, seeing you donned the mask once again. “I must recommend you stay in our care a bit longer.”

“Sorry Al, no can do. Also, where’s my suit?”

Alfred walked over to a nearby table to retrieve it. “It is quite damaged. Three bullet holes. I can send it for repairs.”

“It’s fine. I’ll deal with it. And technically it was two and a half.”

Alfred looked at you skeptically before checking and redressing your wounds. “Well, if I cannot convince you to stay…”

“You can’t. Red Robin, let me know as soon as you find something. Now, who’s taking me out of here.”

Before the option was even given Nightwing had made his way over to you and led you to a room full of motorcycles, cars, and other miscellaneous vehicles. He handed you a blindfold.

“Sorry, safety precautions. Also, you’re sitting in front.”

“What?! Why?”

“Because you only have one arm, and I’m not having you almost face plant the asphalt again.” You rolled your eyes but complied with his request. You were only riding for a few minutes when he spoke again. “I think we’re being followed.”

“Shit. Can you lose them?”

“Just hold on.”

Nightwing slowed down for a few blocks and then gunned it, quickly making a right turn and then a left soon after down an alleyway. An alleyway where the brick wall opened, and he slowly pulled the bike in before removing your blindfold.

“Alright, give me something to throw at them.”

He just looked at you like you were crazy, you could tell that even through the mask. “Yeah, we aren’t going anywhere. This is one of our safehouses. We’ll stay the night.”

“But I need my stuff. He can’t see what’s in my apartment. I wasn’t prepared not to go back.”

“I’ll radio Red Hood, he’ll pick it up in the morning. If whoever was tailing us already know where you live, they will be waiting to see movement. Hood will have a better chance going unnoticed in the daytime.”

“He can’t get to her. I got her out. He just can’t.”

“We’ll find her. But right now, you need some rest.” You just stood there, staring at him. “Y/N. You need time to heal and we can’t do anything right now. Please.” Nightwing’s hands clasped your shoulders. “Sleep.”

**

You awoke to voices coming from the next room. You slowly moved out of bed and walked into the hallway, where you saw Red Robin and Red Hood standing next to Nightwing clutching a box.

“Did you find her?” You questioned the vigilante as you made your way passed them into the kitchen.

“Yeah, I found her –” you cut him off as you noticed Red Hood clutching a gold locket.

“Where did you get that?”

“Oh, your apartment. Looked important.” You stalked over and grabbed the item from his hand.

“Shit. I had to leave this behind. He planted it.” You didn’t bother to explain further but instead rushed to your room to gear up. He was coming, you could feel it. As you stepped into the doorway Red Robin slid at your feet. Helping him up you whispered. “Go. Find her. Tell her the Eclipse has faded and the Sun’s wrath shines again.”

As the hero ran off, you charged at the man slicing the air as he dodged your blades. You had to keep him busy, make sure Red Robin had enough time to get Lily to safety. He knocked you to the ground, but before you could get up Nightwing was in pursuit, Red Hood at his side. It always amazed you how in tandem they fought.

“You can’t have her!” You screamed as you rose from the ground.

“Oh I will possess her little one, just as I once possessed you.” He knocked both the vigilantes to the ground and dove through the already broken window.

“And that was…?” Red Hood questioned.

You stood there gazing at the window, “He calls himself Helios.” A moment of silence ensued as you collected yourself before you turned towards them. “Red Robin went to get Lily. Take me to her.”

Nightwing nodded and tossed you a blindfold as you made your way to the motorcycle the two of you had abandoned the night before. “Safety precautions.”

[destinys-lies]

Pulling the Strings by destiny’s lies

Disclaimer:

Boku no hero academia and its characters do not belong to me, but Kōhei Horikoshi. Any images used are credited to their original owner(s).

Prompt:

Day 1: Metamorphosis—Marionette

Author’s Note:

Just an Izuocha drabble to help improve my writing skills. I chose to do marionette. If I had a bit more time to work on it, there was more I wanted to add. x3  Sorry if it’s sound rushed because it kind of is. I hope you like it though, someday I’ll improve this.

Izuku stared ahead of him. Cars sat abandoned at the side of the dimly lit street. The streetlights flickered in and out like dying fireflies. It was dark. All the lights in the surrounding buildings were out. No one was in the buildings.

He and the others had made sure that everyone had evacuated the area. The villain they were dealing with was someone he had never seen. Quietly, he walked down the sidewalk, glancing through the empty windows. 

This place was a ghost town. Once full of life and people, now lay quiet and still. It was unsettling. He never thought a place could be so quiet. He shook his head. Now wasn’t the time to dwell about that.

His partner was missing. No, his best friend. She had gone on a solo mission and then had disappeared. She had been gone for a couple of days. Of course he was concerned. This wasn’t the first time she had gone under the radar but this time was different.

In the past whenever her location suddenly went unknown, she would at least leave a trail so they could find her. There was no trail this time. Something was definitely wrong. A distant crash caught his attention. He ran towards the sound, mindful of how much noise he was making. He didn’t want to give his location to the villain.

He hid behind a wall and snuck a glance. His pupils shrunk. He dashed towards the cracked object lying on the ground. He bent down and picked it up. It was her helmet. He glanced around. Where was she?

“Ochako?” he hesitantly called out. Another loud crash occurred several feet away from him. He sharply turned his head towards the sound. She was around here! He stood up and quietly walked towards the sound of the crash. “Ochako?”

“Deku,” a quiet voice said.

If it wasn’t for the absolute silence, he might’ve not heard her. “Ochako, keep talking. I’m coming over to you.”

“I’m over here.”

He followed the sound of her voice to an alley. A cold shiver went down his spine but he shook it off. Now wasn’t the time to let his fear get to him. He tried to peer through the inky darkness. He stopped walking. “Ochako?” he called out once again.

A figure slowly out of the darkness. Brown, matted hair stuck to the sides of her face. He froze, paling at the sight. It was Ochako. Blood and sweat clung onto her as she took feeble steps towards him. “I’m right here,” she said with closed lips.

She stared downwards at her feet. Her mouth is closed? But...she wasn’t the one speaking! He took a jump back as a heap of bricks fell in front of him, separating him from Ochako. He took a breath in. They weren’t the ones alone.

“Deku...please. I’m right here, help.”

He felt his stomach tightened. Ignore it. Whoever this villain was, they were trying to use her against him. He couldn’t fall for it. In hindsight, he should’ve gotten the name of the villain’s quirk instead of blindly rushing into rescuing Ochako.

Limping slightly, Ochako walked over the pile of bricks and extended a hand out towards him. “Deku help, why won’t you help me?”

Ignore it! He kept his distance as Ochako neared him. He looked upwards. An unclear figure stood at the top of the building. Bingo! He steadily raised his hand at the figure, ready to launch his attack.

“Oh my, you wouldn’t want to hurt her, would you?” a voice chuckled. Ochako gasped, leaning forwards, blocking him from the woman on the rooftop. A loud shriek escaped her. Her arms unnaturally stretched behind her back. 

“OCHAKO!” 

He carefully looked at her arms. Very thin strings were wrapped around them. She’s controlling her through them. He swiftly strode over to Ochako, cutting the strings with a pocket knife from his suit. Her arms tiredly fell by her sides as she collapsed onto the ground. 

“My my, ever the clever one.” Ochako’s foot swung at his head, missing it by an inch. “I’ll have to punish you for that.”

Out of nowhere, strings shot towards them. He jumped back but Ochako didn’t move as they swirled around and enveloped her. Her body stood up on shaky legs. Izuku glanced at Ochako’s eyes. They were empty and hollow. She wasn’t there anymore. How long had this woman been toying with her?

“Attack!” the woman commanded. Ochako’s legs moved forward. Her arms moved back to send a punch to his face. He quickly turned to his side, dodging the punch. He didn’t want to fight her. He didn’t want to hurt her.

Strings flew at him again. He sprung into the air channeling OFA into his finger before flicking it at the woman on the rooftop. She fell back with an ‘umph’ and without wasting another precious second, Izuku cuffed her hands. 

It seems like being silent and sticking to the shadows is her style.

Once Izuku made sure the woman was securely tied to one of the streetlights, he bolted to Ochako who was on the verge of passing out. He pressed a button on his suit to alert the others of his location. The two of them sat down on the sidewalk and he gently placed Ochako in his lap. 

“Deku…” Ochako muttered.

“Shh...I’m here,” he soothed, tenderly stroking his hair. She leaned into his chest. “You really worried me.”

“She kept telling me over and over that she’ll get away,” her voice cracked, tears forming in the corner of her eyes. “I-I thought you guys wouldn’t find m-me.”

“Of course we’d find you, Ochako. We wouldn’t stop looking until we made sure you got home.”

Ochako briefly smiled only for it to fade away. “It was awful, Deku. Being forced to fight others, twisting my limbs just so it would do her bidding.”

He pressed a kiss to the temple of her head, listening to Ochako talk about the pain she had to endure.

“A-And I couldn’t even do anything!” she sobbed, the tears freely flowing down her cheek.

Izuku hugged Ochako closer, mindful of her injuries. “You were so brave, Ochako and for being so strong. If I hadn’t noticed the helmet you left behind...” 

He didn’t finish the sentence but Ochako did. “Then you might’ve not found me…”

“Ochako, with or without the helmet I would’ve made sure to find you.” He placed another kiss, this time on the top of her forehead. “But—I’m glad that I did see the helmet because it led me to you sooner. Do you want to talk about what happened?”

Ochako’s eyes darkened. She shook her head in reply. He didn’t need words to know how she was feeling about the whole ordeal. She was quite shaken up by it and frankly, he was too. He was just glad that she was back and finally safe.

[writing-the-end]

LoL Chapter 25- Checkmate

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU and Red belongs to @theguardiansofredland )

Captured by Dolios, it’s up to TFC to decide who lives, who dies, and who gets to walk away from the game Dolios plays with them. 

Chapter idea credit to @whumpster-dumpster

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“How about a game of chess, guildmaster?” Dolios waves the hermits into the antechamber of the prison. The death dungeons Galena warned them of. TFC is pushed forward, standing before and alone from his friends. He stumbles and turns, head spinning from the sleep he was awoken from as he  looks at them all. Helmets cover the faces of the guards standing behind each hermit, but he can clearly see the knives at their throats. Every single one, a hair’s breadth from death. Some are stoic, like Doc. Unafraid and unblinking to the cold blade. Others are nearly collapsing to their knees- if doing so didn’t mean being cut by the knife. 

TFC turns back, a fierce growl rising from his throat “What is this about?” 

“I’m trying to be civil, can’t you see?” Dolios sweeps his purple robes to the side, revealing a table and two chairs. Atop the table, crystal and obsidian chess pieces glitter in the torchlight. “I’m letting you decide your team's fate. You see, each piece is a member of your illegal guild. On both sides. Each one that’s captured is eventual doom. Play my game, and decide the fate of your beloved friends. Who is more important, who will live? Who is sacrificed for the good of the cause?” 

“What kind of sick game-!” Grian claws his way out of his captor’s grip, biting down on the gloved hand before the masked man regains control over the spitfire. 

“And what happens when I win?” TFC puts a hand on his waist and raises a silvery eyebrow. 

“You won’t, but just to ease your fears, when you win your friends will get to live. It won’t be a nice time living, but they’ll be alive.” Dolios chuckles. “If you lose, those who are captured are killed and become another husk to add to my army. The rest may leave, in fact. But trust me- I won’t leave anyone alive. I play to dominate.” 

“What if I just don’t play?” TFC looks at the chess pieces. He picks up a knight, turning it over. Scrawled on the bottom of the crystal white horse, he can see Wels’s name. One piece, but one real life in this game of strategy. He has to be smarter than Dolios. 

“Then we can just make this fast and kill them all right now. I’m giving you the chance to free some, or all! Of your friends.” Dolios pulls out a chair and motions to it, brushing the cushioned velvet flat. “Sit, guildmaster. Let’s play a game. Show me your true worth as a champion guild.” 

Reluctantly, he does. He has no choice. This is the only way he can ensure some sort of life for his friends. But at the expense of others. As soon as he pulls his chair in, a blast of air and magic reverberates from the chess board. He winces, his hair blowing back and gripping the chair for support. When TFC reopens his eyes, the prison chamber has changed. 

Dolios and him are floating above the ground. Just beneath them, a massive chess board has appeared. The guards are gone, and on each checkered color stands a hermit. Only a few pieces are actual stone. Grian opens his wings, attempting to fly free from his place as bishop. But as soon as he takes off from the ground, his eyes widen and pain laces across his face. He crashes to the stone, black lightning shooting up his skin. Iskall and others step forward, before hesitating. They’re chess pieces now. Pawns. They can only move when the player moves them. Dolios looks down, chuckling. “He’s quite the wild child. Completely different from the last angel I quarreled with.” 

“Why are you doing this?” TFC hisses. “This isn’t fair!” 

“Since when did things ever become fair, guildmaster? You’re already playing with their lives by challenging me. Now you can see how your own mistakes led you here.” Dolios intertwines his fingers together, resting his elbows on the table. He leans his chin on his hands, a coy smile making his brown beard scratch at his skin. “I’ll let you make the first move, TFC.” 

The guildmaster looks across his chess board, as well as below him. It’s not just his pieces that are hermits, that are his friends. Dolios has some as well. Standing deathly still, waiting for the first move to be taken. TFC closes his eyes, thinking. He needs to be smart, to be a better strategist than the magistrate of Lairyon. This isn’t just a game. This is beyond what happens at the table before him. He needs to think of the repercussions each move will make. He has to make the least bloody moves as possible. Save as many of his friend’s lives as possible. 

“You promise no harm will come to my friends that survive?” TFC’s eyes open, realizing what he has to do. Without hesitation, TFC picks up a pawn, directly in front of Grian. It’s Mumbo. 

“I promise, on my word as the magistrate of Lairyon. May the ancient ones strike me down themselves.” TFC sets the pawn two spaces forward. Below him, he hears Mumbo’s yelp, followed by a cry of pain and feet scrabbling forward. When the crystal mage looks up, Dolios is grinning. “So the game begins.” 

He shoves his own pawn forward, moving exactly as TFC wants him to. The one directly in front of the king- of Dolios himself. TFC looks down, seeing Ren shuffle forward. He’s missing a sandal, only one flopping against the cold marble chess board beneath him. Two moves in front of him and to the left is Mumbo, shaking in his boots. 

TFC moves a second pawn- Scar. “You have my friends marked wrong. None of them are pawns. They’re all stronger than you could ever hope to be.” Wels is exposed, Scar standing beside Mumbo. 

“Tell that to this- checkmate.” TFC straightens his back, staring directly at Dolios as the magistrate shoves his queen diagonally. It’s not linked to any hermit, so a stone statue moves into the corner of the board. Turning and facing the white king. Capturing TFC. “You stupid mining moron! You lost in two moves!” Dolios cheers, his chair knocking backwards as he pumps his fist to the air and stands. “I didn’t even lose a single damned piece!” 

“Neither did I.” TFC whispers. “Now let my friends go.” 

Dolios stills, freezing mid celebration. His head turns, looking to TFC. He can see the magistrate slowly piece it all together, and the moment he realizes what’s happened. Elation breaks away in seething anger. A rage so bright and hot TFC swears he can feel it from his chair. “You tricked me!” 

“No, I played your game.” TFC’s voice is calm, collected. “You just happened to win. What was it you said before… you play to dominate? And dominate you did. Shouldn’t a good leader find a way to win without bloodshed?” 

Dolios waves his hand, a black magic circle appearing. A reverberating sonic wave shoves TFC out of his chair, throwing chess pieces all around him. Floating above his friends, he can hear them gasp. Only able to watch. Unable to move, to help their guildmaster. Their friend. Doc reaches out, but the black veins quickly reach back towards him. Towards his heart. TFC winces, sitting up. “You swore on your seat to let them go if I lost! If you go back on your word, everyone will know!” 

“Oh, I don’t plan on going back on my words.” Dolios snaps his fingers, and the hermits warp back to reality. The chamber is it’s old dull hall, torches and stone bricks. Hermits collapse together, checking one another for wounds sustained while apart. Grasping to stay together, to piece what happened between their last memory and now. Most only remember the capitol hall, then being woken up by the masked guards in individual cells.

 Dolios approaches TFC, setting his grey leather boot on the older man’s chest. Pressing his gilded heels harsh against his ribs. “But you still lost, you were captured. And all the pain your friends avoided? I’m going to do it tenfold to you!” 

A black ball of lightning grows as Dolios snarls, hand winding back and aiming directly for TFC. His eyes are wild, unhinged and untethered to reality. TFC raises his hand, a weak attempt to stop the growing dark magic before him. 

“Oh no you don’t!” X’s voice is sure, loud and reverberating off the stone walls. Unhindered by his mask. A snap follows soon after, and the dark lightning is dragged into nothingness. Into the void as X’s black hole grows. It threatened to eat up Dolios then and there, had he not taken an alarmed step back. 

“How? You shouldn’t be able to do that! You’re weak! My sleep spell should’ve...” Dolios turns, staring down the other hermits. Not noticing that Cub was hidden behind the others, or that TFC was no longer at his feet. 

“Nah, I’d say we’re pretty strong. Especially together.” X shrugs, and lets his black hole explode in a miniature big bang. 

With Dolios distracted, the crew makes their escape. Wels casts a shield and speed buffs, one hand raised to protect the retreat. Etho disappears down the hall, bouncing through shadows and silently taking out the guards ahead. At the top of the stairs, Mumbo hacks his way into the redstone powered door. Focusing all of his strength into forcing it open. Stress releases a sheet of ice before them, Jevin wraps everyone together into a bundle of bodies, and Impulse takes up a position next to Wels and his shield. Bracing against his friends, he casts his magic. Short spurts of explosions erupt from his hands, jetting the guild down the hall. 

Etho appears above the group from an arching shadow, grabbing Doc’s hand and joining them as they careen through the halls of the capitol building. Zipping past guards and wizards before anyone can even realize what they’ve seen, like a roller coaster ride. They don’t stop until they’ve burst out the back doors. Stress still doesn’t stop making a highway of ice, not until they’re well beyond the city limits, skating out into the open marshes that surround Milliara. 

Only then does the crew stop, breathing heavily and taking a moment to realize what just happened. And once they come to the same conclusion- they drown TFC in hugs. 

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

“Sir… they escaped. Again.” Apatia runs up, his breath heavy as his chest rises and falls. “They’re well beyond the walls. Should we send the Arcane guard after them?” 

“No. I don’t want anyone to question why we’re chasing after our champions. Erase all memories to anyone that saw their escape.” Dolios growls, rubbing his hand. Feeling the void still against his skin, trying to tear it apart. 

“But what about the illegal guild? They know-” 

Dolios turns away from the guildmaster, forcing the redstone door closed. Hiding the dungeons beneath the capitol building. “They are not our main concern. Let them squirm, let them think they’ve won. I have more important things to deal with. I have more power to gain.” 

Dolios looks down as something rattles against the floor. He stoops low, picking up the black pawn. It’s chipped, the onyx stone heavy in his hand. The Order of Hermits have captured this pawn, but he’s just setting the stage. Playing the whole field. “Check.”

[britomart-heart]

Goodness is Going With You, Ch.1

Hi all! First time posting fanfiction on this account, and first time writing in about two years. My target audience for this is approximately one person - ie myself who still likes zombie apocalypse aus, but let me know your thoughts and if you’d like more! Fandom: The Mandalorian Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader ****** You had been walking for days. Your small, ancient, ship had broken down on this back water planet, and even you had to admit there was no fixing it this time. But with the galaxy the way it was now, staying in one place was never an option for long.

It had also been days since you’d seen one of them. The creatures that had brought your world crashing to its knees more than twenty years ago. Just with the mere thought of them, your fingers brushed over your blaster strapped to your hip. The road had been too quiet for your liking, and it usually meant that the creatures had all moved to the same spot for whatever reason. That would make it easier for you to avoid them. It would also make it harder for you to outrun them if you did stumble across them.

You reloaded your blaster.

The virus was almost always deadly, and had taken sixty percent of the population of each system it passed through to prove it, but when a host was unfortunate enough to survive the initial sickness, it left them mindless, violent, and hungry for whatever flesh it came across. The accepted story was that the virus was biochemical warfare invented by the scientists of the Empire, meant to wipe out the last supporters of the Old Republic, but was more successful that they ever imagined. Now all that was left was barren planets controlled by warlords, travel systems overrun by pirates, and abandoned cities crawling with the creatures who prowled the empty streets hungrily.

Come to mention it, you were quite hungry too.

A map you found in a crumbling building had indicated that there was some sort of village north of where your ship had crashed, and you had been trekking across the desert sands in hope of some sort of meal, and maybe even an old piece of junk you could wrangle into flying condition. There was talk of a vaccine in the inner rim. A safe zone. It was an idea you could barely comprehend, but the whisper was enough to make you desperate to try and reach it.

As you began to daydream of what a safe zone might entail, you heard a cry in the distance, followed quickly by the warbled shrieks of the infected. Your stomach flipped, head snapping to attention. Normally such a cry would have you running in the opposite direction, but despite every instinct you had, your feet began moving towards the fray. That was the cry of an infant, of a child. Maker help you, but who would be heartless enough to turn away from that?

The noise seemed to come from impossibly far away, but you managed to find an abandoned moisture farm, and a hoard of infected swarming around the strangest looking kid you’d ever seen. Green ears nearly as wide as it was tall, it was crying out in distress as the creatures surrounded it. You’d never seen them attack like this before.

They surrounded the kid in a circle, and one by one they would try to attack with the usual sweep of their rotting arms. As one would rush in, the kid would raise a shaking three fingered hand, closing its eyes in concentration, and the creature would be flung back as if it was a rag doll. You stared in confusion, but quickly realised the child was slowing down, its eyes drooping lower and lower with each attack. You had your blaster raised without thinking and took down three of the creatures before they even noticed you there.

You slid through the gap you created and picked up the child just as it sleepily raised its arms up to you. Tucking him into the crook of your arm, you began firing shots as well as you could, swinging around, and ignoring the inevitable realisation that there was just too many of them. If you could just get out of their view there was a chance you could run, and you kept jogging backwards, until your back hit a wall.

They’d trapped you in a corner.

“Come on kid, that neat magic trick you pulled earlier would be helpful” you half yelled to the child who was clinging to your side. To his credit, the kid did try to lift his arm again, but the effort seemed to take the last bit of energy he had, and he slumped against you. Your grip was slippery with sweat, and with each beat of your heart, and fire of your blaster you knew it was hopeless. As the hoard closed in, you wiped the sweat from your brow, and the tears from your eyes, raising your blaster up to take out as many of them with you as you could.

You noticed the whistling in the air, before you noticed the tiny speeding bullets blasting into each of the snarling creatures, taking them out one by one. When the wall of them fell, a shining body that seemed solid silver landed in front of you, taking out the remaining monsters as if they were no more than training droids at a shooting range.

You stared in disbelief, clutching the child closer to your side, gaping at the number of infected this stranger had taken out in mere seconds, so stunned that you barely noticed that your saviour had now turned his blaster on you.

“Hand him over.” A deep male voice came through the modulator of the helmet, and he stretched his gloved hand out to you, gesturing towards the sleeping baby in your arms. You held him tighter on instinct.

“Who are you?”

“Listen girl, the only reason you’re still standing is because I saw you protecting him. Hand him to me, and we’ll call it even.”

You’d always been good at reading people, but this was like reading a brick wall. The dark visor hid even the slightest shadow of his eyes, and he stood still as stone, no body language to glean any sort of impression from. He held the blaster, still aimed at you, as if it were simply an extension of his arm.

But there was the slightest edge of desperation to his voice, just the tiniest hint of worry when he reached for the kid, that despite yourself you believed him. You wanted to believe him.

Slowly, you stepped over the corpse of one of the infected littering the ground and handed the kid over to the armoured man.

No, not just a man you realised, slightly later than you probably should have. He was a Mandalorian. You nearly dropped your own blaster, as you realised that an actual Mandalorian had pointed his weapon at you, and you actually had the gall to question him and survived.

He tucked the strange brown robe the baby was wearing tighter around him, with a tenderness that seemed somehow bizarre and charming at the same time.

“Why was he alone?” You asked, and the Mandalorian looked at you as if he had forgotten you were there.

“I was fighting a quarry into my ship, and the kid wandered off. He has a habit of doing that… usually I catch him before he gets into real trouble. After that, hopefully he won’t do it again.” He looks back at you, and somehow you knew he was looking over you from top to bottom. You shiver, and you know it’s not from the evening’s chill.

“I don’t have any credits.” He said, and you looked back in confusion.

“Credits?”

“To thank you. For saving the kid. Not many would have done that.”

“Oh don’t worry about it, anyone would have-“ You begin, but he shakes his head

“No. They wouldn’t have.” He tilts his head almost questioningly at you, and for some unknown reason you blush. Why are you blushing. You saved this guy’s kid, he’s thanking you, this is normal. All of this is normal.

“Well. I’d best be on my way then. Keep that kid out of trouble, he seems… special.” You answer, as diplomatically as you can.

“Yeah, he is.” The Mandalorian answers quietly, and you smile and start walking away. You’re nearly out of earshot, when the same modulated voice calls out again.

“Hey. Can I give you a lift somewhere. I’m not a taxi service but… I’m headed towards Nevarro and I can drop you there, or somewhere on the way.”

“Yes”, You say without thinking and without questioning the relief that threatens to spill over, “Yes, Nevarro would be great, thank you.”

He barely says a word after that, leading you nearby to his ship, and sets up a make shift bed for you on the ground of his rather shaken looking pre-empire Razor Crest. The kid stirs sometime after you enter hyperspace and gives you a toothy grin when he sees you sitting beside his floating crib. He reaches over to you with a tiny, green, wrinkled hand, and wraps it around your pointer finger.

“Hi kid, it’s me again”, you say and give him your name. He stares up at you with his enormous black eyes, and his calm gaze settles you enough that you allow the exhaustion of the past days to finally wash over you.

****

Over the next few days he tells you barely enough to satisfy your curiosity, but enough that your sufficiently intimidated by him. You can call him Mando, he doesn’t know the kid’s name, there’s rations in the hold that you can help yourself to whenever you want. You fill in the gaps you can with your limited knowledge of Mandalorians- that their religion is their armour and weapons, that their planet was lost before the virus destroyed everyone else’s, that the helmet never comes off.

It’s enough that your intrigued by him almost as much as you’re scared of him. His voice alone, warm and low, draws you in, and the affection he clearly has for the strange child that travels with him, is a walking contradiction to the Mandalorian code you heard about in stories and legends as a youngling. It makes you wonder if he travels with the kid out of obligation, or if he once was as lonely as you are, and couldn’t bare it anymore.

You can understand that.

You come out of hyperspace on the third day, and you hear him coming down the ladder into the hold before you feel the jolt of the ship entering Nevarro’s atmosphere. You have the kid on your lap, and were in the process of teaching him one of the few games you remember from your own childhood. He didn’t seem to get the rules, but giggled every time you clapped his hands together, and would try to do the same with yours.

“The kid likes you”. Mando says from behind you, and you smile over your shoulder.

“Well I’m easy to like. So is this little one.” You answer, and the kid gurgles in what sounds like agreement, and throws himself forward into you, stretching his tiny arms as far as he can reach, and laughs into your belly.

Mando walks forward, and gently tugs on one of the kid’s massive ears. You’re not sure if you imagine his fingers brushing over your shoulder when he moves his hand back.

“You’re handy with a blaster.” He says, in a way that feels more like a statement than a question. You’re not sure where he’s going with this, but you nod slowly.

“When I need to be.”

“You can handle moving around from place to place? You don’t have anyone waiting for you somewhere?” He asks, and it’s definitely a question this time. You nod more confidently, and turn around full to look up at him. He’s leaning against a wall, his arm resting confidently on his hip, and he’s literally in full armour, why is that a good look on him. You’re beginning to wonder if there’s something wrong with you. Maybe you’ve been alone for too long.

“It’s just been me for a long time.”

He nods in a way that makes you think it was the right answer.

“I’m trying to get into the inner rim. There’s some rumours that it’s safer there, and I need to get the kid… he needs to be safe.” He says slowly, as if he’s choosing his words carefully. Still can’t trust you with the full truth, but is offering up more than you ever expected. You try not to look too eager.

“I need someone to watch the kid while I collect my bounties on the way. You saw what happens when he’s left alone for too long. And I think you need to get somewhere safe too.”

You barely react, terrified that if you say something now, he’ll retract whatever offer he is about to make, the one you were always on the verge of suggesting yourself but kept losing the nerve to ask.

“I still need to stop in Nevarro. But you can join me when I leave again… if you want. I can pay handsomely, and it’ll be safer than travelling on your own.” He says, and you know he’s waiting for an answer now. You stand slowly, trying to look as if you’re contemplating a response, even though you know your answer immediately. You place the kid in his floating crib and wipe your hands on the front of your trousers.

“It’s a deal.” You answer and stretch one of your hands out in front of you.

There’s a few seconds of complete silence, only the unreadable man in front of you, staring at your outstretched hand, and oh maker have you misread this completely. You’re about to drop your hand, when he reaches out and shakes it with his own and seems to hold it a beat to long before letting go.

“Right, well then strap the kid in, we’ll be pulling into Nevarro shortly.” He answers as gruffly as if the conversation never happened and turns to climb back up into the cockpit. As if you imagined the whole thing.

Only, even though you have absolutely no proof, if someone asked you to bet on what expression he was making under that helmet, you’d have put money on him smiling.

[gigglewaterart99]

Ruby Vs. Kuma

As said in my bio I’m working on a graphic novel, so in addition to being an artist, I write too. I’m not the best but I try. Which is actually why I’m posting this short excerpt from my story. Idk if this is the best way to get feedback or critique but it can’t hurt to try.

I know y’all don’t know much about my story, so here’s the general tl;dr : four high school superheroes (with elemental themed powers) become friends, fight villains, go on adventures, explore their abilities, and have some chaotic fun.

This particular excerpt features Ruby, who has earth powers, and she gets into some trouble. POV shifts twice, from Nightmare to Ruby, and then back to Nightmare at the end, in case anyone is confused. It’s also a bit ?spoilery? but I figure y’all don’t know enough context for it to even matter so eh, here we go.

words: 2411

CW: blood, gore, injury (graphic descriptions)

“Hurry up Heath!”

“Quit worryin’, I’m coming!”

Nightmare lets the door slam behind her as soon as the second Heath brother is through. They made it out of the bank with seconds to spare, and minutes before any law enforcement arrive. Nightmare smiled under her mask, this was too easy.

She spoke too soon.

A flash of blue and orange drops from the sky and lands heavily in the middle of the alley way. The Heath brothers are too stunned to react before two columns of earth rise at blinding speed and knock both brothers into opposite sides of the alley. They slump to the ground out cold, their bags of cash rolling out of their lax grips.

“A bank heist on such a fine Friday evening? What a great start to my weekend!” The little hero exclaims avidly, her chest puffed out and her arms spread wide, a toothy grin the only thing visible on her masked face.

Kuma, who had been ahead of the brothers, turns around at the commotion, “Little brat! I’ve seen you around the city but never up close, until now. I’ve been looking forward to destroying you!”

“Destroy?! Whoa there, I just took out two of your buddies in two seconds flat. No offense but I don’t think you and your…” She turns to look at Nightmare, who was starting to advance, “uh, shadow mask friend are going to be much of a problem. Unless of course you were Flairs.”

“You’ve miscalculated,” Nightmare advances full sprint, “We are.” She vanishes in a flash of black mid-leap and reappears with a dagger extended at the hero, who barely manages to lift a gauntlet in time for the dagger to bounce harmlessly off. Nightmare had to give it to the little hero, she had some sharp reflexes. But she was going to have to be quicker than that to catch her--”GAHK!” Nightmare tumbles out of her shadow jump with the hero in tow, who had grabbed onto her tail with a painful grip.

“Oh, did that huwt your wittle tale?” The hero ducks as Nightmare spins around with the dagger slashing dangerously close. “Woah! Someone needs a chill pill! Here, big guy, why don’t you give your friend a talk!” Pain flashes up Nightmare’s spine as the hero yanks her tail and launches her at Kuma, who had been advancing slowly. But Kuma, the damn brute, does nothing to break Nightmare’s fall and instead swats her to the side.

“Not friends I take it? Acquaintances maybe?” Ruby watches as the masked Flair slumps to the ground.

“I am here for the money, but I am going to enjoy ripping you apart.” Kuma lets out a roar, a roar? As his clothes begin to rip and his form rapidly grows and darkens as if a shadow had suddenly overtaken him. Ruby takes a step back, nervously eyeing his hands as they sprout enormous claws and...fur? Her eyes flick back up to his face, which was no longer bearded and angry, or human for that matter, but was covered in thick black fur and elongated into the long, thick snout of a bear, with a matching set of sharp white fangs.

Ruby was glad her visor was heavily tinted because she could feel her eyes stretch wide in a mixture of astonishment and fear, as the man reared back to his full height, which had gone from something like 6 feet to a dizzying 8 feet. He was, without a doubt, a big black bear. But not a full bear. The proportions weren't quite right, almost like a human wearing an extremely realistic and frightening bear costume.

Ruby had read about Flairs like these. They were called Zoo Flairs*. They had the ability to rearrange their whole physical structure which meant that they could take on the physical prowess of the animal they copied, and could even amplify said abilities. But such power came at a cost; most can only shift into one type of animal.

And this one had to be a big friggin’ bear. Ruby’s muscles tighten as the man-bear lets out a roar and charges. She crouches and leaps over the mass of black. But her flight is cut short as a giant paw wraps its claws around her leg. How the hell did he turn so fast? A body with that much mass shouldn’t be able to--”OOF”.

Ruby’s thought is cut short as she’s slammed into the ground. Before she can even force air back into her lungs, she feels herself lifted into the air again. A moment later she crashes into a wall. Somehow she lands on her feet and her legs, albeit shaky, hold her up. She looks up to see the bear--uh--man-bear charging again. She throws a left hook, sending a chunk of brick wall straight at his ugly snout. Bullseye.

She jumps to the side as the man-bear collides blindly with the wall right where she had been standing, but not before a stray claw can slice through her exposed shoulder. She winces and takes a moment to breathe and glance back at the other goons. The blonde dudes were still out cold but the masked Flair was moving again. Not good. She had to put this man-bear down, quick! Or at least hold out until some backup arrived.

Ruby winces. Vincent was still recovering from a recent fight and in no condition to come to her aid. Laurel was grounded for the weekend and Sam had swim practice today. She’d forgotten she wasn’t going to have backup today and had promised herself only some light patrolling. Nonetheless she felt her stomach drop as she realized the situation was quickly going south.

She whips her head back to the man-bear as he frees his head from the wall with a grunt. He turns to Ruby while giving his big head a shake to free any lingering chunks of brick, although a light dusting of red still clung to his fur.

“What’s the matter, tubby? Too temperamental to fit in with the circus and too ugly for the zoo?”

“GRAAHH!” He charges at her, who advances as well. Before he can take a swing, Ruby drops and slides feet first between his legs, simultaneously digging a heel into the pavement to spin herself around to face his back as she comes out the other side. Using her momentum, she rolls backward, planting her hands on either side of her head and coiling her legs into her body. Satisfied with her hold on a chunk of earth between her and the beast, she releases. Her legs extend up towards the bear, a large chunk of asphalt following the line of her feet and colliding explosively with the man-bear’s face, who had twisted his upper body around to follow her movement.

As debris rains down, Ruby continues her momentum and flips onto her feet, a fist ready for a close body shot. Before she can even brace herself, the man-bear’s paw slams against her chest, smashing her back into the ground and pinning her with a crushing weight. Her head flies back into the pavement with a thud and she silently thanks her brother for the extra thick padding in her helmet.

The man-bear shakes his head and glares down at Ruby, a growl rising from deep inside his chest. Ruby curses under her breath; she’s made a mistake. She let her fear cloud her judgement; she’d let her pride turn into recklessness; she should have known that the asphalt was too crumbly to provide any serious damage, and that getting so close to an enemy with such intense strength and speed was foolish.

She could hear her sister already yelling at her; her eyes pointed with disappointment. “What the hell was that?!” The older girl walked toward Ruby, her head raised high and her movement graceful and powerful. She stands over Ruby, staring down at her with frustrated but tired eyes, “You know you have the upper hand when it comes to battling in such small quarters,” She gestures to the rusted steel walls surrounding them, lined with old pipes and grated catwalks that extended indefinitely into the shadows, “Not to mention we’re on ground level, literally your area of expertise.” She squats down next to Ruby, who’s covered in dirt and grime, and bruises. “So why do you keep making these mistakes?” Ruby looks away, the shame too strong to answer. Her sister sighs, “You’re strong Ruby. And smart, crazy smart, but you let it get to your head, and that’s what's going to get you in trouble, understand?” Ruby nods. Her sister extends a hand, “C’mon, I know you’ve still got a little fight left in ya’.”

The crushing weight on her chest brings Ruby back to reality. She wants to yell out but it’s getting harder to breathe. She tries pounding against the beast’s forearm, but her strength is beginning to weaken as well.

“That’s not going to work, little bug.” The man-bear lets out a rumbling chuckle, or was it a growl? He peels his lips back to expose his big white fangs dripping with drool, “I’m going to--”

Without thinking Ruby slams her elbow into the ground and raises it in a weak punch, sending dirt and grime into the beast’s mouth.

He spits and lets out a deafening roar, “I’M GOING TO TEAR OFF YOUR STUPID ARM!” He wraps his claws around Ruby’s right arm with a painful grip, and pulls. She screams.

There’s not much air left in her lungs but the pain is too much. “STOP!” She kicks her legs out in an empty attempt to connect with something, anything. “NO, PLEASE STOP! YOU -- *GASP*” A loud pop at her shoulder sends pain rolling through her body. Her hand has gone numb.

The beast lets out another grumbling chuckle and continues to pull, slowly. Ruby can feel the tendons and muscles in her shoulder weakening and ripping. She couldn’t think straight anymore, panic flooding her brain. She began pounding with her left hand at the hairy arm pinning her. Her fist hit so hard that it recoiled back hard enough to hit the ground and her brain cleared just enough for her to realize that the shock of the impact allowed her to get a feeling for the composition of the ground just beneath her hand. It was solid and surrounding something even harder: a stray piece of rebar. She had an idea. It was crazy, but considering her right arm was about to get ripped off, crazy was all she had.

She pushed her fist against the ground and willed the earth to slide up into her hand, carrying with it the piece of rebar. Without hesitation she plunged the rebar reinforced shaft of earth deep into the beast’s forearm. He let out a roar but Ruby almost didn’t hear it amongst all of the adrenaline inducing white noise in her head. She could just see the tip of the rebar poking out the other side of his arm. She gave another push and her hand slipped into the wound.

The man-bear still hadn’t released her arm, so she wasn’t going to release his. Using the last bit of her strength she grabbed onto what felt like a stiff bundle of muscles, and squeezed. They popped; blood gushed out of the wound. He roared again and finally let go of her arm. He lifted his wounded arm as well but Ruby had latched onto another group of muscles. The beast growled and shook his arm, throwing Ruby off like she was nothing but a pesky bug.

She landed with a thud, the little air she managed to get back into her lungs knocked out again. She lay for a moment gasping, trying to focus her eyes as pain ran through her body. Despite everything, she was just happy she didn’t lose an arm. But the relief didn’t last long as she heard the man-beast walking back towards her. She managed to raise her head just enough to watch him approach, grasping his bleeding forearm. The rebar was gone which meant he pulled it out.

He stops beside her and glares down with a hmph. She’s reminded again of her sister, which is odd because her sister never tried to kill her, unlike this beast who fully intended to. Ruby is too weak to scramble out of the way as he reaches down and collects both of her arms into his one good hand and lifts her into the air.

Ruby can’t remember if she screamed or not, only that she was fighting to stay conscious from the flood of pain. He lifts her to eye level and she manages to focus her eyes as he lets out a rumbling growl, “I’m going to kill you.” She believed him.

He pulls back his arm, despite being injured and not 100% functioning, Ruby had no doubt those 4 inch long claws could slice into her like butter.

“Kuma STOP!” He pauses and turns to look past Ruby. She can’t turn her head but she recognizes the female voice, it’s the masked shadow Flair. “We don’t have time for this!” He frowns and pulls back his lips into a sinister sneer. But the masked Flair continues, “Listen! The cops are almost here and you’re making too much noise! We have to leave now!”

The man-beast, Kuma as the other Flair had called him, pauses and turns his head, his ears pricking up at the faint sound of sirens. Darkness was closing in on the edges of her mind but Ruby could hear the sirens too, and she realizes that although this fight felt like it was lasting an eternity, in reality it had only been a couple minutes, if even that.

Kuma lets out a low, dangerous growl as he turns back to Nightmare, “Fine.” With one swift move he launches the barely conscious hero into the far corner of the alley, where she collides with and disappears behind a large pile of trash bags.

Nightmare turns to Kuma with a frown, “C’mon, grab those two, I’ll get the bags.” She slings them over her shoulders as Kuma heaves the Heath brothers under each arm. Nightmare steps forward and wraps her tail around the arm of the younger brother, “Ok, hold on.” And with a puff of black smoke, they’re gone.