#i think he shot him when he broke the cockpit window

[calllynx]

Another interesting thing in Mouthwashing is the loose nature of the diagetic elements. Like Swansea's monologue, the best scene in the game. Did Jimmy hallucinate that? Definitely not, he's not capable of coming up with any of that. But also, did they have that conversation? I don't think so either. I don't think Swansea would open up to Jimmy and I don't think Jimmy would listen. But do I think that monologue is true? Absolutely. I think it's some inner truth of Swansea's that is just made a part of the game, without any real narrative justification like him saying it outright or someone imagining it.

[hardlyinteresting]

On The Beach

Jake Seresin x Reader

 “Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!” Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?”

Warnings: The reader is referred to as she/her, with no physical description, nudity, idiots in love, (please let me know if you'd like me to tag anything please),I grew up in an Army household so some of my Navy knowledge may be slightly off base (no pun intended)

This one-shot will exist in the same universe as other one-shots I have planned. But, they can all be read entirely independently.

Word count: 2K Masterlist | talk to me about Jake and Tyler

July had been unforgiving with heat; sweltering days, broken up by occasional rains that cooled the air but left behind intolerable humidity. August was built up as a promise of relief but instead, she steamrolled the record-setting temperatures of July with her own. 

95°F felt like some kind of cruel trick already, but the air conditioning at The Hard Deck cutting out halfway through a shift was a new kind of torture entirely. 

She’d been quick to help Penny to open up all the doors and windows to all the mild relief of the ocean breeze blowing through, bringing in a flood of daylight so uncommonly seen inside the cozy bar. 

The ice machine set to work overtime, fresh kegs of beer ready to pour by the time the usual crowd of regulars began to pile in. Stripped down to a tank top and shorts she ties her hair up to keep it off the back of her neck, desperate to get through this shift in one piece. With just the two of them behind the bar, she does her best to keep up with the seemingly endless pile of orders, reminding the pilots and veterans to take a glass of ice water as well. 

“Hey Sugar,” Hangman flirts leaning against the counter. It’s not fair that he looks so cool and collected, his khaki uniform still perfectly pressed, his hair neatly styled while she thinks she might be melting with the feeling of sweat on her back. She’s sure she looks a mess, but Hangman doesn’t take his eyes off of her as he waits for her to take his order. 

Jake is certain that despite the shower he took on base, he still smells like jet fuel. The hottest day of the year might not have been so bad under the shade of a big tree back home, a soft breeeze blowing through the branches of sweet-olive trees. He'd spent enough summers in Texas to know how to muck through the dog days. But on base, the heat radiates up from the black top tarmac, threatening to melt the soles of their issued boots. Up in the air, the glass canopy of the cockpit feels like a magnifying glass; doubling both the discomfort of intense flight training, and the intensity of the sun's contributions to the torrid day. 

Stripping off his flight suit and stepping into a cold shower had been a relief, matched only by the promise of a beer at The Hard Deck to end the week. 

The doors and windows were open when he arrived, a wall of humid and stagnant heat rolling from inside the establishment nearly had him turning around to head home before he spotted her. Sugar, with her hair pulled back, sweat gathering across her collarbone and chest, white tank top clinging to her in ways he previously could only imagine. She's a sight for sore eyes, and now leaning against the bar he has no intention of going anywhere else tonight. 

“Beer?” she asks him. 

He nods his confirmation, “bottle please,” he adds. “It’s hot in here today”. 

“AC broke,” she sighs, “Mav is up on the roof trying to fix it now”. 

“I’m not sure there’s much he can’t do,” he shrugs, “Drink some water. I can’t have you passing out, Sugar”. 

She does her best to ignore the flirtatious wink he throws her way. She knows he's a relentless philanderer, she's seen how quickly he can manage to find a date for the night. He's handsome beyond a doubt, and by far one of the kindest patrons she has, but she's not looking to be heartbroken. And friendship has suited the two of them just fine for the last few months, no reason to mess with a good thing. 

After two weeks of working at The Hard Deck, she'd finally given in to The Dagger Squad’s insistence that she join them at the pool table after her shift. Hangman had been a surprisingly gracious loser when she ran him out of 50 bucks. A few weeks later Jake and Bradley had thrown a drunk guy out of the bar when he'd given her a hard time and refused to pay his own tab let alone the rounds ordered at the sound of the bell. 

She had tried to thank him but he'd only given her a curt nod, “Nothing to thank me for, Sugar”. 

So she smiles back at his teasing grins, laughs at his jokes, and blows kisses and he playfully pretends they knock him over. It’s easy, it’s fun. “I know you’re just trying to keep your heart in one piece,” Penny tells her, “but don’t break his either”. 

No one sticks around too long, too tired, and far too warm to take up their usual challenges at the pool table. The sun has gone down by the time Mav comes in to let Penny know he had no luck fixing the AC unit before stopping by the table Bob, Coyote, and Hangman have settled at. Hangman has stripped down to his white undershirt, the T-shirt clinging to his chest and back, the sleeves drawing her attention to his arms that she's caught herself staring at too often to count. 

“Heading out?” She asks when Hangman comes up to the bar, getting ready to close out his tab, “You only had one beer tonight”. 

He nods, “Well, it'd be irresponsible for me to have more. I'm giving you a drive home”. 

She grins, slipping the bill across the counter, “I don't remember you asking me”. 

“Mav’s orders,” he answers easily, with a seriousness that makes her think he really isn't just joking with her. 

“Penny's actually, I was just the messenger,” Maverick holds up his hands in innocence. 

Penny calls last call early, before dismissing her for the night, “cool off. Go home,” she instructs leaving no room for argument. 

The night air feels lighter, though not as refreshing as expected, the breeze cooling the tack of sweat against her balmy skin. The sound of the ocean meeting the beachside echoes in the uncharacteristic quiet. She breathes out a sigh her head tilted back and arms out trying to make the best of the gust of wind blowing by. 

“C’mon,” Jake laughs, “I'll crank the AC for you”. 

She pouts a little in return. The glow from the fluorescent light inside the bar floods out across the deck patio, casting shadows out in front of them. He’s standing a good five feet behind her, but his bedimmed counterpart stretches out next to her own, overlapping as he steps closer. The moonlight shines brightly over the white sand below and it strikes her that despite working beachside all summer, she’s yet to step foot on the beach. Jake smirks, his head tilted towards the beach that's captured her attention. “Let’s go cool off,” his words a playful mimicry of Penny’s instructions.

Without protest, she follows him. His grin grows impossibly bigger, clearly pleased with himself as he watches her shuffle out of her socks and shoes, her footsteps so much smaller than his own, she struggles to keep up, but he never lets her fall too far behind. He moves quickly in the dark, the sand still warm underfoot. Nearing the water's edge he slows his pace. She’s gorgeous in the moonlight. She’s always pretty. His usual coquetry shrinks on the tip of his tongue; lost to thoughts and curiosities about her favourite bands, and what might make her laugh. He’s found himself growing somewhat softer as he thinks back to the night he met her, watching her glide through the room oblivious to the attention she’d managed to capture. Her smile lit up the room as she danced with her friends. Her laughter was loud and uproarious, very near infectious. 

His white shirt hits the sand in an unceremonious pile by her feet. 

“Jake Seresin! You better not be doing what I think you’re doing!”

Shirtless he backs towards the ocean continuing to remove his shoes, socks and pants, “And what do you think I’m doing, Sugar?” “I think you're trying to get me to go skinny dipping with you!” He laughs, “I ain't trying. I'm succeeding”. 

There's not an ounce of shame, nor an ounce of clothing on him as he wades into the water, not turning around to look at her again until his in up past his waist. “C’mon,” he calls to her, “the waters lovely!” 

She's always considered herself to be pretty easy going. But the idea of stripping naked to join Hangman on this oceanic side quest leaves her stomach tied in knots. She's seen enough of him playing football with the squad that she's not shocked by his broad shoulders, nor the expanse of his chest. She knows that standing on the beach, in a tank top a shorts that cling to her the way they do, she has little to hide her own form. But joining Jake in the water will surely only add to the tension they've allowed to build between them. How different is the ocean from an expanse of bedsheets when you're standing naked with Jake Seresin? 

“You have to promise you won't look!” She calls to him, pulling her top up over her head. 

“I promise,” he says, “scouts honour !” 

“Boy scouts? I'm sure you sold a lot of cookies with all that charm of yours”.

She shimmies out of her shorts, hesitating in her bra and underwear. Jake stands with his back to her holding up his end of the deal. 

“Cookies are the Girl Scouts, Sugar,” he corrects, but she can practically hear him grinning, “but I did earn my fundraising activity badge selling tins of popcorn”. 

Bare, she makes a mad dash into the water, splashing as she works to cover as much of herself as possible. 

“So,” she smiles, “you come here often?”

Her voice is quiet as she hopes that the joke lands, her knees bent to keep her top half under the cover of the unlit water. She tries to play cool. Jake, to his credit, plays along without missing a beat. “I can't say I do, Sugar. The dress code is too loose for my taste”.

“Ah, yes, of course. I forgot you're known for being a prude, Hangman”.

A gentle, yet unexpected wave pushes into the shoreline, knocking her sideways. Jake is quick to wrap his hand around her upper arm, not letting her get too far. This close, it’s impossible to hide from the gaze of his warm green eyes. He smells like cedar and amber. Warm and clean. Beneath it, the smell of jet fuel lingers. She knows how hard he must try to scrub it from himself at the end of each day, and she wonders if it might just be in his blood at this point. Another wave pushes them closer together once more. 

He clears his throat, trying hard not to think about how close circumstance has brought them; he weighs the validity of fate but pushes it down deep inside certain that one day these unlabelled feelings might just explode in his chest. For now, he startles when a sudden splash of water is directed towards his face. Sugar feigns innocence, but starts to paddle away from him as he blinks away the water from his eyes. 

“Sugar,” he warns, “don’t start something you don’t want to finish”. His own hands, larger than hers cup more of the ocean's surface propelling it in her direction with a great slosh, the sound echoing on the empty beach.

Up on the deck, Penny and Maverick watch the two distant figures throwing water, their laughter audible even when their words aren’t.

“Do you think they know there are sharks in that water?” 

Penny shrugs, “Do you think they know they’re half in love with each other yet?”

[saddie-0420]

Jimmy headcannons

Alternative Universe where Jimmy isn't a sicko rapist or a broney(Don't shoot me if you think they suck)

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

-Age isn't really specified within the game but I'd say he's about 35

- Grew up with Curly known him his whole life from kindergarten till the timing of the game

(Curly has many photos of them as kids and well into their teen years Jimmy hates most of the photo mainly his awkward teen years)

-Grew up in the foster care system but wasn't pushed house to house he stayed in one house that was just mentally abusive

-Got very violent around 13 got in trouble a lot in school even fought his only friend a few times (Curly) but because Curly is so forgiving they made up usually a week after fighting

(I'd say most of their fights were just Jimmy taking out his anger on Curly because Curly had a better life than him)

-We all know regular Jimmy is fucked up in the head so he's probably Bipolar and gets medicated for it

(he definitely be skipping taking his crazy meds)

-probably also in and out of mental institutions cause like I said he's prob bipolar

-Very good at card games like war and go fish

(One time during casual game night on the ship they were playing war like 1v1 till it was only Jimmy and Swansea left, Jimmy won and Swansea tried to fight Jimmy cause he lowkey don't like Jimmy in any Au and they broke the table and Swansea fell back on it💀)

-Was probably that kid that always had a bowl cut or a buzz cut till like 7th grade and he started growing his hair out

-Hair is greasy no matter what he uses on it

-Id say he favorite band is Nirvana because it's all him and Curly listened to when they were teens and his fav song is 'Smells like teen Spirit'

(Yes that song is overrated but it's a good song and Nirvana being his fav band is half way cause he shot himself like Kurt Cobain plus he gives off Nirvana vibes)

-has a bit of a alcohol problem

-was a good beer pong player in high school despite being a social loser

-has one of those pin poke tats he did when he was like 15 and it's a star near his heart

(he also tried to give one to Curly but curly refused and had to hop out Jimmy's window to escape from jimmy trying to prick him, Jimmy made fun of him for running away but jimmy is kinda embarrassed by the star cause it's "Feminine")

-got a tongue piercing when he was struggling mentally it was before Curly got him a job at Pony Express

(The piercing is a plastic bar with two star shaped balls on each end of the bar the stars are to match his pin poke tat)

-Lowkey likes taking Daisuke's game boy to play Mario

(Daisuke found this out one night when he was looking for it and found Jimmy in the cockpit beating his high score in Mario, Daisuke gets mad every time Jimmy asks what's the high score on Mario but whooped Jimmy's ass in Tetris)

-Has rage quit Tetris because he's impatient and doesn't understand the game

-He cut his hand open one time and Anya had to sew it up he found it ever interesting watching her do it

-Curly has had to shove Jimmy's Bipolar meds down his throat

(Curly did feel bad but he just wants his Co-pilot to stay sane to keep the crew safe)

-has old scars on his knuckles from punching walls in his teen years

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

Thats all I can get off the top of my head but if yall got any message me on them cause I love interacting with people😚🫶❤️

[biblicallyaccuratebeskar]

Metal Home

Read Chapter 4 Here

Also on AO3

Chapter 5/22: ~1.6K words

Deal

Oh. I stared into the sack, mouth agape. I was holding in my hands more currency than I’d ever possessed at one time.

I looked into the shiny glinting metal in the bag and decided that this was a new beginning. A vacation maybe. And I could go anywhere I wanted. The ancient forests of Endor? Maybe the bustling casinos of Canto Bight?

That all did sound intriguing, but I knew where I needed to go.

“Fexin. I want to go to Fexin, please.”

He typed in the coordinates and we shot into hyperspace.

The whole time he didn’t speak a word.

——

Bursting through the humid atmosphere, the watery surface of Fexin materialized into view. We landed on a dock built for ship parking. I could see the small sea town out the windows of the cockpit and my heart skipped a beat.

The Mandalorian hadn’t moved a muscle. I guessed it was my cue. It all felt weirdly unceremonious considering what we’d just been through.

“Uh. Thanks, Mando.”

I admit, I was a little miffed he didn’t even say goodbye. But like I said - nav droid.

Some weird part of me was sad I wouldn’t be around to study his quirks anymore.

But that was it. I climbed down the ladder and opened the hull, sea air flooding the cabin.

I stepped off the Razor Crest and inhaled a deep breath. New beginning. I liked the sound of that.

I stepped forward when-

“Wait!”

Turning, I saw the Mandalorian rushing down the hull’s ramp towards me. Did I forget something? Did he?

“The wiring. You know how to maintain a Crest?” He was still hung up on that wiring job?

“Yeah. My dad worked on vintage ships. Taught me how to upkeep them. You know, so they can still fly.”

He huffed out a laugh and my eyes widened. I couldn’t resist not basking in the moment a little.

“Did I just make a Mandalorian laugh? Holy Maker, call the authorities to mark it as a holiday.”

He sighed. “I-...you fight good.”

It was my turn to laugh. He didn’t speak a word to me on the way here, so what was this about?

The Mandalorian tilted his head down and squared his face to mine. “I could use a co-pilot to care for the ship, help me out on trickier bounties like Xila.”

I didn’t have a response to that. My mouth dropped into a little “O”. “I’d pay you commission.”

Holy shit, I’d just gotten offered a job to be a bounty hunter. A bounty hunter! Truly the galaxy was turning upside down. I broke away from his gaze and stared out into the Fexin Sea, not knowing what to do.

Well, I could do the one thing I came here to do first.

“I came here with my parents when I was thirteen. It was the first time I went off world, for my birthday,” I told him. “And when we came here, I’d say maybe a ten minute walk or so that way, there was this restaurant that had the best chowder I’d ever eaten. I think about that chowder.”

The Mandalorian looked at me, and even through the beskar I could feel his bewilderment. “You wanted to come here...for soup?” “Yes. So the least you could do is buy me dinner while we talk this over.”

——

It tasted just like I remembered and it was all I could do so my eyes did not roll back in my head from the enjoyment. The Mandalorian sat across from me in the bustling restaurant. A kindly waitress stopped coming by after he refused anything to eat twice. In the small tourist town he looked jarringly out of place, all shiny and stiff in a quaint little cafe. I forgot about the helmet and felt a little bad that he couldn’t partake, but I was also enjoying his blatant discomfort a little more than I should have.

“I don’t know how you deal with ration packs when you’re able to fly to places like this,” I said, finishing my bowl. He huffed in response.

“So,” I continued, “you want me to be your co-pilot. And you’d pay me.”

“Yes.”

“How much?”

He gave me an estimate based on a month’s hunt. It made my bartending salary look like chump change.

“Where would I live?”

“On the Crest.”

“With you?”

“Yes, with me.” I could sense some annoyance creeping into his voice, but I wanted to get all the facts straight.

“Okay, okay. And I would essentially be your mechanic?”

“And help out with some bounties. Not the easy ones.” Well, but of course.

I nodded, tracing my finger along the wood grain in the table. The bar job was only ever a stepping stone for me. I just never knew any sort of direction beyond that. As for the actual hunting aspect, I had proved myself. Xila’s rifle with that Empire crest loomed in my mind, and I said what I was thinking before I lost the courage to. “I’ll do it, but on one condition.”

His posture perked up. “Name it.”

“You said you could tell if a job was for the New Republic or Empire remnants. We only take jobs that benefit the New Republic.” “What?” he exclaimed. I knew this wouldn’t go over well, but I held my ground.

“I won’t do anything to benefit a dead Empire. And besides, if I’m on board you’ll be able to take more jobs even if you lose some. It’s not like you’re struggling, you’re covered in beskar.”

He looked away, clenching his fist, and for a moment I realized I might have blown this. I couldn’t let that happen, not when I’d just realized I truly wanted it.

“Look around this room, Mando. I would bet anything that not one person in here was untouched by the Empire. Every person had something taken for them, whether it be their home or their freedom. Their family.” His head shot up with dangerous precision. “I’m finally in the position to do something about it. And I don’t think you’re exempt from the shit the Empire did.”

He was deadly quiet after that, just staring at me, before letting out a deep sigh.

“Fine. We try that, but if my quota suffers, we’re done.”

My shoulders slumped in relief. I reached out my hand across the table.

“Well then, Mando, I think we have a deal.”

He took my hand, his grip firm. “Yes, we do.”

——

Leaving the restaurant I had an idea.

“Hey, you go back to the ship, I’ll catch up,” I say, ducking back through the doorway. I approach the waitress Mando scared off.

“Hi there, sorry about him. He’s not used to...all of this. Do you have any containers I could get some chowder in to take with me?” ——

“I’m back!” I called, coming into the hull with chowder in hand, very pleased with myself. He was tinkering with some blaster, sitting on a cargo bin.

“One more condition,” I said to him grinning as I handed him the container. He took it, looking at it intently in his hands.

“Thank you,” he responded, soft and earnest.

Maybe this was going to turn out just fine.

We decided to stay in the Crest on Fexin for the night, planning on setting out in the morning. I sat outside as he ate, looking out at the waves reflecting the light of the moons above, and had a horrible thought.

What would my parents think? Would they be disappointed in me for taking a position as a bounty hunter?

“Why do we hide the books, momma? They’re sooo pretty. I bet other people would like to read them, too.”

“Well, baby, not everyone wants us to have them. Some people think they say too much, put bad ideas into people’s heads.”

“Bad, like what?”

“Like...kindness. Curiosity. Truth-seeking.”

“But I thought those things were good things!”

“Very good, Larkin, they are! But you see, some very bad people do not think that. And those people would not be kind if they knew we had them. These books are very old, older than you and me. And it is our job to protect them until the bad people go away.”

“But why do we protect them, momma?”

“Because, my baby, that is what we do. We do the right thing, don’t we? Now, can you keep this a secret close to your heart?”

“Yes, momma. I can be good.”

I roughly wiped away the sudden tears that snuck down my cheek, sniffing. Mando had agreed to not take any Empire jobs. Maybe I could actually put the skills I’d learned to do something good. I could be good.

I closed my eyes as the wind dried my tear stains.

“Hey.” Mando’s voice shook me out of my thoughts. “I’m going to lock up for the night. You should come in.”

I was standing in the hull when I realized I didn’t know where I’d sleep. On the floor, I guessed. I just hoped he at least had a blanket. “You’ll be sleeping in the bed,” he said, as if he’d read my mind. “Huh? No, it’s yours! I’ll find somewhere else.”

“That wasn’t a suggestion.”

He started climbing up the ladder to the cockpit, leaving me dumbfounded.

“We leave for Nevarro in the morning,” he called down, then silence. I guess I was alone for the night.

Crawling up onto the mattress, I found it was firm and there wasn’t a blanket, but my body screamed in thanks when I reclined out.

I barely had any time to think about whose bed I was in before I fell asleep.

[june-girl-86]

Chapter 45

Din has finally arrived on the planet and meets his family!

Pairing: Din Djarin x OC Female!

ReaderRating: Mature/Explicit (+18)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Violence / Love / Action&Adventure / Blood&Violence / Drama & Romance / Slow Burn / Fluff&Smut

A stabbing headache woke Liara up. She rubbed her temples, next to her Fara stirred. The girl gasped excitedly, but when she spotted Liara, she relaxed a bit.

"Mama!" she whispered, pressing herself against Liara. She gulped, touched, and returned the hug.

"It's okay honey!" she said, lovingly running her hand over the girl's hair. She looked to the pilot's chair and saw Din slumped forward on the fittings. Liara broke away from Fara.

"I have to go check on Din!"

Fara nodded as Liara walked over to Din and gently touched him on the back.

"Din?"

She could feel the movement as he breathed, but he was still unconscious. He seemed to have hit his head, the redness on his forehead would surely develop into a bump. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. As she did so, her eyes fell out the window for the first time. They were no longer in space, but on a planet. Liara could make out a rock wall, trees, and a wide meadow on which they stood. She wondered how they had landed safely and what kind of planet it was. A muffled sound rang out and Liara turned around, startled. It sounded like someone had opened the ramp. Fara began to shake again and, like Liara, looked toward the ladder that led into the cockpit. The person was still down there, but if he came to them, Liara had to find something to defend herself with.

"Din, please wake up!"

She shook Din by the shoulder, but he still didn't respond.

"Dank Farrik!" she cursed, then Liara spotted Din's weapon; he had indeed taken the blaster with him. The dark saber was safely stored in the weapons cabinet. Liara pulled the blaster from the holster and aimed it at the hatch. Fara gestured her to hide next to the bench. The girl crouched in the corner and covered her eyes with her hands. A creak came up from below and Liara shook slightly with her outstretched arm. The creaking repeated itself and then suddenly a small person jumped into the cockpit. In shock, Liara fired, but her counterpart held up her hand and the shot fizzled out.

"I don't want to hurt you!"

Liara lowered the gun and Fara blinked curiously through her fingers.

"Who are you?" asked Liara, licking her lips nervously. Her skin had begun to tingle again, as it had on Gelgelar when Thule had used the Force and when she had first met Ahsoka.

"I'm Dagli, and I think we should talk until the young man comes around!"

The ringing in his ears brought Din out of unconsciousness and in the background he heard soft voices. He blinked several times and opened his eyes. The light dazzled, he groaned slightly and quickly closed his eyes again. Din heard the footsteps, felt the breeze next to him and opened his eyes. He looked into two yellowish eyes staring at him from a green face with pointed ears. Gray hair sprouted wildly from a chignon.

"Grogu?" muttered Din in irritation, and his counterpart looked over her shoulder.

"You were right. He's confused!"

The giggle was clearly coming from Liara, which made him sit up carefully. Din shook his head and could see the stranger eyeing him skeptically. Behind her, Liara sat on the bench with Fara. So they were still in the silver lining.

"I don't quite understand!" muttered Din, leaning back in the pilot's chair. That's when he noticed that the stranger was up to his knees. She was clearly not Grogu, he had since determined that for himself.

"That's Dagli, Thule told us about her!", Liara informed Din and he nodded. The head movement gave him a headache and he felt an incipient bump on his forehead.

Dagli clapped her wrinkled hands and she smiled at Din.

"We should get going slowly. Please get your things together so I can take you to Lean!"

Din looked after her as she just jumped down the ladder as if she were a youngster. But of course he could be fooled by looks, he had already been wrong about Grogu. He followed the women down, Liara handed him a painkiller, which he gratefully accepted with a big gulp of water, and he dabbed his forehead with a bacta ointment. After that, he helped her pack.

A pleasant breeze brushed through her hair as they walked down the ramp. Din carried next to a bag, his helmet in his hand. He wanted to be able to see this new world clearly with his eyes. He also breathed in the fresh air deeply, a relief after the long time in space. Liara and Fara did the same. He also took a moment to look around more closely. The silver lining stood on a plateau, in a meadow full of wildflowers and tall grasses. There were also other spaceships in the vicinity, with some the land supports were already overgrown, other, large transport ships again seemed to be always in motion, there the grass was pressed flat and around it were small trails. The plateau itself was surrounded by bare mountain slopes and a pine forest. A joyful squeal sounded and Din now followed Liara. Fara had already run ahead with Dagli. The girl stood in front of an orbak, there to pull the carriage that was attached to it. The animal just tore off some of the grasses and chewed on them. As Fara approached, the orbak lowered its head and sniffed curiously at Fara's hand. She looked uncertainly at the adults, but Dagli encouraged her. She lifted her little arm and Aru, as she called the orbak, bent down and let Dagli cuddle him. Fara followed suit and beamed all over her face as Aru licked her hand. Dagli pulled out a carrot from her shoulder bag and handed it to Fara. Fara held the carrot out to the big animal and he gently took it from the child's hand. Dagli gently stroked the orbak up and down his leg and praised him.

"I could use some reinforcement on my coachman's stool!" smiled Dagli and Fara nodded excitedly. She turned to Din and Liara, fidgeting.

"Can I sit up front?"

Liara laughed affirmatively and Din agreed as well.

As the carriage began to move, heading for the pine forest, Din noticed that a solid path led through it. He leaned over to Liara as they passed the first trees and asked her if Dagli had told her anything. Liara denied with a smile.

"She wanted to wait until you were awake so she wouldn't have to say it so often!"

Din shook his head, then cleared his throat.

"Dagli?"

The raised her hand; she had heard him despite the clatter of hooves.

"How did we land safely despite being unconscious? And where are we exactly?"

The questioned looked back at Liara.

"You were right again!"

At that, she gently poked Fara in the side and the girl giggled.

"How long was I unconscious?" he asked Liara, uncomfortable with this banter between women. Liara leaned against his shoulder reassuringly and smiled.

"I told her you had many questions and she said that was typical of Clan Djarin!"

She kissed him on the cheek and Dagli nodded, having listened to the conversation.

"You are like Lean when I met him on Gelgelar. He was no stranger to Jedi, but he too had trouble understanding everything. He was so inquisitive and desperate for us to leave a clue for you. He never lost hope that he would see you again one day! You must have gone that way with Thule too!"

Din affirmed.

"The power of the Dark Saber is strong, it helped Lean and you, even if he didn't have it by then!"

Din immediately reached for his belt.

"From where?"

He could literally hear Dagli smiling.

"I don't need to see him. I sense him just as I sense the crystal and your wife's gift. Even if there is still discord within her!"

She looked back at Liara and she nodded, caught.

"Then I hope you will allow me to teach you!"

Liara nodded again.

"Thule hinted that you would be a good teacher!"

Dagli laughed heartily.

"I will. We don't have to start right away, but we still have to start soon!"

Then she fell silent, and Din realized that she had not answered any of his questions. As he was about to ask, he noticed how the forest was thinning and they would soon leave it. The trees had given them shade and they were briefly blinded by the brightness. But then a fabulous view, the lake embedded in mountain ranges, opened up to them. Between steeply rising, partly green mountain slopes, the wide shores and extensive meadows lay in this valley a large clear lake shimmering in the sun with smaller islands as far as the eye could see. In it romped a few boats that had presumably gone out to fish. Those who were on their way back headed for one of the several villages that had settled on the lake and looked like small grains of sand from here. Cypresses dead-straight, spread down the slope, next to red-flowering oleander, myrtle bushes and single cactus plants.

Dagli stopped the carriage and let this impression affect the newcomers. Several birds circled above them before the thermals allowed them to glide on. The tops of the mountains, some of them covered with snow. Din reached for Liara's hand, took a deep breath. It was so peaceful. Dagli rose from her seat, looked at them all.

"Welcome to Nyanja. The small town that lies here is Ardoa. There are a few other smaller villages, but mainly this is where most of the inhabitants live. The planet is not very densely populated, not anymore!"

Then Dagli signaled to Aru and the orbak started moving again.

The narrow road wound down in switchbacks and more could be seen from curve to curve. On the slopes it bloomed more and more, the further they drove down. At one point, Dagli stopped again and they looked out at countless vines, with workers with droids walking among them, checking the growth of the plants and grapes.

"This is just one of many vineyards. A vineyard your uncle owns..."

Din was about to say something, but Liara interrupted him. Something had occurred to her.

"Ardoa? That's the name of a wine I once bought on Tatooine!"

Dagli confirmed.

"Yes, the wine is made here and drunk throughout the galaxy!"

Dumbfounded, Din and Liara looked at each other.

"I thought you guys were hiding?"

Dagli sighed.

"That's what we do. But people have to live on something, too. Lean had been looking for you Din for a long time, but your traces had been so covered that he had to admit to himself that he could not do it. But he had not given up hope despite all the blows of fate. When we heard about the new owner of the Dark Saber, he was sure it was you!"

"Why live here when the New Republic now provides security?", Din wanted to know and in the next moment he regretted his words. After all, he himself knew how this security was on shaky ground.

"This appearance of security and peace is deceptive. Evil can lurk anywhere and perhaps it still slumbers in someone, but eventually it breaks out..."

Dagli glanced over her shoulder.

"This planet is protected by technology and the Force. That's how I was able to guide your ship!"

Din's questions were answered so far, he realized now how nervous he was getting, because he had never been so close to his family as he was now. He felt his heart suddenly beat faster at the realization that he would soon meet the people he belonged to. Din clenched his hands into fists, his fingers tingling. Liara noticed this, reached for his hand and placed hers around it. She also distracted him by now asking Dagli a question.

"Where are you from Dagli? Are there any others of you besides Grogu?"

Dagli was silent and Din and Liara thought they probably wouldn't get an answer to that, but then Dagli sighed.

"How old is this Grogu?"

Din told her about Grogu and she nodded.

"The gaps are getting longer and longer... There used to be a lot of us, but then Mother slept longer and longer!"

Din frowned. As if noticing this, even though Dagli was looking down the road, she continued to speak. She looked beside her, at Fara, who was looking curiously at the scenery.

"We cannot reproduce like you or other life forms. Our mother always awakens when it is time to give birth and helps us get through the first years of life. Then she sends us on the journey across the galaxy to be taught by other power intensives and maybe someday be able to teach that gift and knowledge on ourselves!"

Liara leaned over and gently touched Dagli on the back, having heard sadness from the voice.

"And is it here, this world where you were born?"

Dagli shook her head.

"I can only remember mother, her warmth, her heartbeat and her calm voice! And then it was time to say goodbye and the light took us. No here, I actually lived with two brothers before we left to explore the other worlds with the Jedi whose home it has been here. That was many, many and long years ago. And then, my brothers died when the Jedi extinction began. I had retreated to Gelgelar much earlier to keep watch in the shrine. There Thule fled, also he had been hunted. On Gelgelar we were safe in spite of all the ruffians and criminals, for they too feared the Empire and would have done themselves no favors to betray..."

In the meantime, they had arrived in the valley, a fork opened up in front of them and besides the cargo speeder, the inhabitants also moved on with orbaks. Dagli pointed to a place, explained that there would be one of the ports, where most of them brought back their catch and processed it further. They turned right, to the left was now the large lake, to the right of them fields and meadows, some fenced, where various farm animals grazed. They passed through one of the villages, those who were outside stopped and stared after them. They heard Dagli laugh out loud.

"I guess it won't be a surprise for Tauno when I arrive with you!"

They left the town behind, passed larger halls where grapes were stored and wine was made. Then another small town opened up in front of them, houses to the right and left, overgrown with flowers and palm trees, which perfectly suited the climate.

And then Dagli stopped with her carriage. They were on a large paved forecourt, overlooking the lake and a small bay where a few boats had docked. Dagli jumped down before Din could help her. Liara lifted Fara down and they looked questioningly at Dagli. The little woman went ahead and waved for them to follow. A few men walking across the forecourt stopped and stared after the group. They approached a cantina, the door hung with a very old-looking steering wheel of a ship, which bisected as it opened to let the newcomers in. Inside Din looked around, there were separate seating niches all around the sides, in the center of the room there was also seating at round tables. The wall covering and also the floor consisted of old dark boards, which had once sailed over the water as ships. The lamps were made of bottles, each of which gave off a different light due to the colored coating, in addition to the light of the sun that shone in through the wide windows. On the wall behind the counter hung a special crest, a tree with the mythosaur skull in its trunk. Din's pulse raced and his hands grew clammy as he realized he was in the right place. Din could see exactly how the men and women, it must have been lunchtime, the way the sun had been on the horizon, sat in their seats and now looked up from their food and it gradually became quieter. Even the clattering of dishes ended and the music that played in the background almost boomed in his ears.

"The crest!" groaned Liara behind him, she had spotted it too. Din nodded and he began to sweat under his armor. A deep voice asked from an adjoining room, behind the counter, what was going on. When it emerged and caught sight of the visitors, he froze. He held on to the counter, transfixed. Din noticed that he bore a resemblance to his father. Brown eyes, dark curly hair with lots of gray streaks, and a three-day beard. This had to be Tauno, his uncle. Liara heard the door open again, turned around and saw a young woman running in excitedly.

"Dad, Jaron contacted me. A Manda...!"

She faltered in mid-sentence as she saw her father finally move, walk around the counter, and stop just short of Din. He swallowed several times, then cleared his throat and took another step toward Din. His gaze traveled over Din, his armor, and then into Din's brown eyes.

"Din?"

Tauno's voice seemed brittle, emotional.

Din just nodded, speechless, like all the others in the room, but not at all aware of them at that moment. Tauno took another big step, then spread his arms and pulled Din to him. He hugged his nephew to him, feeling the trembling even through Din's armor.

"Boy!" groaned Tauno. A muffled thud followed; Liara flinched, startled. Din had dropped his helmet, and wrapped his arms around his uncle. His heart was beating up to his throat and his eyes were burning because he was trying forcefully to keep from crying. He felt moisture on his cheek, looked at his uncle as he cried and smiled happily at him. And then Din also released his tears, feeling relief and affection for these people he had never seen in his life, but knew immediately it was his family. And then those present hooted with joy. Fara pressed herself against Liara, who had to control herself not to cry too, and she could see that the young woman next to her felt the same way.

Tauno detached himself from Din and the two laughed liberatedly. He instructed his employee to buy everyone a drink to celebrate the day. Again there were shouts of joy. Din picked up his helmet, turned, beckoned Liara to him, and she tenderly ran her hand over his tear-wet cheeks. He introduced her and Fara to his uncle, and Tauno warmly embraced them both. He called the young woman to him, Halla, his daughter and Din's cousin. She too had shining eyes as they hugged.

"We should go to Lean!" said Dagli, when the mood had calmed down again. The latter had kept a low profile. Tauno noticed her only now and lifted her up, beaming with joy. Startled, she looked at him, but he squeezed her tightly and thanked her for everything before setting her back down on the ground. Halla offered to stay here to help the employees while her father would accompany Din.

They took Dagli's carriage again, they drove out of the village in silence, a vineyard was in the direction. Din was still overwhelmed, watching his uncle as he sat next to Dagli and spoke softly to her. He took a deep breath. Liara squeezed his hand and he looked to her. She could see the nervousness and excitement in his eyes. She smiled at him and he pulled her hand to his mouth, breathed a grateful kiss on her knuckles. Was grateful to be by his side and to experience this with her. The Orbak headed for a stone gate, behind which was the vineyard that belonged to the family, as Tauno now told them. Small bushy trees and flowers grew in the meadow, in front of the large building that had direct access to the lake. As they stopped in the courtyard, a woman came rushing out of the house, holding a communicator in her hands, shaking her head in disbelief.

"I thought Halla was joking with me!" she exclaimed.

Tauno smilingly denied it and introduced Din to his wife. Maila pulled Din into a hug, as did Liara and Fara. This would not be the last hug that day.

"Where is father?" asked Tauno to his wife.

"He's made himself comfortable on the terrace in his deck chair!"

Here Dagli said goodbye and when the carriage had left the property, Tauno took her into the house.

They had to pass through the hallway and came into a large living room, the doors of which were wide open to let in the pleasant breeze from the lake. Din noticed a figure on the terrace, but Tauno stopped him before they could go out.

"Din, I have to tell you this. He is very sick, his doctor only gave him a few more months and this has been some time now. And yet he gets up every day because he hasn't given up hope of seeing you again one day!"

Din swallowed and Liara felt the trembling in Din's hand. He hadn't let go of her the whole time, seeking support from her. She squeezed it tightly before letting go now that he could go out with Tauno. Din hesitantly stopped at the door as she watched Tauno lean down to the man, speaking softly to him and nodding his head in Din's direction.

Surprised, Din watched as his grandfather moved quickly and got to his feet with the help of a silver cane. He staggered briefly, but then had caught himself and was staring at the newcomers. Lean was the same height as he, only a little lankier, and his face looked spent. It was framed by gray hair and a thick beard. But when he caught sight of Din, his brown eyes began to sparkle and the wrinkles on his face seemed to have disappeared as he began to smile. Lean, after a few steps, had put the distance between them behind him, now standing in front of Din, who didn't know what to say and felt unsure despite his armor. He swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling scratchy. Heat flooded his body, he had the feeling that his legs were made of rubber. His heart pounded in his ears and Din thought everyone here had to hear it. Lean dropped his cane, Tauno, seemingly already practiced at this, caught it. Rough but warm hands touched Din's cheeks, stroking through his curly hair, and Din spotted tears in his counterpart's eyes.

"As if Tammo were standing here. And your eyes, your mother's!"

Din croaked awkwardly, lost for words. Lean's thumb ran over a small scar near Din's ear.

"Tammo had an injury here, too. He had fallen from the tree while climbing! Tauno, it's the same spot as yours!"

Lean looked to his son, who was scratching his temple with a grin.

"The Djarins are not good climbers!"

Din swallowed again. It had happened to him, too, when he was already with the Mandalorians and had not yet worn a helmet.

"Me too!" he whispered. Lean looked at Tauno in a detached way.

"Our clan is complete again!"

Then he hugged Din to him, and Din began to cry. He clung to his grandfather, briefly fearing he would crush him, and sobbed into his neck. Din had arrived. He had finally found his family. He felt this relief inside him, this feeling of happiness and love for other people that he had only ever felt with Grogu, Liara and Fara. That hug, Din didn't feel like a stranger was holding him. It was so normal, as if they had known each other forever. He didn't mind crying and showing his feelings openly. Lean also let his tears run free and gently ran his hand over Din's head. Tauno stood next to the two, touching each on an arm. Liara wiped the tears from her eyes that she had been able to hold back the first time. Maila grabbed her arm, this one also let her tears free. Words were superfluous at this moment. It was simply touching how the three men gave free rein to their feelings. Lean broke away from Din a bit, kissed him on the forehead, and then noticed Liara and Fara.

"Who did you bring here?"

Din ran his hand over his tear-soaked cheeks and beckoned his family to join him.

"This is Liara, my future wife, and our foundling Fara!"

Lean smiled and eyed his grandson.

"I think we have a lot to talk about!"

Din nodded, then Lean shook his head and turned directly to Liara.

"Sorry, I have a feeling we know each other!"

Liara smiled.

"My father was Elric..."

Tauno sucked in a surprised breath and Lean nodded.

"I thought so. You have your father's eye color. How is Alma?"

Liara shook her head sadly.

"She died of a broken heart after I was born!"

Lean gestured Liara to come closer so he could hug her tightly, then looked at her and Din.

"Now we've come full circle!"

Lean suddenly shook himself and looked at Maila.

"We really need to have dinner together tonight..."

Maila smirked.

"I've already assigned the droids. Now we should show our guests to their rooms so they can freshen up! They've had a long trip!"

Lean nodded, let Tauno give him his cane back, but held Din by the arm. He looked to Tauno.  

"I want to take the boy to the tree!"

Maila and Tauno nodded, took the luggage, and led Liara and Fara down the hall. Lean hooked up with Din and pointed with his cane in another direction they would both go.

Lean steered Din across the graveled courtyard, between palm trees, as they came to a meadow leading away from the wine hill. The first thing Din smelled was that fragrance so familiar to him, and then he could see the magnificent lemon tree standing, bearing many fruits. In front of its trunk stood a gray stone column, the central part hollowed out, in it flickered an infinite flame. Three white stone slabs were set in the ground. Din, although the sun sent down its warmth, got goose bumps. He guessed what this place meant, and as he stood in front of the slabs, he could see the names engraved in them. Din blinked, trying again to hold back the tears. Lean touched Din on the upper arm before Din crouched down, taking off his gloves. Carefully, his fingers slid over the writing. Tarja. He looked up at his grandfather and he smiled, from the look on his face, however, he was somewhere caught up in memories.

"Your grandmother. She was a wonderful woman. She died before we escaped, but I always carried her with me. Here she has found her place, and I too will soon be able to be with her and give my soul the rest that I denied her all these many years. When you stood before me just now, I felt that inner tension dissipate!"

Din swallowed, Lean patted him reassuringly on the shoulder, then Din turned back to the other plates. His hand trembled as he stroked his father's name, and when his finger touched his mother's first letter, tears dripped onto the stone, leaving their mark. He had been this close to his parents the last time they had fled together. The aroma of the lemons, transported him back to Aq Vetina, thought of the beautiful moments together with his parents, which he now remembered again and again.

@rain-on-kamino

[tricksters-captain]

Bucky Barnes imagines - Won’t you take it back?

AN: I don’t think this is my best Bucky fic but it’s inspired by my favourite Billie Eilish song ‘I love you’. 

Summary: On a flight back home from a mission, Bucky admits his feelings to you. 

Pairing(s): Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader, Steve Rogers x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,527

Warnings: ANGST, set pre infinity war and endgame but post civil war, Sad Bucky... Unrequited Love... Right person, wrong time love...

You sat back against your chair and closed your eyes.

Your whole body ached from the mission but at least you were on your way home. 

It hadn’t meant to be too strenuous a mission especially since it was just you and Bucky sent out but you had run into more trouble than you expected. Now your muscles were paying for that. 

“You okay?” Bucky asked you as he watched you from his own seat. 

“Just tired.” You lazily opened your eyes to look at the man. 

His dark hair was tied back out of his face but a few strands had escaped and were hanging loosely by his eyes. 

“Are you okay? You took a pretty bad beating back there.” You knew Bucky could handle it but it didn’t stop you from worrying. 

“I’m fine.” Bucky assured you. 

“You sure?” You cocked your eyebrows at the man. “Looks like those cogs are turning to me.” 

Bucky chuckled quietly as you tapped your temple with your index finger. 

“These flights just... They’re killing me.” Bucky scratched the back of his head as he leant forward. 

“It was Tony’s idea that we take a red eye. Means he doesn’t need to reorganise his entire day if we arrive in the morning to brief him on the mission.” 

“I get the concept of a red eye but in practise it makes me wish we never even learnt to fly.” Bucky couldn't help but grumble.

“If we weren’t flying right now, we’d probably be on some ship and that would take even longer to get back to the compound.” You said as you peered out of the window at the night sky. 

“I wouldn't mind that.” Bucky admitted, lifting his hand from the chair’s arm and slapping it back down. 

“Yes but Steve would.” You turned back to Bucky with a smile. “His best friend and his girlfriend leaving him at the compound for even longer than necessary without back up against Tony and Natasha... He wouldn’t be happy.”

Bucky’s smile faltered at the mention of Steve.

You didn’t notice. 

“You ever think about what our lives would have been if things were different?” Bucky asked you after a short moment of silence. 

“What do you mean?” You asked curiously. 

“What if you had met me before you met Steve?”

“Well I probably would have had my ass handed to me.” You reminded him that if that was the case then you would’ve met Bucky as the Winter Soldier. 

“That’s not what I meant.” Bucky murmured, shifting in his seat. 

“Then what did you mean, James?” You smirked at the man. 

“I meant what would have happened if you fell for me instead of Steve...” 

You were hoping it was some kind of trick question but the dark intensity in Bucky’s blue eyes relayed to you that it was serious. 

“What?” You laughed slightly to try and break the tension in the air. 

Bucky didn’t repeat himself. 

“Buck...” You started. “That type of question isn’t... I can’t answer...” You struggled to find the right answer. 

“It’s alright.” Bucky brushed it away. “It was a stupid question.”

The pain in Bucky’s eyes as he looked away made your heart seize. 

“Bucky...” You said softly, leaning forward slightly. “Buck, you know I love you.”

“Not in the way I want.” Bucky’s head shot back to look at you again. 

“Bucky...” 

“I love you, (Y/n).” Bucky confessed. “I love you the same way Steve does. The same way every guy who spends more than five minutes with you does. I love you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, Buck...” You shook your head as you rose from your seat. 

“Yes I do.” Bucky’s eyes followed you as you stood but he remained in his seat.

“No, no you don’t.” You turned your back on the man. “You can’t mean that. Y-You can’t mean that, Bucky, because I’m with Steve. I’m with your best friend. You can’t say that. You can’t tell me you love me...” 

“But I do.” Bucky’s voice held as much pain as his eyes had. “I love everything about you. I love your smile, I love your laugh, I love the way you always go for the same knife because you think it’s lucky, I love––”

“––Bucky please!” You cut him off, spinning around to face him again. 

He was now standing. Only a mere few feet away from you. 

“Take it back.” You whispered. “Please just take it back and I’ll forget you ever said anything and things won’t have to change.”

“They already have.” Bucky’s eyes began to water as he pushed a sad smile onto his face. 

The smile made your chest ache. 

“Buck...” You pressed your hand to your forehead as you closed your eyes. “Tell me you’re lying. Tell me this is all some kind of joke.”

“I have loved you from the start. I loved you before Steve did.” Bucky couldn’t lie about that. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” You asked. 

You watched a tear roll down Bucky’s face as he let eyes drop to the floor for a moment. 

“Because it was too late. When I saw you and him at the party, I-I... It was too late for me.”

“You were my best friend, Buck.. You could have told me.” 

“Would it have made a difference?” 

You closed your mouth, your jaw clenching as you searched for the right answer. 

But you couldn't find one. 

Piercing; your eyes stared back at Bucky’s with more words than you could ever say.

And within the blink of an eye, Bucky stepped towards you; wrapping his hand behind your neck and pulled you towards him. 

He kissed you. 

He kissed you.

And you kissed him back. 

The kiss was rough, desperate, his lips fought against your own. His salty tears rolled down into the kiss, onto your tongues. His hands scrambled for your skin, he touched your neck, your cheeks, your hair...

But you only let the kiss last what felt like seconds before you pulled away. 

“I can’t...” You gasped for air as you managed to tear yourself away from him. 

Bucky tried to step towards you again but you took a step back this time. 

“Bucky.” You whispered. “No.” 

“(Y/n)...” Bucky’s eyes sought after yours. 

You touched your lips with your fingers and let your eyelids close. 

What had you done?

...

“I won’t tell Steve if that’s what you’re worried about.” Bucky’s voice broke through your thoughts. You had been stood in silence for longer than you realised. 

“Bucky...” You went to speak but Bucky stopped you. 

“Will you just do something for me?” Bucky asked, his hands now resting on his hips. 

You nodded; not trusting your voice. 

“Will you just... Next time you’re with Steve will you just look at him. Just really look at him and ask yourself is he who you really want?”

“Bucky that’s ridic––”

“––Will you just do that?” Bucky sounded desperate. Almost angry. “For me? Just do that for me? Please.”

You chose not to respond but he knew it wasn’t a no.

Bucky walked past you to disappear into the cockpit to give the both of you some time. 

You sat back down in your seat and pulled your knees up to your chin. You buried your face into your knees as you tried to block out what had just happened. 

Bucky, your best friend, your boyfriends best friend had just confessed his feelings for you and then kissed you. And you kissed him back. 

You felt yourself start to cry but it wasn’t out of guilt but frustration.  

...

After a while, Bucky returned from the cockpit. He figured he couldn’t hide in there for the entirety of the flight without annoying the pilot. 

As he made his way back, he found you asleep in your seat with a frown painted across your features. 

He sighed quietly. 

He reached up and pulled a blanket out of the compartment above your head. He placed it over you gently before stroking his hand over your hair. 

He knew what he had done was wrong. He loved you but he also loved Steve. You were Steve’s and he had stolen a kiss that didn’t belong to him.

When you next opened your eyes, you had landed. You figured the fight with Bucky must've exhausted you enough to cause you to actually fall asleep. 

Bucky was already at the door waiting for it to open. 

You stood and stretched but you didn’t meet his eye. 

 “Welcome back.” Steve’s voice greeted the both you as you finally exited the plane. 

Steve hugged Bucky warmly before he turned to you. 

“Hey handsome.” You smiled brightly as you wrapped your arms around him. 

“Hello gorgeous.” Steve greeted you back with his own tight embrace. 

As your chin rested on Steve’s shoulder, you watched Bucky look back at you. He pressed his lips into a thin tight line as he slowly backed away to head inside the compound. 

“You alright?” Steve asked as he pulled away. 

“Yeah.” You forced a smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

AN: This was something a bit different but I hoped you liked it all the same.

Bucky Barnes Tag List

@florencxs @mystictimetravelcolor @yourphotographyteen16@shannon-posts @darkbluenovember @sexwithhiddlesbatch @thefandomimagines @mydarkness-itsnotmyfriend @sad-huffle-nerd @glitchingghosts​ @themaddies-obx​ @avenging-parker​ @delilahsdaydream​ @thanossexual​ @bibliophilewednesday​ @soccer-100000​ @smolanxiousdeku​

[chadillacboseman]

Mozzie anon here...I really appreciate it! When your requests are open, could I get Mozzie rescuing reader from the whitemasks?

I KNOW MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED BUT COME ON-

I FEEL LOVE FOR MOZZIE IN THIS HOUSE TONIGHT.

--

READER IS GENDER-NEUTRAL!

TW: mentions of torture and death, violence typical of R6. Otherwise SFW.

It had been three days- or, at least, you were fairly certain three had passed. So little light filtered into your cell from the outside, that you couldn't be absolutely sure.

You watched the metal door in anticipation.

Twice a day, like clockwork, they opened a small slot and shoved a meal through on a plastic tray along with a bottle of water. Too small of an opening to make a move of any kind, and they never let their hand come into your cell.

The White Masks were smart, you had to give them that much.

The sliver of light on the far wall was slowly fading from bright orange to a deep, charred hue, and you knew the sun was setting wherever you were.

You sighed and kicked a chunk of broken cement across the floor; there was no way out of this- the White Masks would either torture you or kill you, and no one from Rainbow had any idea where you were.

Hell, even you didn't know where you were.

Your mind wandered to Max, "Mozzie" as the other ops called him- you wondered how he was feeling. You knew how reckless he got when he was hotheaded, and he was surely feeling very distraught right about now.

A loud metal clang jerked you out of your musings as a plastic tray was shoved, unceremoniously, through the slot in the door.

Dinner time.

You sauntered over to the tray and wrinkled your nose at the sight- it appeared to be a crude stroganoff, likely leftover from days prior, accompanied by plain bread, the texture of which was akin to cardboard.

You picked at the plate halfheartedly, trying to pry your mind from the writhing sense of dread slowly building in your gut. Three days was a long fucking time to keep a prisoner. Your luck had to be just about out.

Your cell grew dark as the sky outside the small square window turned black and your eyes got heavy. You fell to your stiff cot and rested your back against the cold stone wall.

You closed your eyes and let sleep wash over you as you tried not to think about what the morning would bring.

--

You awoke to the sound of a drone buzzing along the hallway outside your cell, mechanical blades whirring quietly, the sound reverberating through the metal of your door.

Drones. You imagined this compound was so secure that they had little need for regular footpatrols. That didn't bode well for you.

You glanced up at the wall and noted the burned orange light that painted it- you guessed it had to be at least 6am.

You mused for a moment about where exactly you might be- you knew by the faintness of the sounds from the yard below that you had to be several stories up. The White Masks were notorious for claiming abandoned or decommissioned sites, and this was likely one of them.

Footsteps outside the door interrupted your thoughts, loud and methodical- the footsteps of an executioner.

You swallowed, hard, when they paused outside your door.

A series of loud thuds and clanks signaled the unlocking of the door before it swung open and thudded hard against the concrete wall in your cell.

You glanced up and a blank white mask stared back at you, beady, dark eyes like two black gems set against the ivory surface.

"On your feet, prisoner."

You hesitated, weighing your options.

You could run.

Before you had the chance to consider it, the guard's large hand clasped down on your shoulder and hauled you to your feet. When they had brought you here, there had been a hood over your eyes- now you were able to see that there were dozens of other cells, some occupied, some emtpy, running the length of the hall.

The guard pinned your arms behind your back and cuffed them before shoving you, unceremoniously, forward toward a large, metal door at the end of the hall.

You had seen plenty of doors like that before.

You knew what would be behind it- a car battery, knives, a chair with leather restraints.

Anything and everything a torturer could need.

You knew what the bodies looked like when you recovered them. Torn to shreds, beaten, bloody, barely recognizable as human beings.

You let out a shaking breath as the guard pushed you onward.

Jesus, I'm so fucking sorry, Max

You repeated the thought over and over in your head. You knew what this would do to him- how it would tear him apart to find your broken body dumped in some pit like garbage.

The familiar whirring of the patrol done broke the silence, approaching fast from behind.

Too fast-

The machine struck the guard in the head at maximum velocity, sending him stumbling forward with a grunt.

"What the hell-"

The drone buzzed, menacingly, like an angry hornet, diving at the guard over and over, metal blades slicing into his skin as he held up an arm to defend his face.

"Hey, ya fuckin' drongo, havin' a little trouble with your drone?"

Mozzie.

You spun on your heel as the Aussie rounded the corner, assault rifle brandished. There was a loud crash as the wall in front of you exploded in a cloud of dust and Gridlock barreled through the opening with a roar.

The facility lost power and red emergency lights began to dance erratically as the alarms screamed to life. The guard at your feet made a motion to stand and Gridlock struck him with the butt of her rifle.

"Come on, we haven't got all day!" Mozzie yanked a jackknife from his pocket and cut the flexcuffs that encircled your wrists.

"Max-" you felt tears well up in your eyes as you looked into his polarized glasses.

"Don't get soft on me yet- we gotta get outta this fuckin' place."

The next moments were a blur as Mozzie and Gridlock flanked you and the three of you traversed the compound.

"We've got maybe three minutes before this place is swarming with Masks!" Gridlock called, "Jager is on the roof with the helo."

Gridlock ran point, up the stairs, as Mozzie stayed behind you. The three of you hightailed it up one, then two, then three flights of stairs. The alarms continued to blare, and you could hear the faint sounds of footsteps on the flights below.

"One more level!" Gridlock called.

The sounds of the footsteps were growing closer, and you could make out the shouting of the White Mask soldiers, growing louder and louder with each passing step.

You heard a loud grunt as Gridlock kicked the roof access door open and bright sunlight burst in, practically blinding you.

"Get to the helo, NOW!" she shoved you through the door and toward the black helicopter.

You leapt into the open door and Jager shot you a thumbs up from the cockpit. Mozzie and Gridlock jumped in behind you as at least two dozen White Masks pushed through the door, guns blazing.

"Go, go NOW!" Mozzie was shouting at Jager as he sent a burst of fire from his rifle and struck one of the soldiers.

The helicopter lurched off the roof and barreled away as shots rang off of the metal, growing more and more distant with each passing second.

"It's good to have you back!" Jager called from the pilot's seat.

"It's good to be back."

--

Back at the compound, you were sent to the infirmary, despite your fervent protests. Doc demanded you stay at least overnight to replenish your fluids and have your wounds looked at.

The other beds were empty, and you contemplated making a break for it when Max walked through the door. It always surprised you when he was devoid of his usual helmet and sunglasses.

The Aussie strode over and took a seat beside your bed; you avoided his eyes as guilt began to burn in your chest.

"Max..." you swallowed, hard, and finally brought your eyes to his, "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Max cocked an eyebrow and chuckled, "The hell are you sorry for? I should have had your back."

Tears pricked in your eyes and the Aussie reached over to grab your hand. He ran his rough thumb over the cuts and bruises gently, his expression pained.

"How bad did they hurt ya?" Max sounded as if he was about to break down, his voice gravelly and low, so uncharacteristic for him.

"Not bad," you lied, poorly, and tried to tamp the memories down.

"I'd have killed every last one of 'em," Max murmured as his eyes flicked up to meet yours, "Me 'n Gridlock, we'd have fuckin' glassed that place."

"I know," you choked out the words- it felt like you had glass in your throat, "Thank you for coming for me."

Max smiled and moved his hand to your cheek, his fingers gently passing over the bruise that had blossomed on your chin.

"Anytime, love."

[bimormondisaster]

Four times Crosshair helped his brothers and one time he did the best he could.

Hello! This is my first time doing something like this so I hope you enjoy it. I'm still very new to writing and I suck at editing so I'm sorry for any mistakes.

Word count: 2,781

Warnings:

Wrecker- Mentions of blood, violence, Hurt character.

Hunter- Mentions of overstimulation and migraines

Echo- Nightmares

CT-9904- That scene from s1 e1 tbb

Wrecker (Cadets, age around 16)

The feeling of the clone’s face against Crosshair’s fist was satisfying. Even after the blood started to cover his knuckles, he kept punching. It wasn’t until the cadet’s eyes closed that he stopped. He let the boy’s tunic go, and he hit the ground with a dull thud. He would wake up eventually and Crosshair would inevitably get punished but right now he didn’t care.

He was alone when he got the com. He was getting cleaned up after some private training., about to meet his brothers in the cafeteria but when Hunter told him that kriffen reg had landed Wrecker in the med bay he changed course.

He made his way to the medbay. Stopping only to wash the blood off his hands. Looking in the mirror he noticed his hair was getting grayer. He wasn’t sure why his hair was graying so early but he didn’t mind it. Wrecker always teased him about it but he thought it made him look more mature.

The med bay door slid open revealing Hunter sitting beside a bed as Tech paced. A droid was hovering over the bed occupied by Wrecker.

Hunter stood as he walked over. “What took you so long?”

“I was busy.” He forced himself to look away from Wrecker’s bloody and bruised form and to Hunter. “How is he?”

Tech answered first. “Under these conditions, there is a 15 percent chance that he will wake up in the next hour, Every hour after that the chance goes up by 7.5 percent until hour five where if he’s not awake by then the chances lower by-”

“He’s going to be fine.” Hunter supplied, sending a comforting smile to Tech. The droid left without a word and the boys settled down. Wrecker’s face was swollen. The left side of his face was covered in bandages, including his eye. Every moment that he watched, that he saw his brother in this state, his fury grew.

“What happened?” He asked through clenched teeth.

Hunter and Tech shared a look and Tech adjusted his goggles.

“No one knows yet,” Hunter said.

His hands tensed into fists. The quickly bruising knuckles protested but he didn’t care. That’s when he saw it. Lula, tucked in beside Wrecker, was looking almost as bad as its owner. One of the ears was hanging on by a thread and a leg was missing.

Without saying anything Crosshair stood up and grabbed the stuffed toy.

“I found the leg in the hall.” He pulled it out and offered it to Crosshair who took it without a word.

Crosshair didn’t know how to sew but he tried his best with the supplies he could find in the med bay. They all waited. Hunter as still as possible, trying to keep the squad as calm as possible. Tech buried himself in his padd and tried to distract himself. Although every hour Crosshair could hear him whisper the new odds of Wrecker waking up.

Crosshair folded in on himself completely focused on fixing Lula. His long legs protested being forced into the chair, his back ached from being slouched, but he didn’t mind. After two hours Lula was all fixed up. It wasn’t what Crosshair would call a good job, but it was the best he could do. He just hoped it was enough.

Tech

If Tech wasn’t dead at the end of this Crosshair was going to kill him. Not surprisingly the job went bad and now they were in a shootout. His scope allowed him to see the chaos in the warehouse from the hill he was nested on. Amongst it all was Tech. Who disobeyed orders and abandoned his cover; running like a kriffin idiot trying to get to the computer.

“Tech get under cover!” Hunter’s voice came through the comm.

“No can do Hunter. If I can just-” Tech was cut off as more droids entered the warehouse, open firing.

Crosshair cursed under his breath and started to pick them off. There was little chance of this mission succeeding but that’s where they worked best. In the midst of the blaster fire, yelling, orders being called, and explosions he noticed something. Another blaster was shooting into the warehouse at Tech who had, so far, dodged the fire purely by dumb luck. He watched carefully, tuning out the bickering in his ear.

A streak of a blaster shot through the air heading for the very clueless Tech who was pinned down. Without thinking he aimed. Time slowed as he watched the bullet fly through the air. His finger tightened on the trigger and in the time of a heartbeat he fired. The bullets collided and went wide, missing Tech who was quickly getting surrounded.

He aimed again, this time at the chains holding up the large doors. He shot. The first chain broke. Reaming at the other chain he fired again. His brothers could handle the droids, He’d handle the sniper. He shot again. The chain rattled but stayed in place. Another shot and the door dropped crushing the few droids underneath.

“Cross what’s happening? Was that you?” Hunter’s voice broke through the wall of concentration he put up.

“Little busy” He replied, moving positions to aim where the other nest would be and waited. One breath, two, three, there. Movement caught his eye as someone poked their head up. His finger tightened and he felt the familiar kick of his gun. The figure dropped and He stood.

By the time grabbed a speeder and made his way to the warehouse the fight was over and other than a few burns and cuts his brothers were safe.

Hunter

Hunter was having another bad day. He didn’t have them as often as he did when they were cadets. He had learned how to suppress it better. Or, Crosshair suspected, how to hide them better.

However, he still had days where he was easily overwhelmed. They all knew the signs. Talking quieter, flinching more, headaches, tensing at the smallest sound, not wanting people to talk or touch him, sitting further away from the group. Crosshair had had migraines before and remembered how awful those were, he was glad that he would never have to deal with increased senses.

Hunter was in the cockpit looking out the window. Everyone had tried to give him as much space as possible so they were making themselves busy elsewhere. He set a steaming cup of the tea he always drank when he had bad days down as gently as possible in front of Hunter and sat across from him. They sat in silence for a time. He watched Hunter slowly sip the tea.

“Thank you,” Hunter whispered

“You should go lay down. I’ll keep the others quiet.” Although he had lowered his voice Hunter still winced.

“I’m okay, We’re almost to the mission anyway.”

Stubborn as always. Wordlessly Crosshair checked the computers, there was an uninhabited planet not far from them. He entered the coordinates and the ship changed course.

Hunter raised a questioning eyebrow and he just gave him a smile.

“Where are we going?”

“Jargon. It’s quiet.”

“Cross I-” He glared at the dash that beeped and sighed. “Thank you”

He hummed in acknowledgment. The mission could wait a few hours, or even a few days, as long as his brothers were okay.

Echo

Crosshair couldn’t sleep. He and Echo had just gotten back to the ship after a week away. Tech, Hunter, and Wrecker were still away and weren’t expected until at least the next day. Why Hunter decided to make him go alone with the new guy was beyond him. He wasn’t interested in making friends. He had his brothers and that was more than enough.

He laid in his bunk staring up at the ceiling. The ship was eerily quiet with everyone being away. As much as he wanted to enjoy it, it filled him with dread. He had grown to love the noise and chaos that came with the bad batch and missed it when it was gone.

He heard movement and was pulled from his thoughts.

“No… No” Echo was murmuring. He sat up and got out of bed to see what was going on. Quietly making his way over he could see Echo tossing in his bunk. His first instinct was to call for Hunter. This was more of his thing. However, that wasn’t an option.

Kneeling beside the bed he put a hand on the clone’s shoulder. “Echo,” Echo responded by getting louder.

“No! Please!”

“Echo!” He shook him. “Wake up.”

The tossing stopped and his eyes opened with a deep breath. He tried to sit up but the hand stopped him. “Rex will come back for me!”

“He already has.” He removed his hand and leaned back to give the man some space. Dealing with nightmares wasn’t anything new. They all had them.

Clarity came into Echos eyes. “Crosshair?” He sat up, still breathing heavily.

“You had a nightmare.” It was a fact and yet Echo looked down ashamed. Crosshair watched carefully as Echo looked everywhere but him. “I’m sorry I woke you.” With that, he laid back down. Crosshair internally cursed both the regs and Hunter.

Nightmares were a part of life for the clones however the regs had something against talking about them. They preferred to keep the pain a secret, pretend it wasn’t there. Why they were taboo to talk about was beyond him. He had spent many nights listening to his brothers talk about theirs and he had spent almost as much time sitting up with at least one of his brothers because of his own nightmares.

While he understood why and even accepted bringing Echo aboard he still wasn’t that close to him and didn’t plan on getting close. He was, after all a reg. A reg who had special abilities now, but a reg nonetheless. He knew that Hunter wanted him to let Echo in the way he had let in his brothers. He also knew that he didn’t care what Hunter wanted. However, as he watched Echo close his eyes and pretend to fall back asleep his heart twisted.

He stood. “Come with me.” Without waiting he walked out of the ship. On his way out he grabbed a blanket.

A few moments after he walked out onto the ship’s ramp, Echo joined him.

“Crosshair? Is there a problem?” He still looked scared. Like any minute he’d be sucked back into his dreams never to return.

“Sit.” Echo did as was ordered. Sitting on the ramp. The black sky was filled with twinkling stars. Cross put the blanket over Echo’s shoulders and sat next to him.

Crosshair was looking straight ahead. “If you are going to be a part of the bad batch you need to learn to accept help.”

“I don’t know what you-”

“Fresh air is the best remedy for nightmares.” He turned to look at Echo. “There is no use in keeping them bottled up.”

They sat there most of the night. Echo told him about his time before being taken, his brothers, his commanders. He told him about Fives and Rex. He told him about his time as an unwilling traitor to the republic he loved.

They both silently promised to not talk about that night again. Echo didn’t want to be embarrassed and Crosshair didn’t want this responsibility any more than he needed to take it. Or at least that’s what he would say if pressed.

The next morning Crosshair was woken up by his brother’s arrival. Their part of the mission was a success. And as the five of them walked into the ship and Crosshair figured that maybe four brothers wouldn’t be so bad.

CT-9904

Good soldiers follow orders.

The rest of the bad batch was in the hanger. Predictable. They always thought they were a step ahead. Now he would show them how flawed their thinking really was. They were cowards trying to run away.

Hunter walked out from behind the crates. Reckless a small part of him thought. He ignored it. He had eyes on Wrecker, Echo, and Omega. All behind the crates. Tech was most likely in the ship.

“Best stand down Sargent,” He said. They were in a standoff and Crosshair knew who would win when the time came. The traitors wouldn’t hurt him. “Make it easy on yourself.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Hunter replied.

Yes

‘Quiet’

“We should’ve killed that Jedi. You disobeyed orders” Why didn’t Hunter follow the orders? If he had just been a good soldier, a good leader, then none of this would be happening.

“I did what I thought was right.” Hunters snapped, stepping forward.

“You never could see the bigger picture.” He shrugged. “Now surrender.”

Let them go.

Hunter glanced back at the group as they prepared for a firefight. Wrecker put his helmet on.

These are your brothers.

“Is that an order?” Hunter looked back at him.

He let out a chuckle. “I guess it is.”

Don’t do this.

“Well, I guess I’m disobeying that one too.”

They stayed staring at each other. Waiting to see who would make the first move. He spat out the toothpick.

Stop, please, no.

‘Quiet,’

His finger tightened as the thunder rumbled. He wanted Hunter to come peacefully. Why did Hunter never listen? He didn’t want to hurt them.

But he would do what he must.

In one motion he lifted his arm, set the blaster on it and fired. Hunter ducked and it hit the ramp of the ship. A part of him was screaming that this was wrong but he continued. The clones he was with open fired. Clone force 99 returned fire and two smoke bombs were thrown. They moved in.

He took aim again. This time using a heat sensor. He let off a few shots then waited. They needed to clear the smoke and when they did…

The sound of metal hitting metal rang through the air as the smoke cleared. Wrecker was in the middle of it and through one of the container lids, knocking some clones down.

Taking aim all he could see was the second one coming for him. He rolled out of the way as the containers fell where he was moments ago.

He aimed.

NO!

He shot, hitting Wrecker’s armour. He’d survive.

This time Wrecker fell. His brothers wouldn’t fall for it but the girl might and if he got a clear shot on the girl Hunter would soon follow.

Sure enough, a blonde head poked out from behind the crates and he fired again. He missed as she was pulled back undercover.

The ship started up. They couldn’t go. They needed to stay, needed to see that this was the right thing.

“Seal the bay doors!” He ordered. The clone to his right. He ran for the panel on the wall.

A light started flashing and a warning alarm beep. The door didn’t shut.

“Sir! Someone is overriding the controls.”

Tech.

He took aim once again. Hunter was giving Omega orders. She would be his target as they tried to leave.

“Only one way out Hunter. Your move.” He said.

Traitor.

The voice was loud and annoying. He shook it off.

He put his finger on the trigger.

“Go!”

Hunter and Echo stood and fired. Moving into the walkway, towards Wrecker. Towards the ship. Moving forward to cover he fired. He made it behind the crates and mentally kicked himself. Why wasn’t he aiming properly? This should be over already.

The last clone fell, hit by the oncoming fire. He turned his head to try and see where they were but couldn’t see them. Only the blaster bolts. He stood and took aim. Hunter was in his sights. This time he wouldn’t miss and he wouldn’t have mercy.

Stop!

His finger tightened on the trigger when suddenly electricity ran through the gun. He watched it drop and looked to where the shot was fired. Standing on the ramp was Omega. Blaster in hand.

He could swear he heard laughing from somewhere inside of him.

He pulled the blaster off of his hip and aimed. Omega shot first. Both the shots missing as he ran for cover.

You’ve lost. Let them go.

The ship lifted off and he ran towards it. Firing. None of his shots hit and soon the door was shut.

He stopped running once they were in space. He put the blaster away and took off his helmet. He looked into space as the mix of emotions bubbled inside of him. They left him. He failed his first mission. He knew Wrecker would live and his brothers would be okay. That’s all that matters.

[ahsokasleftbicep]

Name and Soul: Chapter 4

Alright, let's get this angst moving!! Hope you enjoy it!

@mqgriett @darkangel4121 @thelambandthewolffe @maulscrosshair @trash-dino-5000 @lightning-wolffe @killtherandomness @shadowwing1324

Crosshair x F! reader

Word Count: 2017

Warnings: SPOILERS for episode 4, Tarkin being awful, Rampart being ugh, Sad Crosshair, internal conflict, Hunter and reader tensions, injury, a single curse word

The firing range was dark and empty, just how he liked it. Crosshair moved from his crouched position to his stomach, reloading his weapon and taking aim at the practice droids. Bang. Bang. The droids drop, sending a hollow thud throughout the room. He knew Tarkin was watching, he always did. So did Nala Se. They talked. Anytime Crosshair looked up at the observation room, he saw the two talking. Probably about her. Private L/N. His head hurt, well the right side did. Like a constant headache, it never went away. It was only worse when he was around the regs. Or his squad. They annoyed him. The man paused his training and then stood up, packing his gear. I need to get the mission done. I need to find them. Find her. Kill them. Take her. Easy enough… right. Every time he thought about her, that little metal ring felt heavier than usual. Oh well.

--

“You be careful okay? Stay with Hunter and Echo, look but don’t touch. Got it?” You brushed off some dust from Omega’s shirt.

“Yep! I got it!” The girl smiled at you before walking over to Echo.

Things had gotten much more complicated over the last few days. There were no more rations and the ship was on a wanted list. These sort of situations could be handled normally, but with Omega, you all had to think of the best way to keep her safe. Some tensions had been growing also, between you and Hunter, everyone felt it. You knew that the Sergeant had good intentions, but he had yet to acknowledge anything that happened on Kamino. With Crosshair. Wrecker tried to tell you that it was how he hid it, but it still irked you. Hunter had been just as devastated as you, and he kept it all in. You drove the past few days from your mind, looking at Echo in his getup.

“Looking good Echo.”

The man raises his hands and turns in a circle. “I know.” The two of you look at each other before breaking out in chuckles.

“Does the headpiece feel okay? Any recalibrations before you guys head out?” You take a quick look at the controls.

“Feels good so far, I think it’s fine.”

The sergeant came over from talking to the Sullustan dock master, securing his pack.

“Let’s head out.”

“Do you have any credits left after paying him off?”

“I have enough to get what we need.”

“Well, be careful.” You speak monotonically.

“Will do.” The two men and Omega start walking towards the market.

You walk towards the ship, towards Tech and Wrecker.

“Why do they get to go sightseeing again?” Wrecker lifts a large metal piece away so Tech can scramble the ship's signature.

You move out of his way, removing your top armor to help Tech with the ship. “It’s a supply mission. And besides, it’s not the first time we’ve seen this planet.”

Tech cleared his throat. “Uh Y/N? Can you get this small piece in here?... Please.”

“Yes!” You walk up to the ship, stepping up on a box and reaching out for the part. “Got it!”

“Much appreciated.” Tech fixes his goggles before heading back towards the inverters.

“Do you need anything else at the moment?”

“I don’t believe so, but thank you Y/N.”

--

“Sir? You asked for me.” Rampart walked into Tarkin's office.

“Ah Rampart, yes I did.” Tarkin looked up from a datapad. He put the device down and folded his hands.

“Is everything okay sir?”

“Yes, it is. I was curious about your progress on Private L/N’s file.”

The vice admiral sat down. “I have found a little more about her life before the Clone Wars. Nothing that we can use to our advantage yet. She has no family; they were killed in a raid in her village. A civil war broke out shortly after and she was drafted. She got into the Academy based on skill and exceeded in marksmanship among other things. GAR offered her a job when the war started, she joined Clone Force 99 shortly after.”

Tarkin listened and hummed, “Has there been any luck in finding her? Or the clones.”

“No, L/N’s training serves her and the clones well. No sightings nor upsets have been reported.”

Tarkin stands and looks through the glass window. “Very well then. Maintain your search. As I said, L/N’s skills will be useful to your project. Once you find something, send the sniper out to retrieve her.”

“Understood sir.” Rampart rose and walked out. I will find you, L/N. Whether you like it or not.

--

“Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Y/N. I lost Omega. Someone attacked us.” Hunter’s voice comes out scratchy through the comm-link. Your head shot up looking between Tech and Wrecker.

“Somebody who?” Wrecker responded.

“A woman. Highly trained. She’s after the kid.”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that.” Wrecker grabs his helmet, you grab your rifle and run off, the large man following behind.

“Y/N, your armor-.” Tech called out but you were already gone.

You and Wrecker run through the streets.

“I have eyes on Omega, she’s in the maintenance tunnels. Head northwest, at 155. And hurry, she’s got company.” “Wrecker you take that way, I’ll come from the back.” You say as you approach the street.

“Got it.”

You run through the street, hitting a couple of people, not that you cared about being polite at the moment.

“Wrecker, come in?” Silence. “Wrecker. Do you copy?”

“I do not see Wrecker, but Omega is hanging from a tower in the skyway.”

“Oh no.” You breathe out, trying to run faster.

Some speeder pulls up next to you. “Y/N! Get on!” It was Hunter, he held his hand out.

You grip his arm and pull yourself up. “I got the woman, you get Omega.”

Hunter speeds up, and you crouch on the back seat.

“Where’s your armor?”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, that makes me feel better. I’m not losing another member of my team.”

“We don’t have time for this, Hunter.”

“He-.”

“Stop! He’s not dead, he hasn’t disappeared. So stop acting like Crosshair just vanished.” You raise your voice. “Focus on Omega.”

You approach the tower only to see Omega fall into a shipping vessel. The woman jumps in afterward. The woman fires at the speeder, but Hunter swerves out of the way. A moment later the back of the vessel starts tilting, taking the woman… and Omega along with it. The woman falls onto another ship. Omega dangles on a strap, way too far above the ground. Hunter is about to grab her-

‘You guys! Look out!” The woman rams into the speeder, tossing you off and sending Hunter in a spin.

“Y/N!”

You’re able to grab onto the back of her ship, pulling yourself up. The woman grabs her weapon but you knock it out of her hand. She kicks you in the stomach before you slam her into the controls of the ship. She kicks back before grabbing a smaller blaster, and then your shoulder starts to burn. Your right shoulder is shot, the skin burned and irritated. Shit. You stumble back.

“Y/N!” You hear two voices at once, one being Omega.

“It’s okay, just stay there.”

The ship starts to shake, when you look behind you, you see that Hunter shot out one of the thrusters. This throws off your balance and you fall over the edge, gripping the end with your good arm.

“Y/N! You need to drop!” You see Hunter hold up a pyro denton. You look around you, seeing a tarp below you, covering some stand.

“Throw it now! I’ll be okay!” You come just above the tarp and let go. You land on the cover before connecting with the ground. The ship explodes and not a moment later, Hunter comes up and puts you on the bike, with Omega.

“Y/N! Are you okay?” The girl looks at your shoulder and winces.

“I’m fine, this isn’t the worst injury I’ve gotten.” Despite the wound being mostly cauterized, the shock and minor blood loss made you woozy. Everything just faded out. Someone picked you up, probably Hunter.

“We need to go. Now. Get a medkit.”

--

You woke up with a groan, your shoulder was sore and bandaged in a sling. You threw your legs over your bed and walked out into the common area.

“What did I miss?”

Omega jumped up and ran to you. “Y/n, are you okay? You’re going to be okay right? You got hit and then-”

“Omega.” You hug her. “I’m okay, it takes a little more than a blaster wound to take me down.”

The girl hugs you back, relieved. The others gathered around, Hunter looked pissed.

“Did we find out who that woman was?”

“Bounty hunter, based on her skills.” Hunter returned, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Makes sense. And she's after Omega.” You pat the girl on the head. “We need to be more careful.”

Everyone nods and heads back to the cockpit, except Hunter.

“Y/N.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t need the lecture, Hunter.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what do you mean?” You bite back, adjusting your sling.

“Look, I know you’re upset about Kamino, and what happened with Crosshair-”

“No, I’m upset that out of everyone on this ship, you are the only one who has yet to acknowledge him. When Wrecker mentioned Crosshair, you shut it down.” You stood up moving closer to the sergeant. “I know you’re hurting just as badly, but the longer we leave him on Kamino the worse it’s going to get.”

“We’ll get him back-”

“When we stop running, maybe start planning. That’s a start.” You turn towards your room, your eyes brimming with tears. “If you don’t come up with something, and fast. I will. And I will do it alone if I have to. I am not going to leave my husband there to rot and be Tarkin’s attack dog.”

--

“CT-9904. What is your experience with Private L/N? Is she reliable?” Tarkin asked the gray-haired man.

“Yes, her skills were helpful on missions.” The man tensed, his mind racing. What’s he got planned for her? Don’t listen to him! Leave Y/N alone! Shut up. Shut up! SHUT UP! FOCUS!

“When you bring her back, you will be in charge of training her after her conditioning. From there, she will become a part of your squad. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The clone was dismissed and walked past Rampart. He caught a glimpse of a file, your file, on his datapad. Why is everyone so interested in her? It’s not like she’ll come willingly, she’s a traitor. I miss her. She LEFT me. She loves me. No, she doesn’t. She couldn’t.

He sat on his bunk, thankfully the barracks were empty. Images flashed in his head, of you, your laugh, your smile. He grabbed his head and fell to his knees, shaking. Hot tears fell from his eyes as he wept to the empty room.

--

“Y/N?” Omega peeks through your door. You are cleaning your rifle. “Should you be doing that?”

You chuckle, “Yes, but it’s taking a little longer than usual… Do you want to give me a hand?”

The girl perks up, “Really?”

“Yeah, consider it your first lesson on taking care of your weapon.” You move over to make room for Omega.

“Where do I start?” The girl picks up a rag and looks at you lost.

“Here, see that little gear right there? That’s one of the most important parts. If you don’t take care of it, the rifle can jam…”

You repeated the same words that Crosshair said to you, minus the sarcasm and occasional curse. Word for word of what he said came out of your mouth as if you traded places. For a moment, it felt like he was right there with you. You thought you heard someone crying. Someone weeping. Like they were right there with you.

[megamanrecut]

It’s been awhile since my last fic update, so here’s a bonus scene of Proto Man and Elec Man escaping the Warship hunter at the end of Terror of the Seven Seas. 

Kinda random, I’ve had this idea for awhile and decided to complete it for fun, even though it doesn’t really add much to the story and I think the character progression/pacing works better without it but if you’ve read all of season 2 and want something sweet like this, here you go!

Terror of the Seven Seas bonus scene

Proto Man and Elec Man walked slowly out of the central control tower, Elec Man leaning heavily on Proto Man’s shoulder for support.

As alarms blared all around them, Proto Man felt a rush of energy, though his plasma reserves were depleted. He couldn’t help but feel renewed as they snuck around the Warship Hunter moments before it exploded. He had no doubt they would get away, and doing so in just the nick of time made it more thrilling.

But as they made their way through the Warship Hunter’s labyrinth of battleships, their progress down the steel plated corridors was slow, and Proto Man noticed Elec Man was trembling.

“Hey, uh…are you in pain?”

“No.”

“Good.”

“…My pain receptors are fried.”

“…Oh. Not so good.”

Elec Man needed rest, but they couldn’t afford to stop moving. The attack-bots had vanished and the entire fortress was in chaos as the the imprisoned ship crews reclaimed their ships. If Proto Man and Elec Man were spotted, their position could be reported to R.I.P., and they would be arrested. Elec Man was doing his best to keep up with Proto Man, but with each step his weight sunk into Proto Man a little more. Proto Man could sense his frustration building.

The Warship Hunter creaked and groaned as the trapped ships broke loose from the structures binding them. As the bottom floors began to flood, Proto Man steered Elec Man to a stairwell leading up to the ship yards. Though Proto Man climbed carefully, Elec Man’s feet stumbled and dragged against the mesh steps. 

“Proto Man…I’m extremely damaged. Wily won’t think I’m worth fixing,” Elec Man murmured. He did not sound nasally or haughty like he usually did—instead, he sounded completely ashamed.

“Don’t talk like that,” Proto Man responded automatically. “Of course you’re worth fixing. I’ll handle Wily, don’t even worry about it.”

A few tedious flights later (with Proto Man half dragging Elec Man), they reached the top of the stairs. They were about to enter open facility connecting to the shipyard when they heard pounding footsteps, forcing Proto Man to yank Elec Man behind a storage rack. 

Fortunately, the navy squad ran past without noticing them, but crouching behind the rack allowed little cover. Judging by the sound of footsteps thundering all around them, every occupant still inside the Warship Hunter was heading straight for the fleeing ships. Avoiding detection would be tricky.

“You need to leave me behind,” Elec Man muttered. “You could go faster if you weren’t helping me like this. At this speed, you will be seen.”

Proto Man hesitated, glad Elec Man had been first to point out the obvious. He looked around the facility, gauging the times between various crews hurrying towards the ships. “You know what? You’re right. Screw it.”

Elec Man tensed, confused. “What are you—?” he began as Proto Man slipped an arm under his knees and scooped him off the floor.

It was much easier to move carrying Elec Man, who was light, rather than acting as a robot crutch. Though Proto Man was low on energy, he could dart freely between hiding places, quickly crossing the facility without attracting attention.

“Comfy?” Proto Man asked after ducking into a maintenance compartment to avoid another group of sailors.

“Don’t say something like that at a time like this,” Elec Man spluttered.

“You were getting a little dark back there...just lightening the mood a little.”

Proto Man checked outside the compartment. The shipyard was just ahead. The few remaining ships were breaking loose from the Warship Hunter, opening chasms of swirling black ocean water between each hull. 

Proto Man paused, thinking.

“Gunna have to make some jumps over open water…you okay with that?”

Elec Man went rigid, but said with his eyes clenched shut, “Just don’t drop me.”

“Heh.”

Proto Man bounded from ship deck to ship deck. With each jump, Elec Man seemed to shrink into Proto Man, his grip tightening around Proto Man’s neck like a strangle hold.

“Sorry,” Elec Man mumbled in mortification when they landed on the stern of a gigantic freighter. His grip slackening slightly, but his fingers were still digging deeply into the folds of Proto Man’s scarf.

“Don’t worry about it,” Proto Man replied airily, trying not to wheeze.

Proto Man weaved between the brightly colored containers which were shifting slightly as the freighter shuddered forward toward the daylight outside the Warship Hunter.

“Alright, almost there,” Proto Man announced as they neared the front of the freighter. The grand flat-topped surface of an aircraft carrier drifted just ahead of the freighter’s prow, a span of about fifty feet between the two ships. 

Elec Man made a nearly inaudible sound of acknowledgment.

Proto Man looked down. Elec Man’s death grip had completely disappeared around his neck, his half-lidded eyes unfocused. 

“Just hold on a little longer,” Proto Man added softly. 

Proto Man made the last leap to the aircraft carrier—waves pounding against the hull below as it charged away into open water. He landed cleanly on the deck, the looming shadow of the Warship Hunter shrinking behind them. 

Though safe from the impending explosion, Proto Man scanned the deck cautiously. A lone jet sat at one end, poised for emergency takeoff, but left unattended as the rest of the crew was busy with the evacuation. Perfect, just as Proto Man had expected.

Proto Man rushed toward the jet, forced the cockpit door open, then eased Elec Man into the co-pilot seat. After buckling him up, Proto Man hopped into the cockpit. As he lowered the cockpit door again and began starting up the jet, he heard shouts from above deck. He had been spotted—but it was too late, with a piercing shriek, the jet shot down the short runway. The black tarmac gave way to turbulent waves as they became airborne, then Proto Man climbed into the sky.

Over the roar of the engine, he heard a thunder-like boom as the Warship Hunter exploded behind them. Proto Man looked back over his shoulder. Elec Man’s eyes were closed, his head lolling against the convex window.

“Just hang tight,” he murmured again, mostly to himself. “Wily will fix ya up, I promise,” he added, pointing the nose of the jet toward the clouds.

Read more on Ao3 or Fanfiction.net

[a-bang-for-your-bucky]

Playin' With Fire: Frankie's Secret

Playin’ With Fire: Frankie’s secret

Summary: Dani and Frankie have been friends for almost two years now. While at a party, Dani learns Frankie’s darkest secret. Will their friendship surpass this hurdle? WIll they finally cross that line they have been teetering on? Or will this be the wedge that drives them apart?

Warnings: DRUG USE (straight up use of cocaine), ANGST (It starts it off), explicit language, a heated make out session, implication of smut (but no details because I suck at writing smut), Hurt!Frankie because it breaks my heart. I hurt my own heart writing this.

Pairings: Dani x Frankie, Frankie x ofc, Dani x Santiago

Word Count: 4,280

A/N: Part 2! Y'all this story is a wild ride. I am not responsible for any tears that are shed while reading this.

Tags: @221bshrlocked @danniburgh (if you want to be tagged, LMK)

It wasn’t often that Dani went to a party that wasn’t being hosted by a Miller brother. Yet, here she was at some random house with a lot of random people. Will said it would be fun, that she needed to relax. Benny said that she wouldn’t be alone because Frankie would be there. So how in the hell did she find herself standing around with none of the guys in sight?

Dani wandered aimlessly through the crowd of people, looking for someone she knew. She came across a door, and it seemed to be quiet on the other end. She quickly turned the knob to see that it was unlocked. Pushing the door open, she revealed her best friend, with a half naked brunette in his lap, snorting what looked like coke.

Her heart shattered into a million pieces. Dani couldn’t tell if it was because of the girl or the drug. “Tequila.” Frankie whimpered, but didn’t move a muscle. The girl in his lap twisted to see who opened the door.

“Either join in or get out.” The girl demanded, and Dani slammed the door shut. She knew she probably looked crazy; Tears running down her face, smearing her makeup, frantically looking for Will or Benny. She found the youngest Miller first, who immediately left the woman he was chatting up upon seeing Dani’s distressed state.

“Tequila, what happened?” He asked, wiping tears from her face. She tried to tell him, but it only came out in broken sobs. Benny was able to pick up “Frankie” and “cocaine”; After that, she was incoherent. Benny wrapped his arms around her, trying to give her some comfort. “Come on, let’s find Will and go.”

It took twenty minutes for Benny to track down Will, who was hooking up with the party host, Sara. Benny explained that Dani came up to him, sobbing and mentioned Frankie and coke. Will rushed to get dressed, apologizing for his hasty exit.

Dani was standing outside by Will’s jeep, eyes swollen and face red. Will rushed over, “Teq, I’m so sorry.” He comforted and placed a kiss to her head before ushering her into the car, just in time for Frankie to come running out the door. Benny took three large strides toward him before throwing a right hook that connected hard with his jaw.

“The fuck were you thinking, Fish? I thought you quit that shit!” Benny yelled at his friend who clutched his face where a red bruise was already starting to form, struggling to get up off the ground.

“Please, Benny.” Frankie started as he stood up, gesturing to the girl crying in the front seat “Let me talk to her.” He begged, trying to move toward the car. Will stepped in.

“You’ve done enough, Catfish. Leave her alone.” Will growled at the man before him. Frankie, exhaled a shaky breath and took a step back from his friends.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I’m so sorry.” He yelled a little louder, hoping Dani could hear him through the window. She turned her head just in time to see the same brunette that was seated on his lap, start dragging him back inside.

Dani didn’t leave her room for three days. She barely touched anything Will or Benny brought her to eat. She barely slept, the image of Frankie doing lines of the white substance haunted her dreams. She tried to focus on the crappy ‘B’ rated horror movie playing on Netflix.

A knock on the door drew her from the screen. “It’s open.” She said numbly. It was Will. He came in carrying a tray of food and a few water bottles. Dani noticed and gave him a quiet ‘thank you’, before turning her attention back to her laptop.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Will asked her just like he had every day before. Today she seemed ready.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” She whispered, still looking at the screen. Will took a seat next to her on the bed.

“It wasn’t our story to tell. As far as we knew, he cleaned up after being discharged. Tequila, I promise you, if any of us knew, we would have told you.” Will tried to explain to her, knowing that his words weren’t going to help much.

Tears slowly started to trickle down her cheeks. She felt so stupid, letting herself get so close to him. Will pulled the computer away from her lap, sitting it on her bedside table. She instantly curled into him as sobs wracked her body. Will felt so helpless. On one hand, he has his best friend who has a drug problem and on the other, his best friend who has a broken heart. He didn’t know where to begin to fix either. Will noticed that the sobs finally stopped and her breathing evened out. She was finally asleep. He could have wiggled out from her hold, but instead, he made himself comfortable and fell asleep, too.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Frankie?” Benny’s voice stirred Will awake. He shot up off the bed and ran to the living room. He found Benny holding Catfish back from entering the doorway.

“I need to talk to her, Benny. I have to- shit, I have to explain myself.” Frankie begged his friend.

Will could see his brother getting angrier by the second, so he intervened. “Go check on her, make sure she’s still sleeping. I’ll handle this.” Will prompted his brother. Benny relaxed, moving away from Frankie. Will slid into his spot, blocking him from coming inside.

“Will, please.” Frankie begged. “I just want to see her. I’m sorry for this. I never wanted to hurt her.” All Frankie wanted was to make sure she was okay. He was about to speak again when Dani’s voice broke through the silence. Frankie took in her state, hair in a bun, eyes rimmed red and puffy.

“It’s okay, Ironhead.” She murmured, arms wrapped around herself in mock comfort. Will turned himself to face her. He brought a hand up to caress her face, erasing stray tears. He gave her his best ‘are you sure?’ look. She nodded, “I’ll be okay, Will. I’ll yell if I need you.” She tried to give him a smile, but she was so damn tired.

Will looked back at Frankie, “I love you, man, but she better not need me." The blonde threatened him and Frankie knew he meant it. He shook his head in agreement; Frankie would gladly let Will hurt him. He just wanted to make this right. Will moved over, letting Frankie pass him into the living room. Frankie looked around. Out of all the times he sat in the room, he never imagined himself sitting here because of this.

Dani moved to take a seat across from him. She gave Will a look to let him know that she was okay, and he left the room. She focused her attention back to the man in front of her. He looked tired, like he hadn’t slept either. His eyes were bloodshot, and he had dark circles under them, which didn’t complement the five o’clock shadow that dusted his face. She couldn’t help but wonder if it was because of her or the drugs.

Frankie noticed Dani looking over his features, and he felt ashamed, like he didn’t deserve to have her look at him. He hung his head low, trying to avoid making eye contact with her. He knew he couldn’t hide his face forever, but for now, the floor was looking pretty good.

Dani shuffled in her seat, trying to get herself comfortable before diving into a conversation she really did not want to have. As she thought of what she was going to say, Frankie started to apologize.

“I’m so fucking sorry, Teq.” He raised his head, tears chasing each other down his face. “I know that sorry doesn’t mean much, but I am.” Frankie wiped his tears away as he finally made eye contact with her.

“Why, Frankie?” Her words were barely detectable, but Frankie heard them. Those two words put a vice grip around his heart and he felt like he couldn’t breathe. He didn’t know why. Why did he let himself fall off the wagon after so long? Why did he let Vanessa back into his life when he could have had Dani? He didn’t have any answers for her.

“Can I start from the beginning?” He asked her, hoping they could talk things out. Dani thought it over. Did she really want to hear this? The choice was obvious. she needed to know and gave Frankie a curt nod.

Frankie moved to the floor in front of her chair, sitting crossed legged, looking up at her. “It started after my first helo crash.” Frankie began.

“This is gonna be a bumpy ride boys,” Frankie yelled through the headset. He was maneuvering the helo through gunfire, trying to find a safe place to land.

“Fish, we got smoke back here!” Pope bellowed, hanging onto the doorway of the cockpit. Frankie looked back at his friend. How was he going to do this? He looked back down to the earth, and all he saw was desert sand. “Fish! We gotta land, man. Or this thing’s gonna blow!” Santiago reiterated.

Frankie found a spot far enough away from the flying bullets, that he could try to land as safely as possible. When he started to bring it down, alarms started blaring, lights flashed. “Fuck! Guys, buckle up. This isn’t going to be good.”

“That crash broke Benny’s arm. Since then, I was a nervous wreck behind the controls. I almost got everyone killed because I couldn’t land the damned helo. My mistake almost killed my friends.” Frankie paused to compose himself. “At first, I only did it to calm my nerves, then I just lost control of it, using whenever I could. I was discharged with my license suspended. I did a rehab program and luckily, I was able to get my license reinstated.”

Dani tried to comprehend what he was telling her. All of her medical training told her that he had a disease, an addiction. She wanted to reach out and console him, but he kept this from her. She had shared all of her secrets with him and he kept this huge one from her. “What about the girl?” She asked, knowing she had no right to be jealous. Frankie wasn’t hers.

“Vanessa was a fling, someone I would get high with. She was just there.” He gulped, “I wasn’t looking to get high. It was a moment of weakness. I hadn’t used it in almost thirteen months.” Since he met her. He was laying everything out for her and he was praying she would still accept him.

Dani sat there, staring at the man in front of her. He was unrecognizable. He looked sad, broken. Nowhere near the happy, flirty, person she met on Benny’s birthday. She wasn’t sure how to respond. She wanted to understand. She wanted to help him past this, but she didn’t know how. She didn’t know if she was strong enough.

“Please say something, hermosa. Lo siento mucho.” Frankie apologized again, reaching to grab her hands. She didn’t pull away like he thought she would. Instead, she moved to kneel on the ground with him.

She released his hands to pull him in for a hug. The gesture was enough to completely destroy Frankie’s resolve. Frankie sobbed into her. “Lo siento mucho. Lo haré mejor, lo prometo.” Dani held him for what felt like forever, stroking his hair.

“I want to help you, Frankie.” She whispered into his hair, still holding him close. “But I need you to want to help yourself.” Frankie’s head bobbed in agreement. He needed this.

The following weeks were hard on Frankie. Detoxing off the drug was a lot harder than he remembered, but Dani was there every step of the way. The exhaustion, shakes, and cravings were tolerable, but when the nightmares started, Frankie didn’t know if he would make it.

Dani let herself into Frankie’s apartment after her shift at the hospital. “Frankie?” She called out but did not get a reply. She moved further inside, making her way to Frankie’s room. She heard the shower running as she walked into his bedroom. “Frankie?” She called out again.

As she got closer to the bathroom, she could hear Frankie’s broken sobs over the shower. She rushed in to see him sitting in the corner of the tub, knees drawn to his chest. He raised his head when the door slammed into the wall.

“Dani?” He choked out, like he was surprised to see her. She rushed over to him. Feeling that the water was freezing, she quickly turned it off. She grabbed a towel, throwing it over him to give him some form of cover.

“Fuck, fish. What’re you doing? Trying to give yourself hypothermia?” Dani moved to grab more towels. She was able to get him to stand up and move into the bedroom. She searched his room for warm clothing. “Here.” She handed him the sweats and hoodie she found. “I’m gonna make you something to eat while you get dressed.” She exited the room and closed the door behind her. She felt her own tears threatening to fall down her face. It was hard to see her friend like this. She wiped away the drops that strayed down, trying to compose herself.

Frankie emerged from his room and followed the savory smell coming from the kitchen. “Hermosa.” His voice cracks a little, but she still hears him. Smiling, she turns to see him, arms wrapped around himself. “Shit, Teq.” He walks over to her, bringing a hand up to caress her face. “I didn’t mean to make you cry again.” He whispers, pulling her in for a hug.

“I’m okay, Fish.” She mumbles into his chest. “I made bacon and eggs.” She wasn’t going to say that was all she could make with the contents in his kitchen because the man was already down.

“Thank you, Dani. For everything. I think the worst has finally passed.” Frankie told her as they sat down at his tiny dining table. She handed him his plate before placing her own in front of her. The two ate in a comfortable silence.

“You wanna talk about it?” Dani asked as Frankie cleared the table. Frankie placed the dishes in the sink and turned back to where she sat at the table.

“I keep having the same nightmare. I’m in a helo and it's going down. It’s just like that first crash, except you’re there. And there’s nothing I can do to save you.” Frankie describes his dream, fighting back the emotion that is pouring through him.

“I’m here, Frankie. I’m here.” She tells him as she walks over. Taking his hand and placing it over her heart. “Feel that? I’m alive.” She moves it over his own, “You are, too. We are going to figure this out together.” The tension between them is palpable. Frankie looks down at Dani, her blue orbs staring back at him and all he can think about his pressing his lips to hers. Instead, he pulls away. She deserves more than a fuck up like me, he thought.

“Thank you. For dinner, fuck, for everything. You should go home and get some rest.” He practically pushed her out the door. “I’ll be okay.” He reassured her one last time before she said good-bye. He watched her walk to her car, climb inside, and drive away.

After the almost kiss, Dani did her best to give Frankie space. She knew he was going through a lot and he was probably having a lot of conflicted emotions. She stayed away from his apartment for about a week, checking in via text. He always responded immediately.

It was Saturday evening, and she had just finished her ER shift. She had sent a text to Frankie earlier in the day and still had not heard from him. Deciding that a trip to his apartment was warranted, Dani made her way over.

She knocked on the door three times before it opened. “Vanessa?” Dani choked out as the brunette stood there, wrapped in a towel. “Where’s Frankie?” She asked, her voice a little shaky.

“He’s busy, sweetie. Go home.” Vanessa snarked with a smirk on her face. Dani rolled her eyes, before storming past her toward Frankie’s room. She all but kicked the door open, sending the handle smashing into the wall.

“What the fuck?!” Frankie yelled, coming out of his bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist. The angry look on his face dropped as soon as he saw her. “Fuck.” He whispered, dropping his head. Dani knew immediately what was going on.

“Frankie, tell me this isn’t what it looks like.” She wished, pointing to the powdered substance on his dresser. He didn’t answer. “Frankie, please.” Her voice cracked, “Tell me you aren’t doing fucking coke again.” She pleaded. He raised his head to look at her, but did not answer.

She shook her head in disappointment before walking out of the room. “Dani!” Frankie called as he chased after her. “Dani, please, don’t go.” He begged her. She stopped in her tracks before she reached the door. Vanessa scoffed, muttering under her breath “to let her go”.

She slowly turned around. “Fuck you, Frankie Morales. Fuck you and fuck her.” She spat, pointing to Vanessa who was sitting on Frankie’s couch. Dani focused back on Frankie. “Thank you for wasting my time, my effort, my love. I told you when I started to help you that you had to want to get clean. You’ve made it very clear that you don’t. So, fuck you.” She blubbered, tears of regret and hurt welling in her eyes, spilling over her lashes.

She didn’t wait for a reply as she walked out of the door. It closed behind her with a loud thud. She got to her car and let out the sobs she was holding in. Dani had never felt anything like this. Even when she caught him at the party, it didn’t hurt this bad. She felt like some punched her in the stomach and could hear her heart pounding in her ears. What was she supposed to do now?

Dani pulled into her driveway to find Santiago sitting outside on the porch, like he was waiting on someone to come home. She put her car in park and he’s there to open her door. “¿Estás bien?” He asked as she stepped out.

She didn’t dare to look the brunette in the eyes, because she knew she'd break. “I’m fine.” She replied curtly, looking at the ground, walking toward the house. He followed quickly behind her. Once inside, she threw her bag onto the couch, going straight to the kitchen. She poured a shot of tequila, offering one for Santiago. He shakes his head ‘no’.

“Shit, Teq. What’s wrong?” He asks again, worry laced in his voice. He can tell she’s been crying. Her eyes are red, and her face is blotchy. She downs the alcohol and pours another.

“He’s doing coke again.” She rasped out, throwing back the second drink. Slamming the glass on the counter, she left Santiago and walked to her room.

He ran a hand down his face before tailing her. What the fuck have you done, Catfish. He thought. He found Dani laying face first into her pillow. “What do you mean he’s doing coke again?” He questions, sitting next to her legs.

She rolled over and sat up. “I mean, I hadn’t heard from him all day. I was worried. I got to his apartment and Vanessa was there.” she hiccuped, falling back on the pillow again. “There was coke on his dresser.” Dani sniffled, a sickening feeling growing in her stomach.

“I’m sorry, Dani.” He whispered, not really sure if she heard him. He is sorry. He’s sorry that Frankie is being an idiot. He’s sorry that she’s hurting. And he’s sorry that all he wants to do is make it better.

Dani fought to push her sadness down. She wiped her tears away and moved to sit up again, so that she’s looking at him. “I’m sorry, you looked like you had something you wanted to say.” She apologized and gave him her full attention.

Santiago nodded. “Yeah. I’m um, I’m going to South America. Colombia. I got a contract with the military.” He told her. “I’m supposed to leave in a month.” Her face dropped, and for a second she wonders how much heartbreak a person can take.

“South America? For how long?” She asked in disbelief. How could Santi be going to a different country? She just lost Frankie, she couldn’t lose him, too.

“I’m not sure.” He was being honest. He didn’t know when or if he would be back. It wasn’t going to be the safest contract. Dani sat there staring at him, speechless. “Teq?” He said, and she lifted her sad eyes to his. Almost as if he could read her mind, he promised, “I’ll come back.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t know that, Santi.” She mumbled, “What if you don’t come back?” The brunette shakes his head, telling her that she can’t think like that.

His cedar brown eyes met her blue ones. He reached out for her, pulling her into his embrace. He had an internal debate on whether or not he should say anything. It would be completely selfish of him, especially since he knew how Fish felt about her. That didn’t stop him from saying, "I have a contact down there who can get you certification to practice there. You could come with me, work in a hospital there."

Dani's body stiffened. Go to South America with Santi? She couldn't, could she? Santi could practically see the gears turning in her head. "It's not a marriage proposal, babe." He joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Dani let out a breathy laugh, "Yeah, like I would ever assume you are proposing marriage." Santi rolled his eyes, squeezing her tighter.

"I could settle down for the right woman." He rebutted, and they both burst into laughter. They knew Santi wasn’t the ‘settle down’ type. His arms relaxed around her and she wiggled her way out of his hold to sit back down on her bed.

"Seriously though, Tequila. If you want to come, the option is there." He offered her again. She could look into it. She could help so many less fortunate people, the whole reason why she wanted to become a doctor. After tonight, maybe it would be for the best.

"Okay." She says and his eyes go wide, like he didn't hear her correctly. "I want to go." She reiterates. Now he knows he wasn't hearing things. A huge smile crossed his face and he scooped her up into his arms again. Dani sighed in contentment. He smelled like mint and leather, even though he wasn’t wearing any, with a hint of whiskey.

She leaned her head back, so that she could look up at him. She was surprised to find him staring back at her. Her eyes subconsciously flickered to his lips as his tongue swiped out to dampen them. She didn't know if it was the buzz from the alcohol earlier, but she pushed forward to crash her lips into his.

Santi froze at the feeling of her lips on his. It was if he had fallen into one of his dreams, where the blonde woman had been running rampant. His hand found purchase at the back of her head, pulling her closer as their lips moved in tandem.

Dani's arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers playing in the curls growing at the base of his head. She felt his tongue dance along her bottom lip, as if to ask for permission to enter. She parted her lips, finally tasting him as their tongues met. He even tasted like mint and whiskey.

Santi nibbled her bottom lip, which drew a low moan from her. He knew right then that he wanted more sounds from her. He tightened the grip on the back of her head, pulling it to the side, so that he could have access to her neck. He broke the kiss unceremoniously, before attacking her neck, finding her sweet spot immediately.

"Santi," Dani whimpered with need. Santi groaned at the sound of his name coming off her lips. She sounded like an angel. He wanted to hear more.

He pulled back to look at her. Her eyes so dark with lust, Santi could barely see the baby blue. Her hair was a mess where he buried his fingers. She looked absolutely beautiful. "Fuck, Tequila." Santi said breathlessly. His hands caressed her face, one thumb swiping over her bottom lip. "Fuck, as much as I want to do this. I can't." He said as his hands dropped and he stepped back. "I'm sorry, Teq. You would hate me in the morning."

Dani, brain still fuzzy with need, nodded, "Yeah, yeah. You're right. It's best that we stop now." She hesitantly agreed, when really what she wanted was for him to make her forget. Make her forget Frankie. Make her forget work. Make her forget her own name.

Santi took a deep breath, running a hand across his face. His eyes met hers once more, trying to find any signs of regret. There were none. "We really shouldn't do this." He said one more time before connecting their lips again.

Translations:

Hermosa- Beautiful

Lo siento mucho- I’m really sorry.

Lo haré mejor, lo prometo- I’ll do better, I promise.

¿estás bien?- Are you okay?

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Chizuru Town (End) Heaven and Hell

Caesar and the MC are let off the chain.

------

The boys all erupted into cheers as you closed your eyes. The man in the striped suit hugged you and then kissed you on the mouth. You didn’t struggle or open your eyes so they wouldn’t see what you were up to. 

Your Soul Skill relies on connecting to the energy of the ground. Already, millions of filaments of your spiritual energy were penetrating the ground like a root system, forming a solid foundation for what was to come. Once your Soul Skill was firmly rooted, you could kill them all in an instant. So you didn’t care about what was happening around you right now. That is, you didn’t care until the ground began to give you feedback that something terrible was happening to Lu Mingfei.

You open your eyes ever so slightly.

Lu Mingfei was backed against the wall of the Internet Cafe. He was holding the empty gun as if he could still shoot but no one was buying it. Another group of boys were firing into the hole left by the Black Viper. If Caesar was still alive in there, he couldn’t come back out without getting shot. 

And there was still no sign of Chu Zihang.

You’d waited to act long enough. At last, you could see the sparkle in the eyes of the elk. 

You raise your golden eyes in the sky and scream. Your hair lifts from where it hung in a wet curtain to straight up, stiff in the air. The ground sparks with electricity and cracks form in the pavement with light shining up through the cracks. 

The boys stop harassing Mingfei and stop firing into the hole in the building and stare in terror as the ground splinters beneath them. In the next second, the energy below the pavement erupts into blazing fire. Their clothes catch fire and so does their hair. They run away from the cracks in the ground, to roll on the wet pavement, steam rising from them. Their lungs have been seared by the heat and they’re choking and gasping after running such a short distance. Their hair is scalded off and they have no eyebrows.

They were the lucky ones. The unlucky sank their feet into pure lava, the heat turning all the moisture in their body to steam instantly. They could only give voice to their blinding pain for a few seconds before they passed out from lack of blood and oxygen and expired.

The air is filled with screams and moans and burning flesh. The street has turned to Hell.

Eruption is a Soul Skill of the King of Earth and Mountains. It summons the magma in an area, so it can usually take some time to charge if the magma is very deep, but here in Japan, the ground is floating on rivers of it and it is nothing for you to call a thin injection up and to squeeze through the plates beneath the earth.

The cars tip down into the widening cracks and their tires pop and shoot up flames in the escaping air, melting the fine paint and metal. The van you’re sitting on is an island in the middle of the destruction.

A phone rings. The man in the stripe suit is pale with shock. He silently read the text message and put down the phone. He stood up, staring down at you with a pale face full of fear. “This scare tactic is no big deal! Japan is our territory! And Chizuru Town is also our territory! You’re not going to win! Put your guns up and kill them!”

Your jaw drops. You had spared this last man because you figured Caesar would want to end him personally and now he - this last rat - was rallying his troops against you? Who was that text message from? How was this Lord so terrible that he could inspire some lowlife to face your power and defy you immediately after you’d just instantly obliterated so many of his gang members?

You smile and laugh! “Hahahaha! I really have to kill all of you! I really do! I can’t believe it!”

The wall Lu Mingfei was pressed against suddenly reverberated with a majestic roar and cracked open with a loud bang. The four-meter- high backhoe rushed out of the fire in the building, the huge gravel shovel dragging Lu Mingei into the air. Those remaining fired at the shovel with a dense shower of bullets.

Caesar sat in the cockpit of the shovel, his right hand holding the steering wheel and his left hand holding the body of the girl. Her blood was dripping down so much it formed a crimson strip on the metal under the cockpit.

You raise your chin to him. The redness of that blood was like a flag, marking you and Caesar as comrades in sorrow.

Caesar turned the backhoe to face away from the attackers. “Lu Mingfei! Get in!”

Lu Mingfei used all his strength to jump towards the shovel and Caesar pulled him in by his arm. 

Caesar turned the back hoe back around. He handed the body of Makoto to Lu Mingfei who immediately looked like he was about to cry. Caesar’s face was as smooth and calm as granite as he looked at you and your river of destruction.

“Boss, are you okay?” Mingfei whimpered.

“I’m fine… I’m fine.”

The magma you called up was rapidly cooling in the rain and the steam rose up smelling like fresh asphalt. The charred corpses of the gangsters who had died were like black statues sticking out of the ground, frozen forever in their state of agony like the ash sculpture corpses of Pompeii and Herculaneum.

He breathed in and out. “MC. Stand down.”

“Ah.” You sigh. “Alright.”

“You lied to me. But I forgive you.” He said.

The man in the striped suit is staring at you and you stare right back. He finally understands that you were not a prize for him. Caesar Gattuso had deceived him into inviting a bomb right in the middle of his troops. 

“Grenades! Grenades!” The man in the suit yelled.

The dozen gangsters that remained pulled grenades from their belts and flung them at the backhoe. The grenades blew through the wheels of the machine, rendering it motionless.

That’s when the dark clouds suddenly broke open and a giant B1 bomber descended like a black bird from the sky. The stirring back draft of the low flight swept the whole length of the street, shattering some of the windows, and nearly knocked you off the van . When you regain your balance, you see something descending on a white parachute from the bottom of it near Caesar.

He snatched the box out of the air, opened it and revealed two new weapons. He calmly started loading up his weapons. Was this the power of Cassell? Or was it the Gattuso family? Caesar had to have called someone...

“Boss! That bullet can kill people!” Mingfei gasps.

“The old guys in my family are usually a bunch of dirty bastards, but one thing they say is true. They say that God created the world to be fair and just, and if someone makes a mistake, he should pay the price. Hand for hand, foot for foot. If someone doesn’t pay for their sins, then who will believe in God’s glory?” After he finished loading the rounds, he made the sign of the cross.

“Is that what this is all about? Converting me to Catholicism?” You laugh with incredulity. Even after all this destruction, staring into the face of the black abyss, it was this religion that kept him grounded in his view of the world. “I think our beliefs will stay different. But I don’t mind calling you brother, Caesar. Ow!” You cry out as your hair is suddenly seized.

The man in the striped suit quickly picks up the shotgun and points it at you but then his hand bursts into a shower of flesh and bone. With nothing to hold it, the gun falls into the cooling magma and sticks in upright.

The man in the suit wails, clutching his now empty wrist. The bullet had accurately penetrated his hand. The rounds from the Desert Eagle guns have no difficulty in shattering the skull of a rhinoceros. A human hand was no problem.

Caesar fired both guns, and after emptying them of bullets, he threw the guns to Lu Mingfei for him to help reload. He took out an Uzi from the same box to continue shooting. The gangsters completely lost their fighting spirit, leaving their companions crying and jumping into the vans that were undamaged by the magma. Some were able to jump in but most fell in the rain before they could touch any vehicle. Each bullet passes precisely through their calves. 

They had asked Caesar to cripple himself by shooting his hand and calf and now he was crippling them that way. It was casual genius. Caesar simply would not budge from his ideals, nor would you budge from yours. You simply provided space for each other. You found your niche, and he would work around that. So you do stand down and watch Caesar work, your heart icy cold, but warmed by the fires of his company in this wintry dark world.

The van’s wheels spun to get going in the rain, and the vehicles fled to the end of the long street, leaving behind their wounded companions. With them on the run, Caesar leaped from the backhoe and walked over the ruined ground. He raised the Uzi in a smooth arc and fired six shots at the apex, blowing out the tires of the vans.

The vans still tried to roll on the lopsided tires. But then they suddenly stop. The man in the suit got out of the vehicle, dragging the driver with him. Your smile fades a little and your heart rate jumps. But Caesar told you to stand down and these two wouldn’t serve any resistance, right?

The vans of the cargo doors burst open and the dark interiors shined with the lights of roaring motorcycles. Caesar stood like a pillar and closed his eyes.

The guns made a sound you had never heard a gun make before. Like an explosion but beginning and ending with some sort of snarl, like he was holding a vicious dog in his hands. The modified Desert Eagle shot extremely fast. Caesar blasted out a direct rain of bullets. When these gangsters were in range they entered Caesar's exclusive battle field. The tide of the bikes and the rain of the bullets collided head on. The bullets pierced through fuel tanks, broke axles, tore through the wheel wells, and shot out sparks. One by one, the heavy machines collapsed in the puddles, caught fire and exploded and the boys tumbled to the ground, crying out in disbelief. Caesar fired mechanically, his face without expression, not happy or angry or sad.

As for you, the MC, you were still uneasy. You understood what it was like to be herded into battle, as not all the orphans at the facility wanted to fight. Those weak ones were tossed headlong into the ring with more vicious and bloodthirsty opponents to fight it out and learn to like it. They didn’t have a choice. 

Just like observing those reluctant kids, you realize suddenly that this whole scene is wrong. These people are being driven to this fight like slaves. You just now noticed their chains when they stopped trying to escape and turned around.

There were still three motorcycles coming in a second wave. Even from this distance you could see the striped suited man, hand missing, eyes white with frenzy, carrying a long knife. Caesar casually tossed a grenade on the ground and rolled it in front of them. It burst and sent the bikes on either side of the man in the suit flying, but he was so determined that he popped his front wheel in the air and rode the explosion, just like Caesar had ridden the air to save Makoto. His blade was aimed directly at Caesar’s heart. 

You leap to your feet, but Caesar didn’t move other than to sweep his leg up and kick the fuel canister on the bike.

The man in the suit suddenly realized that his motorcycle was gone and he was floating by himself in the air. The bike had been kicked out from under him and he landed hard, smashing face down right in the road.

Caesar bent over, picked him up by his hair and forced him to watch, feet dangling, as he poured bullets into the motorcycle, smashing its four cylinder engine, axle, silver-plated tailpipe and handle bars, the leather seat, and the precious logo… his beloved motorcycle, that was like his beautiful woman, was turned into nothing more an scrap metal.

“My …” you say to yourself, glancing at the black corpses surrounding you and wondering who was better off.

“I’ll kill you,” Caesar was saying, “But before that, you have to tell me who that “Lord” behind the curtain is.” Caesar shot the man in the ankle, and one of his feet disappeared.

“I have little patience for forced confessions.” Caesar fired another shot, hitting the knee and the man’s calf disappeared.

The man in the suit was struggling to speak in pain, but then Caesar called Lu Mingfei to him. “Translate.”

Lu Mingfei, who had been hiding in the backhoe, fell clumsily from the machine and hurried over, trying not to trip over any charred bodies.

“He said he’s going to take a long time to explain and he’s going to pass out. He’s asking for some wine.” He puffed breathlessly.

“He wants to drink?” Caesar was a little surprised by this lecherous man’s courage.

From your vantage point on the van, you notice that someone is moving in the darkness behind the abandoned vehicles with the flat tires. You leap off the van and hurry over to the back hoe. There were still guns left there. One a Beretta. You snatch it and and run towards Caesar, eyes on the target.

The man in the suit fished out a test tube of purple liquid from his sleeve and sucked the liquid out faster than Caesar could react.

“Poison?” Caesar was taken aback, but it was too late. The test tube fell and shattered in the rain and the man hung limp. You slow to a stop. You thought the shadow was there, but now you don’t see anything.

The man in the suit’s body suddenly twitched feverishly. His flesh started to morph, like he was rapidly healing, yet dying at the same time. The man’s eyes opened with golden pupils! Caesar did not have time to dodge before the man’s fingers - now a pair of vicious bone claws - stabbed into his chest. 

He pounced on Caesar with strength that overwhelmed him, hugging him tightly with the claws digging into his back and teeth closing on his neck. 

You fire once. The man’s skull ragdolls back.  And then again. The man in the suit releases a stunned and bloodied Caesar who lets him fall in a heap to the ground. Lifeless.

Chu Zihang was standing there. Evidently he was the moving shadow. He had run to help Caesar himself but your gun’s bullets reached him before he could. They were still some distance away from you. Between you and them were several of the wounded who were still crawling away, cowering behind trash cans and trying to hide between wrecked cars. All of them could turn into monsters, as far as you were concerned. 

You catch the eyes of one who was crouched behind the mailbox. He held up his hands. He cried “No! No!” before his head shattered to pieces. You moved to the next who was scooting away behind two black trash bags. You pull the trigger and he dropped like a stone.

Chu Zihang is racing to meet you. You trace your fingers to draw a line across the street. The ground opens up and a river of lava’s heat comes between you. Meanwhile, you keep shooting, ignoring the gangster’s pleas and prayers. They have to die. They all have to die.

Chu Zihang suddenly seemed to fall from the sky. His eyes are blazing gold, his sword raised.

“No.” You say. You wave your hand and the ground lifts beneath you forming a jagged edge pointed up at him. If Zihang fell on it at this speed, he could have broken ribs or worse, but he rolls in the air,  casting a spout of fire to blast him away at the last second.

Your eyes follow the trajectory of his arc. A crack in the pavement follows your gaze. Such extreme control of eruption is only possible thanks to the amount of filaments in the ground. The liquid rock underneath you is almost like a second limb. The ground is shaking and unsteady when Chu Zihang lands and he stumbles and falls. But now his eyes are wide with terror, but  looking behind you. You turn and stare down the muzzle of an old revolver. You feel a flash of intense pain. The world around you spins. Colors and images blur together. You land in a puddle, coughing blood. Your world goes dark with Chu Zihang calling your name.

[magicmanias]

Restless

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader

Summary: The kid won't sleep.

Warnings: Idiots to Lovers, Fluff, Mando doesn’t get emotions, the kid is a brat (but still cute)

Word Count: 2.8k

A/N: This could have a part 2… Maybe. 

39 hours. 

That’s how long you went without sleep. Mando left two days ago to run after some sort of bounty—a Rodian or something—and since then, the kid would not give you a break. Usually, he would take naps periodically throughout the day and your sleep schedule followed, but for the past 39 hours, 15 minutes, and 27 seconds the kid didn’t sleep a wink and much to your displeasure, you followed suit. When Mando initially left, you had laid the kid down in his bassinet and you snoozed at his side, but seven hours later, you woke up to him waving his little baby hands trying to open the ship’s door. 

So, you were careful not to fall asleep before he did. Except, you were paying the price now.

The kid was usually so tame. He didn't touch what you told him not to touch, he'd eat when you gave him food, and he went to sleep when you laid him down. But now that little green gremlin was giving you hell. He touched everything, he would refuse to eat anything but meat—which you didn't have a lot of on a ship without a preservator, and he wouldn't. fucking. sleep. 

It seemed the only thing you could do to make him stop bouncing off the walls was “uppying” him. And in the beginning, it seemed like a good deal—you would get quiet and he would get uppy. But what you didn't realize was that while you carried that little demon, sitting was not an option No. You had to walk around with him or else he'd pry himself out of your grasp with his grubby three-fingered hands and go right back to touching anything with a warning label.

“Baby, I'll do anything. Just sleep, baby. Please,” you begged, bouncing him in your arms once more. Your eyes were dropped shut and you leaned up against the side of the ship, just sort of bending your knees and sliding up and down against the wall. “I know daddy isn't here, but he's coming back, I swear.”

The kid gurgled a bit and stared up at you with his big, starry eyes, knocking your face with his floppy ears in the process. It was like some sort of face off, each daring the other to give in. You forced your eyes to stay open, using what little energy you had left. The kid gave you a long blink in return.

“Maker, you're killing me.” You set the kid down and collapsed on the cot. Mando would be back any minute. You could rest your eyes for just a second. Just for a minute and when Mando came back you could actually sleep. One break was fine… 

You woke up to a clatter. Your eyes shot open—the kid. Kriff. You swiveled your head wildly, searching for the source of the sound. The sound of metal against metal came from the cockpit. Bantha shit! You slammed your fist on the door panel and raced to the cockpit. The door slid open and the sight of the window revealed the blackness of space. When did you leave…? 

A grunt to your right pulled your attention away from the window. You were met with the sight of the Mandalorian attempting to coax the baby into the bassinet. “Found the kid pushing buttons up here,” he grumbled. 

Kriff. You were so screwed. How was it that he was out catching the most dangerous criminals in the most dangerous parts of the most dangerous planets in the galaxy and you couldn't get one child to take a damn nap? Were you that useless? Would Mando make you leave? 

“Sorry.” Well there went the last of your dignity. You couldn’t see Mando’s eyes through the visor, but you could feel them burning holes through your brain. You willed yourself to shrink under his gaze. “Sorry,” you whispered again.

“For what?” He cocked his head like he was confused. Was he genuinely asking you?

You broke whatever kind of contact your eyes made with the visor and stared at the closed bassinet. How did he do that? Maybe you never were good with kids. Although, it’s not like you could have known, growing up on a planet like Arvala-7. It wasn’t a popular vacation spot for families. Those that were younglings on the planet were always hiding away until they found the opportunity to steal food from street vendors. You were really starting to regret taking this job. 

You shrugged in response. 

“Hey.” Mando stood from the bassinet and approached you. You often forgot just how intimidating his presence could be. He stopped in front of you, but his large figure loomed over you, forcing you to crane your neck up to meet the vizor. You scrunched your brow and sucked in your bottom lip. Don’t cry, you idiot. His voice softened and for a second you thought you heard genuine, human concern coming from under the mask. “Where were you?” he demanded.

“I was… I fell asleep,” you whimpered, looking down at his feet. Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Are you ok?” 

“What?” Did he just ask you if you were ok? He never asked you that before. Most of the things he said to you were in command form. Don’t touch that. Set the coordinates. Carry this. And if they weren’t commands, they were some other form of a sentence with a testing atmosphere to them. 

“Are you ok? You look… tired.” Mando shifted his weight uncomfortably. 

You stared at him blankly. “What?”

Mando turned away from you and seated himself in the pilot’s chair. “You need to sleep. Go to bed, Y/N,” he said, punching in a few coordinates and the ship began to glow with life. 

“I… ok,” you said lamely. You could barely process anything now. You would apologize after you got some sleep. 

By the time you woke up again, you noticed the ship was no longer in motion. Light poked through the small window of the escape pod you slept in and you felt… warm. There was a weight pressed up against your stomach. You looked down at your stomach and small a small lump present under the blankets. Carefully, you sat up, letting the sheet slide down. Two big, green ears popped out. 

“What’re you doing here, baby? Looking for you dad? Well, this is probably the last place he’d be.”

Footsteps fell outside your door, followed by a single knock. Mando? He never came to your makeshift room, let alone knocked on your door. “Come in?” 

After a few seconds of silence, you were about to repeat yourself, but then the outside panel beeped and the door slid open. Mando remained at the doorway, hesitantly leaning forward. He watched you intently—or as much as the helmet revealed, not speaking, and suddenly, you felt incredibly vulnerable wearing nothing but a baggy, old shirt you borrowed from Mando while he stood full-armored in front of you. You ungracefully dragged the sheet a little further up your chest. “I’m leaving. I should be back soon. Watch the—Can you watch the kid?”

He just asked you. Not commanded. Asked. “Uh, sure. Yeah.”

The helmet nodded and Mando left as quickly as he came. Maybe you could apologize to him after he came back. 

You looked down at the kid, still sitting on your lap. “So I guess it’s just you and me again for a bit. Do you think we can come to some sort of an agreement?” The baby blinked. “Great.”

It took a bit of trial and error, but you did it. The kid was sleeping. After you changed, you’d picked up the kid and just hugged him. “I’m sorry for not taking better care of you. You got in trouble, but it was my fault,” you cooed. The child dug his face into your neck and pulled onto your shirt. You rubbed your hand soothingly on his back, rocking from side to side. “I hope your dad will forgive me too,” you murmured, bringing your hand up to the backside of one of his ears. You started to lightly scratch and then there was a small whump on your chest. The kid was asleep. 

“Thank you, Maker,” you mouthed silently, before bringing the kid to the bassinet. You made sure to close it this time. Now that the kid was asleep, you realized just how hungry you were. You hadn't eaten since before Mando came back from his last bounty hunt. Maybe there was something in the storage unit on the lower level. 

The bassinet trailed behind you as you made your way to the lower level of the Razor Crest. Your stomach growled louder and you started to pick up the pace to the storage unit. Just as you descended the ladder, you found yourself flat on your butt, a forgotten blaster that you tripped over at your feet. Looking around, you realized that the ship was a mess.

Maybe this would be a good way to apologize, after you actually apologized though.

Mando hated Coruscant. It was overcrowded, dirty, and it made him feel like he couldn’t breathe—even with the helmet on, but the highest-paying bounty that Karga had was currently on that damn planet. 

Mando’s grip on the tracker in his hand tightened once the Razor Crest came into view. Two things made the Mandalorian hesitant to board the ship. One: He really hated Coruscant. Two: you. He remembered your face when he asked you about the kid. You were halfway to tears. You were so… sensitive. Mando wondered how he’d gotten here with you accompanying him. It seemed like such an unlikely pair. A cold-blooded bounty hunter and a girl who cried when she accidentally tripped over the green bean in a potato sack. 

When Mando first landed back on Arvala-7, he went to the escape pod to tell you, but he found you still sleeping like a damn rock, the kid on your stomach doing the same. It wasn’t for another four hours until you came around. But every ten minutes, Mando came back to check on you. He probably came more often and stayed for longer than he needed to. There was just something so… peaceful about you. You looked so relaxed. So pure. Mando hadn’t slept like that in years. His back always hurt. His neck was always stiff. He bet you never felt sore. 

He could never sleep for long either. He could lie on that cot for a full cycle and not get any rest. Just gaze at the roof of the ship and… think. He usually didn’t dream. Didn’t sleep long enough at one time to. But the second you stepped onto that ship and smiled, that was all he could think about at night. Your smile. It filled him with a sense of warmth and comfort. When he woke up the next morning, his back still hurt and his neck was still stiff, but he’d slept for eight hours. That was the longest he had slept in a long time and every dream was about you. 

Your heart jumped slightly when the sound of the main hatch opening rang in your ears. You thanked the Force you were finishing up in the weapons’ hold and grabbed a blaster. You didn’t know how to shoot it, but whoever invaded the ship didn’t need to know that. Hopefully, they didn’t know how to use one either. You slowly lifted up the blaster and neared the exit of the small room. “I have a weapon!” you called out. The kid babbled and laughed at your nervous figure. You pushed the bassinet behind you and closed it. “Who’s here?”

An armored figure stepped in front of the armory, gloved hands comfortably seated on his belt. You shrieked and pointed the blaster in front of you, clenching your eyes shut.. The figure pushed the blaster out of his face. “Hey! What are you doing in here?” Mando’s voice demanded. 

Your eyes shot open, revealing the all-too familiar helmet. Oh. “Sorry!” you yelped. “I-I thought you were… um… an intruder.” 

“What are you doing in here?” he asked again. 

“Oh.” Suddenly you turned sheepish. “Well, I felt really sorry for falling asleep and not taking good care of the kid, but you left before I could apologize and I realized that this place needed some cleaning up, so I picked up. A bit.” You sucked in your lip and placed the blaster back on the hook. “And I wanted to apologize.”

“For being even less intimidating with a blaster than you are without one?”

Did… Did Mando just tease you? “Wh-What?”

“If you’re going to point a blaster at me, open your eyes when you do it,” he said.

“Oh. Right.” You cleared your voice. “I’m sorry for falling asleep. When you were gone before, the kid hadn’t slept in a really long time and I didn’t want to leave him on his own when he was conscious, so I stayed up too and he never went to sleep but—”

“Hey, slow down,” he said, stepping a little closer to you. You stepped further into the weaponry.

“Sorry,” you muttered.

“Because you fell asleep?” he asked.

You nodded slightly, hands positioned tightly at your sides. “I’m sorry. If you want to just leave me on Arvala, I understand.” Your eyes teared up again. Please don’t cry in front of him.

The helmet titled to the side. “Why would I do that?” he asked softly.

“Be-Because I left the kid un-unchecked,” you blubbered. “And-And you’re mad at me.”

“Do I sound mad?”

“I can’t ever tell when you feel anything!” you cried, tears streaming down your face. You tried to wipe them away in vain. Stupid emotions. You shoved your face into your hands, mortified that Mando was only again, seeing you cry. He’s going to leave you here. Two arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in an awkward hug. 

Mando’s leather gloved fingers traced along your back and you dug your nose into his chest. A muffled ‘I’m sorry’ could be heard. “Quit it,” he said. 

You lifted your head to look up at the helmet. “What?’ you hiccuped, sniffing.

“Quit saying sorry,” he said, continuing to look straight ahead. If he looked at you, crying in his arms, with red-rimmed eyes and a pink nose, he wouldn’t let you go. He’d stepped over the line as it was. 

You wrapped pulled your arms from his chest and placed them around him, pulling the Mandalorian closer. “Your armor is cold,” you mumbled. 

Mando pulled away instantly, like he’d hurt you somehow, but your arms remained wrapped around his waist. “It’s ok,” you reassured him, sniffing. “I like it. My face feels warm anyway.”

Mando looked down, forgetting the boundaries altogether. You had stopped crying, but your eyes were still red and your nose was still pink. Your cheeks had filled his color from the blood that rushed to them. One of your cheeks was pressed against his chestplate, forcing you to stare to the side. Something in Mando wanted to stroke your hair, but he clenched his fist and kept it still on your back. He contemplated letting go, but you never hugged him before and he wanted a little more time to memorize how it felt, so maybe he could recreate it in his dreams. 

“Thank you,” you said, unmoving and pressed up against him. Mando didn’t say anything in response because he didn’t know how to respond. Instead, he placed his hand on her head and stroked her hair. 

Something tugged at his leg and then wrapped itself around it. Mando hesitantly pulled away and looked down. The kid lifted his head towards the two. He turned to you and made uppy hands. You laughed slightly and leaned down to pick up the child. 

“Hi baby,” you cooed, wiggling a finger at him with your free hand. Mando watched you as you snuggled up against the baby with a slight tang of jealousy. Damn that kid…  But then, Mando saw you smile, despite your puffy, dry eyes and he smiled under the helmet. You turned to him, calmly rocking the child back and forth. “What’s the next stop?”

Mando recalled the tracker in his hand. He shook his head and left it on a shelf in the armory. The bounty hunter paused, suddenly remembering a conversation he once had with you.

It was more of a one-sided conversation, you doing most of the talking. It was early, when you had just met Mando, still getting used to his dislike for communication. “I’ve lived on this desert my whole life. But I hate hot weather. I get cold too easily though. Space is colder than I thought. I used to talk to this old woman who lived near me on Arvala. She used to tell me about all the planets she’d been to. Alderaan, Hoth, Onderon, Dantooine... You name it and she’d been there. There was this one planet that sounded so lovely. Endless green fields, flora, fauna, temperate weather, rivers, lakes…”

“Naboo.”

[tagsecretsanta]

From @TsarinaTorment

to @gumnut-logic

Secret santa does not own this work, full credit to the author mentioned above!

Prompts used: all of them but in true Tsari fashion I also twisted them so much they probably barely resemble the prompts at this point.

Virgil and many, many butterflies (probably not what they had in mind...)

Virgil has a puzzle to solve (actually maybe stayed on some sort of track with this one!)

Virgil and a brother go on a boat trip (of the rescue sort)

Nothing Christmassy, so sorry if my requestee was hoping for that.  But on the plus side, it's 8k words of Virgil!

Tsari--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Steady Hands

Rating: Teen

Characters: Virgil, Gordon, Scott, John... and some friends :D

Summary: One boat.  Two brothers.  A life-or-death game of Jenga.

“Eeeeaaasy.”

Virgil didn’t bother to glare at his brother, far too used to his distraction techniques.  He didn’t even spare him a glance, keeping his attention firmly on what he was doing.  Gordon wanted him to fail, like the supportive little brother he was, mostly because he inevitably had a bet on with Alan, and Virgil had far too much pride to let his younger brothers’ schemes throw him off of his game.

He had the steadiest hands of all of his brothers.  All four of them were too jittery, too used to moving, whether it be the physical activity Scott and Gordon preferred, or the twitching at the tips of fingers over keyboards and virtual reality.  Virgil was an artist, a pianist, an engineer.  A medic.  His hands didn’t tremble unless he let them.

The tower in front of him wouldn’t fall.  Not on his turn.

Perfectly steady hands poked at a single block, careful yet confident.  It moved, but its neighbours didn’t.  Gordon groaned loudly.  Virgil ignored that, too, and once the block moved far enough, deftly plucked it from its fellows.

The tower didn’t even wobble.

“How do you do that?” Gordon groused, pouting at the stack.  There were more holes than blocks in the Jenga tower now, and Virgil’s latest move had left it teetering on the very edge of stable.  Even he would struggle to get another out without nudging neighbouring blocks and bringing the whole thing crashing down.  Gordon had no chance, and they both knew it.

But Gordon wasn’t a quitter.  Eyes narrowed in concentration and tongue stuck out the corner of his mouth, he surveyed the stack in front of him for several moments in silence, assessing.  None of the blocks would go without pulling others down with them, Virgil knew, but Gordon still refused to throw the game.

Eyes almost slits, he selected his target and reached out to touch it.

“International Rescue, we have a situation.”

Clatter.

“Aw, man!” Gordon complained, looking at the jumble of blocks in front of him.  “That doesn’t count!  John knocked them down!”

“John’s a hologram,” Virgil reminded him, satisfied grin on his face.  “That was no more of a distraction than you talking when I picked.  My victory.”

“What’s the situation, John?” Scott cut in, ignoring them in preference of John as he always did when a call came in.  With one last look at the still-pouting Gordon, Virgil turned his own attention to the projection of his brother.

“There’s a large fishing trawler in distress,” John said.  “There was a small explosion in the engine room and now they’re taking on water.  The crew are requesting evacuation.”

Virgil straightened up.  He didn’t need to look to know that Gordon had done the same, poised to dart for his Thunderbird the moment the brief was over.

“What caused the explosion?” he asked.  John shrugged.

“The crew don’t know,” he said.  “But the ship’s sinking, so I suggest you launch.  I’ll see what I can find on the explosion.”

“F.A.B.,” Scott agreed. “Virgil, Gordon – you’re up.  I’ll attend in Thunderbird One.”  Virgil didn’t wait to hear anything else, standing up and heading over to the painting that concealed his launch chute and trusting his brothers to be doing the same.  “Thunderbirds are go!”

Scott always loved saying that.  He denied it, but Virgil knew his big brother.

John was efficient.  By the time Virgil was sat in his pilot seat, Module Four selected and little brother rising up into the cockpit behind him, Thunderbird Two’s navigation systems were updated with the precise location of the distressed trawler.

It wasn’t too far, down in the waters south of Tasmania, and before long they got visual on the boat in question.  It was listing to one side, figures crowded on deck.  From the way they were waving up at Scott in Thunderbird One, Virgil thought it was a pretty safe bet that they were the crew.

“That boat’s too big for Thunderbird Two to stabilise,” Gordon noted.  “I’ll see what I can do from the water.”

“F.A.B.,” Virgil agreed.

“I’ll drop down and help the evacuation,” Scott said over the comms.  “Virgil, stay overhead in Thunderbird Two and drop the rescue platform.  It’ll be a tight fit without the module, but once they’re on board take them to the nearest port.  John?”

“I’ve got their home port located,” the ginger said.  “Sending co-ordinates now.”

“Once they’re all evac’d, I’ll look around and see if I can find what caused this,” Scott continued.  “If Gordon can get the hull patched, we’ll get the GDF out to tow it to port.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Gordon said, hologram flickering to live next to John’s on the dash.  “Ready for module deployment, Virg.”

“Dropping you now, Gords.”  He brought Thunderbird Two into a hover just above the water and released the module.  The familiar shudder passed through his ‘bird as she dropped her belly, and it was with a practiced hand that he kept her steady.  Out of the window, he saw Scott bring Thunderbird One down before dropping the few feet onto the deck.  The silver rocket soared back into the sky under remote control or autopilot – Virgil didn’t know exactly which controls were being used but she wasn’t slaved to Two – as Scott made his way to the crew.

Leaving his big brother to corral them, he focused on his own task, bringing Thunderbird Two overhead and getting ready to drop the rescue platform.

“How many guests am I expecting, Thunderbird Five?” he asked.

“Captain tells me there’s ten,” John told him.  “Life signs agree.”

“Gonna be cosy in here,” he observed.

“Cosy or not, we’re ready for evac, Thunderbird Two,” Scott cut in.

“Copy that, Thunderbird One.  Lowering the platform now.”

Aside from the unknown cause of the explosion, it was about as standard as they got.  Well, Virgil wasn’t used to carrying an entire crew in his cockpit, but aside from that little detail, it was nice and simple.

“Scott, I’ve just picked up another life sign.”

Well, it was simple, until John dropped that little detail.  Already leaving the danger zone, Virgil glanced over at the captain, sat in the co-pilot’s seat.

“I thought we had the whole crew here?”

The captain looked shocked.  “We do.”

Virgil frowned.  “Thunderbird One, all heads are accounted for.”

“Thunderbird Two, keep going.  I’ll find our mystery person and evac them in One.”

“I’ll help you search, Thunderbird One,” Gordon chipped in.  “I’ve patched up the hole best I can; I’ll leave Four here and join you.”

“F.A.B., Thunderbird Four.  Everything’s under control here, Thunderbird Two,” Scott assured him.  “You get the crew to dry land.”

“F.A.B.,” Virgil agreed.

“I don’t get it,” the captain said, shaking his head.  “There are only ten of us.  Who’s the other life sign?”

“If I had to guess, Captain,” John said, “I’d say that’s probably the cause of your explosion.  Scott, Gordon, be careful.”

“Noted, Thunderbird Five.  Gordon, I’ll rendezvous with you on deck.”

“F.A.B.”

Both his brothers flickered out of sight, presumably switching to a private channel, and Virgil let out a breath, glancing over at the crew behind him.  There weren’t enough seats for all of them, so he couldn’t go at his usual speeds, and inwardly he frowned.  Even if it was Scott and Gordon, he didn’t feel right leaving them with someone potentially dangerous and without backup.

But he had a job to do, and some people to get to shore.

The trip took longer than he was happy with, but once the crew were safely offloaded, he turned around and shot for the boat and his brothers as fast as Thunderbird Two could go.

“Scott, Gordon, you found our mystery life sign yet?”

His brothers flickered into view.

“Negative, Virgil.  No sign of them yet.  John keeps losing the signal.  I’m guessing it must be some sort of cloaking device.”  Scott looked frustrated.

“I don’t like this,” Virgil said bluntly.  “Call the GDF to deal with it and get off that boat.  If you haven’t found them yet they’re trying not to be found.”

The journey was much shorter when he could go at top speed.  Thunderbird One was still hovering above the boat, gleaming silver from the sun.

“Virgil, this boat is still likely to sink.  We’ve got to get them off,” Scott argued.  “We can’t wait for the GDF.”

“Scott’s right, Virg,” Gordon agreed.  “We’ve got to-  Scott!  I saw them!”

He broke into a run, Scott seemingly hot on his heels.

“Guys,” Virgil ground out.  “Guys, if they don’t want to-”

BOOM.

The explosion rocked the boat; through the cockpit windows he saw it list from one side to the other, and then back again, noticeably lower in the water.  The cabin was gone, replaced with timber sized matchsticks.

“Scott?” he shouted.  “Gordon?”

His brother’s holograms flickered once, twice, and then they vanished.  No, no, no.  Virgil didn’t think, just reacted, pushing his ‘bird forward the last short distance and firing the grapples down towards the once again sinking boat.  As Gordon had noted earlier, it exceeded her lifting power, and VTOLs shrieked as he gunned them with everything she had.  His brothers were still down there, somewhere inside looking for their elusive lifesign, and he absolutely was not letting them slip from his grasp.  Not now, not ever.

“Scott!” he shouted again, over the sound of Thunderbird Two’s screaming engines. “Gordon!  Come in!”

Autopilot couldn’t keep the pressure on the VTOLs; if he tried to leave the cockpit and find them himself, the boat would sink.  Even on manual pilot, Thunderbird Two couldn’t hold it for long.  A shudder ran through his ‘bird and he grit his teeth.  He wasn’t Scott, but he still solved problems.  Logistics.  Thunderbird Two was at maximum lift strength; her engines would burn out if he kept this up.

His brothers were still down there, unresponsive.  He couldn’t risk that.

Module Four was floating on the swell of the waves, waiting for Thunderbird Four’s return.  The bright sub was under the waterline; he could just about see her through the ocean swell.  Remote controlling her was difficult, and he didn’t know precisely what Gordon had done with her to latch her to the boat.  She was also their backup exit if their route to the deck was blocked.

After the explosion, it probably was.

So he couldn’t move Thunderbird Four.  Gordon would know exactly where he’d left his ‘bird, and would be making for her if they hadn’t been incapacitated by the explosion.  With neither of them picking up comms, Virgil knew better than to cling to a false hope, but he still couldn’t risk it, just in case they were fine and it was just some damaged radios.

He did have Thunderbird One.  Her lifting power was nowhere near that of Thunderbird Two’s, but combined, it might just be enough to keep the boat from sinking.  It was now an inconvenience that Scott hadn’t slaved her console to his, but he could still override her from Thunderbird Two, and unlike Thunderbird Four, there was no way she’d be of use to his brothers in the boat.

Jaw set, he flicked the control pad and jabbed in the override code for Thunderbird One, slaving her to her sister’s controls before remote piloting her to the more laden end of the ship.  One high-tensile grapple cable fired.

It missed.  He didn’t have Scott’s precision, or Gordon’s innate dead aim.  Those thoughts got pushed away as he reeled the cable back in to send out a second time.  The ship below him had to be secured – before Thunderbird Two’s VTOL overheated.  He could worry about finding his brothers once he knew the ship wasn’t sinking any more.

The second shot caught, the light going green to represent the clang of success he couldn’t hear over Thunderbird Two’s engines.  Thunderbird One’s VTOLs joined the chorus; a cacophony of sound so loud he could barely hear himself think.  It was enough.

Just.

Virgil still couldn’t risk autopilot on Thunderbird Two, the weight remaining beyond her official lifting parameters.  If it wasn’t for Brains’ over-engineering, she wouldn’t be holding even with her sister’s help.

“John!” he called.  Unlike his missing brothers, the ginger appeared immediately.  “They’re not picking up.  Do you have their signals?”

John looked annoyed, and a little worried.  That wasn’t good.

“Their location transmitters are still working,” he said.  “But I can’t get either of them to respond, either.”

“Take control of Thunderbird Two,” Virgil ordered.  “I’m going to get them.”

“F.A.B.  Taking control of both Thunderbirds One and Two now.”

The holographic symbol for Thunderbird Five flashed up over his controls, and Virgil released his grip on them, trusting John – or EOS – to keep the boat from sinking.

Now he had two brothers to save.

“Locations, John?”

“They’re both in the engine room,” his brother told him, the boat’s schematics appearing over his wrist controller as he hurried along the internal corridors of his ‘bird.  Her module was detached, floating too far away to reach, but Virgil made it a point to have one Jaws of Life accessible at all times.  Just in case.

That just in case paid off as he reached the small storage room, filled with spare gear – and a half-eaten celery crunch bar.  He ignored it, but made a mental note to remind Gordon where food was and wasn’t permitted on Thunderbird Two later.  Once his brothers were safe.

“Bzzt!”

Static erupted from his wrist controller just as he began to shrug on the mechanical exosuit and he paused, tapping at it to try and clear the signal.

“Bzzt!  -irgil?  Bzztin -Two!”

“Gordon?”  The static was bad, but Virgil still recognised his brother’s voice.  “Gordon, can you hear me?”

“I’ll try to boost the signal,” John said.  Virgil nodded distractedly, his focus on his comm as it crackled again.

“-ear you,” Gordon confirmed amongst more static.  “-dio damaged.  Bzzt-bzzt-pair job.”

“What’s your status?”  He resumed suiting up, unwilling to waste a moment if his brother was trapped.

“-t great,” his comm crackled.  “Not hurt bzzt-ott bzzt cold.”

Virgil frowned, trying to parse what his brother had said through the static.

“Say again, Gordon?”

“Bzzt-t hurt bzzt Scott-bzzt-t cold.”

That was either Scott’s cold or Scott’s out cold, and considering the lack of communication from his older brother, Virgil decided to assume it was the latter.  That was a problem, but not an insurmountable one.

“I’m on my way down to you,” he declared, Jaws of Life now settled over him.  “Any idea what caused the explosion?”

“-egative, Virg.  It’s bzzt-gerous.”  Virgil scowled, hearing Gordon’s too dangerous protest and wondering if he thought for one moment that that would stop him.  “-ther problem.  Bzzt-bzzt-”

“-me a probl-bzzt?” another, unfamiliar voice cut in.  Sharp, female.  Their missing life sign?

“-ou-bzzt been goo-bzzt-bzzt-fore,” Gordon retorted.

“Gordon?” Virgil cut in.  “What’s the problem?”

“-os Crew bzzt-bzzt.”  Whatever else Gordon had to say was lost in a snow of static, but Virgil had heard enough to start piecing it all together.  Chaos Crew.  Explosions.  Unfamiliar female voice.

Gordon, and presumably an unconscious Scott, were with Havoc, and Fuse was running around somewhere with no eyes on him.

“Gordon, I’m coming,” he said, cutting off whatever the static was supposed to be.  He hoped their connection was better on his brother’s end.  “John’s given me your location.”

“No!” Gordon protested, but Virgil ignored him as he left the safety of Thunderbird Two to slide down one of the cables holding the boat up.  The roar of the engines drowned out anything coming from his comms for several long moments before his boots hit the surface of the deck.

He’d known it was bad, but this was worse.  His comms spluttered at him but he ignored Gordon’s static-garbled protests that he’d left his ‘bird in favour of reassessing the situation.

Virgil was no Scott, able to take everything in at a glance and make snap decisions, but he had an eye for detail and the patience to spend an extra moment looking things over before acting.  It was that eye that told him this was not going to be easy.

The main entrance to get below deck – he was sure it had a name but that was Gordon’s area and Virgil might not be Scott but right now he did not have the time to waste on remembering it – was entirely collapsed in, the cabin so much steel and timber covering it and well and truly trapping anyone down below.  According to the schematics, that was the only way down.

This was why Virgil had the Jaws of Life with him.

“Virgil.”  John’s voice overrode Gordon’s crackling with an urgency that demanded his attention right that moment.  “I can’t boost their radio signals any further, but I did manage to boost their suit telemetry and get a more detailed scan of the compartment they’re trapped in.”

“Let me guess,” Virgil sighed, stomping over to the mangled mess of former-cabin and starting to calculate the best way to clear it.  “Bad news?”

“Scott’s helmet’s taken some damage, probably from the initial blast, and his oxygen supply is depleted.”  Virgil frowned as he identified the first bit of rubble that needed to go – a large sheet of mangled metal that was probably part of the cabin’s roof or walls.

“So they can’t swim for it?  That’s not a problem unless their compartment starts to flood,” he observed.  It wasn’t ideal, and if Scott’s helmet was damaged that confirmed that he was probably unconscious, but he trusted Gordon to do any initial first aid until he got there.

He ignored the uneasy feeling in his stomach.

“Yeah,” John said in that flat way that meant bad news.  “About that.”

Uh oh.  “It’s already flooding?”

“Got it in one.  The flow’s reasonably slow and the compartment’s quite big so they’ve got time, but I’d estimate ten minutes and they’ll be under.”

“And with Scott unconscious he can’t hold his breath.”  Virgil scowled and shifted the metal with more force than he should have done.  The diluted clang of metal on deck reverberated through his boots.

“I imagine Gordon-”

“Hey, watch it!”  John’s speculation – probably on how Gordon, their resident aquanaut and underwater rescue specialist, was going to get oxygen to Scott when his helmet was damaged and didn’t fit Gordon’s rebreather anyway – was cut off by a disgruntled exclamation from behind him.

Virgil turned to see unmistakable purple armour, and wondered how on earth he’d missed Fuse coming up behind him.

“You almost hit me with that!” the young man griped, but his heart didn’t seem to be in the accompanying pout.  Instead, he was hurrying forwards, almost frantically, and Virgil remembered that Fuse was reportedly Havoc’s brother.  “What are you doing throwing metal around on a ship full of explosives?”

“What?”

Virgil hadn’t seen any more explosives.  There weren’t supposed to be explosives on the ship.

Fuse hurried past him – probably as fast as he could run in that suit – and started digging through the pile.  Metal and wood creaked in protest at him and Virgil clapped a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back.

“Hey!  Careful or you’ll bring the lot down.”

“I left a charge around here,” Fuse told him, and Virgil took a deep breath.  “They weren’t supposed to go off yet!”  He sounded panicked and even though it was blindingly obvious this whole thing was Fuse’s fault – probably directed by the Hood – Virgil couldn’t help but slip into reassuring rescuer mode.  That was what he did, after all.

“Okay, okay, take a breath,” he instructed, eyeing the pile of former cabin warily as he tugged Fuse to take a step back.  The young man resisted, but Virgil was stronger and he stumbled a single pace away from the pile.  “How many explosives are on the ship?”

Fuse glanced around, clearly nervous and slightly scared.  Virgil could relate, but he’d been doing the job long enough to compartmentalise that part of his brain and still-fluttering stomach.  “Uh… I’m not sure.  Nine or ten?  I think?  I just put them where the Boss said to.”

The silence in his ear from a definitely-eavesdropping John turned frosty, even though his brother still didn’t say a word.  No doubt he was about to do his best to wreak hell on the elusive criminal.

“And how many haven’t gone off?”  How much of a ticking timebomb was this ship he was stood on – the ship his brothers were trapped in and slowly running out of air as the water seeped in, the ship three Thunderbirds were attached to?

“Only one went off,” Fuse said.  He was wringing his hands, still glancing around nervously.  “It shouldn’t have gone off until Havoc was clear.  He said she’d be safe!”

“Well, she’s trapped with my brothers somewhere down there,” Virgil pointed out.  “Where are those explosives and how long do we have until they go off?”

“Five minutes,” Fuse gulped.  “I think.  But that one went off early and the others are all close enough that if one goes…”

“They all go,” Virgil realised with a sigh.  He assessed the situation again.  “You want Havoc out of there, I want my brothers out.  There’s five minutes, tops, until this boat blows.”  Those ten minutes of air didn’t seem significant any more.  He took a breath.  “We’re going to have to work together on this.”

Fuse glanced sideways, thinking, and Virgil fervently hoped that he loved his sister more than he feared the Hood.  John hadn’t warned him about the explosives, which meant Thunderbird Five hadn’t picked them up – the Chaos Crew’s cloaking technology was something Brains and Kayo were itching to get their hands on.  That meant that if he had to do it alone, he was working blind.  Five minutes to disarm nine or ten explosives… even with the person who had made and placed them with him, it was going to be tight.

It felt like an eternity before Fuse sighed and met his gaze.  “Okay.”

Okay.  Plan of action time.  “We need to get those bombs disarmed as quickly as possible,” Virgil said, knowing the words were redundant but saying them all the same.  “Tell me where they are and how to disarm them, and we’ll take half each.”  A minute per bomb – just under.  He could do that, except Fuse was wringing his hands again.

“I don’t know how to turn them off.”

“What!”  Virgil didn’t panic – was the last of his brothers to ever panic in a given situation – but he was starting to get really, really close.  “You make them!  How do you not know how to disarm them?”

“I-I’ve never had to!” Fuse protested, and right then he’d never looked more like a kid.  Virgil took a deep breath, pushing the panic back because this just made things a lot harder but he wasn’t giving up.  Not now and not ever.

“We don’t have time for this,” he ground out.  “Do you have one with you that isn’t primed?”

Fuse nodded jerkily and reached behind him, withdrawing the familiar purple triangle of a Chaos Crew bomb.  Virgil took it gingerly and wasted no time in slipping an arm out of the Jaws of Life to palm a hexdriver and pry the cover off.  Five minutes – probably four, now – to work out how to disarm them, teach Fuse, and then get nine-or-ten bombs disarmed.

Easy peasy.

The crisscrossed wires that greeted him weren’t complex, thankfully.  If they were, then no amount of miracles would have been enough to pull it off.  But it was a simple enough wire pattern; only two wires needed cutting to render them useless.

Well, they could have done with knowing that several times in the past.  If all Fuse’s bombs were like this, that was a lot of explosions they could stop.  But he didn’t have time to muse on that right now.

“You have a hexdriver and wirecutter?” he asked Fuse, who shook his head.  Silently despairing – and starting to wonder if the Hood’s plan wasn’t to one day blow the kid up with his own bombs – Virgil fished out spares from his toolbelt and handed them over.  “Okay, it’s simple enough, luckily for us.  Pop the cover, and cut these two wires.”  He pointed, and then demonstrated by doing it on the one in his hand.  “Those two.  Got it?”

Fuse stared at the bomb, swallowed loud enough for Virgil to hear it, then nodded.

“Yeah, I got it.”

For the sake of everyone on the boat, Virgil really hoped he did.

“Okay, so where are they?  Time’s running out.”  Somewhere, Virgil noticed that Gordon’s static had ceased buzzing in his ear, and really hoped that was John’s doing and not because he’d lost what little contact he had with his younger brother.  He didn’t have time to worry about that now, not with three and a half minutes and five bombs to disarm.

Luckily, with a plan of action in place, Fuse seemed to regain both his confidence and his memory, bringing up a schematic of the ship and highlighting the ten points he’d fixed bombs to.

“That’s the one that went off,” he said, indicating one inside the cabin area.  It was positioned to do exactly what it had managed and cripple the cabin, Virgil noticed.  The others were all scattered around the deck, ensuring no escape if any of them went off.  Whoever had been trapped by the initial explosion would never stand a chance.

Three minutes, five bombs.

“I’ll take these five,” Virgil said, pointing at the ones on the left of the boat – port side, Gordon’s voice whispered in his head.  “You take the other four.”

Fuse nodded and then they moved.  Trusting Fuse – trusting a member of the Chaos Crew – felt like something heavy in his gut but Virgil had no choice.  He couldn’t trust Fuse, not really, not after everything the guy had done, but he could and had to trust Fuse’s love for his sister.  He stood to lose almost as much as Virgil did if he didn’t help.

That, Virgil clung to as he found the first purple bomb, merrily flashing red at him.  Popping the cover was harder when it was fixed down to something, but Virgil wasn’t going to let anything stop him and the purple casing was no match for a Tracy on a mission.  Two quick but steady snips of the wirecutter later, and that was one down, four to go.

Onto the next.

He reached the fifth and final one with thirty seconds to go.  Plenty of time, but the casing didn’t pop off when he levered at it like all of the others had.  Instead, it bent alarmingly, and the red flashing light sped up, much like Virgil’s heartrate was doing.  He tried tackling it from another angle, but the cover might as well have been superglued for all the luck he was having.

Fuse let out a shout that sounded triumphant from the other end of the boat, and Virgil took a deep breath.  Fifteen seconds, and this was the last one.  If Fuse was telling the truth, but Fuse had to be telling the truth otherwise his sister was going to die, too.

Ten seconds, and the cover still refused to budge.  He wasn’t going to get it disarmed in time, but Virgil wasn’t giving up.  Not now, not ever.

Five seconds and he finished cutting around the part of the boat it was fixed to with his laser.  He didn’t know how big the blast radius was going to be, but the further from the boat it was, the better their odds.

He was still wearing the Jaws of Life.  Virgil wasn’t the best pitcher in the world, but he had mechanical assistance and the steadfast determination that no-one’s dying today.  With barely two seconds left, the bomb was hurtling through the air, away from the boat into the open ocean.

It barely reached the water before exploding, sending a shockwave that rocked the boat and had Virgil stumbling backwards, colliding with the cable from Thunderbird One.  Above him, VTOL continued to scream their displeasure.

He took a moment to breathe, stomach churning its way back to stability one breath at a time, before pushing himself upright again.

The rescue wasn’t over yet.  The bombs were gone, but there was only five minutes left until the compartment his brothers were in flooded.  Gordon had plenty of oxygen and could hold his breath another five minutes, easily.  Longer, if he was prepared.  He had no idea what Havoc’s condition was, beyond ‘conscious and sniping with Gordon last he heard’, but Scott was unconscious and while Virgil had every faith that Gordon would be able to work something out, the fact was that they hadn’t gone into the rescue expecting to need extra oxygen, and Gordon’s supplies were mostly in Thunderbird Four.

He trusted Gordon, but the hard number he had was five minutes before Scott was at risk of drowning.

His comm crackled into life, Gordon’s voice barely audible past the static, but he couldn’t make out a single word his brother was saying.  That didn’t stop him from hearing the underlying panic.

“Gordon, I can’t hear you,” he replied, pulling himself together and heading back towards the ruined cabin, where Fuse was staring somewhat blankly at the pile of rubble between them and their siblings.  “John, is there any way to clear this static?”

“It’s physical damage to the unit, so there’s nothing I can do,” his brother said, sounding rather annoyed at the failure of their communications.  Virgil didn’t blame him.  “But after that shockwave, the boat seems to have taken more damage.  The compartment’s filling faster now.  I’d estimate you have two minutes, three at most, before they’re underwater.”

So much for five minutes.

“Any good news for me, John?”

“You… seem to be working with Fuse rather well?” his brother offered.  “Otherwise, I’m afraid not.  Communications are still down, as you’re finding, I don’t know any more than you do on their conditions, and both Thunderbirds are struggling to keep the boat up.  Once you’ve got them out you’ll need to move fast.”

“So no breathing room until we’re off this sinking boat,” Virgil summarised.  “Thanks, John.”

“Just get them out,” his brother responded.

Virgil slid his arm back into the Jaws of Life and felt the technology whirr around him as he returned to Fuse’s side and the jumble of debris between him and his brothers.

“Does Havoc have an oxygen supply?” he asked.  “They’ll be underwater in less than three minutes.”

“If it’s not damaged,” Fuse slumped, reaching for the mishmash of former-cabin.  “Her radio’s damaged and I can’t contact her.”

“Well I heard her over what little communication I’ve got with my brothers, so she’s conscious,” Virgil reassured him.  “We just have to get them out.”  He eyed the mess in front of him and shook his head.  Move the wrong bit and it’d probably all go crashing down.  “Just like Jenga.  You any good at that?”

Fuse shook his head.  “Don’t play that sort of game.”

“In that case, stand back,” Virgil told him.  “I’m good at Jenga.”  Although admittedly he’d never played it with people’s lives on the line before, or on a time limit.

The load-bearing chunks of broken cabin were easy enough to pinpoint, and it was with all the confidence of years of heavy lifting that he cleared away all the loose debris so that it wouldn’t fall when he moved the heavier ones later.  Still, he was ever-conscious of the time slipping away from him, and it only took one jerky move to send a cascade of small segments tumbling down, past the load-bearing sections and into the belly of the ship.

Less haste, more speed, he scolded himself, but the action had actually cleared the immediate issue; the load-bearing struts were no longer load-bearing, and with a mechanical whine, the Jaws of Life made short work relocating them to clear the area.

One minute down, one to go, and he still had to find his brothers.  They were still in the engine room, and the fact that they hadn’t moved told him that they must be stuck there.  Unconscious Scott or not, Gordon would have moved them as close to the exit as he could get.

Unless Havoc…

No, he refused to let that cross his mind.  Fuse was working with him to make sure Havoc was safe.  Surely Havoc was smart enough to know that working with Gordon would be better for her than being hostile.  He’d even heard Gordon’s garbled tones over the comms not two minutes earlier.  Havoc wasn’t the problem, not this time.

The problem was the collapsed corridor between him and the engine room.

Time was ticking, the fluttering in his stomach that had died down was back in full force because he could hear the water sloshing around on the other side of the barricade but not his brothers, and there was an entire collapsed section of corridor in the way.

If he couldn’t hear Gordon sniping with Havoc or trying to rouse Scott, they were probably already underwater.  If Scott hadn’t regained consciousness, his life was entirely in Gordon’s hands right now, and while there were no hands Virgil trusted more given the situation the fear was curling up inside him that he was too late.

No.

He took a deep breath.

He was not too late.  He was going to get them out of there and he was going to do it now.

Virgil had steady hands.  He was an artist, a pianist, an engineer.  No matter how much his stomach fluttered as though an entire swarm of frantic butterflies had taken up residence and his heart raced to the rhythm of a bomb’s flickering red light moments before detonation, his hands stayed steady.

It was those steady hands that reached out and directed the mechanical hands of the Jaws of Life to dig their way through the jumble of broken boat in his way.  Fast, but steady and sure as he stopped letting himself think about lifeless bodies and instead remembered the game of Jenga he’d been having with Gordon just before the call came in.  Jenga was easy, a simple logistics puzzle, and Virgil slipped into that mindset.  All the turns were his, the tower of blocks was a mass of broken boat, and Virgil hadn’t lost a game of Jenga in years.

That record was not breaking now.

Debris piled up beside him, and at some point Fuse had followed him down, but Virgil’s focus was on the shimmering surface of rising water as he broke through the precariously-balanced debris.  A blur of purple almost knocked him over, but while Havoc was strong, she was slight and he caught her – sopping wet and clearly fuming – by the shoulders.

“Go careful or it’ll fall down on top of you,” he warned her.  She scoffed and shrugged him off before hurrying past him, but she wasn’t his concern any more, not when there was IR blue with a bright splash of yellow breaking the surface of the water and taking in a huge lungful of air.

Gordon was helmetless, blond hair plastered to his face as water trailed down his skin as though he was in the swimming pool at home.  Aside from the deep breaths he was taking after holding his breath for however long, he seemed fine, and Virgil’s attention snapped to the limp body he was clutching.

The yellow-rimmed helmet jammed on Scott’s head and creatively secured with far too much insulation tape to keep it air and water tight did not belong to his eldest brother.  It didn’t fit right – hence the need for the insulation tape – and was definitely too small, but Gordon’s yellow rebreather was attached to it and while it was an unorthodox solution that Scott would be complaining about later, Virgil had no doubt it had saved his life.

“Good thinking,” he praised, reaching down to take Scott from his brother.  “Injuries?”

As soon as he had hold of him, Gordon was scrabbling at the tape, ripping it off in a way that was bound to smart Scott later.  “Not that I don’t like hugs, but there’s no way we’re getting through that tunnel tied together,” the aquanaut said in a rush.  He was right; the rebreather was still attached to Gordon’s baldric and getting Scott out was going to be difficult enough without them being linked together.  “I’m fine, wasn’t near the blast, but Scott got hit in the head by the debris and it smashed his helmet.  He’s been out of it since everything went boom.”  That worried Virgil, but what worried him more was how long it was taking Gordon to get the helmet off of Scott’s head.

The water level was still rising.

“Ah hah!” Gordon exclaimed triumphantly as the last of the tape came off and he was able to detach the rebreather and reclaim his helmet.  Trusting his fish of a brother to get himself out of the water, especially now he had his helmet back, Virgil turned his attention to Scott and hauled the limp body clear of the flooded room.

Despite the helmet, his hair was still wet.  Virgil latched onto that observation as he pulled him over his shoulder and headed back for the exit as fast as he could.  Behind him, the familiar sound of wet flippers reassured him that Gordon was following, but also told him that the water levels were still rising.

“Thunderbird One’s VTOLs are overheating,” John said suddenly, his voice grim.  “She won’t hold much longer.”

Virgil frowned.  If Thunderbird One went down in the ocean, she’d be all but impossible to retrieve and he really didn’t need any more delays.  He eyed the end of the corridor, knowing that somewhere, Fuse and Havoc were ahead of him.

“Any sign of the Chaos Crew?” he asked, speeding up as much as he dared.  A jolt in the wrong place would bring the debris down on top of them.  Water sloshed around his ankles.

“I’ve lost them.”  He could imagine John shaking his head.  “I’d assume that means they’re in their ship and clear.”

Virgil was going to have to take that chance.

“Is Thunderbird Four still attached to the boat?” Gordon asked.  Virgil had all but forgotten the little yellow sub, but John confirmed it and he nodded, realising that with his comms still down, Gordon couldn’t hear their brother.

“John, cut Thunderbird One loose and get Thunderbird Four back to the module,” he said.

“Are you sure?  Thunderbird Two can’t take the full weight of the boat for long,” John reminded him.

Virgil reached the end of the corridor, water somewhere near the top of his boots, and gestured for Gordon to go on ahead.  The aquanaut started to frown, then glanced at Scott and acquiesced.

“I’m sure,” he said, watching Gordon scramble up to the deck.  “We can’t afford Thunderbird One crashing, and Thunderbird Two can hold long enough.”

She had to.

“EOS has Thunderbird Four,” John informed him.  “She’ll be back in the module in approximately forty seconds.  I’ll cut Thunderbird One loose once you’re on the deck.  Not before.”

Virgil supposed that was as good a reason as any to hurry. ��Gordon was clear, leaning back in to take Scott, and he passed their brother up to him before heaving his way out.

True to John’s word, above them Thunderbird One jerked skywards, disengaging from the boat.  Her VTOLs were spluttering painfully, and in the blink of an eye John had her diverting power to the rear thrusters and jetting off for home.

Thunderbird Two squealed, a noise that shot right through Virgil as the boat juddered and lurched beneath his feet.  A resounding crash from below deck told him that his careful Jenga of debris had toppled entirely, but they were all clear so that didn’t matter now.

What mattered was getting onboard Thunderbird Two as she juddered and shrieked in protest at the weight Virgil was asking her to hold up, just a little longer.

“Thirty seconds before her engines reach critical,” John warned him.  “Get on board now.”

Gordon had hold of Scott, one hand clinging to the deck while the other clutched his brother’s unmoving form close.  A particularly large lurch had Virgil crashing down, landing on one knee and forcing him to stabilise himself with one of his claws.  Above them, swinging violently with the Thunderbird’s movement, the cockpit platform lowered.

If all three of them were conscious, they’d make it.  But Scott’s eyes were still closed, and either Virgil or Gordon needed to sacrifice their hands to keep hold of him.  Hands that were very much needed to keep their own balance and scramble onto the platform.

Gordon knew it, too.  Virgil could see it in his eyes.

“Go,” he said, reaching to take Scott.  “Get on board.”

“Not a chance,” Gordon disagreed.  “I’m the aquanaut.  If anyone’s going in the water, it’s me.  You’re weighed down by the exosuit.”

He was right, but Virgil didn’t want to admit it.  He’d only just managed to get Scott and Gordon out of the water; the last thing he wanted was either of them going back in, but Thunderbird Two’s lurching was getting worse and he could hear her VTOLs starting to splutter.

“How about you all move and no-one goes in the water?” John snapped in his ear.  “Virgil, get on the platform.”  He sounded half angry, half terrified.  Not for the first time, Virgil decided that he did not envy his older brother’s job.

Another lurch sent all three of them sprawling sideways, slamming them against the side of the deck and further from the rescue platform.  Something went clatter.

Virgil saw something fall past him, but before he could register what it was, there was a dull thunk, like the sound of one of their cables hitting the deck, and the ship lurched back upright.

“What the hell?” Gordon muttered.  “What was- oh.”

Oh indeed.

Virgil looked at the cable that had just appeared where Thunderbird One’s had been, heard Thunderbird Two’s VTOLs quiet down just a tad as something else took the strain, and followed the thick grey line up to see a purple and grey machine spluttering away.

“I guess she didn’t hate me after all,” Gordon quipped, but Virgil could hear the wide-eyed surprise in his voice.

There wasn’t time to wonder why the Chaos Cruiser was helping them.  The little thing was even less equipped to hold the boat up than Thunderbird One had been, and wouldn’t last long.  But the little clatter had reminded him of something he really shouldn’t have forgotten in the first place.

“Gordon, hand me Scott’s grapple launcher.”

There was a split second pause before Gordon dove for their brother’s baldric.  “Oh, we’re idiots.  Virgil, get moving.”

“Gordon-”

“I’m the better shot, and also less weight,” his brother argued.  “Get moving.”  The aquanaut didn’t even wait for him to agree before firing straight at the hole in the bottom of the cockpit.  It was a bulls’ eye, of course, and Virgil stifled a reflex noise of complaint as he scooped Scott up and scrambled for the rescue platform.

It was still rocking, the Chaos Cruiser not strong enough to fully stabilise the boat, but with stubborn determination and a healthy dose of grappling using the Jaws of Life, he fumbled his way onto the platform, Scott in a heap beside him.  The familiar whirring of a grapple cable – and seriously, why hadn’t they remembered Scott had those until one of his grapple packs had fallen out of his baldric – heralded Gordon swinging in on a rapidly-shortening cable, and with a sigh of relief that sounded an awful lot like finally, John set the platform rising back into the cockpit.

Just before they were swallowed up by his ‘bird, Virgil found himself looking out at the Chaos Cruiser.  Havoc and Fuse both stared back, one gaze cold as ice, the other warmer than he’d expected.  Then it cloaked, shimmering into invisibility, and he was staring at the inside of his cockpit.

Thunderbird Two juddered, and the red warning lights shut off.

“I cut her loose,” John said from his wrist before he could panic.  “I’ll get her to pick up Thunderbird Four, and then she’s heading for home, unless Scott needs a hospital?”

Scott.  It was against regulations and Virgil was going to be grumbling at himself for it later, but he disengaged the Jaws of Life entirely and stepped out of it, leaving it loose in the cockpit.  Gordon had already crouched down next to their brother, and was poking Scott’s cheek.

The malcontent grumble he got was music to Virgil’s ears.  “He’s waking up, John, but I’ll do a scan just to be sure.”  Bleary blue eyes blinked at him as he held the scanner up, and Gordon broke into a relieved grin.

“Hey, bro,” he beamed.  “Nice to see you back.”

“Ow,” Scott rasped as the scan flashed up a group of ambers but no reds.  Nothing they couldn’t handle at home.  “What did I miss?”

“Nothing particularly exciting,” Gordon told him airily, in that tone that all older brothers knew meant trouble.  Virgil was pleased to see Scott squinting at him suspiciously.  “Just a woman with a very sharp tongue and an extended swimming session.  Pretty fun, actually!”

“Your idea of fun concerns me,” Virgil drawled, but kept his eyes on Scott, who was already pushing himself to sit up.  “John, I think home is fine.”

“F.A.B.”  His brother didn’t even bother hiding the relief in his voice.

“Do I want to know?” Scott asked, voice dripping with suspicion.  It was a rhetorical question – he’d be hounding them for every last detail before the day was done.

“Know that we maybe kinda just a little might need to be a smidge thankful for the Chaos Crew saving our butts?” Gordon asked in that same sunny tone.  “Probably not.”

“We saved them first,” Virgil clarified before Scott could explode.  “Long story short, your last life sign was Havoc, one of the explosives Fuse planted went off too soon which knocked you out and trapped you two with Havoc in the engine room, and then I had to teach Fuse how to disarm his own bombs before the rest of them went off, then dig you three out.”

Scott groaned and put a hand to his head.  “I think I must be hallucinating, because I could have sworn you just said you taught Fuse to disarm his own bombs.”

“I wish it was all in your head, Scott, but no, that actually happened,” Virgil admitted.  “Come on, let’s get you in a seat.”  He looped Scott’s arm around his shoulders and grabbed his waist before hoisting him up.  Gordon hovered on his other side as they made the short few steps to one of the passenger seats and Scott sank down into it.

“Thunderbird One?”

“John’s sent her home already.”  Virgil decided against mentioning the damage to her VTOLs.  He didn’t want to be in the room when Scott found out about that.  “You were unconscious for fifteen minutes, Scott.”  Was it really only fifteen minutes?  The whole thing had felt so much longer.  “You’re piloting nowhere until Grandma gives you the all clear.”

Scott groaned, but it was his normal groan of annoyance at being grounded and not one of pain.  Still, Virgil checked his head with his fingers, which Scott suffered with his usual bad grace.  A lump, but no cut – fortunate, considering his unintended swim – and otherwise seemed in pretty good shape considering his spate of unconsciousness.  Virgil snapped a cold pack and prodded his brother into holding it against his head.

“And keep it there,” he warned.  The eye roll he got in response should have annoyed him but was really just another reassurance.

“So are you going to tell me what happened?” Scott asked.  “Because so far I don’t believe a word of it.”

“Unfortunately, big bro, it’s all true,” Gordon drawled.  He’d sprawled himself out over the co-pilot’s chair, arms folded behind his head and flippers on the dash.  Virgil glowered but the squid ignored him.  “Chaos Crew got involved but ended up helping us out.  Rather begrudgingly, in Havoc’s case.  Virg had Fuse, so he’s the one to ask about him.”

“He was worried about his sister,” Virgil shrugged.  “Family loyalty trumps his loyalty to the Hood, apparently.”

“I can believe that,” Gordon shrugged.

Scott sighed.  “This all sounds ridiculous.  Let’s just go home.”

Virgil grinned.  “That’s the plan, Scott.”

“Besides, Virg still owes me a rematch,” Gordon injected.  “Johnny ruined our last game.”

“You ruined your own game,” the ginger sniped, proving that he was still eavesdropping.  “I had nothing to do with it.”

“I think I’m done with Jenga for the day,” Virgil admitted, pressing his hand over Scott’s on the cool pack as his brother’s grip slackened.  A quick check on his brother proved it was just Scott trying to escape treatment again, rather than anything concerning.  “How about chess?”

Gordon squinted at him in confusion.  “You know you’ll lose.”

Virgil smirked.  “We’ll see.”

[mell-bell]

Fight so dirty (but your love so sweet) - Part III

The Mandalorian x Reader

Part 1 / Part 2  / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8

Words: 5135                      

Series Summary: You are sent to hunt down a Mandalorian, the odds aren’t exactly in your favor

Chapter: 3/8

Author’s notes: You guys are seriously the best thank you for reading!!! I love you all. When I first wrote this I thought it was gonna be short but once again it kinda imploded and thus 5000 but such is life. So sorry if there are spelling mistakes or such I’ve edited so many times I’m going crosseyed. I think I tagged everyone who asked, if not please just drop me a message! Hope you guys enjoy!!!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, no! Put that down!”

A gruff shout pulled you from sleep.

With a groan, you rolled over burrowing back into the warm blanket, pulling the long sleeves of the shirt you had stolen over your frozen fingers.

That infuriating man refused to pay for any type of heating system on this ship, claiming his armor and your clothes would be enough to keep you both warm.

“Stop!”

A crash echoed from the front of the ship as if something had slammed into the front window.

Your eyes shot open, squinting against the sun shining into the room. You focused your eyes at the clock, groaning at the blinking numbers. You had only slept for two hours.

Ever since you had escaped from the Imperials and Stormtroopers almost a month ago, you had been jumping from planet to planet.

Two weeks ago, you had thought you found a safe place. But four days after your arrival, a mercenary had broken onto the ship, slipping through a panel in the dead of night. Mercifully, the Mandalorian had dealt with him quickly before any harm could be done. But when he showed you the fob, you knew they were still tracking the little green child.

It was then that you both decided someone should guard the ship at night. At first, the Mandalorian had claimed he would take every night and even though you knew better, you let him try. It wasn’t until two days later when he fell asleep in the middle of eating lunch that you told him you would be alternating nights.

And you had been on guard duty last night. The man and child sound asleep inside while you froze your ass off sitting outside the ship staring into the dark forest.

You landed here three days ago and although everything seemed quiet, you both knew not to risk it now.

Risk wasn’t in his vocabulary anymore. Your Mandalorian had basically become your shadow. Anytime you left the ship, he would be at your back.

At first, you found it annoying, but one day in a market, a stranger had grabbed onto your arm. And you almost snapped. If he hadn’t stepped between the two of you, you would have shot the innocent man. Now knowing that he was always just a step behind you was a weight off your chest.

Rolling out of bed, you pulled on some heavy socks grumbling at the fact that he had picked the one planet where it was heavily snowing. Running your hands over your eyes trying to rub the sleep from them, you began to make your way through the ship. As you grew closer to the cockpit you could hear muffled curses and continuous bangs.

“What on Hoth is all this racket-“  You froze, the words catching in your throat at the sight before you.

The Mandalorian was sprawled on the ground, tangled up in a net, his finger pointed sternly at the little green child perched on the pilot’s seat, who chirped excitedly when he saw you.

Your face broke out into a wide smile but before you could make a noise, the warrior moved his gaze toward you.

“Don’t even think about it.”

You nodded solemnly fighting back laughter, a small snort escaping before you turned on your heel and left the room.

Stepping to the side, out of sight, you listened quietly as the man continued to reprimand the little child quietly before explaining how to be safe around his weapons.

Still chuckling quietly to yourself, you made your way to the back of the ship where you had created a makeshift kitchen and dining area.

There was no way you were going back to bed now.

Life together had become somewhat of a domestic thing. This ship had become home. You had argued with the Mandalorian for days when he stated he was giving you his room. You had even slept in the cockpit one night just to spite him. But when he promised to build himself his own room, you finally relented.

Things between the two of you had taken some time to get back to normal. The guilt that had been eating away at the Mandalorian had faded. He didn’t tiptoe around you anymore. But you could see it in his movements and actions.  He purposefully alerted you when he was around or how he never let you out of his sight. You were slowly moving on from what had happened to you. And for the most part, you had. But the lingering trauma was still there.

A quiet shuffle sounded behind you, alerting you to the child who waddled through the door. You reached down, passing him a bowl of soup. The child began to slurp happily, as you grabbed him placing him up on a chair at the table before turning back to finish cooking.

The little child had become a fixture in both of your lives. The child loved to hear you babble on about nothing. So, when you would work around the ship you would tell him what you were doing. Even the quiet warrior had begun to talk to him. Though it seemed like most of the time he was reprimanding him for touching things he shouldn’t.

“…Is that my shirt?” You heard a soft voice behind you.

Throwing a glance over your shoulder at the Mandalorian in the doorway, you chuckled, “That it is.”

“Why?”

Your brows furrowed confused at his statement, “What?”

“The shirt. Why are you wearing it?”

“It makes me feel safe.”

After a beat of silence and a slight tilt of the man’s head, you realized what you had said.

Stumbling over your words, you frantically sputtered out, “Nope, I mean the cold- uh, do you want some soup?”

You continued to babble about random things, making the small child chitter, all while ignoring the man who hadn’t moved an inch since you had spoken to him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I need you to spar with me.”

You leaned against the opening of the back of the ship, looking down the ramp as the Mandalorian tinkered on an outdoor panel. He turned around and slowly looked you up and down. Instinctively, you stood up straighter.

He nodded, “Get dressed and let’s go.”

You had healed nicely. Your hands had healed rather quickly, barely scarred, the salve the Mandalorian rubbed on it each night saw to that. The scar on your stomach was no more than a fleeting memory. Your ribs, on the other hand, still tweaked here and there. But after a month of rest, you were getting antsy.

You hadn’t been able to keep up with your usual regime without injuring yourself further. You had ripped your stitches more than once lifting something too heavy. And you had even tried to do some pushups one day, but when the Mandalorian walked past just in time, he lifted your whole body up and placed you back on the bed with a stern warning to rest and heal.

But it had only been a month. You should be back in fighting shape in no time.

Five minutes later, you hit the ground with a thud and groaned. The Mandalorian gently kicked your side, prompting you to get up.

He held out his hand and you raised yours to his. But when you saw it shaking, you curled your fingers into a tight fist trying to brush it off and instead reached down to the ground to push yourself up.

As the Mandalorian put you through the motions, he did so slowly. You expected your muscles to do what they were used to. But your body was stiff and too slow.

As you tripped, and fell, and missed, you grew frustrated. You slammed to the ground again and again. Your body was screaming and when the man before you asked if you wanted to stop, you ignored him. You got to your feet, wiped the blood from your nose, and raised your arms to start again.

He hesitated.

But when he saw the determination in your eyes, he sighed and started back up.

He reached out to help every time you fell, but when you didn’t take his hand, he pulled back with a sigh and continued to attack you knocking you down over and over.

After completing the first few exercises, he chucked you a baton as he held out his own.

You started slowly as you felt your muscles begin to remember the exercises that had been drilled into your head. But you could feel him holding back. He wasn’t hitting you hard. And you purposefully gave him opportunities to take you down. But he didn’t.

You pushed him, “Come on, hit me. I can take it.”

“Stop.” He warned as you swung out at him wildly.

“I can take it.” You growled.

He shook his head, taking a step back as he dodged your aggressive attacks, “You just started training. You need to take it easy.”

You let out a grunt of annoyance as he easily ducked your baton again.

“You never had problems attacking me before. Don’t go easy on me now, I’m not gonna break.”

He shook his head as he slammed the baton down at you again. Your arm screamed under the pressure but you still pushed back at him.

“Come on.” You shouted, reaching out and shoving him back.

He swung out and soon you were going faster and hitting harder. Right. Left. Right. Duck. Jump.

You smiled as you landed a blow. And then another. But you had been overconfident. Without warning, just like he had done before, he kicked out your legs from beneath you.

You slammed to the ground and looked up just in time to see the baton coming down at your head.  

Only you didn’t see the baton. You saw a stormtrooper’s gun. Your eyes slammed shut, and you flinched back, as you tried to sink into the ground. When nothing hit you, you relaxed minutely.

A gentle hand touched your arm and you shot to your feet, quickly backing away from the Mandalorian. He held out his hands in a peace offering, gently placing the baton on the ground.

“I don’t need your pity.” You spit out.

He took a step forward reaching out, but you pulled away and took off down the hall.

It wasn’t until a few hours later, when you were lying on the roof of the ship, looking at the stars, that he came to you.

He laid silently next to you, giving you the choice to start the conversation for yourself.

“I thought I was ready.” You whispered so quietly that when he didn’t respond you thought he hadn’t heard you. You sat up pulling your legs into your body, holding you shaking hands in tight fists.

“It’s going to take time.”

You pressed your shaking hands to your face, “We don’t have time. I need to be strong, not weak.”

He reached out, gently pulling your hands away from your face, covering your smaller ones in his, “You will be.”

You smiled, “Stronger than you?”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” He chuckled.

“You know one of these days I want to spar you without your armor and see how you hold up.” You teased pulling a hand back to poke at his chest plate.

“You couldn’t handle me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As the month drew to a close, you sat down to shift through the food and supply rations you had left. Jumping from planet to planet this past month, you hadn’t had time to check what you were low on.

You sat propped against the wall as you checked off the last box of supplies. Frowning down at the numbers in front of you, you quickly counted and rechecked finding that it hadn’t been an error on your part.

Dropping the pad to the ground, you groaned closing your eyes.

A soft coo sounded next to you, and you peeked, seeing the green child chittering in front of you.

“Hey, go get your dad will you?”

The green child chirped as he began to waddle away.

A few minutes later, footsteps echoed in the ship as they grew closer. You were still leaning against the ship, your eyes closed.

You didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“We need money. One of us needs to take a client on.”

“That’s not a good idea.”

“We’re running low on food. And supplies. We’re not going to last another month. I know it’s a risk but it’s one we have to take.”

The man sighed. And you opened your eyes, smiling when you saw the child resting happily in his arms.

“Fine.”

“Great!” You smiled jumping up, “I know just the place to go.”

A few hours later, the Mandalorian landed the ship on the outskirts of a forest.

Pulling on your red cape, you skipped happily past the warrior and child on the way down the ramp, “It’s nice to be back.”

This planet was a happy reprieve to the desolate snow planet you had just been on. The forest was in bloom in colorful flowers, the green of the trees brightening up the world around you. Taking a deep breath, you walked slowly along the trail, smiling at the chirping animals in the trees. The Mandalorian was on edge as he followed behind you, looking left and right as if he expected an enemy to come flying out of the trees.

“You said you had contacts here.” His voice steady, but you know he was wary of trusting anyone.

You nodded, “When I worked with Commander Trax, she sent me here for a long mission, I lived here for a month helping the citizens.”

Stopping at a tree abloom with bright yellow flowers, you smiled pulling a few off the twigs. You turned with a smile and bent down passing one to the little green child, motioning that he could eat it. And soon he was chomping down making happy little sounds, as you all continued along through the forest.  

“Where are we going?”

“The cantina. If there’s any work under the table, it will be there. And hopefully, we’ll find my contact there. Easier than having to knock on every single door in town.”

As you reached the end of the tree line, the Mandalorian passed you one of his blasters. You rolled your eyes but shoved it in the back of your pants before you took off down the street.

It looked exactly the same. The town was small but homely. The market place bustling with merchants and buyers. You had loved living here.

As you continued down the street, you waved at the citizens you passed by. A few recognized you and greeted you by name, welcoming you back.  

The Mandalorian walked slowly behind you, the child at his side. People passing by said hello and he offered each of them a solemn nod.

When you reached the door to the cantina, you waved back at the warrior silently telling him to remain behind. But when you walked through the door and all the blasters went up, you sighed.

The Mandalorian stepped in front of the small child and pushed you behind him, his own blaster raising as his gaze scanned the bar.

You moved around him, pushing his blaster down, “He’s a friend. I promise. I’m looking for Nyko.”

Murmurs echoed through the crowd of people before suddenly everyone parted and a woman walked toward you.

You smiled and the older woman smiled widely in return, “Well look who it is!”

She waved at the other’s to drop their weapons. Everybody obeyed and immediately turned back to their own conversations, though they were still throwing wary glances at the Mandalorian, who had moved to stand silently in the corner.

The woman walked right up to you, pulling you into a hug.

“Long time no see. What are you doing here? With a Mandalorian no less.”

You nodded toward the back corner, and she responded by placing her arm around your shoulders leading you to the furthest table in the back. Your Mandalorian followed behind you like a shadow.

“We’re looking for work under the table.”

Nyko nodded solemnly, this was business, “I’m assuming it has to do with that little green fellow.”

The Mandalorian started forward but you held up a hand.

“Yes.”

Nyko nodded, “I can probably find you something, but I’ll warn you things in the underworld work differently then you’re used to around here. You’re going to need to Compete if you want to work.”

You stiffened slightly and the Mandalorian stepped closer to you.

“Got yourself a watchdog here.”

“More like a partner.”

Nyko eyed the man curiously before she waved her hand, and people appeared out of the woodwork, joining you at the table.

Papers were passed around and introductions were made.  

The Mandalorian watched in amazement as all the citizens looked and talked to you with respect.

You seemed to fit in nicely here. You looked happy.

You nodded one more time and gathered all the intel of the table, holding out your arm you waited and Nyko grabbed yours.

“Don’t wait five years next time you stop by to say hello. I wish you luck in the Competition.”

You smirked and her eyes glinted as she knew it was all but a joke to you.

Stepping out of the cantina, you began to walk back toward the ship, the Mandalorian and green child following behind. As you walked, you passed him the map Nyko had given you.

“We’re going to meet here. Gather your weapons. I will meet you once I stop by a few places to grab some supplies.”

You went to step away but a hand grabbed onto you.

“Be careful.” His voice was deep with worry.

You knew he had heard Nyko mention the Competition.

“You don’t need to worry about me here.” You offered him a sad smile.

You walked down the street missing the soft, “But I do” that fell from his lips.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You hadn’t been out of sight from your Mandalorian since you got back, and it put you on edge. Although you knew this was a safe town you couldn’t help the lingering feeling that someone was going to come out of the shadows.

As you reached the outskirts of town, you reached back making sure your blaster was easily accessible. With a deep breath, you followed Nyko’s directions through the trees. Left. Left. Right. Over the bridge. Right at the yellow tree.

The Competition was infamous around here. Hunters would step forward to compete. To decide who would be given the bounty. The winner’s reward was the puck.

Your red cape swept behind you as you pushed your way through the crowds of people. There was a reason you didn’t want him here with you. Didn’t want him to see you this way.

You shouldered another person out of the way, growling when they turned around to look at you. This was a big event. Bets were placed. Winners were rigged.

But you were here to win.

You stalked up to the table in the center, people moving out of your way when they saw your red cape float out behind you.

With a grin, you shoved your way to the front of the line, pushing the man in front out of the way you slammed your hand down on the table, “I’d like to enter.”

The man behind the desk sneered at you, but that quickly changed when you placed a heavy bag of coins in front of him.

Passing you a number, he took your coins testing the weight in his hand, “Good luck.”

“I won’t need it.”

You had only competed in a Competition once before, but this one was different. There weren’t any rules. People died here. You could kill, maim, and still win.

As you stood in line with the nine other contestants, you found maybe one or two that would cause you some trouble. A man twice your size, with a knife peeking out from his sleeve. And a woman small and slim, with a wicked grin on her face, you knew a mercenary when you saw one.

The first task was easy enough. Target practice.

Top five moved on.

You took your turns throwing well, until the last shot when you purposefully missed a target.

The man next to you snorted and you feigned defeat.

Next was an agility competition.

You had never jumped on these so-called agility poles before, but your quick footwork from the workouts the Mandalorian put you through helped you fly through.

It was down to two.

You and the man with the knife.

The last task. The cage fight.

You swallowed as the mixture of cheers and boos echoed throughout the cold room, the cage closing in around the two of you.

Pulling off your cape, you quickly wrapped your hands before facing the man who stood in the way of your bounty puck.

The bell rang and with a feral grin, you launched yourself at your opponent.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You arrived back at the ship, limping slightly, sporting a wide grin on your face.

The Mandalorian looked up and when he caught sight of you, stood quickly walking over, lifting your chin so he could see the growing bruise on your cheek.

You waved him off, “I’m fine.” You pressed the puck in his hand. “I’m gonna go clean up, you look into that.”

The man watched worriedly as you limped your way up the ramp.

After cleaning up, you met the warrior at the base of the ramp, he was packed and ready to go. Grabbing your pack from him, you swung it over your shoulder before following him back into town.

He worked quickly. In the few minutes you had taken to get ready, he had already scouted out where your bounty was located.

Motioning for you to do the honors, you kicked in the door. The dozen people in the room began to scatter, tripping over each other to reach the door. Pulling out your baton \, you began to knock their legs out from beneath them, only moving on when you didn’t see the face from the puck.

You grabbed the shirt of a man, hauling him to his feet, “Where is the man named Ronzan?”

The man frantically motioned to the back door. The Mandalorian shuffled over silently, his blaster raised as he kicked open the door. A scream sounded from inside and you grinned, letting the man from your grip go.

The man, known as Ronzan, was on the ground pleading with the Mandalorian standing over him.

Ronzan froze when he saw you,  “I have money please.” He begged.

You rolled your eyes before reaching out and shocking the man, who fell back to the ground unconscious.

“You’re carrying him.” The Mandalorian stated, prodding the man’s body with his boot.

You looked down at the man and sighed. Reaching down you were about to haul him up when you heard a whimper echo in the room.

Furrowing your brow you began to look around the room. Pushing a desk against the wall, you pulled back the rug to find a hatch in the ground. With a quick whistle, you motioned to the Mandalorian in the corner to help you pry up the hatch.

The hole that opened up was dark and deep, the whimpers you had heard echoing from below. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the Mandalorian’s hand before stepping over the edge. The man slowly lowered you down into the dark hole. When your feet still didn’t touch the ground, you braced yourself.  You squeezed his hand once and he let you drop.

You fell far, rolling once, twice, before pushing yourself to your feet. Reaching for the walls, you began to walk slowly, letting your eyes adjust to the darkness around you.

“Hello?” You called out.

You continued walking when you suddenly tripped over a chain on the ground. Reaching out to grab it, you held it as you followed it. And at the end, you found a young girl.

“Hey...”

The girl flinched backward as you reached out. You hesitated. Reaching down you pulled a tool from your pack using it to snap the chain off.

“He can’t hurt you anymore. We need to go.” You pulled the girl up, she was freezing. She wrapped her arms around you and you held her close as you led her down the cold hall.

When you made it back to the hole above, you saw the Mandalorian looking down. He vanished from view and a second later, dropped down a rope that had knots tied in it.

Placing the young girl's hands on it, you prompted her to start climbing.

When she was close enough to the top, the Mandalorian above reached down grabbing onto the girl, pulling her up easily.

The young girl looked up at the warrior in awe, her hands hesitantly reaching out to touch the cool metal of his armor.

You pulled yourself to the surface just in time to see the young girl reach up to touch the Mandalorian’s helmet. The man flinched back and the girl shot back cowering in on herself.

You rushed forward, pulling the girl over to a bench, where you kneeled down in front of her.

“He’s a friend. A Mandalorian. Do you know what that is?” You prompted.

The girl shook her head, throwing a nervous gaze at the armored man.

You offered her a smile, “Well, he’s one of the best warriors in the galaxy. He can’t take off his helmet because if he does he won’t be allowed to put it back on. And doesn’t he just look dashing in it?”

You waited for the girl to nod her head.

“Alright, well I think it’s time to go.” You held out your hand, waiting for the girl to take it.

You motioned to the man in the corner, and you could feel the glare the Mandalorian gave you underneath his helmet as he lifted up throwing the unconscious man over his shoulder.

The trek back to the underworld was long. But a little less than an hour later, you had dropped off the unconscious male and received notice that the credits would be transferred to you.

On the way back to town through the forest, the young girl began to chitter on in a different language, you nodded your head along with her every time she looked at you.

When you reached the bustling town, you leaned down to the girl, “Do you recognize this place? Does your family live here?”

The girl nodded and began to drag you through the crowds. When she reached a small hut at the edge of town, she burst through the door. Inside you heard the clatter of objects and multiple gasps and shouts.

You cautiously stepped through the doorway to find the young girl in the arms of an older woman. You stepped forward, startling the woman, but when the younger girl began to speak in a different language to her mother, she relaxed.

Reaching out, she grabbed your hand tight, “Thank you, for saving my daughter.”

You offered her a smile, as you gazed around the small hut, the open room scarce of belongings, a cluster of young children crowded together on a bed in the corner.

Clearing your throat, you motioned to the older woman, “If you wouldn’t mind, I have something I would like to show you.”

The woman nodded slowly confused, but quickly gathered her children and followed you out the door.

On the other side of town, you unlocked the door to a small house that had long since been boarded up. The woman and her children stepped through the doorway. The youngest took a step forward, throwing a glance back at you, but when you just nodded at him he smiled before taking off to explore the new house.

“What is this place?” The Mandalorian wandered around the room, his hands drifting over knickknacks on the tables. He stopped in front of the fireplace when something caught his gaze. He stepped forward, reaching out and grabbing a photo propped on the mantel. It was you.

“This is where I used to live.”

You looked down at the key in your hand before turning to the young girl beside you, “This is yours now.”

The girl wrapped herself around you thanking you profusely. Her mother tried to resist but you assured her that you knew it would be in good hands. She promised to keep the door open if you ever wanted to come back.

You nodded as you slipped a piece of paper with your contact information into her hand, “If you ever need anything.”

She nodded tears in her eyes.  

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“How did- why-“ The man was at a loss for words as you walked back to the ship.

“After my parents died, before I worked for Commander Trax, a man like that owned me. I got hired to do some work at a young age and got in too deep before I realized he had complete control of me. Commander Trax saved me.”

The man nodded, “You changed their lives.”

You knew.

“I never told you about my helmet, how did-?”

You cut him off, “I worked with a Mandalorian in the past. I learned a lot from him. He told me about many of your beliefs. That’s why I never pried. It’s your right.”

The rest of the walk was made in silence.

When you finally made it back to ship, you paid the woman Nyko had hired to watch the little green child.

She happily passed him over, claiming he had caused too much chaos and that she was sorry for the mess he had caused on the ship.

The child settled comfortably in your arms as he chittered excitedly. You spoke softly to him in return.

As you began to climb the ramp, the Mandalorian reached out grabbing your arm, “Thank you.”

You shot him a smile.

Later that night, you were lying on the top of the ship staring at the stars. The transfer had gone through, the credits now officially yours. You had been paid handsomely.

Soft footsteps vibrated against the metal of the ship as the man settled beside you, “You could be happy here.”

“I could.” You agreed.

“You could s-“

You sat up abruptly before he could finish his sentence and he followed. Turning to look at him, you leaned over pressing your lips to the cold metal of his helmet.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m going anywhere.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tagged: @sargesbestgirl @abysswhiskey11 @yourfavoritearchangel @pedro-pascal-online @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8 @damnittjim @trickei @countessren @fun-sized-widow-bites @thefandomzoneisdangerous @ichigomiluku @bakerstreethound @clonesdeservelovetoo @bananyaaa @loveleah @javert-delacour @zoogrl05 @live-the-beautiful-game @maryan028 @ignimbritetcax @kaidad @kaimoar @yana-versio @peitromoximaff @alittleraincloud @fuckhead-writer @dottie-witch @nowheredreamer @pandalandalopalis @loveharrington @sw0rd-girlfriend @lex0h @piquantbarnes @go-commander-kim @finefangirl @lmao5sosimagines @bandofmarvels @nayploonthedoon @tchallaudakux @allthosepacheeks @i-think-of-dean-moriarty @otherthingsinhead @songofcosplay @cloudykooks @spooky-nob @takemebillyhargrove @flyingowls @funkygreensucculent @andromeda-sighs @audiblesmirk @out-worn @lessthancooljay @whtvrwhizzer @banana-batman @panic-monsters  @vamprlestat @clevervast @ghelp0 @just-another-fangirls-posts @jinthusiastsss @c1996 @maldo559 @yelenasnatashas @chewymoustachio @heyo--its--mo @hexqueensupreme @ozzy-bozzy @spideydobrik  @t-rexmoreliket-flex @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @teenagememetonight @salted-barbed-wire​

[actress4him]

Whumptober 2020 - Day 18

We’ve got a pretty good mix of physical and emotional whump going on today, though I’d say it leans more toward emotional. A little bit of Shiro, yet another original alien race (how many does that make now this month? I feel like it’s a lot), and plenty of angst to go around. This is one of my favorite Keith headcanons, so I’m glad I got the chance to explore it.

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Day 18 - Panic Attacks/Phobias

Fandom: Voltron: Legendary Defender

Warnings: fire, panic attacks, flashbacks, referenced minor character death, disassociation, scars

The first time that Red shot out a long stream of fiery lava, obliterating a nearby Galra ship, Keith had gone stiff, images of flames flashing through his mind in rapid succession until everything went blank. He spent the rest of the battle with his body piloting by rote while his consciousness hid somewhere in the back corner of the cockpit, watching.

He wasn’t just the Red Paladin, he’d come to realize later. He was the Paladin of Fire.

Because of course he was. That was just how Keith’s life worked.

When Sendak attacked the Arusian’s village, the sight of the burning houses sent pain shooting through Keith’s hands and shoulder. He had wanted to disassociate then, too, so badly. His brain screamed at him to let it retreat, to not have to watch the flickering orange tongues that brought back so many painful memories. But he was a Paladin of Voltron. There was no way he could let himself be defeated by something as stupid as fire. Lance would never let him live it down if he froze where others could see, and Princess Allura was counting on him to do his job right. He had to prove himself. They needed to know they weren’t making a mistake in trusting him.

So he had plunged forward, going closer to the flames than he probably should have, shoving everything down, down, down until it was out of reach for the moment. And immediately after that it was constant activity, trying to get back into the Castle to defeat Sendak and save the others, so he didn’t have time to remember, to think about what he had done, until it was much later and he was lying in his bed, trying to sleep. 

That’s when the nightmares came, as they so often did anyway. Having experienced the heat in real life so recently made them all the more realistic that night, though.

It was months later before he had to face his fear during waking hours again. They were in the middle of an intense air and ground battle with the Empire just outside a military base on the planet Nateya. Hunk and Pidge were in their Lions, shooting up the cruisers that hovered above, while Keith and Shiro fought hand to hand down below alongside Nateyan soldiers and Lance sniped from the top of a nearby building.

Without warning, one of the ships fired a laser cannon at the largest building on base, causing a small explosion that shook the ground. The place immediately went up in flames. Most of the Nateyans were already outside fighting, but those that weren’t soon started pouring out the front door.

For a moment Keith’s feet were glued in place, his mind stuck in the past. The image of the military building flickered in and out, juxtaposed with a much taller building with lots of dark, reflective windows.

Kogane! Don’t go back in there, it’s too late!

They’re still inside, I have to try to save them!

“I have to try to save them,” he whispered. Before his mind had caught up to what his body was doing, his feet had already carried him to the door.

Past all the people. Ignore them, they’re not who you’re looking for. Ignore the fact that you’re the only one moving in this direction. Ignore the smoke that’s starting to clog the air the further in you go. Ignore the voices crying in the back of your head.

Dad! No, Dad, come back!

The stream of aliens had thinned out. One lone male stumbled out of a back hallway that glowed orange, coughing. Keith grabbed him by the shoulders.

“Is anyone else back there?”

The Nateyan shook his head. “If they are, I doubt they survived.”

Somebody get the kid out of there!

Without another word, Keith pushed past him and into the hallway. The air was growing more and more stifling with each step. Around a corner, and suddenly he could hear the pops and crackles of the fire.

Searing pain in his hands, on his shoulder.

He began kicking open each door he passed, sticking his head inside to look for survivors before moving on. The heat was intense now, he could feel it even through his suit. The crackles had turned into a roar that grew in his ears until it was deafening.

No! No! I want my Dad! Give me my Dad!

It wasn’t until he was standing face to face with a wall of flame, struggling to breathe in a way that had nothing to do with the smoke, that he finally found someone. A young, female Nateyan, cowering in the corner of the last room before oblivion.

“Come on!” he shouted, grabbing her by the arm and yanking her up. “We’ve gotta get out of here!”

Come on, kid, you’re hurting yourself. You’ve gotta get away from there.

Back out into the hall. The fire had progressed, licking at his back as he shielded the young woman. A beam crashed to the floor just behind them, and both of them hit the floor, from fear rather than the actual impact. 

It was the last straw for Keith’s tenuous hold on his sanity. When he scrambled back to his feet and pulled her up with him, he was actually floating several feet above his own head, following from behind near the ceiling as the two bodies below ran back through the long hallways. It was much more pleasant up there, honestly. The sound of the flames and the thick smoke that made the woman cough constantly didn’t bother him in the least.

When they burst out of the building and into the cool, fresh air, he watched as Shiro ran up to him, and watched himself fail to respond. Shiro seemed concerned, shaking his shoulders gently, calling his name over and over, but he couldn’t bother himself to go back down and into the nightmare that would be waiting for him. Finally the Black Paladin took him by the arm and led him away from the last strains of the battle. Keith followed along, into a quiet alleyway, where they both sat with their backs up against the wall.

It took a while. Shiro held his hand the whole time, though he couldn’t actually feel it. The transition came with no warning, his consciousness crashing back down into his body with a force that nearly knocked him over, and immediately he couldn’t breathe. 

I want my Dad! Give me back my Dad!

A band was wrapped around his lungs. Squeezing, always squeezing, tighter and tighter until he thought his ribs would all crumble. Fumbling for his helmet, he managed to release the seal and threw it to the ground, then grabbed fistfuls of his hair and pulled. The pressure somehow eased some of the tension that had taken over his body, but it didn’t make pulling in air any easier.

We need an EMT over here!

Shiro was saying something in his ear. It sounded like a bumblebee droning, or like a radio playing underwater. A hand touched his arm and he jerked away, doubling over to dig his forehead into the dirt.

A deafening sound, a sound that he would never forget in all his years. The sound of a charred building collapsing in on itself.

Hands were on his face. He fought against them, but they held fast, pulling his head up so that he was eye to eye with Shiro. It took several long moments before Keith’s brain registered that he was emulating deep breathing for him to follow.

DAD!

“That’s it.” Shiro’s voice broke through the roar suddenly. “That’s great, Keith. Just keep breathing, just like that.”

Another breath. Two. They were getting easier, little by little. The pain in his chest was subsiding, though the scars on his palms and shoulder still burned beneath his armor. He suspected it would be a few days before they’d stop.

“There you go, bud. You’re gonna be okay.”

I’m sorry, kid. Your dad is gone.