#i just kept putting off changing the helmet design Forever so here this is now lol!!

[keeps-ache]

new helmet + suit designs (and tablet too i guess lol) :>

[Aster belongs to @/Flameteeth !]

[dindjarinbae]

Commander Brown Eyes (Din Djarin x reader)

hi i know this wasn’t requested, but it was something i had been writing since like friday or satuday so... i have like 12 requests to get to, and i am hoping to get those all done within the next two weeks, so bear with me please!! anyways, soft din, that’s it. send tweet.

WARNINGS: none

WORD COUNT: 3979

“Y/n. I want you to come, too. You won’t show up on anything at all. You have no record.” Your boyfriend, Din Djarin, pointed out while you, Fennec, Cara, Mayfeld, Boba Fett, and Din, all stood trying to figure out who was going to accompany Mayfeld into the mining facility. 

You blinked and looked up at Din, shaking your head a few times, “I- I couldn’t possibly go, what on earth do you need me for?” You asked, getting a bit nervous. He usually adamantly refused to let you go on missions or anything of the sort in fear that you might get hurt, so why now? You looked at him quizzically and begged for an answer with your eyes. 

You got an answer, just not from Din.

“Because you’re pretty. There ain’t a single general in there that would even think to find us suspicious because they’ll be looking at you.” Mayfeld interjected and looked at Din, “That’s the idea, right Mando?” He asked and raised his eyebrows. 

Din shuffled his feet around for a second and then nodded, “I had a better way of saying it, but that works, too.” He mumbled and you could just sense that his eyes were on you. You blinked a few times and then looked at Cara and Fennec to see if they were going to protest but Fennec was nodding and Cara seemed to think this was a good idea.

“But I’m going with you two, as well. I don’t like her going in alone with you.” He spoke firmly towards Mayfeld, and Mayfeld started ranting about how that wasn’t smart because the beskar armor would be too suspicious. 

You tuned them out while they bickered amongst themselves and you turned to Boba, who you decided that you liked very much and you frowned a bit. You saw his shoulders shake in a small chuckle and he shook his head, “Don’t look at me like that, this wasn’t my idea.” He stated and folded his arms across his chest. You huffed and then dramatically sighed, getting reluctantly dragged into the mission. 

——

By the time the three of you had arrived into the base after a relentless attack from pirates, the entire base had gathered there to cheer you on. Din climbed out of the cab and held his arms out for you, and you climbed into his outstretched arms and he gently lifted you down, holding you underneath your armpits like you weighed nothing more than a rag doll. He held you for just a bit longer than normal, and you assumed he was just nervous to have you in the base with him and Mayfeld. Carefully, he set you on your feet and you looked up at him, chuckling quietly, not getting used at all to the stormtrooper outfit he had to throw on. 

“Don’t you dare say anything about it.” He mumbled and gave your ass a well concealed, playful smack. 

You giggled and grinned up at him cheekily, “I didn’t say anything! I just thought it!” You protested, and he would’ve grabbed you and whacked you on the ass again, but Mayfeld came around the front of the vehicle and he cleared his throat at the two of you. 

The playful side of Din melted away instantly and he walked up to join Mayfeld, and you trailed behind the two of them, nodding kindly at the stormtroopers that waved at you as you passed through the crowd. You looked around the crowded base and desperately wanted to grab onto Din’s arm, but all the eyes in the room suggested that you not do that. You stayed back behind them and tried to make yourself as small as possible as the two of them rendezvoused in front of the mess hall and you moved up closer to them until you you’re beside Din, your hip brushing his thigh. He glanced down at you, and more than anything in that moment, he wanted to wrap his arm around your waist and keep you in a protective grip. 

Mayfeld wandered off casually a few steps to check for a terminal, and he came back seconds later to report.

“There it is.” He spoke lowly, and Din gave him a small nod. 

“Good luck.” He said gruffly and you moved backwards behind him just a bit. But he caught your arm gently and pulled you out, “You need to go with him.” He stated and pushed you towards Mayfeld very carefully. 

You swallowed thickly and nodded, meeting Mayfeld’s eyes. He nodded towards the terminal and you looked over your shoulder at Din who nodded at you once, telling you to go. You scuttled off behind Mayfeld and followed him closely until he stopped in the threshold of the mess hall. His stance changed and he visibly tensed before turning around and walking right back the way he came, catching your arm in the process, pulling you back to Din. 

When the two of you reached Din again, you wiggled your arm away from Mayfeld and you grabbed onto Din’s arm, not caring who saw at this point. Your heart was racing and you had a bad, bad feeling about this all. 

“I can’t go in there.” Mayfeld stated, a tremor in his voice. 

“Why not?” Din asked sharply, and you tightened your grip on his arm. He allowed you to cling to his arm and he kept his gaze fixed entirely on Mayfeld. 

“That’s Valin Hess.” Mayfeld answered and you scooter a bit closer to Din. 

He yanked his arm from your grip and you almost protested, but in an act of (maybe thirty minutes worth) touch deprivation, he wrapped the same arm around your waist and he pulled you against his side, the cool metal of the stormtrooper armor pressing coldly against you. 

“Who?” He asked, and tightened his arm around you. 

“Valin Hess. I used to serve under him.” Mayfeld practically wheezed, and you could hear the panic in his voice. You felt bad for Mayfeld, with his face turning a ghostly white and the anxiety in his tone. You reached out to rub his shoulder once reassuringly and then sunk back into Mando, looking down at your feet. 

“Will he recognize you?” Din asked, moving closer to Mayfeld. 

“I don’t know. I was just a field operative, but I’m not taking the chance. It’s over.” Mayfeld whispered and you shook your head quickly, looking up at him. 

“No no no, you have t-“ you protested, but Din promptly cut you off. 

Mayfeld moved to leave, but Din grabbed his arm, “Let’s just do this quick and we can get out of here.” He said sternly and you frowned, looking up at Mayfeld with a panicked expression. He couldn’t back out. He couldn’t. If he did, you would never see your little green baby ever again, and that brought hot, stinging tears to your eyes. 

“I can’t do it, okay? We have to abort. I’m sorry.” Mayfeld snapped and he tried to walk away again. 

As he did last time, Din caught his arm and tugged him back, “No, I cant. If we don’t get those coordinates, then me and her,” he said, and motioned towards you with the chin of the helmet he wore, “... will lose the kid forever. Give me the data stick.” Din said and Mayfeld looked a bit perplexed. 

“It’s not gonna work.” He protested and fell silent for a second. 

You looked up at Din and then back at Mayfeld and you could see the frown etching itself onto Mayfeld’s face, “In order to access the network, the terminal has to scan your face. And unless you’re gonna send her in there-'' he said and motioned towards you. 

Din shook his head and held you tighter, and Mayfeld simply nodded, “I figured. Let’s go.” He snapped. 

“Give it to me.” Din said again, sharper this time. Mayfeld held it out and Din snatched it from his hand and he tugged you forward a bit before letting his arm fall from your waist. He nodded for you to follow him and you shook your head, feeling nothing but terror as you looked at Valin Hess inside the mess hall. Din sighed as he watched you stand next to Mayfeld and he tipped his head to the side a bit, and something told you he was pleading to you with his eyes. 

You reluctantly nodded and followed in behind him, standing casually a couple tables away while he parked himself in front of the terminal. You felt Valin’s dark stare on yourself and then watched it move to Din and it stayed there while he attempted to use the terminal. Everything seemed to be going smoothly until the terminal chirped out that there was a problem and there was an incomplete facial scan. 

Everything then moved in slow motion as you watched Din grab the helmet he wore, and he lifted it over his head, revealing the hair that you’d felt before, but had never seen. A gasp got stuck in your throat. Of course it would be brown. Of course Din Djarin would have the prettiest brown curls that you’d ever laid your eyes on, and you wanted nothing more in that moment then to go to him and run your fingers through the soft, pretty curls that fell to the nape of his neck. 

The computer quit its’ bitching and you watched him put the data stick in the terminal. You wanted desperately for him to turn around, and you could tell by his body language that he was absolutely terrified. He had worn that helmet his entire life to hide his face from the world, and now his face was out in the open for everyone, including his girlfriend to see. You couldn’t imagine what that felt like. 

“Trooper!” 

A deep voice pulled you from your reverie, and you looked over at it’s source. Valin Hess. 

He rose from his seat and walked towards Din, and you felt bile rise in your throat as you moved just a step forward to be closer to him. 

“Hey, trooper.” Valin snapped once again, and Din quickly pulled the data stick from the terminal before he turned towards Hess.

“Pay attention when a superior addresses you.” Valin drawled and you went another step closer, biting your lip as he spoke again, “What’s your designation?” He asked, and his voice gave you shivers as you watched Din’s body language show exactly what you’d expected: terror. 

“Transport crew.” He nearly whispered, and your heart broke as you heard his voice crack on the last syllable. 

There was only a second of silence before Hess spoke again, “What?” He asked, turning his body ever so slightly. 

“My designation is transport copilot.” Din answered again, and you prayed that this was the answer Valin Hess was looking for.

From where you stood, you could see only a side profile of your Mandalorian. A strong nose, high cheekbones, a bit of a mustache, and a light coating of facial hair. Nothing you didn’t already know he had, because you’d felt it many times without the lights on or with your eyes covered, but this was the first time you had a real picture to put with the features your gentle fingertips would trace whenever he let you do so. 

“No son,” Valin said, a bit annoyed now, “What’s your TK number?” He asked and you turned your head towards Mayfeld. 

You caught his eye and sent him a pleading look, begging for him to come in and help out. Your lip wobbled and Mayfeld sighed before moving in towards you. 

“My TK number is...” Din began, but before he could continue, Mayfeld had already grabbed your arm and walked the both of you over towards Valin and Din.

“This is my Commanding Officer, TK five nine three, sir.” Mayfeld interjected and dropped your arm, leaving you to subtly scoot yourself towards Din. 

That is exactly what you did. You scurried to his side and it took all of your will not to latch onto his arm as you so often did when you wanted to be close to him. 

“I’m imperial combat assault transport, Lieutenant TK one-eleven, sir.” Mayfeld finished and you glanced up at Din. 

He stole a glance down at you as well, and you felt your eyes water just a bit. He was truly the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on, with his full bottom lip and the sharp curve of his jawline with the thin stubble that grew over his skin, but what really made your heart melt, was his eyes. His big, pretty, entrancing brown eyes, framed with his full eyebrows and a set of short, dark lashes. You wanted so badly to touch his face, and you could see the nervousness in his expression as he stared at you. 

“And this is his... human hearing aid of sorts,” he said and pointed towards you, “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a little bit, since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.” Mayfeld explained.

Valin gave a slight nod before leaning in towards Din, and you put a gentle, reassuring hand on Din’s shoulder, “What’s your name officer?” Valin asked loudly, and borderline condescendingly. 

Din was silent and looked around and Hess raised his eyebrows as if to reiterate his question before Mayfeld stepped in again.

“We just call him Brown Eyes. Isn’t that right, Officer?” Mayfeld asked, and Din gave a nod. 

“And her?” Valin asked again, pointing at you, his eyes traveling up and down your body, and you felt like hiding behind Din. 

You had to think quickly, so you thought quickly of your favorite flower and you looked up at Valin with a small smile that probably looked more like a grimace, “I just go by Lavender, sir. Apparently a head injury left me without a memory of my name.” You said, laughing casually. 

 Valin tore his gaze away from you after a skeevy smirk in your direction and Mayfeld spoke up again, “Come on, you two. Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils.” Mayfeld said and put a hand on Din’s back while Din put a hand on yours and the three of you began to walk away. 

“You’re not dismissed.” Hess drawled and the three of you froze. You looked up at Din fearfully and he glanced down at you with the same amount of fear in his eyes, but for different reasons. You were afraid of the Imperial General speaking to you, and he was afraid of the world that could now see him without a helmet. 

When the two men turned around, Din smoothly swept you behind his back protectively and you couldn’t help but stare up at his hair again. 

“You the tank troopers that delivered the shipment of rhydonium?” Valin asked and you took a step closer to Din, even if it was just his back. 

Both of the boys answered with a simple ‘yes, sir’ and you bit down on your lip, hanging your head as you stood behind Din. Valin Hess turned around to look at the two of them and spoke, “Well you two managed to be the only transport today to deliver their shipment,” he then glanced at you, “Why’s she hiding?” He asked and bent his head to the side to peer around Din’s shoulder, “Why are you hiding, little girl?”

“She’s not big on people, Sir.” Mayfeld interjected and Valin chuckled. 

He clapped both Mayfeld and Din on the shoulder, “Come with me, hm? Let’s get a drink, Brown Eyes.” He said patronizingly and you finally gave into the need to clutch Din’s arm. He looked down at you, along with Mayfeld and Mayfeld sent a look to Din, saying something like ‘bad idea to bring her’, and Din just nodded knowingly. 

The three of you all went to a table and you took the seat closest to Din, clandestinely placing your hand against his thigh, and he laid his down on top of yours reassuringly. You glanced up at him and bit your lip, and he gave you a very small nod. Valin was out of the room getting a bottle of whatever he decided on, and you took this time to lean your forehead against the side of Din’s face. 

“I love you, you know. I’m very, very proud of you.” You whispered and turned your hand over so that you could lace your fingers with his. He nodded and laid his forehead against yours for a second while you looked into his deep, brown eyes. You smiled softly and pecked his lips a few times, “You do have beautiful eyes you know, Din Djarin.” You whispered so quietly that you were practically mouthing it. 

He rolled his eyes and you could feel his hand trembling in yours, “I find yours much prettier.” He whispered back and you bumped your nose against his before pulling away so that you two weren’t touching when Hess came back. 

He finally did come back and sat down at the table, setting down three glasses and he nodded at you, “Figured she was a little young for a drink.” He chuckled and reached out to tap your chin a few times. You felt Din’s hand tighten around yours in anger, reacting to the way Valin had just touched you. He opened the bottle up and grinned a bit, ���What shall we toast to, boys? I can blather on about “to health” or “to success” but,” he seemed to be amused by himself as he paused dramatically to pour a drink for Din and Mayfeld, “.. I’d like to do something a little less rote.” He finished and closed the bottle, pointing at Din with it, “Where you from, Brown Eyes?” He asked and you felt Din stiffen. 

He opened his mouth to speak when Mayfeld, once again, interjected, saving the day, “How about a toast to Operation Cinder?” Mayfeld asked and you leaned your head down a bit. 

You closed your eyes and held onto Din’s hand tightly while Mayfeld went on to speak back and forth to Valin, but at this point, their voices were muffled and far away as you tried to calm down and think of a way out of this situation. You tapped the side of your Mandalorian’s hand and he tapped yours in return, the both of you growing tenser and tenser while Mayfeld’s tone grew more intense and Valin got more defensive. You sucked in a staggering breath and Din squeezed your hand tightly to remind you not to make any noise. You scooted closer to him and he placed your intertwined hands on your thigh. 

“...but what they really want.. is order. And when they realize that, they’re gonna welcome us back with open arms.” Valin spoke and picked up his glass. You watched Mayfeld’s hand twitch towards his blaster and you squeezed Din’s in a warning. Valin raised his glass and smiled wickedly, “To the Empire.” He toasted and you squeezed your eyes shut. 

Mayfeld whipped out his blaster and shot Valin dead, and you let out a yelp, practically throwing yourself onto Din’s lap. The two men looked at each other and then at a trooper behind them before Mayfeld also shot them as well. He shot the other remaining officers in the room and Din sprang to his feet. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you up as well, yanking you back so that you were behind him as he shot at an officer. 

Mayfeld grabbed the helmet Din once wore and passed it to him, “You did what you had to do. I never saw your face.” He said and Din gratefully took the helmet before turning to you. You looked up at him with soft eyes and leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose before you pulled away, trying to memorize his face before he turned away and slipped the helmet back on.  

You felt your heart sink as you realized that was probably the only time he’d have the helmet off in front of you, and then the shooting began. You were backed up against the wall by Din and he nodded at Mayfeld who jumped up onto a window ledge and yanked you up with him. You watched while Din jumped up as well and Mayfeld kicked out a panel on the window before he slipped underneath it. 

“Take her!” Din yelled at Mayfeld, and Mayfeld reached in and grabbed you, and you shrieked when you saw the drop below. You looked at him for a moment and he nodded before Din made his way out onto the ledge and Din pointed at a ladder. 

“Y/n. Go. Climb that now and Boba will come and get you when you’re on top. Now!” Din commanded and while he and Mayfeld shot troopers, you ran along the ledge to the ladder. You climbed it to the top of the building and watched Boba circle down in his ship to get you. The door opened and you climbed inside, running up the ramp and into the ship. You climbed your way up into the cockpit as he moved the ship to avoid getting shot at and the two of you made eye contact. 

Boba smiled at you and he pointed up at your face, “Your cheeks are flushed like you’ve just been kissed for the first time.” He teased and you blushed, “Yeah, there was a first in there. But it wasn’t me getting kissed.” You mumbled and gave Boba a look. He analyzed your face for a second and then he nodded. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he didn’t. But if he did, he didn’t say anything, and if he didn’t, he didn’t ask. 

Boba circled the ship back to the rooftop and he hovered with the door open just a few feet away from the edge of the roof. You patted Boba’s arm once before climbing back down to the entrance where Din and Mayfeld had just jumped in. As they flew away, Mayfeld nudged Din, “Hand me that cycler rifle.” He commanded. 

Din passed him the rifle and then glanced over his shoulder at you. You jumped back a bit at the sound of an explosion and you looked down to see that Mayfeld had shot up the tanks of rhydonium, causing the entire base to blow. Him and Din watched it blow for a moment before Mayfeld walked back inside the ship, with a simple: “We all need to sleep at night.” Before he walked off. 

Din looked down at you as Mayfeld went to find a place to sit and he took your hand, “Come with me to put my armor back on.” He whispered and you nodded as he gathered the bag of his armor up and guided you to the small sleeping space that was on the far end of the ship. He closed the door behind you two and then turned to you in the cramped space and he took the helmet off again. Gently, he grabbed your chin between his pointer finger and thumb, his eyes meeting yours. 

“I love you, y/n y/l/n.” Din breathed before leaning down to connect your lips. He kissed you softer than he ever had before, and you attributed it to the timidness that came with the vulnerability of a visible face, but you didn’t mind, kissing him back with the same careful gentility. After a moment, he pulled away and you smiled up at him. 

“Hey, I love you too, Brown Eyes.” You teased and winked up at him. 

That earned you another, much more passionate kiss.

[consumeconstantly]

A Discowing at the Wayne Gala

Summary: Getting Jason to go to the Wayne Gala each year was more difficult than putting the Joker away in Arkham; he insisted the part was full of pretentious, rich social climbers who were horribly boring. As it turned out, all he really needed to persuade him was an upset, drunk girl rambling about how much she was going to deck her highschool enemies there to convince himself that he’d be in for a great show. (AKA the extremely chaotic and nonsensical salt/crack fic)

____________________________________________________

“I, Mar--” she hiccupped, “Marinette Dupain-Cheng solemnly swear to rip Lila a new one with Discowing’s godawful costume.”

“You say it girl!” called some random person from across the bar. 

“I will--” another hiccup “--use Batman’s Batmobile to run over Kim. And slam Red Hood’s ugly ass helmet onto Adrien’s stupid face.”

“Better yet,” Marinette pounded the table, “I will use their stupid utility belts to dismantle Gabriel’s empire. Somebody give me a yeah!”

“Yeah!”

All in all, the sight wasn’t that atypical for a bar in Gotham, if it weren’t for the fact that Marinette Dupain-Cheng was barely five feet, wore pigtails, and knocked five men on their asses when they tried to approach her. 

“Take that, Hawkass,” she hissed. “Think you can pull a fast one on me when I’m drunk, do you? Well I’ve got news for you!”

Her words slurred together, and she leaned on the bar for support. “When I get my way, you’re going to be tied up into a pretzel and dumped into a volcano, then the tundra and then we’ll see how you like your stupid little jewlery touched.”

“Dupain-Cheng,” her blonde companion hissed. “Get yourself together. We don’t need another one of your breakdowns now. You know we’re going to be busy tomorrow night, and I don’t want to deal with you completely hung over all throughout the gala.”

“Aww,” Marinette squished her cheek onto Chloe’s “You know you love me.”

“Yes, yes, but I’m not going to tolerate this bullshit. If you want to make good on your plans, you need to be in tip top shape.”

“Ughhhh, why are they even invited to the stupid gala? It’s not even like they’re rich! Oh wait, I guess they are…” Marinette pressed her face to the bar, which was undoubtedly dirty. She reveled in it’s coolness, brushing her bangs out of her face. “And why do you have to be right? I guess I have to stop drinking if I want to make any of my plans work.”

“Your plans will work, hungover or not. It’s just a question of how much you’ll be able to enjoy them. I don’t want you complaining for months after the fact that you don’t remember half of what happened.”

“I guess you’re right. Revenge is a dish best served cold, and I'm feeling a little too warm to ice them out.” Staggering, Marinette got to her feet. “Call an Uber?”

“It’s already here.”

#

“What made you change your mind?” Tim frowned at Jason, doubtful that he wasn’t going to cop out at the last second. He was sure that he was only putting on his suit as some sort of deliberate ploy to get out of the Gala. Truthfully, it wasn’t required that all of them attend the Gala, but it was one of the few events that brought together most of the Wayne family.

Jason ran a hand through his hair and smirked. “Let’s just say I’m expecting quite the show.”

#

Jason kept a hawkish gaze on the entrance, waiting for the appearance of one short, pigtailed girl, and a taller blonde. They arrived almost forty five minutes into the Gala, which was good timing; not late enough to be considered rude, but most people have already arrived and have made their rounds.

Marinette looked different out of the dim lighting of the bar, and even though she definitely looks like she’s nursing a light hangover, she still managed to look stunning. With a matte-black floor length dress that attracted all light in the vicinity towards it, it’s hard not to look her way; Tim, for one, stared at the outfits that Marinette and her companion are wearing with stars in his eyes. Any moment now, he’s going to approach them. Or he would if he weren’t on Jason-sitting duty.

“I’ll play nice,” Jason promised.

“You? Nice?” Tim sounded incredulous, and it’s not like he can fault him. Whenever Jason did successfully get roped into coming to the Gala, it’s a sure thing that he gets at least one fist fight started, if not an everyone for themselves sort of situation. 

“They’re the reason I decided to come. It’s not me you have to be worried about.”

Tim groaned. “Really? They’re trouble makers? But they’re wearing MDC!”

Jason chuckled, slipping a hand into his pants pocket. Tim was weirdly obsessed with the highly secretive French designer. Nobody ever saw them in person. “Wearing your fashion icon doesn’t mean they can’t kick ass.”

Tim rocked back on his heels, looking at the two girls calculatively. “That’s right. If anything, they’re more likely to kick ass, because that’s the kind of confidence that MDC inspires in their designs. Well, if you’re not going to fight them, I’m going to introduce myself.”

“And I can’t leave my little brother alone.” Jason said, watching the blonde girl point in the direction of, if he wasn’t mistaken, Gabriel Agreste’s son and his plus one.

Who knew that doing a preliminary reading of the guests would be so informative? He could only guess what kind of beef Marinette had with Agreste Jr.--Bruce had enough problems with Gabriel; even though Wayne Enterprises only dabbled in fashion, Gabriel was a ruthless man when it came to his competitors, and tried to edge them out of the market multiple times. Foolish on his part, not taking into consideration that both Bruce and Tim were very, very stubborn people who only get more difficult to face when dealing with a challenge.

Wayne Enterprise might primarily be considered with R&D and technology companies, but underestimating the amount of influence Tim could gather when someone pissed him off was just a bad idea.

“Hi, I’m Tim--”

“--and it’s lovely to meet you, but we’re on a mission right now,” finished the blonde girl, who Jason was now 98% sure is Chloe Bourgeois, daughter of Paris’ mayor and Style Queen Audrey Bourgeois. “Dupain-Cheng, it’s your time to shine.”

“God,” Marinette muttered underneath her breath, ducking her head. “I can’t believe you’re holding me to what I said while drunk last night.”

“It’s not just what you said drunk last night, it’s the most effective way of dealing with that liar. She’ll be so embarrassed she’ll hide away forever. Maybe get some plastic surgery and change her name. Daddy will make sure she can never step foot in Paris again.” 

“Chloe,” Marinette groaned. “We all know how that panned out last time. Do you want a repeat performance?”

“By that time Hawkmoth will already be taken down. No need to worry about evil butterflies.”

“Evil butterflies?” Tim frowned. 

“We can fill you in later, Marinette has a car to steal.”

“Chloe!” 

“Oh stuff it, Dupain-Cheng, you’re no goody two shoes, even though you pretend to be one.”

Marinette whispers into Chloe’s ear, eyeing Jason and Tim. “Do you have to discuss that with other people around?”

“Well,” Chloe crossed her arms. “You boys aren’t going to rat us out, are you? They’re part of the infamous Wayne family. They’ll definitely be in.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. You know they already reached out-- I can’t risk--” Marinette kept cutting herself off. “Fine, but if you-know-what falls through, I’m putting it all on you.”

“Like they’re going to pass you up just because of what’s going to go down at this gala. If anything, they’ll be glad to know that you’re as vicious as you are creative,” Chloe checked her nails and touched her hair, making sure it was in place.

“Sorry, what? I’m a little bit lost.”

“Keep up, Drake. I’m beginning to doubt your title as child-genius.You have the unique opportunity to watch history in the making.”

#

“Wait,” Tim’s jaw almost dropped at the display in front of him. “How did you even--”

“Trade secret. Marinette doesn’t kiss and tell.”

“But that’s the Batmobile.”

“Yeah, and?”

Jason laughed. He stole the hubcaps off the Batmobile, Marinette stole the whole thing. What a sight.

#

Here’s how the rest of the night went: Chloe plied Marinette with copious amounts of water, trying to get rid of her headache. Marinette hopped into the driver’s seat of the Batmobile (to which Chloe cackled, “And she doesn’t even have a driver’s license yet,” and Tim paled to the shade of freshly fired ceramic plate.) They ran over Kim, who, somehow managed to get into the event as a server of sorts, at which point Tim swore that the background checks would have to be upped again. Marinette landed the Batmobile in the middle of the gala, barely managing to avoid several innocents who were in her path. She reached into the convenient storage compartment that Jason was previously unaware of and pulled out the Discowing outfit and his helmet-- seriously, how did she get those?-- and slammed the car door.

Security, of course, was waiting for them. How couldn’t they, with that big of a disturbance? Half of the guests were up in a tizzy-- mostly the ones who were experiencing their first Wayne Gala-- and the other half were looking on, amused. Tim waved the guards off as Marinette made her way to Lila and Adrien, like a vengeful Valkyrie.

“You,” Marinette grimaced. “Chloe, say the words, I forgot them.”

“We decided that words were useless, remember?”

“Oh, that’s right,” Marinette said, before promptly slamming Red Hood’s helmet onto Adrien’s head hard enough for him to fall to the ground, likely concussed. Lila, who started screeching and running away made for a surprisingly difficult target. Well, difficult in the fact that she was using other people as shields, but once she came across a group of Experienced Wayne Gala Goers, she got pushed out of her comfort zone.

In eight inch heels and with her hair down, Marinette stalked towards her prey. 

“Lila Rossi,” Marinette intoned. “Your sins will be judged.”

“What are you going to do, Marinette? You have no power here. We’re in America now. No Ladybug to back you up. No public opinion in your favor.”

Marinette shuddered. “Ugh, your voice makes me want to vomit. In any case, I sentence you to life in Discowing’s costume.”

“You can’t make me wear anything!”

Famous last words, Lila.

#

“I’m still so confused. What just happened?”

“Don’t worry,” Chloe gave Tim a pat on the back. “You’ll get used to this kind of thing if you end up hanging around Marinette more often.”

“I think I’m in love,” said Jason.

“Get in the back of the line. The only thing Marinette has time for now are her plans to take down Hawkmoth.”

“I’m not opposed to joining you. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Jason paused. “By the way, has she already stolen the utility belts to take down Gabriel or does she need more? I’ve got contacts.”

 "Fair warning, everything in Paris is at least twenty times crazier than what you’ve seen here today.” Chloe swiped through a few notifications on her phone. “And please, do you think someone who hotwired the Batmobile needs your help getting her hands on a couple utility belts? If she really put her mind to it, she could get the Lasso of Truth from Wonder Woman.”

“Yeah, Jason, I’m definitely not going to join you on that trip.” Tim turned his attention towards Marinette, who was currently passed out on the hotel couch. “Anyways, You two are wearing MDC, right? I have a meeting with them tomorrow!”

Chloe looked at the poor boy with pity. “Good luck. You’re going to need it.”

@jasonette-july-2k20

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i’m really churning out these jasonette prompts like butter (god butter is so freaking good you ever eat butter straight? i do. heart attack city & the next paula dean) even tho i only thought about joining in right when july was ending but here we are 

[jgvfhl]

Help I can't stop--

--writing little fics that all involve saving Fives and sometimes other people and then just having Domino hugs at the end. so. yeah. This one has Tup in it! And an Ao3 link~

no warnings ^_^ about 6400 words, very fluffy by the end

Tup liked the busier nights at work, which he hadn’t quite expected. Bartending was a lot more pressure than working behind the scenes--washing dishes or prepping food before the night started--but Tup honestly liked it. Maybe it was his military training rising to the constant stream of orders and people and voices, or maybe he just liked the other bartenders better than the kitchen staff. Whatever it was, tonight was looking to be one of the busiest that week, and Tup only found happy anticipation to meet it.

Maybe a part of it was bartending meant he didn’t have Fives constantly over his shoulder, watching his every move to make sure he didn’t blow their cover or something. After over eight months here, eight months of considerable safety, he still hadn’t relaxed. The only reason Tup was “allowed” behind the bar in front of the customers was the cantina’s owner, Mira. She was the only reason either of them were alive after literally washing up on her doorstep during flood season, so she held some sway. She’d given them beds, meals, she’d never once threatened to turn them in for desertion--all for the requirement they help the aging weequay with her business, the Mirage cantina and inn. They would be fools to refuse, and if that meant Tup was up front, he went up front.

He still worried, naturally. Not so much about the GAR finding them anymore, not so much about the Jedi coming after him, not so much about how each day would end, those fears had largely subsided. Mostly, he worried about his brothers. Fives had explained the chips to him, as much as he knew. It had been a chilling revelation, and it still gnawed at both of their minds, despite having theirs removed. It was constant knowledge that each of his brothers had a ticking time bomb stowed in the back of their brain, just waiting to turn them all against the very people they were built to serve. Fives had sent an encrypted comm to the first person he thought might know how to help: Kix. Hopefully the medic would be prudent with the little knowledge Fives had sent, and hopefully he would know to keep it a damn secret until something concrete could be done about it.

Despite this--despite all of this--Tup had to leave it be. This little riverside town in the far outer rim rarely got news of the war unless battles approached, and just about no mention of Corusanti or Republic politics at all. He had no way to know what was happening. He had no way to affect what was happening. He had to leave it be. Tonight was busy enough without adding the small chaos of his own inner thoughts.

Fives had yet to accept this. Fives… Tup had been serving with Fives for almost a year now. He’d been through plenty of battles with him, hell, he’d survived Umbara with Fives. Fives had a way of… condensing his personality on the field, a way of putting the softer and more vulnerable parts of himself carefully away into some safebox behind walls to protect it from whatever he saw or did in the heat of war. But, afterwards, the old jokes and friendly punches came back in full force, usually helping everyone relax after the battle.

Fives hadn’t taken that safebox out yet.

In fact, Tup wasn’t sure Fives had escaped Ringo Vinda yet. He still saw the same guarded expressions, the same sharp, scrutinizing stare from the field. Maybe it was Tup’s “youth” showing. Shininess. But it had been over eight months since they’d escaped Kamino, and well over six since they’d faced any real danger. Fives couldn’t keep those walls up forever, could he?

Tup couldn’t really remember the last time he’d heard him laugh.

“You got everything you need over there?”

Tup pulled his mind back to his job. “Yeah, thanks, Dan,” he turned to his co-worker over his shoulder. Danula was Mira’s granddaughter, and definitely Tup’s favorite to work with out of the other bartenders. They got along famously--the first nattie friend he’d ever had.

“Looked a little lost in thought,” she replied. “Can’t have that on a busy night, you know?”

“Yeah, ‘course not,” Tup nodded, already moving to refill a pair of glasses. Service with a smile. Wasn’t that one of General Fisto’s mottos? He could have sworn he’d heard it from one of Commander Monnk’s men. Maybe in the same conversation about eating raw seafood like it was okay (which it wasn’t, it was disgusting). At least on a drier planet, he didn’t have that to bother him.

Tup caught sight of one of the regulars making his way through the crowded cantina. He glanced over his shoulder again at Dan, who was now at the other side of the circular bar. She’d be happy to see him.

“Hey, Carreth, good to see you,” Tup greeted the weequay who had arrived.

“Minnow--” Tup’s cover name, part of the precautions of desertion-- “a busy night, I see,” he smiled, craning his neck to catch a glance at Dan behind Tup. Mira and everyone who worked at the cantina knew about Carreth’s crush on Dan. Mira was fine with it, Dan’s parents were fine with it. Dan… had literally only figured it out last week. She was warming quickly to it, though. Carreth was nice, and frankly, too far gone to do anything stupid.

“Yeah, Mirage is a popular place this week,” Tup answered. “I’ll grab Dan for you.”

“Ah--I should tell you,” Carreth said, raising a hand and leaning in. “I noticed a group of your ah… family in town. They might make an appearance.”

Brothers. Tup paused, putting down the bottle of rum he’d pulled for Carreth. “How many? Can you tell me the color of their armor?”

“Kind of… black and red?” Carreth answered, tapping a finger on his chin between two horns. “Only five of them.”

Black and red? Odd. But he just nodded, casting an eye towards the doors. “Thanks for the heads up.” He filled a glass of Carreth’s preferred Corellian rum and left the bottle, then turned to get Dan.

He nearly bowled her over instead, only catching himself with half a second to spare. “Whoa! Hey, sorry--”

“Clones--at the door,” she said at the same time.

He looked. Well. He’d be hard-pressed to miss the guy who looked more Alpha-class than CT, which was more than a little worrying. But he didn’t recognize the armor at all. It didn’t even look regulation. Who were these guys?

“Okay, okay, yeah,” he said, seeing the new arrivals had put Dan on edge almost more than they had him. “Carreth just told me, he’s over there.”

“He did--wait, when--oh.” He turned her around and gave her a gentle push towards her admirer.

“Don’t worry about me, okay?” Force, he was happy Fives had the night off. He would have dragged Tup out of the bar and upstairs to their room before Carreth had finished the warning.

Tup stood his ground, now switched places with Dan on the bar. He kept an eye on the squad of five, watching carefully as they found a table on the edge of the room, then even more carefully as two of them made their way up to the bar in the center of the room.

Dan--Maker bless her--nearly gave up Carreth’s winning smiles to take their orders, but Tup wanted to find out exactly what they were doing here. He waved his hand at her, urging her back to her station.

The two men did stop and stare when he faced them over the bar. “What can I do for you?”

He used their pause to get a better look at them. The one on the left had long dark curls held out of his face by a red bandana with a small skull visible on one side of it. Speaking of skulls, it must have been their squad symbol, because half a skull was tattooed in black over the left side of his face, and the design was replicated in white on the helmet under his arm. The other, Tup had to do a double take, only because he’d never seen a clone with… studs? Ports? Metal… things implanted into his head, clearly visible because of his close haircut. Another quick glance caught the glint of cybernetic metal for a right hand. This guy had seen some things.

“Hi,” the first clone said, a little hesitant.

“This is a surprise,” the other said, a bit more confident. “Pleasant one, I guess.”

Tup shrugged. “As long as you’re not gonna get me in trouble, there won’t be any unpleasant ones.”

The second clone smiled and nodded. “I think some drinks and credits are all that need to change hands here.”

Tup liked this guy. Or at least respected him. “I can do that.”

The tattooed clone rattled off the orders in a way that said these were regular drink requests from the squad.

As he busied himself pulling out five glasses for them, the second clone asked, “Is that a tattoo there?”

Tup looked up to see his head tilted curiously, left hand pointing under his own right eye. “Uh… yeah.” He’d used to keep the teardrop tattoo covered, either a bandage or makeup when Dan could help him, but he’d been leaving it bare lately. Abruptly, Tup was aware that his looks hadn’t changed that much since Ringo Vinda. His hair was still long enough to keep in a bun, and the only difference was the shaved right side of his head where the chip had been removed. He hadn’t wanted to shave his whole head to start over, and he kind of liked the new look. But he still looked a lot like… well. Himself.

“I served with a brother with a mark like that, just looks familiar,” the clone said.

Small talk, clone style. Tup could do this. “Yeah, what was he like? Or is like.”

The other shrugged. “Kinda quiet, pretty nice kid. Didn’t know him for that long before…” He rubbed his head. “Well. Before a few incidents.” Tup could only imagine. “Never found out what happened to him, though. Guess he ran off before I got out.”

His squadmate turned a raised brow on him. “This the one your batcher dragged off about the…” He glanced at Tup. “The thing?”

Tup tried not to stare too pointedly as he finished off the third drink and moved on to the last two--the more complicated orders of the group. That sounded an awful lot like Fives talking about the chips.

“Yeah, that’s the one. Tup.”

He was rather proud of himself for not losing focus and completely ruining the cocktail by adding about three times the vodka needed by freezing up while pouring. But also who the ever-loving kriff were these guys? He started running through what the bandana-ed clone had just said. Unfortunately, he was stopped mid-review by the other one interrupting his thoughts.

“Hey, that reminds me. Can I ask something?”

Tup carefully finished the drink at hand and nodded, now kind of wishing he’d let Dan handle this. “Sure.”

“You haven’t seen any other clones since you… left, have you?”

“No, don’t think so.” Technically not a lie. He and Fives hadn’t seen any others since deserting. But, he could no longer avoid the obvious question of his own. “Can I--um… what do I call you?”

“Echo.”

Well. Tup was pretty sure there would only be one Echo who knew his name and might even be looking for him. There was only, of course, the small hurdle of his supposed death about… a year and, what--five months ago? But that might be the “incidents” he had mentioned earlier, and of course, it would explain his mention of the batchmate Tup had disappeared with.

Fives.

“Give me a minute,” he said, and hurried over to Dan across the way.

She must have been hyper-aware of the little conversation, because she had turned around before he made it to her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, I promise,” he said. “I just need you to fill in for a few minutes, there’s something I need to take care of, then I’ll be right back, okay?”

“What?”

“Just--” He floundered a moment, debating how much to tell her. “I know one of them. He’s Blue’s best friend--like best best friend--they haven’t seen each other in a year, longer than that.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Please, they need to talk to each other, I just need to bring him upstairs, okay? Nothing’s wrong.”

Her eyes narrowed at him, her already lined skin gaining more furrows. But, eventually, she nodded, shooing him away with her hands. “Fine, but I’m not finishing this shift on my own.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised again, moving to the little door in the circular bar. He weaved his way around customers to Echo. “Hi, I’ll start over,” he began, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the music. “I’m Tup, Fives is upstairs, I’m taking you to him, okay? Cool.”

Without waiting for an answer (because it had to be yes), he grabbed Echo’s wrist and began tugging him through the throngs of people and around tables towards the “Employees Only” door that led upstairs. Echo didn’t protest. In fact, he didn’t even say much except to add to Tup’s many “excuse mes” and “thank yous” as they pushed through people to get to the stairs.

But once the door had swung back shut again, he pulled Tup up.

“What?”

Echo breathed a quiet laugh. “Hello to you too, Tup. Take a breath.”

Tup released his wrist and let him climb the stairs at his own pace. In doing so, he finally noticed Echo’s boots didn’t look quite right, and it took him several seconds to realize this was because there were no feet attached. The more he looked, he recognized cybernetics from at least the knees down on both legs. “Oh, sorry.” He wasn’t sure if he was apologizing for dragging Echo away or for not realizing what had changed.

“It’s okay.” He put a hand on Tup’s shoulder as they climbed. “How are you both? You and Fives.”

“I’m pretty good,” he answered, silently agonizing over the slower pace Echo had set. “Fives is uh…” He paused, trying to find words that wouldn’t alarm Echo too much. “He’s… been better?”

Echo raised a brow at him, hesitating a step before continuing at a slightly faster pace. “What do you mean?”

Tup sighed. “He’s… I dunno. It’s like he’s…” Words failed him again, and now they had reached the landing on the second floor. The room he and Fives shared was only five doors down. “It’s like he’s hollow, but he’s too full of too much at the same time. It’s why I didn’t want to wait for him to see you.”

Echo nodded, gesturing for Tup to lead on. “I understand. Probably wouldn’t have wanted to wait even if he was okay.”

A knot of anticipation was slowly tightening in Tup’s chest as they approached the door and Tup knocked. He knew Fives was here, and it was technically Tup’s room too, but Fives didn’t like surprises. Anymore, at least. This had to work. If there was anyone in the galaxy who could get Fives out of this person hell he’d put himself in, it was Echo, right? That was how it worked: Echo and Fives, Fives and Echo, the Domino twins, always. Tup wasn’t sure what he’d do if this didn’t work.

______

The first thing that struck Echo about the room was the clear division of lived-in disorder and absent organisation. The room itself was clearly meant for customers and had simply been repurposed to allow Fives and Tup to live there semi-permanently. There were two beds, a connected ‘fresher near the door, a table with two lamps between the beds--all the trappings of a typical (if low-end) motel. But the bed farthest from the door remained impeccably made up in military fashion, there were no personal belongings out that weren’t currently in use, not even a stray sock. It was a CO’s dream, sure, but…

He looked at the other bed--Tup’s bed. It was made, but not impeccably so. There were stray clothes in one corner, a datapad thrown on the covers, little knickknacks on the table beside it. It looked lived in. Tup had claimed this space, a while ago, from the looks of it. Echo remembered the state Fives’ bunk had been in sometimes, the utter chaos happening below his own bunk. What had happened?

“Fives?” Tup stopped where the room widened out to their sleeping area, and Echo stopped behind him.

His batchmate was sitting cross-legged on his bed with a mouse droid in front of him in carefully disassembled pieces, next to a soldering kit and a datapad. He looked a bit like Tech at the moment, except for the distinct lack of goggles and the tank top and shorts.

But it was definitely Fives. Same little tattoo on his temple, same stupid goatee on his chin.

“What’s wrong?” Fives asked, not looking up from the mouse droid’s guts. Echo frowned a little. Tup hadn’t been exaggerating. He sounded… flat.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Tup answered. “There’s someone you should see, is all.”

That made Fives look up, and his reaction was instantaneous. He shoved the soldering iron into its holder with one hand while the other found a blaster pistol that had been hidden behind his body on the bed and raised it at Echo. “Who the hell is that?” he growled in a voice Echo had only ever associated with battle. The voice alone was enough to set him on edge, like Fives had just given a warning of enemy incoming and hadn’t just pointed his blaster at him.

“It’s Echo!” Tup shot back, stepping more fully in front of him--between him and the blaster. “Fives, it’s Echo. Maker’s sake, put the blaster down.”

“Echo’s dead, and people lie,” Fives replied in the same stern voice as he rose from the bed to stand at its foot. “Get away from him.” The pistol never wavered, true to ARC standards.

Echo knew he was unrecognizable. When he’d arrived at the RMB on Anaxes after being rescued from Skako Minor, it had been painfully obvious just how much he didn’t look like himself from the way that Jesse and Kix and Hardcase and the others had reacted. Now, with a different haircut, and metal limbs, and no handprint of any kind on his armor, it wasn’t exactly a surprise that Fives didn’t believe it was him. But it still hurt like something vital had just crumpled inside his chest.

“Fives!” There was a note of desperation in Tup’s voice now. How long had they been living like this? Echo remembered the urgency with which Tup had dragged him up here, not even bothering to find out what they were doing here, or if they were a threat to their safety. A while, then.

“Get. Away.”

“No! This is ridiculous!”

“You can scan my wrist if you want,” Echo cut in, holding up his remaining arm. “ID tattoo.” The subdermal pattern of invisible ink would pull up his public military record on any device, displaying his designation and current and previous stations.

This made Fives pause, actually thinking about it.

“Please, Fives?” Tup asked.

After a tense moment, Fives exhaled sharply through his nose, which meant he had relented. He pointed towards a dresser with his free hand. “Fine, grab the scanner.”

Tup took a step forward, then paused to ask, “You’re not gonna shoot him, right?”

A muscle in Fives’ jaw flexed. “I’m not gonna shoot him.”

Tup still moved cautiously, keeping a close eye on Fives as he left his position between Echo and the blaster aimed at him. For his part, Echo slowly moved to take off his vambrace and glove on his left hand, then pulling up the sleeve of his blacks a few inches. Tup stood in front of the dresser between them, fiddling with the handheld scanner.

“Do you wanna do this?” he said to Fives, sounding… tired. Poor kid.

Fives shook his head. “You do it.” It was the gentlest his voice had sounded since they’d walked in. It gave Echo some hope. If Fives could still care this much about keeping Tup safe, the rest of him was still in there. It was just a little buried.

Tup walked over and he held out his wrist for him. The scanner sort of… tickled a bit, after being part of a computer for several months with the Techno Union. It seemed whatever they did to him had made him a bit more sensitive to the electromagnetic spectrum. The stripes of the ID tattoo lit up blue briefly as the device picked them up, and there was a soft beep when it finished.

“Sorry about this,” Tup murmured while the device was processing.

“Don’t, it’s not your fault,” Echo replied with a small smile.

He returned to Fives, holding out the device as a hologram display appeared from it:

ARC-1409

Formerly 501 Legion, Torrent Co

MIA: [unavailable]

POW retrieved from [unavailable] by Gen. Anakin Skywalker, CT-7567, CF99

Reassigned to CF99

It was different than the one Echo had seen, because the GAR devices and droids could pull up his full record, dates included, but it had the important stuff. Echo skimmed the short document, then watched Fives read it through. He saw his batchmate’s eyes hover on the picture in the upper left corner, taken about a month after his rescue. He looked much better now than in that picture. Fives read it through twice, and after the second time through, he reached out and took the device from Tup. The arm holding the pistol lowered its aim from Echo’s head to his feet.

“I have a shift to finish,” Tup said, stepping away once the scanner was out of his hands. “Don’t kill each other while I’m gone.”

Fives didn’t respond, just watched Tup turn and leave.

And that left the two of them alone.

For a moment or two, they didn’t move. Fives seemed lost in thought after reading the document, and Echo didn’t want to startle him. Eventually, he clicked the device off and set it down on top of the dresser, the arm with the blaster now hanging loose at his side.

“How did you find us?” he asked quietly, still facing the dresser. His voice was still unreadable to the inexperienced ear, but Echo could hear a difference. He was still wary. But he wasn’t actively threatening him, and that was a distinct improvement.

“Accident,” Echo replied truthfully. “We needed to stop for fuel after a mission, and the boys wanted a drink, so…” He figured the rest of the story was self-explanatory. When Fives didn’t follow with another question, he added, “Do you believe it’s me now?”

Fives’ empty hand slowly curled into a fist on top of the dresser, then slowly relaxed. “I think so,” he answered.

“Can I ask you to put the blaster down?”

His batchmate looked down at the weapon, like he’d only just noticed it. After another moment of thought, he set it down beside the scanner, then finally looked up at Echo. “What happened to you?”

He shrugged. He was used to people staring at him by now, with all his machinery, and even more used to that question. “An explosion and a few mad scientists.” He took a step towards Fives, encouraged when he made no move for the blaster in response. “The Seppies handed me over to the Techno Union after they pulled me out of The Citadel.” He gestured to his legs and head with his prosthetic hand. “They did all this.”

“Why?”

Echo took another step towards him, scrutinizing his face for the tells and signs he had grown up learning. Even ARC training couldn’t hide it all from him, so despite the emotionless front Fives had put up--and had had on since Echo had walked in, he could tell a few things. Most glaringly, he was exhausted. Beyond exhausted, in some aspects. Clearly, he hadn’t been sleeping well, if at all, for days at a time, if the shadows under his eyes were anything to go by.

“To get the strategic algorithm,” he answered, keeping his voice soft and even, giving no signs he could see how bad Fives looked. “The one I made with Rex. I guess they were using it on Anaxes about two and a half months after you and Tup left. Rex recognized it, and that’s how they found me.” Fives nodded. He looked numb behind the exhaustion. He rubbed his face roughly, and Echo took another couple steps forward. “No one’s coming after you, Fives.”

He watched his shoulders tense, hands still over his face.

“I mean it. The stuff you sent to Kix about the chips--you did the right thing. We’ve figured a lot of it out, we know Tup wasn’t in control of himself on Ringo Vinda. We know someone set this whole thing up. No one is coming after you, I promise.”

Slowly, Fives’ hands lowered from his face, and Echo’s heart leapt. Finally, he could see something in his eyes. They were no longer forcefully void of emotion, guarded by walls built during ARC training. It would have made Echo smile, if what he saw hadn’t been such overwhelming loneliness. It made sense now that Tup had described a kind of hollowness. If he’d seen something like it before Citadel, he would have wasted no time dragging his brother into a hug and not letting go until he felt the stress ease from his muscles. But then was not now. Fives was hurting, yes. But Echo had to be patient.

He stayed put as Fives moved again, this time over to the foot of the bed to sit on the floor, leaning back against the bedframe. Drained. “Is Tup mad at me?”

Echo did smile then, a small smile, and a little sad. “Oh, Fives,” he sighed.

Fives, always loyal to his brothers first, and the Republic second. Fives, who had always hated being left alone for any amount of time, no matter how brief. Fives, who had always spent extra time with the shinies after their first battles to make sure they took care of themselves. Fives, who had sensed the chips ran deeper than first thought, and risked his life gathering what he could to save his brothers. Fives, who had suddenly found himself without anyone, except Tup, and had done everything in his power to keep his little brother safe, no matter what it would do to him.

“No, I don’t think he’s mad at you,” he finally said, walking the few steps over until he was standing to Fives’ left. “A little frustrated you did this to yourself, maybe. But not angry.” He gestured to the floor next to his brother. “Can I sit?”

Fives nodded, barely a dip of the chin. “I just wanted to keep him safe,” he said in a very small voice.

“You did,” Echo told him as he sat down next to him, but facing towards him. “You did a great job. No one even thought to look here, no one had any idea where you two had gone.” He set down his glove and his vambrace that he’d been carrying since taking them off. Then he started taking off the rest of the armor on his arm, setting it all in a pile off to his far side.

Fives watched him, curious, but he didn’t say anything about it. Instead, he wanted to know, “What did you find out about the chips?”

Echo frowned as he unclipped the sides of his chest plate and pulled the whole thing over his head. He wanted Fives to relax, to let go of the stress he’d been carrying. Talking about what they’d discovered, and what they had yet to figure out, would just get him thinking again. “Do I have to tell you now?” When Fives’ only response was dropping his gaze to the floor between his feet with a minuscule shrug, Echo elaborated. “Fives, as your batchmate, let me say this: you are dead tired. You look like you’ve been running on fumes--mentally and emotionally, if not physically--for about two weeks. Kix would scrape the medic symbol off his shoulder bell if he let you go anywhere in this state. I would rather wait until tomorrow, so I can make sure you get a good night’s rest and some breakfast, and then I will tell you and Tup everything. Okay?”

Fives knew he was right. Echo knew that he knew he was right. He drew his knees up to his chest and rubbed his face again. “Okay,” he sighed, but he didn’t look happy about it.

Echo smiled again. “You know you missed my nagging,” he said, holding out his hand.

To his utter delight, the corners of Fives’ mouth pulled up ever so slightly. He put out his hand, hesitated a little, but finally let it land in Echo’s. “Yeah, I did,” he agreed, linking their thumbs and holding tight. He let his head fall back against the mattress behind him, avoiding his brother’s gaze, but Echo’s trained eye saw the muscles in his neck constrict, saw the small stutter in his breathing, and he already knew.

“Looks like rain, huh?” he said quietly, squeezing his brother’s hand. It was an old code from Domino’s cadet days. They had all been so damn stubborn, none of them had wanted to admit when they needed a good cry. So, they had used Kamino’s weather as a cover. Fives and Echo had kept it up, even when it no longer made sense on a ship in the middle of hyperspace, for example.

Fives shut his eyes tightly and nodded, squeezing his hand in return.

“C’mere.”

He uncurled from where he sat against the bed and let Echo gather him up in his arms, holding him against his unarmored chest--because he had been pretty sure it would end up like this. Fives pressed his face into his left shoulder immediately, wrapping both arms around his torso and digging his fingers into his blacks. Echo rested his chin on his brother’s hair and put his hand on the back of his neck, holding him there while he unraveled.

How long had it been since he had seen his last batchmate? Something approaching two years at this point. Echo hugged tighter upon remembering that, and upon remembering what it had been like trying to put his life back together after the Techno Union without him. He was determined to keep Fives from going through anything like it now, even if this reunion was far from what he might have imagined.

After some time Echo didn’t bother to track, he felt Fives settle in his arms and heard his breathing descend to a more normal pace. He pressed a kiss to his head and ruffled his hair. As much as he hated hearing Fives cry, this was light years better than the calculating and emotionless man who’d had a blaster pointed at him a few minutes ago. It hurt, yes, but it was human. If it made Echo’s heart twinge a little, it was worth it to know this was normal.

“Feel better?” he murmured. Fives nodded silently, loosening his death-grip on his brother’s blacks. “Can we get off the floor now? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

The noise Fives made was somewhere between a sob and a cough as he sat up from where he’d been slumped against Echo’s chest. But he was smiling, weakly, so it must have been a laugh. ��Yeah, okay.”

Echo helped him wipe away a few stray tears. “You’re a kriffing mess, brother,” he smirked. “Maybe you can get some sleep until Tup’s shift ends, hm?”

“You’re staying, yeah?”

“Of course I’m staying,” he assured him, a little affronted he would think otherwise. Fives nodded, letting his head fall forward until their foreheads touched. Echo leaned in and felt a shaky breath of relief leave his lips.

“I really need a drink.”

Echo sat up with a smile. “You and me both, but I think sleep will be better for you.”

______

It was a little after midnight by the time Tup had finished his shift and he was climbing the stairs to his room again, this time with three beers in his hands, because he felt bad about whisking Echo off without filling his order. Echo’s new squad was still downstairs. He’d explained what had happened to them, and they had all been surprisingly accepting of it. Echo must have told them about Fives.

He hesitated in front of his door, one hand on the handle. He couldn’t hear anything from inside, which… was probably good, right? They’d had over two hours to themselves. Either they’d settled things, or they’d stunned each other. Well. He pushed the door open, knocking on it lightly as he did so.

“Hey, guys, I’m back.” He walked softly until he was in the main part of the room, then he smiled.

Echo and Fives were laid out on Fives’ bed, the latter tucked safely under his batchmate’s arm. It was the first time Tup had actually seen Fives asleep in weeks. Usually, he was still up when Tup went to bed, and awake before Tup got up. It was also the first time in months Fives had willingly put himself in contact with another person. He noticed Echo’s full kit was piled at the foot of the bed, along… along with his legs, yes. He was still getting used to that.

Echo was blinking sleepily when Tup walked in. “Hey, Tup,” he smiled. “Those for us?”

Tup held up the three bottles. “Yeah. I… felt kinda bad you didn’t get your drink earlier.”

Echo nodded. “Oh, it’s alright. But, I will certainly take that drink now, as soon as I get this lump off my arm.” He waved the hand attached to the arm Fives had pinned down.

Tup walked over and sat down on the end of the bed where Echo’s feet weren’t. “I’m glad he’s asleep.”

“Yeah, me too,” his older brother agreed, rubbing Fives’ shoulder. “But, I said I’d wake him up when you came back.” He patted Fives’ shoulder a bit more aggressively. “Come on, brother.”

It took a while, but it worked eventually. Fives grumbled quietly, at first shoving his face deeper into the pillows before Echo dragged his arm out from under him, then he hauled himself upright. Echo similarly pushed himself up, leaning against his brother.

“Hey, Fives,” Tup said, still a little uncertain.

Fives rubbed his eyes, then blinked groggily at him. Echo ruffled his hair roughly to help him wake up, and a tiny smile appeared on his face. A real one, too, not one of the tight, professional smiles Tup had seen him use in the past. “Hey, Tup.”

A huge smile lit up Tup’s face. Echo had done it. “That’s more like it,” he said triumphantly.

“Yeah, I know,” Fives said, looking a bit sheepish, which was awesome, because Tup hadn’t seen many emotions out of him other than a range of unhappy in way too long. “Sorry about… everything.”

Tup’s smile softened a bit. “Thank you. It’s okay--I mean, I’m glad you’re okay.”

He nodded back. “Yeah, well… we’re getting there.” His eyes landed on the drinks in Tup’s hand. Tup had picked out one he knew was a favorite. “Those aren’t being saved for any special occasion, are they?” he asked, gesturing to them.

Tup smirked and held them up. “Just this one,” he answered, and handed them out.

He was about to get up to get a bottle opener, then watched as Echo’s cybernetic hand plucked off the cap like it was nothing. Fives blinked at his batchmate’s open bottle, then held out his to open as well. Echo rolled his eyes, but obliged. Fives smiled again, clinking their bottles together before taking a swig.

Echo held out his hand to Tup, whose bottle remained unopened. “It’s the most hand-like thing this thing can do, please,” he urged, so Tup held out his bottle and let him open it.

Then Fives scooched back to sit against the headboard and gestured Tup over as well. “C’mere,” he said, “I’ve been a dick to you, I should start making it up.”

Tup gave another huge grin and got up to get on the other side of the bed. “Good to have you back,” he said, maybe a little smug, as he kicked off his shoes and carefully climbed in so he didn’t spill his drink.

“Glad to be here,” Fives said, putting an arm around Tup’s neck and tapping their foreheads together lightly. “Good on you for bringing in the heavy artillery,” he added, gesturing with his bottle to Echo on his other side.

Tup could only give a nonverbal sound in reply as he took a drink. Then he sighed contentedly and relaxed against Fives’ side. He hadn’t quite realized how much stress he had been carrying because of Fives, and it was all leaving him in a rush, like he’d just taken off his kit after a twelve-hour march. He felt light, and happy, and safe. And hopefully, it wouldn’t be too long before they could really go home, and he could see the rest of his brothers. The thought made him smile as he listened absently to Fives and Echo chat about nothing in particular. Yeah. This was good.

[daddywanken0bi]

Armor

word count: 1.7k

author: Allie

warnings: female reader, but none other than that. it’s fluffy :)

a/n: oh my gosh it’s been so long. Jess and I have been working like crazy this semester, but we’re finally on break. And this one, for some reason, took forever to write. I still don’t think it’s perfect, but I don’t want to keep y’all waiting any longer. 

Obi Wan x Mandalorian!reader

requested by @the-mandalorian-clone-lover​

Armor

Your armor didn’t used to feel this heavy.

It was designed to be light weight, flexible and silent in combat. It was precisely tailored to your body with chrome plating and acute edges. It used to be something you relied on and trusted to protect your most vital organs. But now, as the red paint chipped to reveal the true blue underneath, it only felt like a burden, a customized reminder of a distantly past life. You probably offended someone wearing it still, but you didn’t really care at this point. The menacing helmet was enough to prevent people from approaching you - that was the last thing you needed.

So you kept it, wore it with some sort of false pride that was more akin to stubbornness than anything else. If you were honest with yourself, you’d acknowledge the comfort it provided - a shield that prevented you from facing the Galaxy and coming to terms with your past. But life as a bounty hunter was far from honest, and you were good at your job.

Your armor hung especially low on your shoulders as you landed back on Coruscant. The target you’d been hunting for a week slipped through your fingers again. Every time you thought you had them, the bastard squirmed out of your grasp. And to add insult to injury, a colleague (to put it politely) captured the shmuck just as you were about to close in. Dejected and bitter, you returned to the city planet with very little of your pride intact.

However, as soon your boots hit the pavement, all of the tension released from your shoulders. You exhaled and tilted your gaze to the magnificent temple piercing the horizon. Beneath your chest plate, your heart reached for your lover that resided there. It wouldn’t be long until he found you, you knew, as the Force drew him to you like a moth to a flame. You shook your head, and beneath your helmet, a smile tugged at your lips.

The thought of reuniting with his sapphire eyes kept your shoulders square as you traipsed through the muddy streets. You surveyed its inhabitants, noting how any of them could be your next target. On your left, an elderly man played the ommni box, his hat on the ground for credits. On some strange level, you empathized with him: you both resorted to your talents to make a living. To your right, a couple stumbled out of a bar, giggling and collapsing on top of one another. Acidic jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you watched, but shame quickly suppressed it. It was unfair of you to be envious. Loving a Jedi was difficult, but you knew you were just as difficult to love, if not more.  

You shook your head and his eyes flashed in your mind once more. You smiled again at the reminder, and  the old man and the couple disintegrated back into the hustle and bustle. You kept your head high for the final few blocks that separated you from your building, but as soon as the elevator doors sealed behind you, you slumped against the wall. You sighed as you peeled off your helmet, grateful to release some of the weight. The hum of the lift was lulling and you hardly fought the closing of your eyelids. But the hiss of the lift doors opening reminded you that you weren’t at your apartment yet, so you heaved yourself off the wall. You could barely keep your eyes open as you made your way down the hallway. All you could think about was how wonderful your bed would feel as soon as you got the door open...if only you could get the door open.

“Are you having trouble with your key code, dear one?”

Your eyes few wide.

You swung your head, and sure enough, your lover stood, propped against the wall with his arms crossed deliciously over his chest. A smiled played on his beautiful lips a you registered him there - just as you predicted.

“Obi Wan,” You crossed to him in two steps and all but collapsed into his arms. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, not too long.” He whispered into your dirty hair, his smile evident in his voice. You released him, eager to see that smile with your own eyes. He nearly took your breath away. Wow, was he remarkable.

You returned to your door, finally energized enough to tap in the (correct) code. You reached for him with your free hand (your helmet tucked under the other), a silent gesture for him to follow you inside. He did, and he watched as you discarded your helmet and made a b-line for the kitchen. You reached for the kettle.

“It’s good to see you.”

“You, too,” Obi Wan said as he leaned against the counter. He crossed his arms over his chest, restrained excitement bubbling in his eyes. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t posses the same look. You focused back in the kettle.

“I nearly had him, you know.”

“I believe you.”

“If only that stupid patron didn’t spill their drink and make an entire scene-“

“You must be exhausted,” You hadn’t noticed his proximity until he slipped his hand under yours, taking it off the stove ignition. You peered up him.

“No more than usual,” You chuckled.

“Lets get this armor off you.”

“Obi Wan-“

“Come.”

You knew better than to argue with him. So you followed as he lead you out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into your bedroom. He dropped your hand and crossed to pull fresh clothes from your dresser. You took to opportunity to start loosening the clasps on your chest plate.

“Please,” Obi Wan took your hands again as soon as he noticed. “Let me.”

Resigning, you let your hands fall to your sides. He resumed your previous chore, gentle and patient as ever. He unbuckled the last clasp and mumbled a small “up,” urging you to lift your arms so he could pull the armor over your head. He then moved to the metal on your arms, unhinging their grasp on your biceps and forearms. He finished with your gloves - he placed a soft kiss to each palm as they were revealed.

“Sit.” He nodded towards the bed and you did as he asked. He knelt before you and began unlacing your boots. He pulled each one off, massaging your toes before removing your socks. He worked next on your shin guards, then pulled you up to stand once they were shed. He remained kneeling, peeling the last bits of armor protecting your legs to the floor. You stepped out of them, and Obi Wan gathered the discarded pieces and placed them into the drawers of your dresser.

You just admired him, joy radiating from your bones as he moved so gracefully around your room.

“Do you need help changing your clothes, too?” He teased. “I thought you would be capable of doing that yourself?” You giggled.

“I’m just so tired, Obi Wan. Would you please assist me?” You feigned, biting back a grin. His eyes rolled to the side, but his laugh gave him away.

“You’re lucky you’re beautiful.” He reached for zipper down the front of your bodysuit.

“That’s the only reason you love me-” As he pulled it down your shoulders, “-my appearance.” He pursed his lips.

“Oh no, darling.” He pressed a kiss to your cheek, “I love your wit,” a kiss to your jaw, “Your humor,” to your shoulder, “Your no-nonsense attitude,” your collar bone, “Your strength,” the center of your chest, “Your flaws,” your chin…

“You,” He hovered just above your lips, “in entirety.”

You gazed at him, pure adoration in his eyes. You traced his cheekbone with your fingertips and kissed him with all the love you had to give. For he was the only thing in the galaxy that gave you purpose anymore, the least you could do was love him in return.

You drew away from him for breath, he rested his forehead on yours. You forgot for a moment that you were half dressed, until a draft shivered up your arms. Obi Wan noticed, and reached for the clean shirt he pulled out earlier. He pulled it over your head, blissful smiles permanent on both of your faces. You peeled the rest of your body suit off your legs, and replaced it with fresh lounge pants.

“There.” Obi Wan sighed, content, “Better?”

“Much.” You smiled. “Now it’s your turn, Master General.”

“Sweetheart, I’m alri-“

“It’s simply unfair that I stand so unprotected in front of you.” You placed your hands on his shoulder pads. You raised your eyebrow, and repeated the same phrase , “Let me?”

He didn’t protest, he only chuckled and nodded encouragingly. You mirrored his previous actions - drawing his chest plate over his head, unclasping his arm guards, and pulling his gloves. However, you placed a kiss to his knuckles instead of his palm. He wore significantly less armor than you, so you were done much faster than he was, but you wanted to savor the moment as he did. You caressed the linen hugging his chest, grateful to feel him near you again. You ghosted your lips at the crest of his collar bone, the small glimpse of him his robes provided.

Obi Wan lifted your chin with his finger, an endearing gesture that always sent butterflies to your stomach - this he knew. You melted into him, closed your eyes, rendered yourself completely vulnerable.

“So beautiful…” He murmured, barely audible. You leaned closer to him, expecting to feel the weight of his lips on yours-

A scream rang through the apartment. You relaxed after you realized it was only the obnoxious screech of the kettle echoing from the kitchen. The moment with your love now absolutely butchered, your head fell onto his chest, laughs and giggles spilling from both of your lips. Your head tilted back up at him.

“Care for a cup of tea?”

He grabbed your cheeks and smacked a sloppy, playful kiss to your lips.

“Absolutely!”

Wiping the kiss from your mouth and stumbling with laughter, you followed Obi Wan out of the bed room, your lost bounty forgotten with your discarded armor.

[stylesluxx]

hate the club – s.rogers

[warnings: maybe angst? minor swearing and age gap]

summary: in which y/n hates parties but knows steve will be there - inspired by hate the club by kehlani

word count: 4,124

masterlist

You were in training for as long as you could remember. And since you started at a young age, you were good at it; it could be argued that you were one of the best assassins produced, but your only flaw was that the guilt ate you alive. It was the only thing that held you back. And that's how you ended up working with the Avengers.

At the bright age of 18 you were fighting Captain America alongside Iron Man. You honestly had no idea what was going on but Tony had reached out to you. You had been in Nick Fury's records for two years now, which you allowed. If you wanted to disappear, you had all you needed to be able to do so. You figured, if he knew about you he'd offer you a way out. After all, you let him find you.

When it came down to fighting Thanos and his army, you had to put everything that happened in 2017 aside. You hadn't gotten a chance to properly introduce yourself to any of your teammates. You were a last-minute call for Tony in 2017 and introducing yourself wasn't exactly the easiest thing to do while fighting an extraterrestrial army. And when you all went to go visit Thanos at his farm, nobody was worried about introductions.

"I used the stones to destroy the stones. It nearly... killed me-"

"Should've," You mumbled and looked at him with stone-cold eyes.

"But the work is done, it always will be. I am... inevitable," He droned on dramatically.

You zoned out after that performance and only snapped back as Thor angrily cut off the monster's head. And without thinking you kicked it across the room. Not one of your classiest moments, you'll admit, but you were frustrated with the Titan as well.

"Worthless piece of shit," You mumbled and stormed out the house and to the jet.

But when all the dust settled (no pun intended) you got to talk to Captain America.

"I remember you, from the airport?" He said, looking down at you as you walked between him and Natasha. "Where did you learn to fight like that?"

You, Steve, and Natasha had just gone back inside the compound from walking Tony and Pepper out to their car.

"Call if you need anything, Kid," was the last thing Tony said before rolling up his window and Pepper driving off.

"Yeah, uh, I'm Y/N. Y/N Y/L/N. Trained assassin since before I could remember. Speaking of which, I'm a big fan of your work, Miss Romanoff. You're very calculated and smart... in a good way," You spoke softly, not necessarily knowing how to articulate your words.

"Just call me Nat and thanks. It's good that we use our training for good," She said and you nodded in agreement.

"I'm Steve Rogers. Nice to officially meet you. It's... nice when you're not beating our asses," He chuckled.

"It's nice when you guys aren't under my boot, begging for mercy," You said before making a face. "Yeah, sorry that's the assassin talking. But uh while we're all here, maybe you guys could teach me a few things? I could learn a lot from you. 'm only 19."

"19?" Steve asked with his eyebrows furrowed, clearly taken aback.

"Yep! And only 18 when I kicked your ass," You teased and Natasha laughed. "How old were you?"

"Technically... I was 99, but I guess I was only 33."

"Oh man, when's the big day? The big 100?"

"July 4th."

"Well, you only turn 100 once, let's make the most of it," You winked and pat his shoulder.

The rest was history. You made sure Steve had the best birthday he could've possibly asked for despite half the population being wiped out. Everything was good for a while. Five years. Everything was as good as it could be. For you, it kind of felt normal. You didn't have anyone you were attached to go in the snap. The people you had now, grew important to you in the last five years.

But Scott Lang came and shook up your entire world with the whole time travel concept. While they were trying to recruit Tony, you sat with Morgan on your lap. Your leg bouncing up and down was fun for the child but you and Steve knew your brain was working overtime; your anxiety was running wild.

"Hey, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?" He asked and pecked the top of your head.

"Oh nothing. I'm just..." You sighed. "Thinking about all the people we're going to get back. Our new normal will change but... at least everyone will be back," You lied easily. You knew you had succeeded when he gave you a small smile.

"You'll be able to meet Bucky," He hummed with genuine hope.

"Finally, my assassin idol," You chuckled and shook your head.

"What's an ass?" Morgan asked and looked up at you.

"Don't worry about it, Little Stark," You told her and held her close.

You stayed at Tony's while the other three left to go back to the compound. You sat in Tony's workspace in an office chair that spun, wanting to stay distracted from your inner quarrels.

"What's up, Kid? The compound was too overwhelming?"

"Underwhelming, actually. There's nothing to do, so all I do is think. And after the news we received today, I-I don't really want to think," You told him honestly.

"What's worrying you about time travel? Old demons?"

"If there's a way for Steve to go back to Peggy," You started but stopped so you could breathe. The idea of losing Steve just took the air out of your lungs. You put your hand on the base of your neck and softly pinched at the skin to remind yourself this was reality. "He won't lose the opportunity to do so-"

"I think that might've changed-"

"Is there a way... to maybe... a-act like I didn't happen? I don't want to face him making that decision. I already know what he's going to choose and I don't want to be here for it," You practically begged, you leaned toward him trying to get him to see your desperation.

"You want me to make sure you don't exist so you don't have to deal with your problems? Yeah, no. There's a reason you're here," He said as he waved his hands, looking at a design. "Your problems will go away and you'll be happy again. This pain doesn't last forever, I know they must have taught you that at your little spy academy."

"Gosh you're such a dad these days," You mumbled and slumped in the chair, defeated.

"My greatest accomplishment, if I do say so myself. But spend the night, we have a long day ahead of us."

Tony was right. The next day was the longest day you've ever lived through. It was physically draining but also emotionally. You couldn't get the thought of Steve leaving you out of your head, so you decided to shoot him before he shot you. A typical assassin habit.

Five years of your life gone. You didn't even get in the shower before you walked into Steve's room at the old Avengers tower. The newest compound was turned into rubble and luckily, Tony still had this space available. You quietly knocked before letting yourself in and your eyes immediately went to his nightstand where his compass was open and facing him. You sighed softly and looked at him, defeated.

"Hey, what's wrong? It's been a great day. Everyone's back and nobody died. It's a great day for us!" He rambled, worried, and sat up.

He sat at the edge of his bed and put his hands out for you to take. But you shook your head and took a step back. You looked at the compass quickly before looking back at him.

"Go be with her," You said softly.

"What–?"

"When you return the stones, go back to her, Steve. I have the rest of my life to heal a broken heart but you-you only have one chance," You said as your voice cracked. You cleared your throat and tried to turn the assassin back on. "You only have one chance to be with the love of your life. Take it," You now spoke confidently.

You went with him the next day; you promised to be there for moral support and so you could meet Bucky.

"Bucky, this is Y/N. Y/N, this is Bucky, your 'assassin idol,'" He chuckled. "Y/N's been keeping me afloat these last five years. And Bucky's kept me afloat most of my life. You two will get along well."

Bucky gave you a small smile as if to thank you for being there for Steve. You returned the smile before turning back to Steve. You assumed he and Bucky already said their goodbyes before you got there and now it was your turn.

"I'll be okay, Steve," You assured him and held his face in your hands.

"I know, you're beyond resilient. This is not easy for me at all and it's tearing me apart. I've learned that where I want to be isn't necessarily where I need to be but sometimes they just line up that way. Sometimes where I want to be is exactly where I need to b-"

"Okay that's enough," You stopped him. You didn't want to hear him choose Peggy over you. You wanted to get out of here as soon as possible.

He nodded and kissed your forehead one last time. You watched Steve walk over to the platform and you looked at him intently, longingly.

"How are you two okay with this?" You heard Tony from behind.

"What're you doing here?" You asked him, surprise in your voice but you kept your eyes on Steve.

"I'm your moral support. You here for him but you need someone here for you. Steve called me; in case something went wrong I'd be here for you," He explained and stood next to you, a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head and crossed your arms over your chest.

"Well, assassins are good at letting things go. This is nothing to me," You huffed out the lie, and turned around as Steve pressed the button for the helmet. "See you guys around."

It took you three and a half hours to get to Ithaca from Tony's house. You went three and a half hours without looking at your phone and when you finally crashed on the couch and took a peek, you let out an exasperated sigh.

Tony: He stayed

—

You tossed out yet another party invitation from Tony before sitting at the island in your kitchen.

Y/N: drop Morgan off before the party

Tony: you're seriously not coming ????

Y/N: I'm seriously not coming

Y/N: morgan > party

Y/N: see you when you get here, dweeb

Tony: 🙄

It's been a year since Tony told you Steve stayed here. It's been a year since Thanos was defeated and what better way to celebrate than a party. You've spent a whole year avoiding parties because you knew Steve would be there. He tried contacting you after he stayed, but you ignored all the texts and calls, even when he called from Bucky's phone.

You let him go and he stayed. It embarrassed you that you easily gave up someone who so clearly wanted you. You thought he decided Peggy was the one but you read the situation all wrong. Where he wanted to be and where needed to be was with you and you felt like an idiot for not realizing that.

But Tony figured if you were going to avoid the parties, you might as well watch Morgan, which, honestly, felt more like a reward than a punishment.

"Morgan, tell the loser bye," You hummed to her and took her bags from Tony.

"Bye Loser," She laughed while hugging Tony.

"Maguna, why do you listen to her?" He chuckled and ruffled her hair.

"She's my favorite aunt," She shrugged.

"Well, who else was supposed to be your favorite? Natasha?" You teased and held your hand out for her to take.

"I like Wan-"

"Gosh Kid, your standards are unbelievably low. Wanda? Really?" You cut her off and made a face at her.

You brought her inside your apartment and watched her kick off her shoes and get comfortable, this was nothing new to her. You set her bags down by the guest room (which might as well be her room) before walking over and sitting on the couch.

"So, how's school?" You asked.

"Fun! We have baby butterflies in our classroom!"

"Caterpillars?"

"Mhm," She hummed and climbed on the couch. "Uncle Steve picks me up sometimes. And you'll never guess what he said."

"What did he say, Kid?"

"Guess!"

"Uh, I don't know," You shrugged and clapped your hands together. "You're his favorite niece?"

"No silly! He said he misses you," She smiled and poked your cheek.

"Mmh, I bet," You mumbled and blushed a bright red.

"Why are you turning red?"

"Am not!"

"Well, I think it's time for you to have a baby, so you should talk to him."

"A baby... with Steve?"

"Yep!"

You shook your head, "don't hold your breath on that one."

"And you can name her Morgan too!"

"No thanks," You shook your head and she huffed.

"You remind me of my dad."

"Thank you? I think?"

And this is usually how it went. Tony threw a party and you stayed home and watched Morgan all night. She was great company and she always made you wonder what you and Steve's lives would've looked like if you didn't let him go.

You probably would've found a house in the country somewhere. Sitting on the couch with a newborn in your arms as Steve fixed you a sandwich. Going back and forth with Little Stark on FaceTime about why you didn't name your baby "Morgan." But if you knew Steve, which you thought you did, you knew he would've wanted to marry you first. He'd strive for the most perfect life he could get.

The next invitation you got was for Morgan's birthday and you knew you couldn't miss it. You sighed and texted Tony.

Y/N: will there be alcohol at this party?

Tony: It's a party for kids !!!

Tony: Of course there's going to be alcohol

Y/N: Morgan is gonna be the only kid there...

Tony: Well if everyone got their acts together ... there would be more kids

Tony: For example, Bruce and Nat could adopt ????? Thor and the scientist girl maybe ???? One day ??

Y/N: you forgot clint. we forgot clint has 3 kids

Tony: Honestly? I like to pretend they're agents because how could he not tell us about them !??

Tony: But how could we forget Y/N and Steve ???

Y/N: yeah, you're officially blocked. bye. tell morgan and pep I love them

Tony: See you soon 😘

You arrived at the Stark home and sucked in a breath as you pulled in next to Steve's bike. You exhaled shakily and tapped the steering wheel before running a hand through your hair.

"Okay, relax. You're ready for this. It's just Steve. He's seen your asshole before," You mumbled to yourself and nodded.

You got out the car and grabbed the bags from the trunk. You looked at the house and sighed. It was a cute house. It was a family house and it was everything you've ever wanted since you met Steve.

You walked up to the front door and opened it.

"Little Stark?" You called out and walked into the house, straight into the living room, only to be met by Tony.

"Look who crawled out from under her rock!" Tony laughed and walked over to pull you into a hug.

"I'm only here because I love Morgan. Now where is she? And where's my shot?" You laughed with him and hugged back.

"'Little Stark' is in the backyard with the other kids... well the agents," He said and pulled away from the hug. He kept an arm around your shoulder and walked you to the backyard. "Let me know if you feel uncomfortable and I'll get you out of here faster than you can say 'I love Tony,'" He whispered to you as you saw your other friends sitting in the yard. But Steve was nowhere to be found.

"Is that the code word? Isn't it supposed to be something discrete? People will definitely know something's wrong with me if I said that."

"You're annoying."

"Can you get me a drink? Maybe a shot of 1942?"

"Auntie Y/N!" Morgan yelled and ran to you.

You dropped the bags in your hands and pulled Morgan into a big hug.

"Hi Little Stark! Happy Birthday!" You smiled and spun around a couple of times as you kept her tucked in your arms. You were so occupied with the birthday girl you didn't notice Tony walk off.

"Thank you! What did you get me?" She asked once you set her down. You kept your arms on her shoulders so she wouldn't feel too dizzy.

You laughed and reached for the gift bag with her present. You handed it to her and watched as she opened it.

"Wow! A Nerf gun," She hummed happily as she took it out the bag.

"I thought maybe you could start training. What're you, like six?"

"Y/N! Training?" You heard Pepper.

"What? You're never too young to learn," You chuckled and turned the face her. "How are you, Pep?"

"Much better now than I know you're actually alive and Tony wasn't bringing our daughter to some random nanny," She teased and pulled you into a hug that you returned.

"Yes, I'm alive and well. Waiting for Tony to bring me my drink," You mumbled. "Oh! And I brought the kids candy."

As the mention of candy, Clint's three little ones came running over.

"Hello Mini Clints! Yes, I bought you guys candy, it's in the-"

You were caught off by them and Morgan running off with the candy.

"I-okay."

"Come! Natasha's been hoping you'd come," Pepper said and ushered you over to your former teammates (four out of the six original Avengers) and Laura.

"Y/N!" They all cheered making you blush.

"Hi guys," You said softly and gave a small wave.

"We missed you," Nat smiled and stood from her seat at the picnic table. She hugged you tightly and you laughed.

"I missed you guys too," You smiled and rubbed her back.

"How have you been?" She asked.

"Uh, I've been okay. Pretty good. Honestly? I miss sparring with you. I might have to make a trip to the new compound Tony built so we can go a few rounds," You said and backed away.

"Me, you, and Bucky?" She suggested and you nodded in agreement.

"Y/N?" You heard from behind you. The voice caused your body to visibly tense and everyone at the table gave you a comforting smile.

"Hey... Steve," You said gently as you turned around to face him, but your eyes looking at your feet. "How are you?"

"Better now," He nodded and let out a breath.

"Well that's good. I'm gonna go see what's holding up Tony with my drink. I'll be back," You excused yourself and walked back into the house quickly.

You walked downstairs to the basement where you knew the bar was. And surprise surprise, it was completely untouched. You sighed and went behind the bar to get a bottle and poured yourself a shot.

You couldn't believe you thought you were ready to face Steve. At the sight of him you bolted and you could barely get a conversation in. It wasn't off-brand for you to run away from your problems. But you knew you couldn't just leave the party so you just sat there at the bar. You didn't even know how long you were sitting there until you looked over at the clock.

"Oh wow," You mumbled and took maybe your sixth shot. You stopped counting after a while.

"So this is where you've been this whole time?" Tony sighed and sat next to you.

"Avoiding Captain America," You nodded.

"Technically, he's not Captain America anymore. Just boring Steve Rogers."

"Oh yeah, that's very boring," You scoffed and poured yourself another shot.

"Someone's gonna have to drive you home?"

"Yes please," You nodded. You downed the shot without flinching, causing Tony to shake his head in fake disappointment. "Okay, I'm gonna go talk to him. Wish me luck?"

"You don't need luck, he still loves you. He's upstairs in the kitchen," He pats your shoulder and stands from the stool.

He walked upstairs and you followed him until you spotting Steve in the kitchen.

You cleared your throat, "hey."

He looked up from his phone and smiled at you.

"Hey."

You walked over to him and we're genuinely surprised you didn't fall over. You were both leaned against the counter, he was facing you and you had the perfect view of the picnic table where you saw everyone watching you.

"Tony told me you'd be in here," You said shyly, attempting to spark a conversation.

"Yeah," He nodded. "Got tired of looking for you. The house is nothing like the Avengers compound but it's still a bit big."

"Yeah, but it's small for Tony," You smiled and watched as Tony stood on the picnic table.

"I just want to say happy birthday to Morgan! Besides me, she's the greatest thing to happen to any of you. I also think we should thank her because, without her, Y/N would never leave the house-"

"He loooves an audience," You shook your head and laughed. "There's only- one, two, three, eight adults here besides him. H-He didn't have to stand on the table and give a speech."

"He was right though. You only leave the house if it's for Morgan," Steve commented and turned from looking at Tony back to you.

"This time it was for Morgan and you," You admitted to him. "Do you mind walking me out, we can t-talk on the way to the car? Pleaseee Rogers?" You begged, drunkenly stumbling upon your words.

"Yeah, I'll walk you out," He nodded after thinking for what seemed like a minute to you. It was like he was trying to assess the situation, see if it was a good idea.

He takes your hand in his and leads you toward the front of the house and out on the front porch.

"M-Morgan says you miss me but I need proof," You blurted out. You've been wanting to know if he missed you ever since Morgan brought it up and the alcohol gave you the courage to speak up.

"I never said that," He shook his head and looked at the sunset, avoiding your eyes.

You tilted your head and looked at him with an annoyed expression.

"I-I came all this way to see you and you're lying to me. I c-can tell when you're lying, Rogers, I spent half a decade with you."

"Well, some might say we were only together for five hours," He said to try to deflect, causing you to frown.

It must've been the alcohol because you felt your eyes well up. This was overwhelming to you; you were holding your ex's hand while being emotionally vulnerable and drunk and he couldn't even take you seriously. It was frustrating.

"You're s-still important to me, Rogers. I still love you and I still need you. I d-don't act like it, but I do. If I didn't let you go, we'd probably have all of this right now," You blabbered and used your arms to gesture to Tony's house and little family as you let a tear fall down your cheek.

This wasn't like you at all, this was something that wasn't a part of your assassin training but when it came to Steve, all of that training went out the window.

"Tired of being scared to run i-into you. I hate parties, and you know that but I love Morgan and being with you and I knew you'd be here. W-wanted to see you finally. We can hash everything out later. I just- I just wanna finally go home, Rogers," You spoke with desperation.

You were desperate for him to hear you, understand you, and take you seriously. You didn't want to leave here without him; this wasn't your initial plan but being in his presence changed that.

"You're so drunk calling me 'Rogers,'" He chuckled and shook his head, lovingly.

"Please Steve."

"Let's head home."

[AN: hopefully tumblr decides to let me post this without being shadow banned. I’ve been trying to post this for like a month]

[just-dreaming-marvel]

CHAPTER ONE - THE BEGINNING

LEGACY: A Tony Stark Daughter Story

MASTERLIST

Word Length: 2,500ish

Summary: Brief summary of Bailey’s life. The Team gets back from retrieving Loki’s Scepter.

I was born November 19, 1997 as Bailey Richards. The beginning years of my life were fairly normal, from what I can remember. And I thought I remembered all of it, turned out that that wasn’t the case but that will be covered later. I had a mom and a dad, no siblings. I was extremely smart for my age, a genius as some would say, and was enhanced. I had healing abilities and super strength. I was happy. And I thought that the people around me were happy. I guess I was wrong. When I was four years old, my parents sold me to what we now know was HYDRA. The first few years of me being there, they didn’t do anything too bad, mainly just schooling. Trying to smarten me up so that I could easily blend in. It wasn’t until I was about 9 years old that they started teaching me how to fight, growing my abilities, as well as torturing and running tests on me. 

Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, rescued me in October of 2011. I was 13 at the time. Him and SHIELD put me in the foster system and constantly kept tabs on me. Tony took me from my foster families to have me stay with him on my birthdays, holidays, and whenever else he felt like having me. February 2013 was when Tony finally adopted me. Something about a PTSD episode and meeting a little boy named Harley. Still confused on what that all had to do with me, but I just went with it. Pepper was okay with it but not thrilled. It’s not like she didn’t like me, she actually saw me as the daughter she never had; she was just worried that Tony didn’t know what he was getting himself into.

Once adopted, I moved into the Avengers Tower with Tony, Pepper, and, obviously, the Avengers. I started to train every morning with Natasha, but Tony refused to let me go on missions. Especially since I was a secret to the rest of the world. We both agreed that it would be dangerous for people to know that Iron Man had a daughter. Plus, we had no idea if HYDRA was looking for me or not. So when everyone was away on missions, I just sat at home and worked on a new suit designs, that Tony wouldn’t actually let me make, homework (which was all online, college courses because Tony wouldn’t let me actually go to school), and train. 

One day, Tony and the rest of the team arrived home from a mission while I was siting on the couch working on some suit designs for myself in the Avengers Tower. Over the past year, since SHIELD fell, the Avengers have been taking down HYDRA bases trying to take them down and find Loki’s scepter. I never knew when they would be back, missions ranged from hours to days, sometimes even weeks. I noticed that people in lab coats were setting up some equipment in Bruce Banner’s lab, but I didn’t question it. Tony and Bruce were always up to something. As the quinjet came in for landing, I jumped off the couch and ran to the hanger. I stood by Maria Hill and Dr. Helen Cho, who were already in the hanger waiting for it to land. 

“Miss Stark,” Maria greeted as I stopped at her side.

“Maria, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t need to be formal with me just because you work for my Dad?”

She gave a small smirk, which was sweet for her, and then turned her head to the finally landed quinjet whose ramp was being lowered. I stayed at Maria’s side as Dr. Cho rushed to Clint’s, barking orders. He had an oxygen mask on and Natasha had a worried look etched onto her face. They hurried passed us, heading to Bruce’s lab. I walked next to Maria as she headed into the quinjet. Thor was on his way out, I smiled at him as we walked passed each other.

“How’d it go?” I asked him.

Thor opened the case he was holding, showing me Loki’s scepter. “As planned.” He smiled as closed the case back up. 

“I’m glad.” I smiled back at him before I continued my way onto the quinjet, a few steps behind Maria.

“Lab’s all set up boss,” she stated, talking to Tony.

Tony was sitting in the pilot’s seat. He put his hand up on a handle bar and began to turn his seat around. “Actually, he’s the boss.” Tony responded, pointing to Steve who was sitting on a step facing away from us. 

 “I just pay for everything and design everything and make everyone look cooler.” There was a sense of bitterness in the humor of his voice. I rolled my eyes.

“What’s the word on Strucker?” Steve asked. He quickly got up and walked towards Maria and I. 

Strucker. That name sent a chill down my spine. He was one of the HYDRA agents that had tortured and experimented on me. Hearing his name reminded me of when Tony found me. 

I was the only kid at that HYDRA facility. I was crying the corner of my cage. Yes, a cage. He was all suited up in his Iron Man armor, which scared me because I had no idea who he was. When I wasn’t in the lab being poked and studied on, I was locked in the cage. At the time, Tony was still publicly acting like a playboy, so he did this mission alone and in secret. He reached out for my hand and surged me to come to him. I didn’t budge. Tony, realizing that I was scared, took off his helmet. He set it down and kicked it away. I looked over my shoulder and saw his face. His eyes were faking happiness. I could tell he felt alone, worried, and sad. 

Tony looked me dead in the eye and softly said, “It’s okay. I’m here to save you. I’m not going to hurt you.” 

I just had a feeling after that that I could trust him. I reached out and grabbed his out reached hand. He pulled me towards him and held me close. He grabbed his helmet and that warned me to hang on tight. We flew off  to his Malibu mansion and straight to his workshop. I had a panic attack when we entered it and almost took him out while his was in the Iron Man suit. He quickly took it off and calmed me down. 

I shook my head, bringing myself out of the memory, trying to focus on the present. I looked at Steve and gave him a small smile and a little nod. But he was too focused on Maria to return the gesture. So I walked over to Tony who was pushing buttons, powering down the quinjet. 

“Glad to see you in one piece,” I joked, leaning against the opposite wall he was working on. “I was worried that they were setting up the lab for you.”

He gave a little smirk. “I would never let anything happen like that to me.” He replied. “I’m much more careful than Barton.” He took the few steps to me and kissed my forehead. “I have you to take care of… Speaking of which, what have you been up to kid?”

“Oh you know… the norm. Homework, training, doodling some suits designs that will never be…” I faded off.

He rolled his eyes. “We are not talking about this again.” He pointed a finger at me.

I put my hands up in surrender. “I’m not the one who said I was ready. I’ve passed every test Clint, Natasha, and Steve have given me. They were the ones who put the idea in my head, not me.” We made eye contact and I could tell something was off. He had seen something while on the mission, something that terrified him. He quickly looked away when he realized that I was reading him like a book. “Dad,” I gently said, “something happened out there, didn’t it?” I grabbed his hand. “I know you. Talk to me.”

“When did you get all grown up?” He avoided the question. 

“Dad.”

He squeezed my hand. “Maybe later.” 

 “We need to go see how Barton is doing and begin running tests on the scepter. I also need to change.” 

Tony threw an arm around my shoulders and I put one around his waist. We headed to the elevator and to his floor so that he could change before heading to the lab. Clint, Nat, Dr. Cho, and some others were in the glass room inside Bruce’s lab. We quickly checked in on Clint just for him to tell us that he was thirsty. Tony and I promised to return with drinks before leaving for the main portion of the lab. We ran into Bruce on the way out of the room where Barton was being treated.

“How’s he doing?” Bruce asked. 

“Unfortunately, he’s still Barton,” Tony answered. I rolled my eyes. 

“That’s terrible.” Bruce joked. 

“He’s fine. He’s thirsty,” I responded, walking over to the small kitchen off to the side of the lab. Once there, I began prepping smoothies for everyone. Bruce nodded and walked into the glass room.

“Alright,” Tony began. “Look alive, JARVIS. It’s playtime.” He headed over to the table where the scepter and its test readings were located. “We’ve only got a couple of days with this joystick, so let’s make the most of it. Update me on the structural and compositional analysis.”

“The scepter is alien,” JARVIS replied.

“Well no duh,” I mumbled, continuing the smoothies.

“There are elements I can’t quantify.” The AI continued. 

“So there’s elements you can?” Tony questioned.

“The jewel appears to be a protective housing for something inside. Something powerful.”

“Like a reactor?”

“Like a computer. I believe I’m deciphering code.”

“That’s interesting,” I commented. “So the scepter is a device of some sort?” The smoothie mix was done and I began pouring the green liquid into cups.

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, Miss.” JARVIS answered me. 

“But she shouldn’t be worried about it,” Tony said, pointing a finger at me. “She should be worrying about homework.” He grabbed two trays for the smoothies.

“This is part of my homework,” I shrugged. “It’s science. Plus I know that you actually enjoy my help and know that my actual homework is too easy for me.”

Tony scoffed and shook his head as he set the cups on the trays. “I thought you were taking all college courses?”

“I am,” I grabbed a tray. “I guess of just a genius.” 

I winked at him as I headed towards the glass room that most of the others were in. Tony chuckled and followed closely behind. As we entered, Dr. Cho was explaining the technology that she was using to heal Clint.

“Oh, he’s flatlining,” Tony immediately teased, “Call it. Time?” I giggled, setting my tray down on a table next to Tony’s.

“No, no, no,” Clint said. “I’m going to live forever. I’m gonna be made of plastic.” 

“Here’s your beverage,” Tony whispered to Clint as he handed him a smoothie. 

“You’ll be made of you, Mr. Barton.” Dr. Cho informed. “Your own girlfriend won’t be able to tell the difference.” 

“Well, I don’t have a girlfriend,” Clint denied, sipping his smoothie. 

I looked at him, I didn’t want to call out the super spy, but I had a feeling he was lying. Especially with the way him and Natasha looked at each other. 

“That I can’t fix,” Dr. Cho replied. 

  “This is the next thing, Tony. Your clunky metal suits are going to be left in the dust.”

“Well,” Tony began, “That is exactly the plan. And Helen, I expect to see you at the party of Saturday.”

“Unlike you, I don’t have a lot of time for parties.” Helen Cho responded. I tried to hide my laughter, but it was a little too late. Tony quickly glared at me. He stopped when Helen hesitantly asked, “Will Thor be there?”

“Of course he will!” I cheerfully replied. “Everyone’s going to be there!”

“Everyone, except you,” Tony said pointing at me.

“What? I’m totally going. You’re hosting a party at my house and I’m not invited? That’s just rude.” I crossed my arms over my chest and pouted.

“If Bailey’s not going, then I’m not going,” Bruce commented.

“Thanks Bruce,” I smiled.

Tony took a deep breath, crossed his arms, and looked me in the eyes. “Fine. You can come as long as you don’t fall behind on your homework.”

“Yes!” I threw my fist in the air. “Thanks Dad!” I quickly ran out of the room. I was flying down the stairs, not watching where I was going, when I ran into Steve. “Oh! Sorry Steve!”

“It’s no big deal,” He said, moving around me. “What’s the rush Bailey?”

“Tony said that I could go to the party on Saturday if I don’t fall behind on my assignments,” I answered.

“I see.” Steve smiled.

“Yeah.” I kept heading down the stairs. “So I need to make sure I don’t.”

“Well, if you’re not too tired, will you save a dance for your best friend?”

“Of course!” I yelled as I continued to head to my floor.

When Tony first introduced me to the Avengers, I was so nervous. Especially around the men because of HYDRA. But Steve was so kind and tried really hard to make me feel comfortable. We became best friends almost instantly. Lately though, my feelings have been more than that. Why wouldn’t they be? He’s Captain America! But I can’t let my growing feelings ruin our friendship, plus Tony would never let us date. Let’s be honest thought, Tony’s never going to let me date. I don’t even have friends my age. Don’t get me wrong, I love that he cares but I wish he could worry less and let me live my life a little bit. Plus, Steve and I couldn’t date because of my age. I’m 17, not like it will matter in the long run though. Because of my healing abilities, I will age slowly. Bruce ran tests to confirm it when I first asked if it was a possibility a while back. He said that when I’m 100, I’d probably look nor more than 30. So, to me, age isn’t an issue when it comes to being with Steve. He’s already close to 100 anyway. Its Tony and the fact that our friendship could be ruined. And I really can’t lose that.

next >

[that-is-where-they-wait]

That is Where They Wait Ch 14: The Letter

previous / next all chapters AO3 FFN

[so funny story I actually posted this on FFN and ao3 forever ago but not here. oops. but posting here is a hassle, in my defense. hope everyone is doing okay? also check the notes for some Haha Funny Jokes because I don't want to add them to the. actual post.]

Perhaps the way to answer the present is with the past.

The metal of the hinge was cool under his finger, intricate design branching onto the actual door. It should've been smooth, but instead it was rough and red.

Rust.

Kai frowned. Rusty metal was usually brittle — but the door hadn't come down, even when he and Karlof rammed into it repeatedly. That plan of ripping at its hinges and hoping it came down was starting to look flimsy.

Ech. Well, they had to keep trying and hope for the best. It wasn't like they could stay in the small, dark room much longer. Kai had cobbled together a makeshift flame with pieces of rope and cloth from his gi, but it would definitely not last much longer.

Plus, he was getting really antsy, and it'd be just plain stupid to be so isolated when they weren't safe. When he'd asked about Lloyd and found out he was, in fact, both inside the mansion and unaccounted for, he had been about ready to knock Karlof's helmet off of his head.

… In hindsight, maybe he'd been a little forceful.

But hey, in return, he'd informed Karlof about everything they knew on the mansion and the spirit so far. So he didn't feel too bad about it.

"Psst." He went over to where he'd left Karlof and poked. "We gotta go."

No response.

Ohhhh, perfect. The guy had to go and fall asleep on him. They'd already spent so much time staying put! He was itching to get moving again, and Lloyd and Skylor were still out there, who knew where! Not to mention, if the others woke up and noticed him missing … (It occurred to him, a little belatedly, that they might blame Jay for that. Another twinge of guilt. But he could apologize for that when they went back.)

But it had been an exhausting trek just to get here. Karlof had endured that, and no sleep to recharge afterwards …

Kai sighed, seating himself next to him. Yeah, they weren't going anywhere until Karlof finished his beauty sleep. But then there came the issue of having nothing to distract himself with. Already he could just feel himself tiredly debating whether to indulge the pessimistic trains of thought forming in his head in all their bleak glory.

Abruptly, something slammed against him. Okay, so it didn't slam into him, but it definitely felt that way, because oof! It was heavy. Kai squirmed briefly, but a moment later, he realized he shouldn't even bother. Instead, he hissed an irritated puff of air through his teeth and tried to pull an overly-cuddly Karlof off of him. Why in the name of the First Spinjitzu Master was he—

An exposed part of his bandaged arm made contact with Karlof's for a second, before Kai drew it away and grimaced at how cold it was.

… Oh.

The way Karlof's arm was draped on him, Kai couldn't reach his face with his hand. He settled for a drawn-out groan instead. Just because he was the human toaster … and now he couldn't move!

Oh well. If nothing else, he could totally hold it over Karlof's head later. Blackmail material or something. But what was he supposed to do now?

A bleary yawn escaped his mouth.

There was one idea.

Nope, he thought to himself immediately. No way, José, someone had to stay awake, and he'd already bailed out on that once. But the door was locked, and the whole day and the effects of staying up so long were finally catching up to him …

Kai tried to debate the point a little longer, but as it turned out, he was pretty tired. Too tired to properly argue with himself, and before he could, he'd already fallen asleep.

The tiny flame winked out and left the room engulfed in black.

Lloyd wrapped up a summary of the search he'd just gotten back from.

Considering that depressingly little had changed since the last time they'd looked, it didn't take very long. The ever-encroaching cocktail of panic and despair clawed at his guts and his chest, made his throat tight, and he could feel it radiating off of Jay and Cole near him, optimistic as they tried to remain. At least Skylor had gotten some work in on fixing her bow while they'd been gone, although she hopefully wouldn't be needing it anytime soon.

The light trickling from the windows had become thin, silvery moonlight and long, fragmented shadows streaking across the floor and cutting into each other. Cole glanced at everyone in the room and declared that it was probably about time they slept; both searches had taken quite a while, even with how much of the mansion was still closed off to them. It didn't seem likely that much more would happen that day.

Zane took in everything they said solemnly, then pulled something out from beside him.

"It's disheartening to know that the two of them are still missing. But perhaps I can offer something else to think about before we rest for tonight?"

On closer inspection, it appeared to be a faded eggplant-colored satchel.

"I found this on the mantle while you were investigating in the tunnels. I didn't want to look through it without you …"

"Can I?" Lloyd reached out, opening the bag and peering into it for a moment. Then, as the rest of them watched, he stuck his hand in and, one by one, set its contents onto the floor for better examination.

On the carpet, there currently sat a small black inkwell, a quill stand, a bound book, a faded set of folded purple clothes, an assortment of large and small weapons, and a few loose pieces of parchment with writing on them. Maybe it all belonged to the person that owned the place, ages ago?

Evidently, they were all wondering a similar thing.

Lloyd set aside the empty bag and stared at the various items he'd placed down. "Hm. They were carrying weapons …"

"Whose stuff is all this?" Skylor finally voiced the question.

"It likely dates back to the Serpentine war," Zane said. "The antiquity of all the items would fit."

"Well, then, we should find out, shouldn't we?" Jay grabbed the book, slowly teasing open the binding and riffling through the pages. Lloyd caught a glimpse of inky letters over paper lightly yellowed with time; all things considered, it was pretty well-preserved.

"Careful, Jay, that looks heavy. Wouldn't wanna pull a muscle lifting that thing." Cole's mouth twitched up in a smirk, Jay briefly peering over the book with narrow eyes.

"… I mishandle an empty packing crate one time."

"Yeah, well," Lloyd huffed. "You nearly dropped it right on my foot. I still get splinters from that crate when I'm not watching my step."

"Thanks, Lloyd!" Jay looked supremely offended. "I didn't ask!" Still a little sullen from the disappointing results of the day, Lloyd didn't bother sassing him back. He scoffed when he noticed Jay looking helplessly at Zane — they all knew full well that never worked, so when the nindroid minutely shook his head there was hardly any surprise.

"Silly zaptrap," Cole shook his head and tsked. "Once is all it takes on this team. You of all people should know better."

Jay hmphed and nearly went back to skimming the book he'd picked up, but his head popped up curiously when Skylor spoke.

"Isn't it kind of late? If we're going to look at anything, maybe we should read one of the loose sheets instead. I feel like trying to get into something that long when we need to sleep isn't the best idea. I want to stay in-the-know, but I'm not sure how much longer I can pay attention to anything right now …" She shrugged, looking a little self-conscious. "Sorry."

Oh, right. It was usually Lloyd's job to be one of the voices of reason.

Looking around, he was certain that last sentence didn't pertain to just Skylor, though. The banter was being tossed rather lazily and there was a sluggishness to everyone's movements, even Zane's. As for himself, the temptation to just plonk onto the next piece of bedding he picked up while cleaning up the aftermath of the pillow-and-assorted-accessories fight and sleep on it right there had been overwhelming.

"It's quite alright," Zane reassured her. "You have a point, at that. Perhaps something like this would suffice for tonight?" He held up a messily rolled piece of paper, and pulled it open. Lloyd eyed it and nodded; seemed interesting enough. Most likely, they could learn a thing or two, discuss, and then go to bed without too much further ado.

"Looks good to me," Cole said. "Let's see about this person, then."

Zane's eyes fell to the paper for a few seconds before freezing, glowing ever so faintly brighter, and doing a funny skip between Lloyd and the paper before settling back on the paper. Lloyd frowned, unsure he liked the new furrow in Zane's brow.

"What is it, buddy?"

Zane coughed awkwardly. Amazing how even nindroids did that when they were nervous.

"This appears to be a letter addressed to Garmadon."

Lloyd's eyes widened, breath hitching. Abruptly his heart felt less like it was beating and more like it was trying to break itself out of his chest.

Dad.

It had been, safe to say, a little while since he'd thought about his father. The same father he'd gone through hell and back to finally have by his side, only to banish and then drown for good.

He'd kept himself good and busy, helping the team move base to the abandoned Temple of Airjitzu. Warded off the lingering pain from remembering, during the Day of the Departed, pretty well with dusting and heavy lifting and organizing what needed to be packed.

Lloyd had always done his best to draw strength from his father's memory. Like he'd told his mother during Day of the Departed: "Sometimes it feels like he's still with me."

It sure didn't feel like he was with Lloyd now.

"Lloyd?"

He blinked.

"Lloyd, you good?"

He looked over. Cole and the others were all watching him with concern, trying to gauge his reaction.

Quietly, he took a deep breath. He was supposed to have gotten past this. It wasn't supposed to still sting so much when he'd moved onto something healthier, more bittersweet than the more raw, consuming pain he'd known for a while.

Maybe the mansion's atmosphere was digging deeper than he'd thought, ripping open old wounds on top of slashing new ones.

"Yeah." Then, to ensure they couldn't press him about it, "Are you sure, Zane? Lemme see." Zane obliged, handing him the letter. Lloyd took it and held it up to the firelight, careful not to wrinkle the aged parchment, and skimmed it silently, feeling everyone's eyes still on him.

Having caught his reaction to Garmadon's name, they were probably a little surprised when he chuckled.

"What is it?" Skylor tilted her head. "What did they say?"

"It's just the first paragraph. Listen to this!" Clearing his throat, all too glad to focus on the letter, he read it, the ninja going from attentive listening to confused snickering as he did.

"My dearest friend, Garmadon, it seems fitting to start with the most important subject here—thanks a lot for letting me blunder into that whole mess, you absolute withered honeysuckle. I was delayed two whole days trying to firstly explain how I accidentally deposed a chieftess, and then restore some semblance of normalcy to the village. I don't," Lloyd had to catch his breath, barely managing to stop snickering long enough to finish the sentence, "I don't even know why we're still friends." "What in the world is this talking about?" Cole wheezed.

"Absolute withered honeysuckle," Jay mimicked, cracking up himself.

"Well. They were friends, we've learned that much," Skylor stated, desperately trying to regain a straight face.

"Absolute chums, from the sound of it. Just the best of buddies. Like you and me, huh, Cole?"

"If this whole 'accidentally deposed a chieftess' stuff is anything to go by," Cole said, still laughing, "they were even better."

"I wonder what they got up to if this was forty years ago." Zane set about tidying up the remaining letters and the bound book earlier held by Jay, probably figuring he might as well get it over with while they were all distracted. "Or who this was, to be so evidently close to Garmadon."

"Uh, am I the only one wondering what a honeysuckle is?"

Metaphorical crickets, much to Jay's chagrin.

"Just me? Okay."

A sigh. "They're flowers, Jay."

As the room got quiet enough to hear the crackling fireplace again, Lloyd went back to skimming the letter. The little smile that had lingered on his face fell flat again as he took in the words.

"What's the holdup?" Jay complained after a moment.

"Honestly, with the way this is written, if I read it verbatim you'd probably fall asleep," Lloyd muttered over the page. "Shut up and let me summarize."

"I … okay."

Lloyd squinted at the words. "This is an awful lot to take in. What's a … Shhh … Shuuuuravansha?"

"A what?" A confused chorus met his ears; evidently the rest of the room only knew about as much as he did.

"Maybe the word comes from the local language," Cole suggested. "I did hear a lot of the villagers speaking something I didn't recognize."

"Probably. Zane, you wouldn't happen to have that language in your databases or anything, would you?" Jay asked.

"I'm afraid not," Zane said apologetically. "What is the rest of the sentence, Lloyd? Perhaps the proper context will make it easier to guess."

"'I spoke with the Shuravansha and revised the contingency plans based on the information I got from them, as well as reports from you and our spies on the Serpentine's movement.' How do you even say that?"

"I guess the jury stays out on that one," Cole replied. "But I don't think that's a person. It says 'the Shuravansha'. I don't call Jay 'the Jay'; it'd be weird."

"So a group of some sort?" Jay suggested. "The word 'the' implies more than one."

"But it could be a title," Skylor pointed out. "Like 'the chief' or 'the sensei'."

"Either way, it reveals little about the nature of this Shuravansha," Zane said. "All that sentence gave us is that they had information about the Serpentine relevant to the author of this letter."

"Whatever it is, it's probably important," Lloyd muttered, rubbing his eyes and going back to the letter. "But maybe we'll find more clues about them later."

"Then we should remember it," Skylor muttered. "How do you spell that?"

He spelled it out and kept reading. The room went back to quiet anticipation, until Lloyd sputtered, squinted at something on the page, then looked up at them.

"What the heck, Cole?"

"Huh?" All eyes were now on a flabbergasted Cole. "Wh-what'd I do?!"

"I, it's not you, it's just — since when was the last master of earth a traitor?"

"Whoa whoa whoa, what?" Jay piped up. "That's kinda a heavy accusation to just bandy around!"

"What is this coming from, Lloyd?" Zane asked.

"It literally says right there, 'Earth went traitor on us'! There's only one way to read that!"

Skylor was scribbling like mad.

"Wha—well, don't look at me!" Cole said. "I don't know anything about this!"

"Maybe that's not all there is to it." It was difficult to see Skylor's eyes behind the shades. "My father turned the Anacondrai and the other tribes against humans to start the whole war in the first place. Then he turned the elemental masters against themselves."

"Maybe that was the case here too. Is there anything else about the master of earth, Lloyd?" Zane spoke up.

"Full sentence is 'The Constrictai among them can burrow, and ever since Earth, the weasel, went traitor on us, we lost our best protection against that tactic.' So they're really still talking about the Serpentine."

"Hmm."

"Mmmaybe we should go back to the rest of the letter?" Jay said tentatively.

"I dunno. I kinda wanna hear about this." Cole curiously poked his head closer, wanting to get a look at the letter. Lloyd drew back and immediately felt bad when Cole regarded him a moment before scooting back, hiding a yawn behind his hand.

Right. It was late.

"I mean, there isn't anything else in the letter about them … just the one sentence."

"Fine. What's the rest of it say, then? We really don't have the rest of the night here."

He had a point. Lloyd was pretty ready to be done with the letter and get some rest, by now.

"Wait a sec," Jay said. "'Went traitor on us.' Who's 'us'?"

"Oh." Cole's eyes widened. "Oh my god, you actually have a point. Yeah, that sounds an awful lot like … they called him 'Earth', not his name."

"How do you know that's not his name? Maybe his mom had a weird taste in names."

"... I'm pretty sure that wasn't his name, Jay."

"The word 'us' does seem to suggest camaraderie," Zane mused. "Given that and their knowledge of elemental power, perhaps they were acquainted with the elemental masters, or worked alongside them in some manner."

"That makes sense," Lloyd agreed, not looking up from the paper he held. "Or maybe they even were a master!"

"There's nothing to confirm it yet …" Skylor pointed out. "I'll just write down that they probably knew about the elemental masters. I think that's a safe conclusion."

"Fair enough," Zane said. "I think we should hear the rest of the letter now, before it gets much later. Lloyd?"

"Okay, so. Basically, my dad sent this person, whoever they are, info about Serpentine movement in the area. There were more loose gangs causing trouble than anything, they were just harder to predict because they weren't associated with the Anacondrai commanders. But according to them, the Southern Woodlands were in too strategic a location to risk—"

"Southern Woodlands?" Jay interrupted.

"That's probably what this forest is called. The villagers called it that on our way here."

"Yeah, I think I remember hearing that from someone," Cole said.

"Anyway. Like I was saying." Lloyd coughed pointedly and continued. "The Woodlands were too risky to leave unprotected because the thick plant life would give the Serpentine a naturally-sheltered base to recover and hide in. And they didn't have a lot of time left because … wait." The loopy handwriting in thick black ink cut off abruptly near the middle of the page, the last sentence never to be finished. "It just cuts off mid-sentence."

"Why did I ever think I'd have an easy time of this." Skylor sounded disappointed. "There wouldn't happen to be a name or anything at the bottom, would there?"

Lloyd shook his head. Of course there wasn't; that'd be too easy for them, now, wouldn't it?

"So why didn't they have time, exactly?" Jay said.

"An abrupt end of that nature would suggest some kind of interruption, would it not?" Zane said. "They never had the chance to finish writing this letter."

"If this is from the same era as everything else we've been seeing, then there was a war on. I imagine that'd do it," Cole said.

"Okay, but there's no signs of a fight in this room," Jay pointed out.

"... Ah. That is. Also true."

If he were a little less tired, Lloyd would've chuckled at Cole being caught off-guard without even a witty defense.

"I wonder what they were expecting not to have a lot of time for …" Lloyd wondered. "There's no signs of a fight here, but it's super messy everywhere else, especially downstairs. Maybe something happened there."

"And maybe it's related to the spirit." Cole ran a hand through his thick, messy hair, eyes dark. "There's no way something like that came out of nowhere."

"Given what we know, it is still impossible to gauge exactly what took place in this mansion," Zane said. "It does seem likely that the Serpentine activity this person mentioned had something to do with it, though. The only way to know for sure would be to find more information"

"So we don't know that, either," Jay muttered. "Write that down as a solid 'maybe', I guess."

Skylor nodded. "Anything else I should put down?"

Lloyd shook his head, and Skylor gratefully flipped the notepad closed and set it aside. Her words had actually begun to slur together with tiredness, so even if there were, he wasn't about to put her through writing it.

"Well, if that's all, then." Cole yawned, again. "Let's call it a day. How long's it been?"

"My internal clock is completely frozen," Zane sighed. "And PIXAL says she can't start it up without any connection to the outside world. But according to my timer, it's been approximately 15 hours since Jay woke me and Cole up to inform us Kai was missing."

Yep. Definitely time to wind down.

The mood dipped briefly at the mention of Kai, but Cole determinedly moved on to the topic of keeping watch, and whether they should do it tonight.

Eventually they decided that it definitely needed to stay, but split it up into two equal shifts. Two of them weren't even options to be considered. Lloyd offered to take shift, but given that he'd gotten out of a tough scrape with the spirit earlier and gone on both search expeditions, everyone else refused to let him, arguing he needed the rest. That left just Cole and Jay, but Cole, having gone through the mansion both times, was tired too. Jay would have to keep watch first.

Then came sleeping arrangements, which also worked themselves out quickly enough. Zane, for whatever reason, stayed in a corner to recharge, Skylor was on one bed, and whoever wasn't on shift would be sharing a bed with Lloyd.

"Alright, Jay, don't do anything stupid this time," Cole ribbed Jay, who was shifting around burnt kindling and trying to keep the little bit of fire left alive.

Jay stuck his tongue out.

"You have sooo much faith in me. Come on, I've learned my lesson here."

"Your timer's working, right? Make sure to wake me in … four hours?"

"Four and a half," Jay corrected him. "And yeah, I will."

"Cool. Night." And with that, Cole left him to his current task: striking a match onto a pile of kindling and hoping for a fire big enough to last.

Soon enough, everyone had bid each other goodnight and settled down.

Lloyd pulled his blanket a little closer to himself, still feeling a residual chill seep into his bones. With nothing to keep preoccupied with, ugly thoughts about the mansion, the horrors of its obscure history, their current conditions, his own utter incompetence, the way he'd just let Karlof get lost, Kai came creeping in far too readily. He tried to push them away.

Not now. Couldn't think about all of those things now or he'd never rest. Even tired, falling asleep was a challenge with sore limbs and unceasing nerves scratching away at him and a bitter resentment towards it all beginning to sink into his bones.

Lloyd closed his eyes regardless, trying to empty his mind. He could faintly hear Jay's breathing under the familiar crackle of the flames that were only too reminiscent of their missing piece.

Shadows twisted and danced on the walls.

Exhaustion won out eventually.

[markleesthighs]

Black Mamba | Chapter 3

Pairings: Reader x Mark Lee, Reader x Hendery, Reader x Jaehyun, feat. ot21

Genre: NCT mafia!au, angst, fluff, light smut (suggestive), comical

Warnings: Swearing, A LOT of flashbacks, passive-aggressiveness

Words: 3.045k

【 ❶ ❷ ➂ ❹ ❺ ❻ ❼】

Chapter 3 - Moving On 

Seoul, Korea, a week after Valentine’s Day 2023

One week. One week since your heartbroken, one week since you’ve lost your love and heart to a man full of shit. You had never stepped foot into Mark’s bedroom since and have taken off your necklace you had kept on for three years was now in a box in your bedside dresser locked away forever. You both never talked with each other since that night and kept it strictly professional. 

You focused on your work and have helped succeed almost 80% of the missions since last week. You also found yourself accepting more assassination missions wanting to get out of the mansion. You also got closer to Hendery, and it would not have been a shock to see that Mark took notice to that. He always gazed at you looking at you laughing over something Hendery said or when you let him come into the lab with you to look at what you were working on. He became a really close friend to you since that night.

You came back from an assassination, riding on your motorbike with your helmet on. You rode into the garage and took off your helmet and walked into the mansion and you heard the voice of the guys from the main entrance looking through the windows.

“Who is that?”

“She’s pretty.”

“I wonder when he broke the news to her.”

“Bet Mark bought her that necklace.”

“Ha, I bet he bought her everything she is wearing.”

You immediately knew who they were talking about, a/n (any name). Mark finally decided to bring her to the mansion and show her what he really does for work. You are going to assume its some spoiled brat who only wants Mark for money and his dick. You put your helmet down along with the others in your closet and started to walk down to greet whoever this a/n is. All the guys and Mark immediately stopped talking when they saw you, hearing the clicking of your boots approaching them. They all moved out of your way, and you made eye contact with Mark and a/n. Mark looked at you in panic and awkwardness, awaiting your reaction. I guess Mark thought you wouldn’t be at the mansion by now and try to sneak her in the mansion without you noticing. You reached out a hand to a/n.

“Hello, I am y/n, nice to meet you.”

“Hi! OMG, I LOVE your outfit.”

“Thank you, I’ve heard so much about you.”

You noticed her necklace, it was the same exact one Mark gave you, same letter engraving, the same pendant that you wore for three years.

“How do you know Mark?”

“Oh, Mark?”

You put an arm around his shoulder and gave him a noogie.

“I’ve known this idiot for four years, we are practically family, right, Mark?”

“y-yeah, family.”

She looked somewhat intimidated by you. You had a perfect, healthy body (all bodies are beautiful :)), friendly with all of the guys, and appeared to be a goddess to her.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, if I were to date anyone of these dumbasses it would be Hendery or Jaehyun.”

Both of their faces immediately lit up, and they started to laugh and hit each other

“Hey! That doesn’t mean I would date you, I would only do so if I were forced to by Mark.”

They both calmed down, and a/n seemed to calm down from her worries.

“Y/n why don’t you take a/n for a tour?” Mark said.

You fake smiled and said

“Sure, I would LOVE to.”

The guys and Mark soon dispersed back to their work while you led her around the entire mansion, explaining where everything is.

“So this the main entrance, obviously with high tech security, and has loaded guns and missiles built into its walls to ensure safety.”

“From what?”

“People trying to kill us.”

“This is the kitchen, living, and dining room, we don’t spend much time in the living or dining room since we are all busy 24/7. We also have a personal, professional chef and maid service for you if you feel like it.”

“So if I want anything I can get it?”

“Yes…”

“The floor below is mainly the garage, which you can’t have access to since you are not allowed to leave without Mark, another member, or a bodyguard.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Whatever,” you thought.

“If you go upstairs, this is the floor where the most work happens, and YOU MUST knock on the door before going in, understood?”

She nodded as you continued. 

“If you look out here, you can see our bathhouses inspired by Japanese onsens, and you will go into the women’s side, not the men’s side. You can also see our outdoor and indoor shooting ranges where we train our trainees to shoot. Here on this floor, you will find all of our conference rooms and offices, if you look at the end of the hallway on the right that’s Mark’s office, you can feel free to pop in if you’d like. If you need any help, ask Taeyong, whose office is the last door on the right. If you look left, you will see the weaponry and technology labs, my lab is all the way at the end. However, you are NOT allowed inside.”

“Why not?”

“First, you physically can’t come in, and I don’t want anyone or you knocking on the door thinking you can, it has a facial and fingerprint scanner impossible to hack. Only Mark and I can access or allow anyone in. Second, Mark wants you to be safe, so he wants you to stay away from this lab so you can’t get hurt when we are testing weapons.”

“Aww, he’s so sweet.”

You roll your eyes so hard that you might hurt your skull of how annoying she is.

“This is the third floor, where all of the bedroom quarters are, this is where we all sleep, and you will be sleeping in Mark’s room.”

You walked her to Mark’s room and hesitated to open the door getting flashbacks of that night. 

“Um, are you going to open the door?”

“Yeah I was, I was just making sure no one was in there.”

You swung the door open and let her walk around, looking at his room. It smelled just as you remembered, musk, cigarettes, and whiskey. You saw as nothing changed except the picture of you two were replaced by her and presents given by you were nowhere to be found. The one thing you still saw was the wall. The wall he threw you into was slightly dented and would only be noticed if you knew what happened there. 

“Alright let’s go” (before you start crying at least)

“Okay!!”

She was WAY too peppy and energetic for your type, you have NO IDEA how Mark found her attractive, heck even started dating this chick. You led her through the rest of the house and eventually ended the tour.

“This concludes the tour any questions?”

“Uhhhh, yeah! What do I get to do!”

“HA, nothing.”

“W-what?”

“Listen, you are here to keep Mark happy, pick up a hobby or something. At least make yourself useful here.”

You left her in the elevator walking to your lab exhausted from talking to her and continued working for the rest of the day. You needed a bath and steam, so you headed to the bathhouses to relax for your tiring day. It was still snowing out, and the contrast of the cold breeze and the hot water and steam made you feel extremely relaxed. 

You kept thinking in your thoughts about a/n, and how she magically seduced Mark. You also thought if Mark was really over you, or needed to distract himself. But nonetheless, you hoped Mark was happy since you still cared about him and would always support whatever he does with his life.

That was until you heard a crashing in your bathhouse. You immediately got out and put on your robe with a dagger, a throwing knife, and a gun equipped in your pockets. You held your gun and saw the shadow in the changing room who knocked over all of the buckets and towels. You prepared to protect yourself as you put them into a chokehold with your gun to their head.

“If you move or speak you will die got it?”

“y-y/n it’s just me.”

“What are you doing in here?”

“A/N??? WHAT THE HELL YOU SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME!”

“I-I just came to take a bath.”

“Well, a WARNING could have been nice.”

You calmly removed her from her chokehold and walked back to the outdoor onsen to have some steam and she soon followed shortly. She didn’t get in, but she looked around for a bit.

“What do you do around here?”

“You get in and relax, this is usually the time where I can clear my head, but you decided to come along.”

She then hopped in and sat across from you.

“So, do you like anyone here?”

“Why do you care?”

“I don’t know you are surrounded but so many handsome guys, I’m surprised you’re not dating one of them.”

“Why so you can cheat on Mark with one of them?”

“What? No. Never.”

“Well, I’m sorry I’m focused on my work, so I don’t have time for dating.”

“Oh. Have you ever thought about it?”

“No…not any of them are my type.”

You then got out since you’ve been in the onsen bath for too long and felt light-headed.

“BYEEEE I’LL SEE YOU TOMORROW!!!”

You waved and had a cold shower before you left. You felt better after and walked back into the mansion to find Mark reading on the couch, looking like he was waiting for his girlfriend.

“Oh, y/n, I have something for you.”

Mark got up and handed you an envelope with gold lettering with your name on it. You took it and opened if, in front of him, it read “25th Annual Masquerade Ball.” You remembered this ball since you remember your parents attending one every year. Mark was telling you that every member of NCT was required to attend, protect, and enjoy others and themselves. 

He told you a fashion designer will come and take your measurements for your custom mask and ball gown. You remembered attending this ball with Mark several times. Even if he was busy, he still promised to give you a dance and never forgot his promise. You have memories of those magical nights, but this is the first time you are going solo. You walked away, but before you entered your room, you heard Mark’s laughing from the living room. You missed that, hearing his laugh and making him smile, it was a bittersweet feeling.

Every morning regardless of the weather, you do a morning run before you work on anything. You wake up really early to go on your run, so you are not disturbed by others in the morning. However, you didn’t realize that someone as looking for you. A/n actually asked a maid where you were. When you returned, she looked at you in awe, after your workout, you looked even more like a Goddess compared to her.

“How was your run?”

“Fine.”

“I was wondering if us girls wanted to hang out today since I have nothing to do here.”

“But unlike you, I have work to do here, so you run along and pick some flowers.”

You walked away with maids holding water, towels, and your change of clothes before heading into the lab. In the lab, your eyes met the invitation again, reminding yourself that the Masquerade Ball is coming up and the fashion designer was coming to see you today. Since you had a fitting around your lunchtime, you decided to design some Masquerade Ball friendly weapons. Gun holsters, knife pockets, tracking devices, earpieces, and night vision lenses. Soon after, you were called for your fitting and walked to the garage, got on your motorbike, and rode off to the fashion designers workshop. You arrived and went up to the top floor to meet a similar face who’s designed all of your outfits to the years prior to the ball.

It felt awkward, but, you kept calm during the entire fitting. While you were doing your fitting, you looked around and saw Mark’s and a/n’s outfit designs on the wall, matching in a beautiful navy blue and gold theme. You never matched Mark at these balls, since you kept your love hidden. The designer decided on a red dress with a golden snake necklace and golden embroidery. He would tell you he would send everyone’s outfits early for you to input any proper equipment or defenses. 

It wouldn’t take long, it would just be a quick sew and an add on. You had given him the blueprints of the weapons prior so he can highlight and sew in pockets for special items like poison gas. He showed the masks that fit your special requests and accommodations. They had trackers, analyzers, and night vision mode when you looked through it. They also had an x-ray option to see what weapons the person is currently carrying (only for your mask). They also were secret gas masks and could see through smoke bombs. You soon left your fitting and rode back in peace, knowing that the gala will be left in good hands.

A week later, you were sent everyone’s outfits in a vast array of colors from black to yellow. You equipped everyone’s outfits until you hesitated at Mark’s. It was beautiful, and you knew how good he would look in it. It had golden vines across his navy suit jacket. You looked at a/n’s dress thinking how the dress could have been yours, that if things had worked out differently, you would be wearing this dress. This dress should be your dress, not hers. 

You were about to burn the dress when you realized how selfish you were being. It’s Mark’s first time going to a ball with a date, and it’s not like he’s unhappy with her, he smiles all the time around her. You delicately placed her dress down, put a tracking device, dagger, and an alarm system connected to Mark, to know when she’s not within the eyesight of Mark. Your dress, you made sure it could be ripped off for any emergency. The skirt part can rip off and reveal your black pants underneath equipped with everything you needed, guns, knives, bombs, and ammo. 

You sent the maids to deliver the suits and dresses to all the NCT members, while trainees were either working or have the night off (depending on how well they did on their tests). You also started talking to Hendery more and more, and now you both became very close friends. Mark did notice this and started to fill up Hendery’s schedule so you couldn’t see him often. You both would eat together, and he would hang out with you in the lab on late nights and bring you tea to keep you working. It would not be surprising if you didn’t say you started to warm up to him, or heck even likes him. He was there for you when you needed it, and you trusted him with your heart. 

That night you were tired from all of your work you lied down on your bed and thought about Hendery. You wondered if he felt the same way or even liked you. You remembered when he seems excited when you said you would date him, maybe that’s a sign? You told Hendery all of your worries and concerns, and he was there to listen and comfort you. You two also occasionally had sleepovers in your room, pushing each other playing Mario Kart or watching sad romance dramas. He was like a best friend that you loved more. Since your break up with Mark, it’s been a long time since you’ve had a genuine best friend. 

Sure, Mark was your best friend (that you dated), but a person to hang out with and spend your free time with was lovely. Yeah, the other guys are still your friends, but they are always super busy and can’t even catch a break with you. The only reason why Hendery can is that he is the head of his own department, and has other people working under him to do his work. Hendery strictly just reports what he gets from his peers. He works in the medicine and health department, which was in another building, to prevent sickness from spreading and allow a separate hospital for NCT. 

You didn’t feel like that lonely child anymore, you felt love. Those same fuzzy warm feelings for Mark resonated within Hendery, but were you ever going to tell him? If he doesn’t feel the same thing what is going to happen? 

You took a quick shower and changed, continuing to lay on your bed, thinking. Just as you were in your own thoughts, you heard a knock at your door. You got up to answer it, and speak of the devil, its Hendery. He walked in a little nervous and sat down on the bed. 

“What’s up Hendery?”

“H-hey y/n, can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Do you w-want to come with me to the Masquerade Ball?”

“...”

“A-as f-friends of course...if that makes you feel comfortable.”

“...”

“I-I know you are still hurt from Mark, so I figured you should still enjoy the ball regardless.”

“T-thank you, I would love to go with you Hendery.”

“R-really??”

You then pecked his cheek, which made him blush a crimson red on his cheeks.

“You can also consider me your date then.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course.” 

He then hugged you before saying goodbye and goodnight, and you somehow lost all of your worries and fell asleep peacefully. 

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[theincaprincess]

Runaway

@amyf20 @blankdblank @moonfaery @meyoko10 @tolkienprincess @starlightintherain89 @full-of-choices @the-human-cloud @ceruleanrainblues @markusstraya @johnlockismyonlytruelove  @kimanne723 @killedinamascarade @bilesxbilinskixlahey and my darling anonymous who requested it ages ago, I hope you didn't mind the long wait for it darling. A/N Kinda wrote this based off the first Thor movie and changed it a little bit.

Lyrics in bold and Italics

Word count 1,100

"It starts with one, One thing I don't know why, It doesn't even matter how hard you try, Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme, To explain in due time"

Making his way to the throne room Loki was dressed in his very best suit, today was the day Thor was ascending to the throne, the Day Thor had not shut up about for over 5000 years, and Loki just wanted the day to be over. 

"All I know, All I know time is a valuable thing, Watch it fly by as the pendulum swings, Watch it count down to the end of the day, The clock ticks life away"

Walking into the room his eyes scanned it, the whole of Asgard was here, smiles on everyone's faces that soon dropped when they all saw it was Loki and not Thor in the doorway, watching each and every one of them turn back to face the front Loki rolled his eyes and made his way to stand at the side of his smiling Mother. 

"It's so unreal, It's so unreal, didn't look out below, Watch the time go right out the window, Trying to hold on, did-didn't even know, I wasted it all just to watch you go, Watch you go, I kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart, What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when I tried so hard" 

"Loki, dear you could at least look happy to be here" his Mother whispered in his ear when he stood next to her "I am over the moon, Mother dear" he responded sarcastically, getting a small laugh from her but an evil glare from Odin, which made Loki huff as he faked a smile and stood up straight. 

"I tried so hard, And got so far, But in the end, It doesn't even matter, I had to fall, To lose it all, But in the end, It doesn't even matter, One thing, I don't know why, It doesn't even matter how hard you try, Keep that in mind, I designed this rhyme, To remind myself how I tried so hard."

With a great bang the throne room doors opened and Thor can marching in like he was already king, watching everyone scream and clap for him Thor started to act up a bit for more cheers, and screams even Odin was accepting his childlike behavior, he ever went as far to point and mock Loki's helmet, making Loki huff.

"I tried so hard, In spite of the way you were mocking me, Acting like I was part of your property, Remembering all the times you fought with me, I'm surprised it got so far, got so far."

After what felt like a million years Thor finally sat on the throne, to everyone in room cheering, clapping and shouts of "Long live the king!" As the crowning was done Odin released everyone to return to their homes to get ready for the ball to celebrate Thor's crowning later that night, leaving the room Thor called out to Loki with a mocking smile "Brother as you king, I demand you don't wear anything green tonight" "trust me, brother, I won't" Loki mocked back knowing to himself he wouldn't be at the party.

"Things aren't the way they were before, You wouldn't even recognize me anymore, Not that you knew me back then, But it all comes back to me in the end, In the end, You kept everything inside and even though I tried, it all fell apart, What it meant to me will eventually be a memory of a time when I tried so hard."

Looking to his Mother then to his Father "what was that all about? I was only playing" Thor asked confused watching his parents share a confused look, "I'll go talk to him" Frigga said as she lifted her dress to go down the stairs and follow Loki, "Just leave him, you fuss over him too much my dear wife, we need to stay here and celebrate with Thor" Odin spoke in a harsh tone, making Frigga turn away from the stair sand back to a smiling Thor. 

"I tried so hard, And got so far, But in the end, It doesn't even matter, I had to fall, To lose it all, But in the end, It doesn't even matter."

Walking back and forth in his chambers Loki was packing as quickly as he could, he needed to get out of the palace before the ball tonight or he would never be able to leave, not with Thor being king and Odin forever keeping his eyes on Loki, Loki knew what he was, he knew he wasn't an Asgardian, and he knew Odin only kept him around for his own amusement, but tonight was the night he was going to leave Asgard and never return.

"I've put my trust in you, Pushed as far as I can go, For all this, There's only one thing you should know."

Standing in front of Heimdall Loki had all his things with him, he looked like a little runaway in Heimdall eyes, but Heimdall could see his heart and he knew where he wanted to go, standing to the side he let Loki walk past "Once I let you through, you know Odin will never let you return" Heimdall spoke softly to him "I know, and I never want to return" Loki answered getting a nod from him.

"I've put my trust in you, Pushed as far as I can go, For all this, There's only one thing you should know."

Hearing a soft knock at your door, you opened it and saw Loki standing there with all of his things and looking like a lost little puppy, without saying anything you pulled Loki into a hug while walking backwards into your house turning once you were in so you could close the door with your foot, dropping his things to the floor Loki returned your hug and he started to feel better just being in your arms. 

"I tried so hard, And got so far, But in the end, It doesn't even matter, I had to fall, To lose it all, But in the end, It doesn't even matter."

After a while, you pulled away from Loki to looking up into his bright blue eyes "I take it Thor is now the King of Asgard?" Nodding in response, you pulled Loki back into a hug "Well you are the king of my heart, welcome home Loki."

[secretlystephaniebrown]

Time’s Running Out: November

Oh shit has it really been two months? MY BAD. Things go busy with school, my thesis, and the Reverse Big Bang. Hopefully things will be back on schedule.

Summary: The Reds and Blues; and their respective Freelancers, find themselves stranded on a strange planet named Chorus. Secrets, lies, and the unexpected seem to lie around every corner, and there might be even larger threats looming over the horizon.

They’re possibly even less ready for Chorus than Chorus is for them.

Pairings: Lots of friendships, Suckington, Yorkalina, Chex, eventual Yorkimbalina, possible others.

Start

Previous

Ao3

If there was one good thing that could be said for the spies that Felix and Locus had managed to plant in the Chorus armies, it was that they were predictable to a tee.

There was a certain kind of person who signed up to let their own planet die. They were scared, they typically had few friends, or had lost the ones they cared about early on. They were also rather unintelligent, by York’s reckoning. Anyone who believed that the mercenaries or their employer would allow witnesses to survive… well. York wouldn’t be nominating them for any critical thinking challenges, that was for sure.

York didn’t know much about Malcolm Hargrove, but he knew about the kind of operations. They were burning the earth, and burying the evidence. Even Felix and Locus would be lucky to get out of this one. Hargrove would want this quiet, and buried.

When Felix had called them with the offer, before they had reunited with the armies, York had kept his mouth shut. None of them would have listened to him. But he had known there was no way they would have been allowed to live. Him particularly.

Felix and Locus’ first job, after they finished killing the rest of Chorus, would be to track down and kill any of the people who had struck bargains. Or maybe Hargrove would contract that particular portion to someone else.

The spies didn’t believe York, of course, but it didn’t matter. He didn’t need them to believe him. He just needed one of them to believe that it was in their best interests to cooperate sooner rather than later.  

Delta combed through the records, finding people who were probable candidates for York to investigate.

The one they were looking into currently was a Rebel named Grimmaldis. The stories that York heard from the Lieutenants indicated a gambling problem, which had led him to owing Felix a lot of money.

That sort of debt could be dangerous, in Felix’s hands.

Grimmaldis was a grunt, nothing more, nothing dangerous. York sent Tex a quick message, letting her know that he was going out, and went to find him. He was scheduled to be on laundry duty, which was good. Typically only a few people worked that shift at a time, meaning that it would be easy for York to corner him.

The laundry was in the basement of a barracks on the eastern side of headquarters. It was probably a waste of space that should be reinforced as a bomb shelter, but they didn’t have the time or resources to move the laundry out for the proper process. Armonia was a well-designed city, but it wasn’t built for a siege.

There were two Feds and two Rebels on shift right now, and York could pick out Grimmaldis pretty easily, since the other Fed was an officer with gold stripes. York picked his way through the laundry, using the hanging up sheets and other large, drying linens as cover as he moved forward.

“Private Grimmaldis?” York said. They were far enough away from the others that they wouldn’t easily be overheard.

The man twitched, turning to face York. In an instant, his bodylanguage changed from curiosity to panic.

That’s when he stabbed York.

York hadn’t even seen the knife; there was no reason for the man to be armed, not in a laundry room. He’d been careless, he’d gotten too close. Overconfident after three successful talking down, he hadn’t even thought to consider Grimmaldis as a threat.

“They warned me about you,” the man was babbling, probably not realizing that stabbing someone in the side was hardly fatal. York grabbed his arm and was about to twist it, when Tex appeared and threw Grimmaldis bodily into the wall.

He slumped over immediately, unconscious, and then Tex was by his side, gripping York’s arm painfully.

“I told you that I had this handled,” York said. He felt tired, and he knew it sharpened the edges of his voice more than he’d intended. He hissed as he placed his hand on his side, trying to stop the flow of blood. Delta had activated the healing unit, but it hadn’t finished its work just yet.

“You also told me you’d be careful,” Tex said. Like him, there was a harshness to her voice. Neither of them had been getting much rest lately. It was frantic work, living in a siege, even one that, so far, had only gone on a few days. Both of them had been working themselves to the bone.

“I was careful!” York protested.

Tex tilted her helmet at him. It was expressive enough to tell him exactly what she thought of his protest. He scowled.

“You were reckless,” she snapped. “What, do you think Kimball will forgive you if you die on the job?”

“I’m not going to die,” York said. “It’s a flesh wound, Tex.”

“This time,” Tex said, and there was that horrible weight to her voice that York hated to hear. The one that meant she was thinking about the things that had never happened. The timeline that she still refused to talk about, to fully explain.

It killed any further arguments York might have had. He looked away.

“Sorry,” he said.

Tex turned away. “Let’s get this guy in lockup,” she said.

“Yeah,” York said, quietly.

“You keep getting hurt,” Tex said, picking Grimmaldis up in a fireman’s carry. The other three Chorusians were keeping their distance. He wondered what they were thinking, what they’d seen. He’d have to ask Kimball and Doyle to inform them later.  

“I’m human, Tex,” York said, going for jovial and knowing he was falling short. “That tends to happen.”

Tex didn’t respond.

Doyle was waiting for them at the holding cells, flustered. “Agent York! You’re injured!”

“It’s nothing, General,” York said, leaning against the wall while Tex stripped Grimmaldis of his armor.

“Your message that you had Lieutenant Bitters bring us said that gambling debts were likely how he got started?” Doyle said, accepting York’s answer. Kimball wouldn’t have let it drop, but Doyle was better at this part of the job, at least. York was relieved at that.

“Yes,” he said. “Was there much gambling among the Federal Army?”

“Yes, of course, but Locus wasn’t involved in those circles,” Doyle said. Right. That would make sense. “Truly, Locus spent very little time in Armonia. He tended to stick to the inner city, when he was here, and it was obvious he didn’t really understand the place.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Doyle nodded. “He’d always take Fifteenth to leave the city, when everyone knows that it’s faster to take Twelfth and then double back through Cedar.”

York stared. “… you grew up here, didn’t you?”

Doyle nodded. “Armonia is my home,” he said. “It was… I’m afraid you haven’t seen it at its best, Agent York. But it was once a great city. Before the war.”

York wasn’t sure he’d agree, but then again, he’d been off Chorus before. He’d seen cities on Earth, the high tech, beautiful places where the wealthy lived, where there was no poverty or homelessness, because it cost money just to walk in through the gate.

But it was a home, it was a real city, and half of Chorus had been living in caves until recently.

So York put a hand on Doyle’s shoulder. “It will be again,” he said.

That was when there was a loud slamming noise from the cell. “Oh, I think he’s awake,” York said, as Tex began the interrogation.

It was all going as normal, until Grimmaldis broke. Most of the time, the spies had doubled down, just telling them about how they were all going to die, or how it was worth it to see the Rebels-slash-Feds burn in hell, about how Doyle-slash-Kimball had made the deaths of their friends meaningless by uniting the armies. Or if they did break, they had nothing useful to offer. They’d been spies, not double agents or sleepers. The worst York had managed to uncover was a plot to sabotage the antibiotics at the infirmary.  

“I was supposed to sneak into the Energy Center tomorrow!” He blurted out.

York froze up, as did Doyle.

“Oh no,” York breathed.

“The nuclear reactor,” Kimball had arrived, and she was as scared as they were.

“We need to double the guard!” Doyle said. “We need to—”

“Who can we trust?” Kimball said, eyes wide.

“I’ll give you names,” York blurted, unthinking, wincing when they turned to him. Asking Kimball to trust him in this might be too much. “I’ve cleared—some. Mostly Feds. I had more data, sorry General Doyle.”

“It’s fine, Agent York,” Doyle said. “Do we have an explosives expert? We need to look for traps.”

“Nguyen,” York said. “And, uh, Dulles would be good for backup.”

The two of them nodded, faces perfectly grim.

“We need to break the siege,” Kimball said. “There’s no way we can lock down the nuclear core forever. And if they managed to hit it in a bombing raid…”

York swallowed. He’d seen nuclear fallout before; most people who’d fought the Insurrection had. He never wanted to see it again. The thought of Armonia like that…

There were very few things York wouldn’t be willing to do to change that.

Church didn’t like thinking about Freelancer.

Because the thing was, he’d been there. He’d combed through mission reports, provided analysis, it was literally his job.

So he’d recognized Sharkface, even if the others hadn’t. He’d ran scenarios about the guy, just off the data that Carolina and Wash had provide in the after-action report. He’d be scary enough.

But the Meta was there too, and that terrified him. It terrified Carolina too, he could tell. Epsilon was holding up the bubble shield, but if Epsilon had issues, Carolina only had an 86% chance at holding it on her own for even a minute, and that was assuming a good night’s sleep, and he knew she hadn’t had one, possibly hadn’t had one in ages, so that hurt the odds, and the second it was down, the Meta would race forward and try to rip Epsilon right out of her.

Carolina’s odds of surviving a second shock of a forced-AI removal weren’t good. Church could see the numbers, hanging in the corner of his vision, but he refused to look at them too closely.

Sharkface left, gloating about going to the temple to find the key, but Church couldn’t focus on that right now. Right now, he had other things to deal with. Immediate things.  They couldn’t stop Sharkface from wiping out the entire planet if they were already dead. And they didn’t have a way to contact Kimball or anyone else. It was too far out of range.

Grey was babbling about a plan, but there wasn’t time. It didn’t matter what happened next, the Meta was the Meta, and Carolina couldn’t protect everyone else and herself at the same time.

So Church would have to do something stupid.

The world dropped to a standstill, as Church let himself shift his mind, so that he was functioning like a real AI, instead of like a person.

The world was so different, when he looked at it like this. He could see everything; the equipment readouts, the heartrates of his friends, the fact that the Meta and the Charon soldiers had radios which worked long distance, but only connected to other Charon people, all of the terrifying equipment that the Meta had. All of them ripped from the bodies of dead Freelancers.

He pinged Epsilon. Epsilon pinged back. Church gritted his teeth, and insisted.

“It will be fine,” he insisted.

“… move fast,” Epsilon said.

God, he hated that guy.

A single hole opened in the shield, and Church ran through before anyone else could act. He heard Caboose and Tucker yelling something, but the words didn’t matter, as half of the guns swiveled towards him.

“Hey asshole!” Church yelled. If he had a heart, it would be hammering. Stupid robot body, not providing him with appropriate stress responses. “Over here!”

The bullet tore right through him, punching through layers of armor and Kevlar like it was nothing, and Church couldn’t help but yell as his body collapsed around him, leaving his projection still standing.

There was a moment, before the world snapped back into time, before the strange alien influences of Chorus caught him up in its weird net, that Church could feel Tex and Delta perfectly, and he grabbed things together and threw a warning in their direction, trying to let them know what was happening.

He wasn’t sure if they got it or not, because he felt yanked back a nanosecond later. It was strange, it was alien, it felt like he was… heaver, somehow. Cut off from things he was never meant to be cut off from.

But he didn’t have long to dwell on that, because the Meta howled with some kind of sick triumphant recognition, and Church gritted teeth he didn’t have and started moving as quickly as he could.

There was a bright flash of light, and Freckles went off, killing the other soldiers who had surrounded them, but Church couldn’t even focus on any of that. Hopefully, Epsilon would do what he’d told him to and get the others to move towards the temple where the key was, instead of going after him.

Because the Meta was chasing the Alpha, and only him. He no longer cared about Carolina, about Epsilon, about whatever the fuck it was that the Mercs were using to try to convince him to work for them. All he cared about was that Alpha was in his reach for the first time ever, and that if he just could catch him, he’d finally have accomplished what Sigma had set out to try, years ago. Never mind that the other parts were gone. The Meta would chase the Alpha to the ends of the Earth.

And the Recovery Beacon was blaring, letting Tex know that he was in trouble.

Nguyen and Dulles reported back only an hour later, and Kimball wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad sign. “No sign of explosives,” Nguyen reported, her face grim.

“Someone had been trying to bypass the electronic lock though,” Dulles added.

York cursed. “Dee, we need to reinforce that,” he said. Then he stiffened, and turned to Kimball and Doyle. “With your permission, of course,” he added.

“Granted,” Doyle said immediately, and Kimball nodded.

Delta’s projection appeared, hovering over York’s shoulder. “I believe it will not take long,” he said. “The lock is already quite complex. It is holographic, and quite advanced.”

“Of course it is,” York muttered. Kimball wondered what that meant.

“Good,” Texas said. “But that won’t hold them off forever.”

“No,” Kimball said. “It won’t. We haven’t had word from Carolina, and we can’t afford to wait much longer. We need to try to find a way to break out from the siege, so we’re not trapped here anymore.”

Trapped with a time bomb, in the form of a nuclear reactor. Kimball’s mouth was dry just considering it. She had thought a siege of attrition was out of character, for the mercenaries, for Hargrove, for Felix. Were they truly willing to wait to starve them out? Especially considering that they wouldn’t have surrendered easily, knowing that none of them were supposed to survive. But no, they’d had something more sinister in mind. Total nuclear annihilation.

She was just grateful that the Reds and Blues and Carolina were all far away from Armonia, safe from danger.

“If we run, we need somewhere to go,” Doyle was saying, pulling Kimball back out of her thoughts. “It’s risky, taking them in a direct fight—”

That was when Texas doubled over, as if in pain, clutching at the sides of her helmet.

“Tex!” York called, rushing forward, before he too doubled over. Kimball stared, horrified, as the tiny green projection that was Delta flickered with static, trying to say something, but it came out as garbled noises, then vanished entirely for a single moment.

Tex had fallen to her knees, and Kimball thought she heard the sound of droning fan blades; the kind of noise that computers made when they were getting overheated.

Washington was sitting upright, staring into the distance.

“Alpha’s Recovery Beacon has been activated,” he said, voice perfectly calm. “The Reds and Blues are in danger.”

There was a burst of ones and zeroes over York’s shoulder, before they solidified back into Delta. “Church managed to send a signal. They discovered the existence of an alien AI who informed them of a second alien sword which can be used to activate a tower with the ability to kill everyone on the planet. The mercenaries are aware of this.”

Kimball felt like joining Texas on the floor.

“Carolina should be taking the others to head them off, but they’ll need help,” Texas said. She was pulling herself up, gripping the table hard enough to leave a dent. Kimball tried not to stare. Apparently, Texas had not been exaggerating when she’d said she was strong.

Kimball looked at Doyle. “Texas, York, you two should go. Quickly,” Kimball said.

Washington stood up. “I’m going too,” he said.

“I’m afraid not, Agent Washington,” Doyle said.

Washington turned towards Doyle. “General—”

“I’m sorry, Agent Washington. But you’re going to be needed to help with the evacuation,” Doyle said firmly. “Agents Texas and York have not been involved with the troops. But you will be invaluable here.”

Washington’s hands curled into fists, and for a moment Kimball thought he might hit Doyle. She didn’t know Washington very well, only through Tucker’s stories. But that was enough.

“Washington,” she said firmly. “Please. Texas and York will be able to travel faster with two than three.” Three meant a warthog. Two could travel on a mongoose, although it might be awkward. “I know you’re worried about Tucker and Kaikaina. But they’re both capable soldiers, and they’ll have Carolina to watch their backs until Texas and York can provide further support.”

Washington turned away. “Fine,” he said, and there was bitterness and fury lacing his voice. He stormed off.

Kimball signaled Nguyen, who followed him immediately, Dulles on her heels. The two of them would keep an eye on him.

“I need to grab my weapons, then we’ll go,” Texas said. York nodded in agreement.

“I’ll go arrange for a mongoose,” Doyle said. “You two will have to make good time.”

He and Texas left the room, leaving Kimball and York alone.

“Are you okay?” Kimball had to ask. “It—that looked like it hurt.”

“It did,” York said quietly. “But Delta’s fine now.”

“But are you?”

York looked at her, as if surprised that she was asking that. “… yes.”

“… good.”

York looked at the ground. “I’ll have Delta send you the last few names. I think you’ll be fine though; there aren’t many left, and I took out the more dangerous ones first.”

“Thank you,” Kimball said. “… how did Church’s recovery beacon activate?”

York flinched. “He used himself as bait to let the others escape. That’s why Tex—” He stopped himself. “We’re worried he might not live long enough for us to get to the others. Without his body, he’s going to be slow-moving, and he won’t just jump back to the others if he thinks—if he thinks that they’re chasing him.”

“He’s an AI,” Kimball said, feeling utterly lost. “How can they die?”

“It’s… complicated,” York said. “Ask Wash about it maybe?”

“Alright,” Kimball said. She took a step towards him. “Just… be careful.”

York let out a small laugh. “No promises.”

Kimball reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him towards her without thinking. “Don’t joke about this,” she said. “You can’t let them win, remember?”

He looked at her, and even through his helmet he looked completely serious. “I know,” he said. “I didn’t let the Meta kill me last time. I’m not about to let him start now.”

The Meta? Kimball vaguely remembered overhearing conversations with that name, fights between Texas and Washington or something. She’d have to ask Washington for more information later.

“Good,” she said, instead of asking more questions. “That’s… good.”

She leaned forward without thinking, and pressed her visor against his. She nearly pulled back immediately, but he leaned into it, the two of them just standing their, their foreheads pressed together, separated by their armor.

Kimball wasn’t sure how long they just stood there, her hand still around his wrist, but finally, she forced herself to take a step back. “You need to get going,” she whsispered, her heart racing in her chest. Stupid, unprofessional, foolish—

“Yeah,” he said, looking at her for a long moment before he turned on his heel and ran away.

Kimball pointedly didn’t wonder what would have happened if they hadn’t been wearing helmets.

[junker-town]

See you soon, Hannah Roberts

How one of Team USA’s potential breakout Olympic stars is handling the wait.

Luscious green trees surround the outdoor skatepark and grandstands at the UCI Urban Cycling World Championships in Chengdu, China. Freestyle BMX star Hannah Roberts — atop her pink bike, rocking a black full-face helmet — drops in and pedals hard toward a spine ramp. As she launches off the ramp, Roberts begins a 360-degree spin. In the middle of her rotation, she uses the handlebars to whip the bike around separate from her body, becoming the first woman to land a 360 tailwhip in competition.

The historic trick, thrown down on her sport’s biggest stage, epitomized Roberts’ young career. She has never stopped building to bigger and better things.

Rather than give the crowd a fist pump, or take a breather to soak in the momentous occasion, Roberts immediately hits a vert ramp and busts a flair — a backflip with a simultaneous 180-degree turn.

The year before, she took a disappointing third in the event, behind fellow Americans Perris Benegas and Angie Marino. On Nov. 10, 2019, Roberts avenged the loss, winning her second world championship at just 18 years old with a score of 90.0 out of 100.

After wiping away tears, she stood above the rest on the podium, smiling as she accepted a gold medal and a stuffed panda with a leaf in its mouth. She wore UCI’s iconic rainbow jersey, bestowed upon world champions of every cycling discipline since the 1920s.

Just one week earlier, she had won her fourth straight FISE World Cups Series, which also held its final event in Chengdu. Roberts left no question whether she was the best women’s freestyle BMXer in the world.

“I wanted to have the rainbow jersey going into the Olympic year,” Roberts says. “It was more for myself. I put so much work in, and I was so focused on showing that I wasn’t going to take second or third again. I wanted that year to be all about me, so I threw down some of my bigger tricks.”

Her mother Betty made the trip to Chengdu to watch, after she and Roberts had spent half a year apart. In order to train for the world championships, Roberts effectively emancipated herself from her mother and father in June 2019 while she was still 17.

She moved in with long-time medical trainer Trish Bare Grounds and Trish’s 18-year-old daughter, Olivia, 750 miles away in Holly Springs, North Carolina. As she moved, she changed her diet. More importantly, she strictly budgeted her modest income. Being a teenage action sports prodigy with international acclaim isn’t as lucrative as one might think.

There was no giant check waiting at the podium in Chengdu to signify the €10,000 in prize money she earned, but the win was huge for Roberts. Just four months prior, she wasn’t sure she could sustain her freestyle BMX career into her mid-twenties unless the sport became more financially stable.

The World Championships are one of the few annual competitions to award equal prizes to men and women. By comparison, when she won the final contest of the world series, the Men’s Elite winner took home €8,000 while Roberts received €1,500.

And though Roberts’ accomplishments show how far women’s freestyle BMX has come in recent years in terms of talent and viability, they are also a reminder of the wage and sponsorship gap that persists between male and female athletes. As impressive as Roberts and her peers have been, the most famous annual extreme sports event, the X Games, still won’t let them compete.

The now-postponed summer Olympics were supposed to be a launch pad for the sport and for Roberts. The games drew an estimated 3.6 billion viewers for the Rio Games in 2016. Freestyle BMX will be an event for the first time ever in Tokyo, and Roberts is the clear favorite to take home gold.

“Women are the future of our sport,” says Nina Buitrago, a pioneer of women’s BMX who continues to be one of the sports biggest advocates. “They’re very marketable, and it’s a big thing that BMX has needed for a long time. It’s just incredible that with something like the Olympics, it’s catapulted all of us in to try to progress more and just own our journey.”

Roberts is ready to lead the charge; unfortunately, there’s only so much she can control. She did everything right heading into the 2020 games — kept herself afloat financially, trained relentlessly, won everything she needed to and then some.

But she couldn’t predict the coronavirus pandemic that has put her Olympic dreams, and those of countless others, on hold until 2021 at the earliest. Roberts is used to addressing her problems through sheer willpower. Being forced to wait, a budding star without a showcase, has been an entirely different challenge.

In South Bend, Indiana, around the back of an old brick chocolate factory, past a chain-link gate and barbed-wire fence, and at the other end of a parking lot with cracked concrete, sits an old mattress factory-turned-world-class skatepark. The indoor park known as “The Kitchen” is closed most weekdays, but on an unusually warm Monday afternoon in February, the front door is unlocked. Roberts is home for the first time in more than six months to enjoy her formative skatepark.

That evening, she will ride with three boys between the ages of 11 and 14 who she has mentored for years. Roberts was invited to the park for a private session for them and their parents. She practically had no choice — she happened to be in town, and they were blowing up her phone all day begging to celebrate.

The official Team USA Instagram account posted a photo of Roberts earlier that afternoon announcing she was the first American to ever qualify for the Olympics in freestyle BMX.

View this post on Instagram

WATCH OUT, 18-year-old @hannah_roberts_bmx is the first American to qualify for the Olympics in BMX freestyle ‼️

A post shared by Team USA (@teamusa) on Feb 3, 2020 at 9:33am PST

“They’re supposed to be in school,” Roberts says, “but they were on their phones during the day and took screenshots, sent it to me and asked, ‘Did you see this?’ The first three times I told them ‘no,’ but finally, I just responded, ‘Do you want to ride tonight?’”

For hours, Roberts and her young pupils film each other on their phones while they attempt high-flying tricks into a large yellow foam pit and eat slices of greasy pizza. She’s proud of how they have improved under her tutelage. Their parents comment on how much she has inspired them. Roberts also expects this will be one of her last carefree runs before she transitions to a training regimen suitable for an Olympic athlete. She sits and soaks in nostalgia from her surroundings instead of sending her own tricks into the foam pit.

“The last four years of me living here, I rode with every one of these kids almost every day,” Roberts says. “I’d pick them up from their house if they needed a ride or I’d take them to a skatepark. If I wanted to make a day trip to Ohio just to ride something different, they were always in my car going with me.”

According to her mother, Roberts is at her happiest when she’s working with kids, though she still fits within a broad definition of “adolescent” herself.

“[Hannah] was the first girl I saw do a tailwhip. Once she has a trick, she can just do it. It’s not like it’s luck.” - Nina Buitrago, freestyle BMX pioneer

Roberts grew up in the 4,000-person town of Buchanan, Michigan, a few miles north of the Indiana state border and a 20-minute drive from South Bend. Decades ago, Buchanan’s rolling terrain gave birth to RedBud MX, one of America’s signature motocross tracks and now an annual stop for the Lucas Oil Pro Motocross Championship. In the fall of 2018, the track even hosted Motocross of Nations, which is billed as the “Olympics of motocross,” drawing riders from all over the world.

The fact Buchanan produced a world-renowned extreme sports athlete like Roberts isn’t a surprise. But Roberts is unique because her success never came on a dirt bike. If not for her father’s disapproval, Roberts might have given motocross a real shot, but the closest she ever came was working a taco stand at RedBud MX during her summers.

Her passion for BMX was passed on from her older cousin, Brett “Mad Dog” Banasiewicz, once an up-and-comer on the Dew Tour. In 2012, as a shaggy black-haired 17-year-old, he won his first Dew Tour park event in Ocean City, Maryland. The following week, his professional career came to a devastating end. During a practice session, he landed on his head while attempting a 720° and wearing an uncertified helmet. He temporarily lost the use of his left arm, and his motor and speech skills will never fully recover.

“It was horrible. To me, he was gonna be the next Dave Mirra,” says Daniel Dhers, one of the most decorated BMX riders of all-time. “He just learned how to compete. He had all these tricks that he’d worked on for years. He had the looks, and he could talk, and was funny. If he were riding today? He’d be the guy in the Olympics, for sure. That would be crazy because then it would be him and Hannah.”

Via Hannah Roberts

Roberts herself has suffered numerous broken bones, but fear of suffering an injury like Banasiewicz doesn’t hold her back.

“You can take all the safety precautions in the world, but it still could happen,” Roberts says. “Brett fell on a trick that he’d mastered, that he’d been doing forever. It was five seconds and everything changed.”

Before the injury, a 16-year-old Banasiewicz self-funded and, with the help of his friend Glenn Salyers, designed The Kitchen. They equipped it with enormous ramps, foam pits, and “resi” ramps, which are covered in foam and a thick sheet of black rubber. By the time she was riding at nine years old, Roberts had access to one of the nation’s premier skateparks.

Swiss-American freestyle rider Nikita Ducarroz, five years Roberts’ senior and a likely qualifier for the 2020 Olympics for Switzerland, remembers trekking to The Kitchen from her Southern California home for a competition as a teenager. She almost froze at the magnitude of its jumps.

“The ramps at The Kitchen are huge,” Ducarroz says. “I remember going there, and I couldn’t even cruise the boxes and [Hannah’s] doing tricks over them.”

By middle school, Roberts was already performing tricks that seasoned veterans with sponsorships had never seen.

“She was the first girl I saw do a tailwhip,” Buitrago says. “Once she has a trick, she can just do it. It’s not like it’s luck.”

But as much as The Kitchen spurred Roberts’ BMX education, she eventually realized she had to leave it behind.

For years, Roberts believed members of her inner circle credited The Kitchen for too much of her success, disregarding her work ethic and determination. And she could only spend so much time mentoring other young BMXers without sacrificing her own progress.

“I love riding with the locals,” Roberts says. “I love helping them, but it comes to a point where, in every session, if you’re focusing on other people riding, which I love to do, your riding starts to fall.”

Roberts gave up her passion for mentoring, at least temporarily, to better her career. She had felt the pain of losing the 2018 World Championships and the rainbow jersey. She never wants to let that happen again.

Holly Springs — a pine tree- and strip mall-filled landscape similar to every other suburb in the Raleigh, N.C., metropolitan area — has quickly become the new mecca of freestyle BMX. That’s largely thanks to Dhers, who owns the massive indoor-outdoor skatepark known as the Daniel Dhers Action Sports Complex. Dhers, 35, is a five-time X Games gold medalist originally from Venezuela.

From the front, the DDASC looks like an office building or outlet store, industrial gray brick and dark windows covering the outside. The inside doesn’t look like what a typical sports fan might expect from an Olympic training facility. Plywood and two-by-fours are the predominant decor. But the 37,000-square-foot complex is considered one of the largest and best family-oriented, year-round skating and biking facilities in the world.

After spending her entire life in the Midwest, Roberts moved to Holly Springs to train at the DDASC because, unlike most other Olympic athletes, the best BMX riders like to train side-by-side, pushing each other.

The park officially opens to the public every weekday from 3 to 8 p.m. Dhers and the other pros do most of their riding in the morning to avoid crowds of young kids on scooters, but they often make exceptions on Tuesday evenings.

Recently, Roberts was joined by two other women riders: Ducarroz and Benegas, the winner of the 2018 World Championships. Roberts and Benegas are teammates and rivals. Their tug-of-war relationship only intensified after both became near-locks to qualify for the Olympics.

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“It’s very competitive now,” Roberts says. “We call it winning practice, which makes no sense because it’s practice, but everybody wants to win.”

The male riders include Dhers, Marin Ranteš of Croatia, American Justin Dowell and Australian Brand Loupos. All have finished on the podium at major UCI and FISE BMX events over the last two years.

During training sessions at the DDASC, each rider takes turns dropping in from the deck and riding for 30 to 40 seconds at a time, watching each other and offering criticism and encouragement. On one run, Roberts lands a tailwhip onto resi with relative ease. She then rides around the skatepark to pick up speed and hits the same ramp, performing a 360° tuck no-hander in which, while letting go of the bike, she leans her stomach against the handlebars before grabbing them again and landing.

Much of her competition would be thrilled with this short run, but Roberts is just getting started.

“Backflip bar spins over spines is her warm-up trick in sessions,” Ducarroz says.

Unfortunately, the sport of freestyle BMX hasn’t progressed as quickly as its athletes.

Freestyle BMX has been around since the mid-1970s, but didn’t achieve international prominence until the late 90s and early 2000s, after the X Games were started. Yet, to this day, women BMXers aren’t allowed to vie for a medal in the competition.

Instead, the most that X Games organizers have been willing to give them is an unpaid demonstration, the first of which occurred in 2014. For 10 years before that, X Games offered a girls BMX clinic. The riders hope that, one day, women’s freestyle BMX will have its own competition, similar to what women’s skateboarding and snowboarding have enjoyed for years.

It’s a big risk, especially the year before the Olympics, to ride at an event where you won’t make money ... [The X Games] are just a big slap in the face” - Hannah Roberts

“We’ve been working on this relationship with X Games for so long,” Buitrago says. “I feel like we’re so close, but they just were like, ‘Well, we’re just going to offer you another demo again.’ The deal that we made was [that] women are down to do the demo, so long as every year we’re working towards having an actual contest.”

But everyone has their limits. In 2018, when she was16, Roberts became the first prominent female rider to bail on the X Games, deciding her skills were worth more than a free hotel room and limited exposure. Some of the other professional riders protested her decision, saying it wasn’t best for the sport, but her mind was made up.

The following year, the entire women’s class agreed to boycott the event.

“It’s a big risk, especially the year before the Olympics, to ride at an event where you won’t make money,” Roberts says. “We barely get a crowd. They have it at like 9 or 10 a.m., so nobody’s really there. No events are going on. It’s just a big slap in the face.

“People should really open their eyes and realize that the class [of women] is growing. That people are getting better and it will take time for us to be on the same level as the men just because of the support. It’s hard to make [BMX] a career.”

Roberts learned from a young age that practice, more than exposure, would propel her career.

At the DDASC, Dhers is the unofficial coach of the group. He periodically pulls riders aside for extra one-on-one attention while they train. When Roberts first moved to Holly Springs, her day-to-day riding was inconsistent. One day, she might push herself beyond her limits, risking injury and wearing herself out. The next, she’d spend too much time on her phone or drinking an energy drink. Dhers and the other pros helped her change her mentality by pushing her to take a more mindful, calculated approach to practicing new tricks.

Now she’s deliberate about how much time she spends sending a trick to the foam pit, only moving to resi once she feels she’s ready, then moving to a wooden ramp when the trick is nearly perfect.

“I used to just send things [on a wooden ramp] and then go back on resi and then go back in the foam and work on them, which was a terrible idea,” Roberts says.

Her new mentality has paid real dividends. For instance, on a six-week training trip she took to Australia after her victory at the World Championships, Roberts learned more than two dozen new tricks, including what she called five or six “big tricks.” During that time, she traveled throughout the country, staying with Australian rider Natalya Diehm.

Roberts knew she had to evolve. She noticed other women catching up to her, and the number of competitors increasing exponentially. She’s stubborn according to those who know her well. She got to the top of her profession as a teenager, after all, even before she got to Holly Springs.

According to Dhers, Roberts’ persistent ‘send-it mentality’ came from her Kitchen days, riding massive ramps with no one to tell her she shouldn’t. On ramps that size, riders must possess a certain degree of fearlessness to commit to a trick. It was there she learned a fundamental lesson of the sport.

“If you baby it, you die,” Dhers says. “You don’t make it.”

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The Covid-19 pandemic first hit the freestyle BMX world Feb. 22 when FISE and the UCI canceled the World Cup event scheduled for May in Pu Yang, China. A few weeks later, a second World Cup event in Hiroshima was postponed indefinitely. After a period of insisting the games would be held as scheduled, the International Olympic Committee finally announced on March 24 the postponement of the Tokyo Games until 2021.

In the days following the news, Roberts spent more time in her bedroom than at the DDASC, moving back and forth from her bed, to playing video games, to her desk to email Team USA and other sponsors.

Focusing on a few companies at a time, she figured out which of her sponsorships were most impacted. The Milk Processor Education Program, the group behind the “Got Milk?” campaign, adjusted their contract with Roberts, but her contracted sponsorships within the BMX industry — Tioga, Alienation, Hyper Bike and Snafu — were still intact.

“It’s still just a little frustrating going through all the emails and making sure that we’re all on the same page and we all know what’s happening, who’s getting paid when and what is expected of me,” Roberts says.

Perhaps the biggest frustration was the notion that all the hard work she’d been putting in towards the Olympics — the stringent riding schedule, changes to her diet, dedication to the gym — wouldn’t pay off like she had planned.

“I was happy that the committee put in the consideration for athletes’ health,” Roberts says, “but it’s also disappointing and nerve-wracking because you have to keep the Olympic mindset for the next year and deal with all the same stuff over again.”

Thankfully, Roberts will not have to requalify. She will represent Team USA at the Olympics in 2021. And she’s still training.

Because of the pandemic, skateparks all across the country are closed to the public, including the DDASC. But all the pros agreed that if they only saw each other, and had all groceries and food delivered, that they could continue to practice together. Dhers turned the upper deck of the skatepark into a mini gym, equipped with dumbbells, a pull-up bar and two plastic trash cans attached at opposite ends of a workout bar.

Roberts still rides for three to four hours a day with the group, but she works out at home in the afternoons using exercise bands. She also tries to get up at 6 a.m. every morning for cardio and stretching. The UCI rainbow jersey hanging in her bedroom closet helps keep her focused.

“When I don’t feel like riding in the morning or when I don’t feel like getting up and going to the session or the workout, I look at it and it gives me that extra motivation,” Roberts says. “It’s like, ‘I don’t want to lose this again.’”

This should have been the year when Roberts’ profile skyrocketed. Through no fault of her own, 2020 feels like a step back, a disheartening tumble after a redemptive 2019. Still, it’s difficult to know how much an Olympic gold medal would elevate her career.

“CNN could pick it up and then boom, she’s a famous superstar, or no one could pick it up and then nothing ever happens,” Dhers says. “How many Olympic gold medalists are there for the women in other sports and no one knows they exist?”

Roberts doesn’t seem to be banking on superstardom, at least. For now, she’s being frugal, saving almost every dime from her contest winnings.

Certainly, the more visible Roberts is, the more popular she and the sport can become. For years, Roberts has been considered a leader in freestyle BMX because of her strong example. That ‘send-it mentality,’ again.

“One thing I’ve learned is that when you see a woman do something, you’re like, ‘oh, my gosh, it’s possible,’” Buitrago says. “For whatever reason, you see guys do the same trick but when you see a woman do [a trick] that you haven’t ever seen them do before, you’re like, ‘Oh, my God. Yes.’”

But Roberts doesn’t focus much on the stakes, only on how she’s pushing herself at any point in time. Others may see unlimited potential, and an opportunity for fame and possibly fortune, but her goals are intrinsic.

“I don’t necessarily want to be the best woman BMX rider,” Roberts says. “I would rather just be a good or great BMX rider, in general, rather than having the woman or the man label on it.

“I just do whatever I think is possible and if it works out, it works out. And if not, try it again.”

[funeral-clown]

KYLO REN NEEDS TO CHILL AKA MY SHITTY STAR WARS AU CHAPTER FUCK OFF NO ONE KNOWS ESPECIALLY NOT ME

you know who this is for

also dedicated to: straight christian men and the way they always let u down despite ur parents fervent hopes ur gonna marry one

After the call from Rey, Poe wasn’t particularly surprised when Leia ordered him to bring her son to her.

“Please, Poe,” she said, laying her hand on his arm and gazing up at him with soft warm eyes. “He may be our only hope.”

Luke snorted in the corner and pulled a flask out of his robes, then proceeded to take a swig.

“Yeah, good luck kid. Feel free to taze him.”

Leia elbowed her twin in the gut and nodded her dismissal. Poe steadied himself and headed for Kylo’s cell. Carter was sitting guard outside, perusing a magazine with a bored expression.

“Constant vigilance?”

He turned the page, expression unchanging.

“Bite me.”

“Rude. And to a superior officer, too. I might have to report you for insubordination.”

“Go ahead. My life is already hell.”

Poe winced.

“That bad, huh?”

Carter finally looked up, expression turned dour. He snapped the magazine shut and let it drop to the floor between his feet before leaning forward.

“So far, just this morning, our esteemed guest has thrown 3 different temper tantrums, tried to compel me to get him booze using the Force, tried to compel me to let him go using the Force, tried to seduce me into letting him go, refused to eat his rations, thrown his rations against the wall like a petulant child, and worst of all, he started singing. Badly.”

“It can’t be that bad, Carter.”

“He butchered Love on the Midichlorian Scale.”

“Carter-”

“That song played at both of my weddings, Poe. And now it’s ruined, and I can never listen to it again.”

“Bud-”

“And that smug asshole KNOWS IT because he can READ MY MIND.”

“We’re letting him go.”

The guard froze mid-rant.

“What?”

“We’re letting him go. Open up the doors and get him cuffed so I can take him to the General.”

He flailed a bit, looking flustered.

“I’m sorry, are you kidding? Are you joking with me right now? That’s what’s happening, right?”

Poe grinned at him. 

“Nope.”

“Oh, okay. Okay, then. Well. Poe. Pal. Have you completely lost your kriffing mind?”

“I hope not,” he muttered, a crease of frustration gracing his brow.

“Then why the fuck would we ever even consider doing that?”

“Easy.”

“Easy?”

“Easy. He’s gonna help us destroy the First Order.”

Carter gaped at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Poe beamed at him before clapping both his shoulders and moving towards the door.

“You gonna let him out now?”

Carter shrugged.

“Sure.”

The door opened. Kylo Ren glared up at him from his huddled position on the floor, eyes glowering from beneath the dark tangle of hair that covered his face.

“‘Sup, Ben? Heard you didn’t like your accommodations.”

He remained balefully silent.

“I was real sorry to hear that, y’know? See, unlike the First Order, we here at the Resistance take pride in our hospitality. Three squares, a nice warm cot, not torturing people...it’s like the goddamn Four Seasons in here.”

“Your so-called food is a disgrace to the word.”

“Well, I’m real sorry to hear you say that, Ben. I suppose we can’t all be royalty.”

“I am not royalty,” Kylo snarled, baring his teeth in a futile attempt at intimidation. “That woman is not my mother.”

Poe frowned.

“I’m sure she���ll be real sorry to hear you say that. You certainly don’t deserve her. Carter. Cuff him.”

Sulking, the other man secured the prisoner’s hands behind his back.

“What’s going on, where are you taking me?” Kylo snapped, pulling at the restraints.

“To see the woman that isn’t your mother,” Poe replied lightly, grabbing his arm and beginning to march him out of the room and down the hall, “She wants a word.”

“She won’t get anything from me, and that’s more than she deserves,” he shot back.

Poe tazed him.

“What was that for!?”

“Your not-uncle is there, too. He sends his regards.”

Poe tazed him again.

“What the fuck, I thought you were the goddamn friendly one!”

“Oh trust me, Ben, I am. Most people on this base want you dead. I just tazed you. But, see, the thing is, you know Finn? Cutest guy in the galaxy? Arguably the perfect man?”

Kylo groaned. Whether from the description or being tazed twice was unclear. Most likely both.

“He has a pretty rough time sleeping, Ben. Some days I don’t think he even recognizes me. He’s got a bitchin’ scar down his back. Your handiwork. Last week he disappeared for 7 hours and showed up later smelling like whiskey. And Rey. You know Rey. You never shut up about Rey, it’s unhealthy and unsettling.”

“You’d never begin to understand the bond betwee-”

“Shut up, Ben, I’m not finished. I have had the undeniable pleasure of sharing a room with her. Finn, too, in fact. Did you know she wakes up screaming sometimes, Ben? She does. And I can’t even pretend not to know why.”

Kylo glared.

“Oh, we never talk about it, of course. Because we don’t have to. As close as we are, she never had to explain. Because all our nightmares, all our pain? Has one fucking common denominator. Can you guess what that is, Ben?”

“Me.”

Poe laughed.

“You wish you were that much of a threat. Pal, you’re barely a nuisance. No. Our common enemy is the First Order. And who runs the First Order, Ben?”

“Supreme Leader Snoke?”

“Well that’s one name for him, sure. Round these parts we just call him Snoke the Joke. Not important. Here’s what is important. We’re going to kill him. We’re going to destroy the First Order. We’re gonna save the galaxy. And you’re gonna help us.”

Kylo was taken aback.

“What? Why would I ever stoop so low as to aid you and your traitors?”

“Because,” Poe responded lightly, “It’s the only way Rey could ever look at you without hatred and disgust.”

He slumped, seemingly accepting of the fact.

“So here’s what’s gonna happen, Ben. I’m gonna take you in there to see your mother and your uncle. They’re going to try to convince you to help them take out Ol’ Snokester the Jokester. You’re going to agree. You’re going to beg your mother for forgiveness. And then you’re going to help us. Because if you don’t, the only person whose opinion you care about will hate you forever. Got it?”

He frowned consideringly at the floor before grumbling out an assent.

“Good.”

Poe tazed him again.

“WHAT WAS THAT FOR?”

“You tortured me and I’m feeling petty. We’re square. Let’s go.”

He dragged him up and frogmarched him towards the General’s quarters.

Leia frowned at their approach.

“Why is he limping?”

Poe raised an eyebrow at Kylo, who glanced at the pilot.

“My foot fell asleep.”

Luke snorted.

“That’s what you’re going with?”

“That’s what I’m going with.”

“Okay, then. I assume Poe filled you in on the mission?”

Kylo nodded.

“What? How would he even know?” Leia asked, shocked.

“You’re kidding, right? Rey must have told him. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, sister dear, but she’s borderline co-dependent with Finn and Poe. Inextricably close. If I gave half a shit about the Jedi Code I would be concerned about her forming ties.”

“Yes, Luke, I’m more than aware, but this mission was to be kept top secret! We can’t risk word getting out, and- Poe why do you look like you’re going to tell me something that will make me upset.”

Poe laughed sheepishly.

“I maaaaaay have let slip to Carter we were letting him go.”

Leia stared at him blankly.

“Carter?”

“Yes.”

“The guard Carter.”

“That would be the one.”

“The guard who was forced to guard my son as punishment for accidentally leaking resistance secrets while tipsy at an outpost because no one else wanted the job. That Carter.”

“I am so sorry.”

“Half the base knows by now. Why did I even try to keep it secret in the first place. Everyone in the resistance is a gossip. Kriff.”

“If it makes you feel better, he’s probably learned his lesson by now, sister. Any extended exposure to your son could be qualified as a form of torture.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

“Ha!”

“Shut up, Kylo.”

“Aww.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much about Carter, Ma’am. It’s not like he’s going to post our confidential plans on social media.”

*meanwhile, in space*

“Sir.” 

Hux looked up from his (blessedly reduced since Ren’s capture) stack of paperwork to see Phasma standing before him, comm unit glowing in her hand.

“Yes, what is it Captain?”

“I think you should see this.”

She handed it to him, and he squinted at the screen.

“Captain, I can barely see anything. You’ve got the screen settings too bright.”

“Ah, apologies. I’ll adjust them. You can’t see anything through these helmets, so you have to-”

“Yes, I understand.”

“It makes some things difficult, sir.”

“I would imagine.”

“I don’t understand why the helmets have to be so dark. It seems like poor design. No wonder the storm troopers of old could barely hit the broad side of a barn.”

“Yes, I could see how-”

“It should be changed, General. I’m sure that would increase effectiveness and reduce fatalities exponentially.”

“I’ll consider it, Captain.”

“See that you do.”

Hux sighed.

“May I see the comm unit now, Captain?”

“Yes.”

He squinted at it again.

“Okay now it’s just. Way too dark.”

“Adjust it yourself, then. I can’t see shit out of this helmet.”

“Alright, alright! Enough about the bloody helmets!”

“I’m just saying. You can fit an aesthetic without compromising effectiveness.”

“I get it.”

“I don’t think regard for the troopers was put into these design at all.”

“Well, to be fair, they were designed at a time when stormtroopers were literal clones. They could be mass produced in the blink of an eye relatively cheaply. Casualties weren’t a very big concern.”

The temperature of the room notably dropped.

“General. Are you indicating you think of my troops as. Disposable.”

“No, certainly not! I myself advocated strongly to move away from clone labor!”

“I see.”

“Brainwashing is so much more effective.”

Phasma hummed noncommittally. 

“What’s that about.”

“What’s what about?”

“You hummed noncommittally.”

“Did I?”

“Captain-”

“I just think maybe brainwashing isn’t very effective after all.”

Hux groaned.

“This is about the rogue trooper, isn’t it. FN-2187.”

“Maybe.”

“Captain, please. He was an anomaly. No one else is having doubts about our mission, correct?”

She remained silent for a moment.

“...Correct, sir.”

He peered at her suspiciously before the comm caught his eye again.

“Ah, yes. What were you so eager to...show...me.....” His voice trailed off as he reread the short message on the screen.

CarterGoesHarder @ resistancegoesthedistance LOL FINALLY GOT OFF GUARD DUTY! GUESS WE’RE LETTING CRY-LO GO BC HE’S WORKING WITH US TO TAKE DOWN THE FIRST ORDER OR SOME SHIT #FINALLY#WHATTABITCHBABY#HOPENOBODYSEESTHISLOL #DRUNKPOSTING #PORGSARECUTE #SNOKETHEJOKE #HANYOLO #WAITISITTOOSOONFORTHAT

“Where did this come from?”

“A lower-ranked Resistance member’s social media account.”

“Why are you following a Resistance member’s social media?”

“...Collecting intelligence.”

“Bantha shit.”

“We both follow Luke and his livestreams are amusing.”

“Ah. Regardless. You know what must be done.”

“Indeed, sir.”

The intercom blared.

“ATTENTION ALL CREW MEMBERS. SUPREME LEADER SNOKE IS COMING SOON. IF ANY ATTEMPTS ON HIS LIFE OCCUR, JUST, LIKE. LOOK THE OTHER WAY. DO NOT INTERFERE. THE MAN IS A JOKE. HUX OUT.”

Hux cracked open a bottle of Corellian brandy.

“Captain?”

“Couldn’t possibly, General.”

“I insist.”

“Oh, very well.”

The bottle was gone in the matter of an hour.

[jynsongxvii-blog]

the late fic that was thrown in the trash apparently(?

A/N: Ik I'm eliminated surprisingly or maybe not to me, but I did finish to write this and liked the interactions, so here you have it! Guess we'll never know what could've happened now tho, but thanks @domschreave​ for the RP from weeks ago. I might write some more stuff for future jyn cause she deserves me giving her an ending, so in case anyone is interested, be on the lookout ❤️  (this fic is around 3500 words and it is not a leaving fic, but a date with dom that happened and i couldn’t post before)

Dom opened his door after my knock. “Hey.” I crossed my arms with a grin. “Hey…I wanted to put dominoes in your room after a meeting so that when you opened the door they'd all fall down...but that's such a mess to get your attention, so I thought I could also just ask.”

“Yeah, that sounds like a lot of work. Did you need something?” “A few hours of your time maybe.” “Are we breaking into some other abandoned thing now?” He asked and I had to hold back a smile. You could call that being predictable, but I took it as a good sign on his part.

“Well...we could. Not sure if you still haven't done it, but I heard something about wanting to climb the outside of a Ferris wheel... and I'm pretty sure the only way to do that is if we go to an abandoned amusement park.”

We both grinned at each other.

“I'm game if you are.”

“I'm always up for a little adventure, but if we die I'm blaming you.” Wouldn’t want to get blamed for the death of a royal.

“Fair enough...Do you happen to know if there are actually any abandoned amusement parks anywhere near here?” “I like having a plan, so yes, I did a little research.” Something I do a lot these days. “There's one in the outskirts of the city. If you want to go... then you have a date with the prettiest girl in the hallway.” I smiled at my own reference to our last date.

“Sure, let's go. And…” he paused to look around the hallway, “You're the only girl in the hallway.” I rolled my eyes with a sigh, slightly amused, but wondering if he’d even noticed the reference I’d made. “Yes, you're a lucky guy.” “You might say I'm the luckiest guy in this hallway.” That almost made me laugh, but I held it back, looking around to refute his claim and finding someone once I squinting at a distant corner. “I think there's a guard there… But he's not getting a date with me, so the title of luckiest is still for you.”

“Alright then. Shall we go?”

After my nod we both started heading for the garage.

“What is today's special on the Dom Express?” He gave me a confused frown. “What?” I didn’t stop my pace and grinned slightly, “I meant what means of transportation are we using this time. I assume walking is off the list since it’s so far away.” “Probably… but I don't know, what kind of vehicle do you want to use?” “I'm... afraid I don't know that much about fancy cars.” I barely knew about cars at all really. Small town and all, where I lived cars were pretty unnecessary. Nonetheless, I cleared my throat after a pause. “I have been hitting the library to figure some of them out though... but I still think you should be the one to give suggestions if you want to go in a car again.” “I don't know... and we don't even have to take a car if you don't want…” “Oh.. No, that's fine. I don't really mind if it's a car or not. Anything is fine really.” I glanced at him briefly. Maybe this was his attempt at making me comfortable? I wanted him to choose this time though, so I added, “But I picked last time, so it's your turn.” “Well I think it's just easier to take my motorcycle, so let's just do that.” “Alright…” I smirked as some of the details from our crazy last date crossed my mind. “Did your dad ever find out we used the Lamborghini?” “Not that I know of… Which means he didn't find out.” “Does that mean he would have told you something if he had found out?” “Yes.” That was his only answer, but I stared at him in silence for another moment, waiting to see if he gave any other details. He didn’t.

I wasn't sure if what I felt was disappointment or not. I just wanted to get to know him. We wouldn't get anywhere if he didn't open up. But then again, maybe the topic was hard or just uncomfortable, so I bit my lip trying to think of a way to make him add on and settled with, “My dad would have hidden all of the keys from you... If he changed places with your dad that is.” “My dad should hide his keys…” Dom mumbled, and I hoped that meant he would say more. “I don't know why he just leaves them out like this. Probably he thinks it looks cool.” “Hmm, he should reconsider his definition of cool.”

He laughed shortly, but since I rarely saw him do so, I counted it as a win--even if I wished it sounded happier. “Probably.” “What would you consider cool? I'm sure car keys on a wall isn't it.”

“I don't know... I'm not sure I have a single definition of "cool".” Maybe not but...That sounded like a smart way to avoid my question. “Motorcycles are cool.” I pointed out, sparing him a glance to see if he understood where I was going with this. “The night sky, the sunrise, hanging out with friends…” I waited for him to add on and surprisingly he did.

“Leather jackets, rock music, ...quiet.” “You mean as in silence?” “Yeah.” “Quite the polar opposite of rock music,” I smiled before looking back ahead. Happy he'd either intentionally or unintentionally given me a detail about himself. “But yeah, silence is cool too. We can be cool right now if you want..” I offered a sheepish smile, hoping he would take my words in good heart. He gave me a small smile back, but didn't say anything else. I took that as a yes to being silent for a while and just followed him the rest of the way to the garage in peaceful silence.

“So motorcycle right?” Dom asked once we reached the garage.

“Yes, you once said you would show it to me anyway.” “Right.”

He handed me a helmet and I stared at his motorcycle after taking it. The design seemed slightly familiar. “What model is it?

“It's a Ducati Diavel.” “Interesting,” I stared at it a while longer, trying to picture it on library pages filled with specs. “I think I remember Ducati from the book I read…” I put the helmet on and struck a pose like the ones we had practiced for magazine issues. “How do I look?” “Cool.” He grinned and I laughed a bit.

“Good.” That was definitely a compliment considering our previous conversation. “Now let's see how well you drive on two wheels.”

He got onto the motorcycle and I followed suit, skeptically. “Ready?” “Uh, yes, hopefully I won't fall off.”

“You'll just have to hold on tight.”

Smirking, I placed my hands on his shoulders. “That's the oldest in the book, Dominoes.”

“Whatever.”

He sped off into the almost-night and I tightened the grip around his shoulders to avoid falling. When we started passing by next to cars though, I ended up placing my arms around his torso.

You better not kill me, Dominoes.

“Is it safe to move now?” I mumbled, clinging onto his torso as the motorcycle stopped. “Yeah, you can get off.” I let go of him while clearing my throat. “Sorry.” “It's fine. So, ready to go?” Standing up and taking my helmet off, I smiled. “Always.” Behind me was the Ferris wheel a few feet away. It seemed huge and a little rusty, yet not old enough to break under our weight. I placed a short strand of hair behind my ear as I searched for the way to climb it. I had to admit one of the inconveniences of shorter hair was it getting in your face because of the wind.

“We're actually gonna climb it?” Dom finally asked, breaking the silence. I couldn’t help but laugh at the question. “There's a ladder, no? You're the one with this on your to-do-one-day list. We can scout the area if you changed your mind though.” “No, I'm fine. I was just checking if you were too scared. Since, you know, you were terrified the entire time on my motorcycle.” I glared at him with narrowed eyes, but smirked. “I love heights, I'm just not good with high speeds on moving objects... yet.” But I will. Just you wait. “Uh huh. Sure.” I faked a gasp. “Are you questioning my tolerance of heights, Dominoes?” “Just a bit.” He smirked. I laughed with a scoff. “Well, then let's prove you wrong.” Squinting at the Ferris Wheel, I pointed when I found a ledge where we could sit on with the wheel not moving. “I think there's a small spot for us to sit there halfway up.” Offering one last grin, I walked over to the ladder at the Ferris Wheel’s mounting and started climbing. Once we were both climbing I asked, “Why did you want to do this?” “I saw it in a movie once and thought it looked cool. Hey, there's another thing to add to the cool list.” I chuckled. “That's way better than keys on a wall. And I find heights in general to be cool.” That led us to discuss the height of the Ferris Wheel, which according to what I’d read was around 150 feet. We only planned to go halfway up but I still took the chance to tease Dom, telling him not to worry about too much. “Have you ever been on one before?” I wondered aloud. “Like, a functioning one? I was only on one when I was younger, but I don't really remember it...though I don't remember much before I was six.” I chuckled, thinking of how Jason reminded some of the weirdest stories from when he was little. Sometimes I couldn’t tell if they were made up or not. “Don't know how other people do.” “Yeah, there are a couple amusement parks near us that we've gone to a lot in the past. I haven't ridden a Ferris wheel in forever though. They're kinda boring after a while.” Boring? I paused at that, holding onto the ladder with one hand and letting go with the other to stare down at the amusement park. The breeze was so refreshing it almost begged you to relax. It wasn’t that surprising to get a glimpse at the beach further away, past the other old games and rides giving into oxidation. “This view gets boring?” “I mean once you've ridden the ride a couple times, yeah.” “Hmm…” I kept climbing. “I would like to say I disagree, but technically I can't.” “Since you haven't ridden on one?”

“Except for that time I don't really remember. Though when I think about it, climbing the outside might be more fun than the actual ride.” I would still love the view however. “I'm pretty sure it is.” “Only because this way I choose how long I stay up. Oh, and because it's cooler of course.” “It's definitely cooler.” “I assume you like roller coasters better... or did those get boring with time as well?” “Nope. Roller coasters are cool.”

“Hmm... what about bumper cars?” “Bumper cars? Lame.” I laughed, thinking I was starting to see a pattern. “I see now. You like the thrill of speed or something new.” “Yeah I guess.” Smirking down at him, pausing the climb, I raised an eyebrow. “You guess?” “Yeah.”

“Well... if I'm wrong you can just tell me instead of guessing.” “There's nothing wrong with saying the phrase "I guess." It doesn't mean you're wrong, it just means it's mostly correct. I guess I like "the thrill of speed" but that's not necessarily how I would've phrased it, so I guess I'd agree to it.” Wow, okay cowboy, settle down. “I... didn't say there was something wrong with the phrase.. Just seems like it closes off the conversation. I don't mind silence, Dom, but I can't really know you as a person if we never talk.” I sighed before climbing again, not knowing what else to say. It seemed like saying anything would cause some sort of argument. “But alright.”

“I've just been assaulted by some of the other girls complaining about me saying "I guess". I'm just really tired of it.” When we reached the ledge, I stood up and stared down at him with a head tilt. “Assaulted?” “Yelled at? Bitched at? Confronted? Verbally assaulted.” “Huh..” That’s odd. I sat down letting my legs dangle in the air as I gazed at the amusement park. I could imagine some of the girls in the Selection losing their temper at him, but it still felt weird. “You sure there wasn't a reason for it?” “I said "I guess". Apparently that's illegal around here.” “You sound pretty worked up about it.” I patted the spot next to me, offering a small smile, hoping he would calm down. “You don't need to get defensive all the time... when I mentioned it I didn't mean it in a bad way. I just meant that if I were wrong about an assumption you could tell me. I couldn't be sure of what reason there was behind your "I guess."” He obliged and sat down. “It's just hard not to get defensive when I've been yelled at about the same thing multiple times. And it's not something that I think deserves being yelled at for.” It seemed unreasonable that a girl would get upset about something like that, but I couldn’t really know what had happened, it wasn’t really my place to take sides. After a moment of silence I replied with: “I can't really say who was right since I wasn't there... but maybe stress also had a part in it. Selections aren't as simple as they're set up to be and I'm sure it's the same for you. When two forest fires meet halfway they'll just make a bigger mess.” He nodded. “I'm not saying I'm perfect, I just don't like being scrutinized so harshly by people I might spend the rest of my life with. I get enough criticism from the public and the press... And my father.” I looked at him surprised he would bring up his father into conversation at all, yet composing myself, I tried smiling apologetically. “Is he... harsh?” Dom avoided my gaze, staring ahead. “Sometimes.” It sounded like those sometimes were enough to bother him, and being close with my dad myself, I always felt a little bad for people that didn’t get the chance of that.

I watched him in silence for a moment and hesitantly, reached for his hand before squeezing and smiling softly. I hoped I looked encouraging while doing so and waited to see if he would add anything else. In a pleasant surprise, he did. “You don't have to worry about him, though. He's only ever hard on me.” “Well... if I worry about you, I'll worry about it either way…” I averted my gaze as I said that, clearing my throat, trying not to sound awkward. “If you make me worry about you that is..” My smile turned sheepish at the end when I looked back at him. Way to be subtle, Jyn.

He shrugged as if done with the conversation and looked away. My smile faltered and I pursed my lips, staring down at the amusement park too. “You really are a red and green light on at the same time…” “What do you mean?” Back in our first date I hadn’t really explained what I meant with it in detail, but up in the Ferris Wheel I did, not meeting his eyes. “You know how sometimes traffic lights don't work and both the red and green light are on, so you're stuck there unsure if you should keep going or wait? Well, it's like that, but in a conversation... it's hard to talk to you sometimes. Like if I say something wrong everything will crumble to bits.” I dared to glance at him then. “I don't like that feeling... but I want to see if this can work... if we can work.” “I'm sorry I'm like that.” I shook my head. It wasn’t like I wanted him to feel bad either. “You don't have to apologize... or I guess you do...?” Rambling took over. “It's not like all you do is bad-- not that you're precisely doing something bad-- I kinda like you even if you're stubborn sometimes... I'm just not good when I don't see trust, but I wouldn't ask you to change who you are either and--” I sighed, dropping my gaze. “I'm just making this worse, I'm sorry.” He sighed too. “I don't want you to feel like you have to be careful about everything you say to me. I just don't like being interrogated... or insulted... I didn't think that would be so difficult but maybe I am too sensitive about some things…” “Maybe... just a little…” I eyed him warily. “But if I ever make you feel like that it's better if you just talk to me about it... Calmly. I promise I'll hear you out.” Dom nodded silently and I smiled a little at the sight before kissing his cheek and staring back at the sky filled with stars now. “We should probably head back to the palace soon.” He pointed out quietly. I kept my eyes fixed on the stars but mumbled, “Five more minutes of being cool?” “Sure.” I liked how he seemed to soften a bit after our talk. Made me think he wasn’t always jokes and teasing. “Thanks.” “Just let me know when you're ready to go.” Nodding, I let the night sky swallow me with it’s beauty, the lights of the city too far away to ruin the view of the constellations. It was a beautiful night and I’d made some progress with Dom, the breeze still met me with delight and my short hair danced wildly with it.

It wasn’t like back home, but it was still pretty great.

In front of the bike again I pointed out Dominic needed something new to add to his list of things he hadn't done and wanted to do. He agreed, but admitted he didn’t know what that would be. I told him if he ever figured it out and it was something doable, I’d be up for it. He assured he would tell me if he did which, to be honest, made me feel even better about the evening.

I grabbed the helmet on the bike and stared at it as if it were a challenge, putting it on afterward. “Okay, maybe it'll be less scary this time.

He actually smiled at that. The simple smile I’d noticed I liked on our first date. “You're not going to scream the whole time again are you?” His joke took me by surprise and I stared at him agape for a moment before smiling myself. “I wasn't yelling!” “Uh huh, then what do you call it? Breathing loudly?” “Well--” I was ready to argue, but it was hard not to laugh at the situation and I ended up pulling down the visor on my helmet to hide my amusement instead. “Maybe it is.” “Alright. Lets just get going.”

We both got on and I held onto him again as he started up the engine, joking, “Hope you have good eyes for the dark.” Dom was quick to point out: “The motorcycle does have a headlight you know.” Little smarty pants, are you now? “I'm glaring at you under this visor just so you know.” “Glad to hear it.”

“So was that better than the last time?” I took my helmet off with a smile and said, “I breathed with my normal volume mostly, so yes, it was better.” “Good. I'm glad.” “I'm glad too...did you have fun?” Not too many questions Jyn, he already told you enough about himself. “Forget it, I've made enough questions today.” “It's fine. I did have fun.” I thought I almost saw the hint of a smile on his face at that

“Okay, that's good to hear... it's kind of late so you don't have to walk me to my room if you don't want to.” “I can if you want…” I looked at the motorcycle and mumbled “only if you want to..” again, making Dominoes roll his eyes. Looks like I still got it.

“This is getting us nowhere. Come on. I'll walk you to your room.”

I grinned in victory and followed him out of the garage. Maybe Kat was right and I had a chance at this.

:)

[todaydreambelieversfic]

AUTHOR SPOTLIGHT - Fearlessly Day 4

This is the “rec someone else” day!! Happy reading!!!!

Day 4: Recs!

Endymion Fell by Inkystars, 

The Muse by cimmerian

a lost boy (ready to be found) by pterodactyl

Case Study by purseplayer 

Threadbare by merikg

First off, I want to say how virtually impossible it was for me to choose only five stories to recommend. We are so lucky to have such outstanding writers in this fandom. Aside from the five recs for this Author’s Spotlight, I will be posting a list of other stories I love in the near future on my Tumblr: @fearlesslysgleefics

...Read on for excerpts and reasons

Endymion Fell by inkystars

 I chose this one to recommend first because it is my favourite fanfic. I love it; it is so unique in concept and in how it’s written. The pace and format only adds to the Blangst. The thing I love most about it, though, is that it shows how Kurt and Blaine will find each other in every universe and every lifetime.

 Excerpt:

Day 419

“What in god’s name was that?”

Day 420

“…”

Day 421

“…”

Day 422

“…”

Day 423

“…”

Day 424

“…”

Day 425

“I’m not alone. Something’s watching me.”

Day 426

“I was wrong about fear. I didn’t know fear before.”

“Cooper was right though. It’s the moment that the light comes on that’s the most terrifying.”

“Like when you close your eyes because something’s scary. You don’t want to open your eyes because you know that you’ll experience that terror.”

“Like right now. I won’t open my eyes because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.”

“Because here in deep space in the Pollux Quadrant, I was woken up.”

“By something tapping on my helmet.”

Day 427

At 6:18 Earth Eastern Standard Time, the S.S. Theseus received it’s first transmission from Science Officer Blaine Anderson in over a year.

The message was overladen with static, but a few words could be made out.

“Oh…there…are…I’ve…looking…you forever.”

 The Muse by The_Cimmerians

The artistry of this piece is so beautiful. I love how the author is able to paint a picture with words. Aside from ticking my age difference and angst boxes, it also kept me hooked, as the mystery in this story wasn’t revealed until closer to the end. Smart and beautiful writing.

 Excerpt: (nsfw)

The boots were army-style, brandless, the oldest, most worn ones Kurt seemed to own. Loose-laced and worn with slouchy black socks, his legs looked so long and muscular in them—bare legs, because other than the boots the only thing Kurt had on was a strappy undershirt that was so thin and diaphanous that the peaked pink of his nipples were clearly visible through it. If Blaine licked there, if he wet down the soft cotton with his mouth, it would melt and cling to those hard points and God…

“Blaine.” Kurt’s voice was throaty and low. “You can’t look at me like that and expect me to keep still. Come over here.”

“I’m almost done.” He’d brought an antique brocade chaise up to the loft because sometimes Kurt liked to watch him paint, and he wanted Kurt to have something better than the sprung-seat, lumpy armchair. But the loft was hot and Kurt was only marginally clothed, ankles crossed as he lounged on the chaise, the cowlick at the front of his hair curling aggressively forward, streaked magenta today, sexy punk badass boy. Blaine had to have it, so he abandoned Artist and Model III where it was, and picked up a sketch pad.

Collarbone, deltoid, clavicle—powerful and delicate and masculine, so hard to capture that combination, but it was the key, it was everything. The shirt had ridden up, and he would never get enough of drawing Kurt’s waist and stomach, he’d drawn it a thousand times and every time it did something to him, made some part of him melt and come apart and just want to crawl forward on his hands and knees and put his mouth there. The scratch of the pencil faded to a faint, barely-there whisper when he drew tight nipples under ribbed cotton, striving for the tease that was far more sexual than even straightforward nudity would have been.

Kurt was watching him. Kurt was hard, and watching him, and stroking himself lightly, negligently, almost lazily—white, smooth hand on his own flushed-red cock, lips parted to breathe and his cheeks starting to glow, shyness but no shame. It was like a kick to the chest, a heavy, sudden rush that sank into his balls and weakened his knees. “Kurt…”

Kurt licked his lips, stretching languorously, his hips flexing, pushing into his own hand. “In a contest between… your drawing hand, and—mmm—the hand I jerk off with, who do you think would win?”

Blaine’s pencil rattled when it hit the floor.

a lost boy (ready to be found) by Pterodactyl

This fic was gifted to me via the todaydreambelievers’ gift exchange by Pterodactyl. Before this I had never read Pterodactyl’s work, but after reading this fic, I read every word she writes. Her storytelling in this fic is beautiful, and Kurt’s angst is so heart-wrenching. She took my prompt and ran with it and made it entirely her own. It is one of my all-time faves.

 Excerpt:

The sound of his laugh makes something in Kurt’s chest ache, and he knows it reflects on his face. Before he can collect himself, the dam that’s been holding back all of his panic breaks and he lets out one pathetic sob. And then another, and another, and then he’s clutching Blaine’s hand in both of his, doubled over with his forehead pressed to Blaine’s knuckles as he cries and cries and cries.

“Kurt?” he hears Blaine exclaim, and then, “What -”

“I’m s-sorry,” Kurt takes a deep breath but his lungs feel too small for his chest and it explodes back out of him as another utterly pathetic noise. Sniffing, he covers his face with his hands, “I’m sorry, one s-second -”

He feels a gentle hand on his wrist, and another on his side. Blaine guides and Kurt follows, getting one shaky leg onto the bed and then collapsing. Blaine’s arms wrap around his shoulders, and Kurt curls his hands into the papery hospital gown and folds his larger frame against Blaine’s smaller one, trying to muffle himself into Blaine’s shoulder.

“I know,” Blaine soothes, “I know, Kurt. It’s okay. I know.”

Kurt cries. Blaine’s hands pet at his hair and rub circles on his back. The situation feels off kilter, somewhere in Kurt’s brain he knows that he should be the one comforting Blaine, that Blaine is the one who has been through this traumatic event, but he can’t stop. He just can’t.

 Case Study by Purseplayer

To me, this story is a master class in characterization. @purseplayer masterfully kept Kurt and Blaine true to their canon-selves and illustrated their undeniable chemistry, but at the same time made their mental health issues and idiosyncrasies entirely believable. The angst, although heavy at times, is brilliantly complimented with fluff. It’s very hard to not read this in one sitting, because Kurt and Blaine stole my heart.

Excerpt:

Blaine’s room was big and neat and empty.  His roommate was still in classes, and Mama and Daddy sat with Blaine on his bed to wait until he showed up, because they wanted to meet him too.  Blaine was glad for an excuse to keep them here longer.  He didn’t feel safe here, didn’t want to be in this strange too-big room in this strange too-big building alone.

He hugged Rex tight to his chest as the door creaked open, and the prettiest boy Blaine had maybe ever seen walked in.  He was frowning a lot, and he frowned at Blaine, and Blaine wanted to sink into the floor or maybe disappear altogether.  Not for the first time, he wished he could be a genie, like in Aladdin.  That was his very favorite movie.

“You must be Kurt,” Mama said when the boy ignored them, walking to his side of the room and smoothing the blankets on his already-perfect bed, fluffing the pillows, moving on to fiddle with the few items on his desk.

“Yes,” Kurt said in a clipped tone, not looking at them.  “And you must be Blaine, and Blaine’s parents.”  He finally stopped, picked up his desk chair and sat it just-so in front of his bed, sat himself down on it primly, facing the three of them.  “That’s good.  I need to make sure he understands the rules.”

“Rules?” Blaine said, hating it when his voice came out scared.

Kurt nodded.  “I run a very tight ship around here, as you can see.  I like to keep things neat.  I can see you dress nicely yourself, so hopefully we won’t have a problem.  To start out on the right foot, I’ve set aside some time this evening to help you arrange your things.”

 Threadbare by @merikg

This was the first slave fic I read. I was skeptical at first, but once I started I just couldn’t put it down. I became enraptured by Blaine’s story and Kurt’s character. The supporting cast in this is fantastic as well. MeriKG did a fantastic job of teetering on the edge of giving me what I love about these characters, but also breathing something new and fresh into them.

 Excerpt:

Blaine- I would have given this to you the first day I brought you home if I'd had any inkling that it would make you feel more secure with me or provide safety. I should have thought it through more carefully. I'm sorry for that. As you probably guessed, this is a Kurt Hummel Original. If it doesn't fit right or there's something you'd like changed, let me know and I can make you another. The clasp is a break-away, so you don't need to worry if someone ever puts you in slave-lock. Just tense your neck and tug hard and it should pop right open. Feel free to try it out, it won't cause any damage. You said a collar represented value. I designed this to scream 'tastefully expensive' so loudly that people would know at a glance that you're treasured.

-Kurt

The tears Blaine had been holding back as he examined the leather were flowing freely by the time he finished reading the note. He took the collar off his neck, reverently setting it onto his nightstand. He'd definitely be testing that break away feature in the morning. Blaine turned off his light and headed for Kurt's darkened room at the end of the hallway. He didn't hesitate to climb under the sheets, crowding close to Kurt's unconscious body.

"Wha..Blaine? You okay, honey? Bad dreams again?" Kurt asked groggily, reaching to pull Blaine in for a cuddle.

"No. No nightmares. I just went to my room for the first time today a few minutes ago," Blaine replied, placing his head against Kurt's chest to snuggle in.

Kurt stilled a moment as his brain woke enough to remember why that mattered. "Oh." His hand moved up to stroke Blaine's neck.

"I'll try not to wear it in the house," Blaine replied to the surprised noise Kurt made when he felt only skin.

"But it is beautiful, and perfect," Blaine murmured. He kept the 'just like you' part of that sentence to himself. "Thank you, Kurt."

[dandytanaka-blog]

The Boy and the Brush

A boy, lost and drifting through space, begins to find precious memories of love and loss thanks to a paint brush and a very odd frog. 

This was part of the portfolio I submitted to Pixar for a storyboarding internship. 

~ Tanaka Dandy

The Boy and the Brush

 Hello?

 Hello?

 There is a boy who floats through the space that normally rests above our heads, full of only nebulas like oases through a desert sky and devoid of the critical nutrients called, “our stars.”

 We see him here as he floats on, without the lights that would guide him oh so surely home, to any home at all, and we wonder if he dreams.

 He is lost and we think he will wander on forever, drifting and dreamless.

 He is not dreamless, though, this boy, and whenever he flickers out like a lamp between the glow of the nebulae that rotate like ceiling fans we can’t quite decipher, he always comes back, and he tries so very hard to dream the dreams we know we can never dream.

 But children are the stars of our night skies and they never stop feeling like they can dream and so a ho hum boy in a very dark place full of some kinds of demons and dragons all called by the same name, “loneliness,” closes his eyes and opens his brave heart and continues to try to dream, and so we think maybe one day he will.

 It is here in this loneliness of a space devoid of stars and the sweat of effort do we see, in the light of a ceiling fan whose purpose we fail to understand, a brush and its palette, colors like black and blue and lighter tints and darker shades and a very mysterious green hue and our boy who has kept his eyes shut and dreams dreamt reaches out and grabs them.

 Our children are more than the stars; they are the entire night skies for without them, there would be no one to reach up and out of our broken hearts into the mysteriousness of imaginations like soup made in space.

 We drink the soup and this child, viewed from the eyes of the children still inside of us, examines his new brush.

 We quite often find a brush and we take it apart and we try to understand it like ceiling fans but really there is nothing to a ceiling fan but to lay under it and watch it twirl and there is nothing to a brush but to paint.

 So this child who dreamt without any stars paints and he paints and he paints and he paints lights and space that dances around our nebulae.

 We see in this emptiness of a starless sky our boy has painted dreams into being and planets that glow bright red and shake and rotate and entire galaxies like stew and stew much like your mother’s stew and stars erupt like smoke into the skies above.

 It’s here we realize a sky is only a sky if you can see it and our boy has painted entire skies into being.

 We watch now, as grass is painted onto the grounds of planets and deer suck sap painted onto trees and trees give painted shades to the ground below. There are people in cities painted onto the tops of buildings with arms around lovers and children on the streets below who run around and around and look up at the night sky that blooms like flowers but not only a single flower, the entirety of a field that blooms all at once and only when your eyes are closed and your head turned.

 This space is the curtain being peeled back for a brief moment and we watch as imagination makes the entirety of the universe sparkle like diamonds and our boy flicks his brush and of excess there is none to speak of as drops blue and red mix and planets combust and blow and fresher patterns of blue and pink and aqua are like waters running free through the frontier-ness of this whole scene.

 There is a child, yes, who erupted out of this blankness of space like a dream, and painted the sky for us. The children in our hearts saw nebulae dancing in their eyes and it was fantastic.

 But we are not children, not always, and we wonder now, why a boy with hands that reach for a brush and paint and make universes and galaxies bloom like single drops of blood in cups of fresh sink water filters through the dimness of ceiling fan space alone.

 Where are his parents? Aren’t they worried? We are worried and so they must be as well. We are all worrying and worrying so and our minds are like broken pieces of the same puzzle so we wonder and wonder and worry too about whether or not those around us worry. We already know the answer.

 And yet we zoom in now, on the smiling face of the boy who paints, and to whom the stars shine for, and we think now, of those lovers on roofs and to the deer sucking on sap, and to the trees that provide shade for the painted grass, and we are happy again.

 To look at a happy child for even a second is to forget to worry and we quite enjoy that. The space around us is like freshly painted animation cells, and they’re not ready quite yet for production. That makes them sweeter, like cookie dough cut out of a roll, or candy so fresh off the press that maybe it’s not fresh at all, the kind that melts on your fingers and sticks to your tongue.

 The universe has come together now, and our boy floats along, painting and painting and dreaming and dreaming. His brush moves from his palette easily and colors come together in the canvas of the sky above and the water below. We wonder how he sees these things, because we think of the sky as something that simply hangs above us and water as something that rests below us.

 But have we not all stood at a beach and felt the water move? Have we not seen the clouds clear and witnessed some part of space we’ve never known before?

 He splashes green on his suit now, this boy with his brush, and he laughs about it. It sticks like gum and he plays with his brush to get it off, not to remove it, but to free it.

 This released greenness dances and changes above him and again we cannot see what this boy sees. We are so aware of our limits now, just how much our heads are buried in the clouds. We ask questions like we should know exactly what that particular green should be and we even give shades and tints of green names like, “jungle,” and, “lime”, because they should be this and they should be that. Why do we ask questions at all?

 For what we should see is, well, what we should say is, that it could be anything at all.

 Out of this green we see like a jungle or the grass in front of a mall, our boy creates a single frog, with eyes blue, a frog we have always imagined, but never seen, never painted, never written.

 Perhaps this frog is not a frog at all, but we have no other words for it. Our boy laughs, and though we hear no sound, we feel that laugh, those quakes in our souls, like a child or a writer who puts together sounds and letters and makes words we cannot make sense of.

 We cannot read them yet so we don’t bother using a dictionary. Why do we ask questions at all the wrong times?

 Well that word could mean anything at all.

 We see now, in the eyes of this frog, scenes of things like lovers loving on roofs and deer sucking sap from leaves and trees shading grass. They’re not quite like those things at all, but they feel entirely close and not so far away.

 Our boy paints and moves the stars, moving the left star right and the right star left, as he draws together a man with wavy hair and overalls filled with wrenches and nuts and interstellar bolts. This man dances around the sky, building up things like skyscrapers and highways and then even taller skyscrapers and even longer highways.

 They never stop, this man who builds and this boy who paints and together they design a train that flies so high it makes it into outer space.

 Our man smiles now, with teeth made up of far-flung galaxies and lips red like the very edge of the end of a day sky.

 We see him now, painted on the skin of universe, holding a woman and then a child. The child is painted last, and we see him burst into colors like a great set of fireworks and out of that great burst of fireworks, like blood from a heart, pumps into space a great train, and it soars higher and faster than before, weaving in and out of galaxies and complex solar systems much like your train sets and solar system cut outs that hung from ceiling fans that spun around and around in baby rooms.

 It is all clockwork but it is painted clockwork and so it is beautiful and memorable.

 We see now that this child who paints things according to the whimsy of scenes in the blues of the eyes of a frog who happens to be painted and is almost nothing like a frog, is also painted, sitting in a train seat next to the father who builds things, magical things that fly into outer space.

 We see them smiling now, this painted pair in a galactic train with astronaut helmets and melded hands that flutter and sputter like Claymation dolls through planets with rings that swing like turbines and celestial clusters full of planetary dust, shaped like mythological beings thought up by the lovers and fighters and scientists below painted out of the mind of a child and you wonder how just one kid could be so creative, so intelligent.

 And you realize you are piecing this together too. His brush dropped spots of paint along the way, here or there, and you’ve turned them into turbines and the hearts of stars and even further along you go into what lovers think when they’re not really supposed to be thinking and you feel, as you look down, the hand you’ve tried to burry deep in your heart clawing it’s way out and you feel your imagination sputter and sputter as it always has until it suddenly flies.

 It flies, this imagination of yours, like the train that carries a train maker and his son into outer space, to the stars and the galaxies, plants nurtured by the rain of paint from a brush into the parched throat of the sky. You feel it, through the colors that bleed into the blackness around you, like a tunnel carrying you through.

 It is beautiful.

 It is then that you see why children don’t always stay children. Why is it that children grow and get bigger and stronger and smarter, and yet bury that very special thing that makes every child so critical in the first place? Why do children become adults who are so afraid to not see that they never quite shut their eyes?

 You see why in the face of the boy who painted the universe as his hand moves the brush that paints the galactic train shot into the sky, moving towards a rock that hurdles forward like fire escaped from a stove, burning and burning such a beautiful blue heat. This painter of worlds cannot smile as he sees an image of himself and his father in astronaut suits melded together and stuck like gum to a seat with fear painted a deep blue in their eyes and we feel the pain in their hearts.

 That’s truly the worst part of becoming an adult you see, the feeling of the galactic twists and the radial rotations remains, but so too does the pain that radiates like chemical heat from empathy and inability to understand apathy. It is one thing to be stuck to your father like glue to a seat in the face of a painted asteroid that does not look so painted but it is another, much lonelier thing to watch, and such a lonely thing to paint. Somehow, understanding that pain is soothing, like the pain is a shovel you can use to burry the outstretched hand again and again.

 There is no such shovel for the hands of the boy who paints. He watches and paints and paints, a vessel for the fusion of human and geological anatomy that seems inevitable and suddenly the deer who suck on sap and the lovers who love on roofs and the children who play below buildings made of lovers seem so much less like painted cogs and much more like clockwork, ticking and ticking down and rubbing and growing brittle and meaning so little.

 We realize now, like the green frog with blue eyes that watches his painter in an astronaut suit zoom and zoom paint that moves across an open sky, that these are the boy’s memories. How is it, then, that a boy who rode a train that could fly into the sky washes into the estuaries of the universe, the lights from dimming nebulae that go out like ceiling fans in old houses that have never been painted?

 It is a simple unmolding of a father and his boy as the man who could build trains that made those with imaginations feel like they would never die saves his son with a throw from a seat and a heave from his heart. The boy paints himself, falling further and further from his flying father, hand outstretched and heart breaking.

 He paints his father running into a rock with trails of red behind his train car like bursts of love from a still beating heart, and the universe is cleared.

 Colors mix and blend in the skies around but the lovers and fighters and Halloween trick or treaters are painted over and the sap on the tongue of the deer not far from home is gone too and everything is base and clear again and our boy with a brush flutters along, letting go of his brush and his palette and streams of white become nebulae that hardly work and barely sputter light into the cosmic reality of a sky that isn’t really a sky anymore.

 Memories are broken and our child who could paint frogs not much anything at all like a frog and men who could build trains and love women and have children suffers along again, tears falling from eyes that used to beg for dreams and fogging astronaut helmet windows.

 All that accompanies him is you, voiceless viewer from afar, and the frog with blue eyes cut out of memory that now chases in and out of the light the magic brush and palette that began and ended the skies and the grass and the heart next to you that beats and loves and loses.

 There is blackness that spreads above, leaky blackness like spilled juice on a table, flowing over every edge of this universe. Stars go out like dying light bulbs and though there is no sound you swear you can hear them cry as they flicker out and you wonder if that is the boy who once used a brush to touch the sky.

 Is he crying?

 You are the voiceless viewer and all you can do is come a bit closer to this boy stuck in the heated stickiness of his memories and listen. You hear nothing.

 There is no hand outstretched of your chest now, and you know there will never be again. There could never be anything that beats like the heart you were sold and bought as a child, and so you float, like the boy who wanted to be an astronaut, along the loneliness of space and you see the blackness above reaching the burning light of a painted star.

 You have never felt older than in this moment, accepting the death of this light and so you don’t close your eyes and you watch it go out.

 You wonder if the boy who once painted his dreams like stars is looking, too. From above you, and above the boy floats the frog, into the light of the remaining stars, and we are in a shadow now. This is not like a ceiling fan at all. We remember lying out on floors and feeling the beat of light on our faces as blades hummed and hawed around the room and that was dimmed and this is dead.

 It is in this shadow that you close your eyes; you are a child and you are afraid of the dark and it is in this darkness that your heart beats fast again and you feel like you might breath one more time because you feel like you’ve stopped breathing .

 There are things that you cannot change that will never stop hurting, that seem to go on forever and ever like trains meant to fly, exploding in the sky. You will never understand that. You will never be at peace with that.

 But you open your eyes again because you know, more than any boy could be asked to know, that it’s so easy to forget the good parts. It’s too easy. You can’t run away from the train meant to fly that explodes in the sky because you remember the boy with the smile melded to the side of his father in Claymation scenes and you feel their laugh in your heart and maybe even deeper than that.

 It is here voiceless viewer that the hand in your chest unburies itself and you push forward because that’s what you need to do and when you feel afraid and like you can’t take another step forward, your imagination will do the rest.

 You’re not voiceless now because you cannot be and so you remind the child who once painted the stars and heavens above with a brush that it is okay to imagine.

 Open your eyes.

 And so you both open your eyes and you both see the magic that unfolds in front of you like the limbs of a great tree. The green of our friend the frog who wasn’t much of a frog at all has run through the sky like apple juice spilled over the mess of dark paints and stains and there is light again as more colors from a painter’s palette sprinkle like stars through the universe.

 We see our boy, painted against the side of his father in a train that flies through the sky, running through a different part of the universe. There are fireworks around, space candy sweet for the eyes of young children and their fathers who dreamt of things with eyes shut tight and never stopped that dreaming.

 We are far before any explosions that wiped the sky of its stars now, in one of the many flights with this boy who paints with a brush and the man who built trains. We see them smiling, laughing and hugging.

 Keep your eyes open.

 If you miss the smile of a child, if you don’t look around you and see the flowers blooming, you’ll miss all the happiness this sometimes-cruel world has to offer. There are fathers who have to save their sons, and children who float through space that you cannot help, but there are also trains that run so fast and high that they fly into the sky and you can only see them in the eyes of a child who saw them in the blue eyes of a frog that isn’t much like a frog at all.

 Above you, and above the train full of laughter and love, there is a green explosion, like a great galactic firework peeling out of the sky.

 You notice, then, that even the green of a firework, named, “Firework Green,” by some older man sitting behind a desk at a crayon company, can look something quite like a frog and something not like it at all.

 There are blues for his eyes, and you can’t help but laugh, you voiceless viewer. 

 The boy in front of you, the one who painted the universe, smiles and laughs, too. He laughs so hard that he has to close his eyes.

 That’s quite alright.

 The End.

~ Tanaka Dandy