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orangemoonxworks · 28 days ago

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COR REGNUM // DIVERGE, VOL. 0 MARCH OF THE FOOLS, PART I — XII WRITTEN BY: Naude Lucem ------------------------------------------------

Of all the times Nos had seen the Vulpes Unionis Praetoria in the distance, they never imagined they’d be able to see the tower up close, much less have the opportunity to ever go inside. Nos closely followed behind Ephemer as they moved through the entrance plaza, nervously looking around with their head low, and practically tiptoeing to avoid making a sound. The presence of the armed Guardians standing by and patrolling the premises sent their nerves through the sky. Ephemer on the other hand was completely fine. He spoke to every Guardian they passed by, even stopping briefly to talk to a few only to hurry off abruptly once his eyes crossed his watch. They eventually made their way inside and after checking in headed into a glass elevator set for the highest floor – the Vulpes Chamber.

Nos was glued to the wall. It was impossible for them to ease their nerves, and it only got worse the higher they went. Fortunately, the elevator was slow which allowed its passengers to take their timer enjoying the view outside its large glass front. Despite the Vulpes Unionis Praetoria being as imposing as it was, there weren’t many floors inside. Even so, the immaculate and minimalistic interior design lent well to the calming and worldly atmosphere. However, that wasn’t enough to keep Nos’s mind away from the inevitable. They rapidly tapped their foot and latched onto the handrail behind them. Their whole body was stiff as a stone statue.

(“Gaaah! There’s no way this is really happening! Am I still dreaming? I’ve got to be! There’s no way I’m inside the Vulpes Unionis Praetoria right now! Not only that but the Grandmaster, a Foreteller, wants to meet me! Me of all people!! Is it because of the scourge? Did I do something wrong?? Wait, why am I even here at all?? I have no idea why I’m being summoned!! And this guy hasn’t told me anything!! He doesn’t care at all! Why am I going along with this?? Argh! I’m about to crack. I can’t do this. I wanna go home…”)

Ephemer smirked as he watched them panic. “Yeah, you’re totally not nervous.”

“Um, well, this is the first time I’m getting to meet a Grandmaster. Stuff like this doesn’t typically happen to normal people like me.”

“Hmm. You’re far from normal though. A normal person wouldn’t dare step up to a shadow, especially one as dangerous as that, and try to fight it despite knowing the odds. The fact you can even talk about it now is beyond normal.”

“T-That’s only because of the emblem I held onto.” Nos explained. “Otherwise, I’d be…”

“Sure, but think of it this way; would a normal person without training or experience have the courage to stand against a Shadow? Most people would buckle under the pressure and run for their lives. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Knowing your limits and being afraid is a normal human thing.”

Ephemer grabbed Nos’s shoulders, and they reflexively jerked up. He looked them straight in the eyes then continued, “But knowing the odds stacked against you and still choosing to fight anyway – you’ve got to be a special kind of crazy. It’s like my Master says: to be a Guardian you have to have a screw loose somewhere up here.”

Ephemer tapped his finger on their forehead. He let go of their shoulders then backed away.

“But I get it. Meeting a Grandmaster – and a Foreteller at that – is a bit intimidating. The first time I met Grandmaster Ava, I was shaking so much you could practically hear my bones rattle like drumsticks. I for sure thought I was going to mentally short-circuit or something. Hehe.”

Nos stared at them narrowed eye.

(“That’s supposed to make me less nervous???”)

Ephemer went on. “Grandmaster Ava isn’t the cold person everyone thinks she is. It’s easy to forget this but the Foretellers are people just like you and me. The only difference is they’ve got the weight of the realm on their shoulders. And that’s no exaggeration. Try to remember that when you’re up there.”

Nos sighed. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The elevator finally reached its destination. They stepped out to a small box-like area with two plotted plants and pair of large doors with the Vulpes symbol carved into them.

“All right. Here’s your stop.” Ephemer said while bowing and pointing his hands to the doors.

Nos took a step back and shook their head. Just looking at the ominous fox symbol sent a sharp pang down their spine. Ephemer sighed, palming his face, then gently pushed them forward. “Go on. You’ll be fine. If it helps, I’ll be waiting for you outside.”

“Heh?? W-Why’s that??”

“Because there’s something I want to ask you.”

Nos’s curiosity over what he could’ve possibly wanted to ask them quickly overtook their confusion. For Ephemer, this brief moment of inaction was his cue to leave. He kicked his feet off the floor then jumped back into the elevator and mashed the button for the doors to close. By the time they turned around and realized that he was leaving them alone, the elevator’s doors were already halfway closed. There was no point in trying to force their way back inside.

Ephemer, grinning and waving, winked at them through the narrowing gap between the doors. “Good luck in there!”

The doors closed.

There was nowhere to run.

With no other choice, Nos closed their eyes and took a deep breath, then reached their hand out to knock on the doors. Just as they were about to knock, the Vulpes Chamber’s doors suddenly cracked open. Nos stumbled inside through the gap nearly tripping over themselves. After regaining their balance, hands on their knees, they looked up to see Ava in her Vulpes mask sitting on the spacious windowsill behind her desk with one leg arched and the other hanging off, looking out of the window. She lifted her left arm, stretched it out, then opened and closed the palm of her hand. The Vulpes Chamber doors shut simultaneously.

Ava turned and shifted her head toward Nos without uttering a word. Her acknowledging their existence made them freeze up.

Reality quickly sunk in. This was happening.

They were in the presence of a Grandmaster.

Nos’s lips trembled as they tried to speak but neither word, sound, nor breath escaped their mouth. The trembling spread to the rest of their body, and they began to sweat.

(“W-What do I do??? W-What do I say?? What’s the p-proper thing to d-do right now?? Do I bow?? Do I wave?? Do I nod?? Aw, man… Why’s my mouth not working anymore?? M-My lips won’t move! Talk! Say something! G-Great, now I c-can’t stop shaking! And the Grandmaster… she’s looking at me. What if I came at a bad time?! It looked like she was relaxing before I came in. What if I interrupted her? Oh, no…”)

Having watched them struggle for a bit, Ava let out a soft but aggravated sigh. “The nerve of you. You stumble into my chamber unannounced and say absolutely nothing?”

The sound of her cold yet firm voice made them freeze up again. She had their full attention. “You haven’t even introduced yourself, given a word of acknowledgement, nor have you stated your reason for coming into my chamber. If you have no business here, then leave my sight now or I will remove you myself.”

Nos immediately bowed their head and spoke. “I-I’m so sorry, G-Grandmaster Ava! I-It was not my intention to be discourteous nor offend you in any way. I wholeheartedly apologize for my actions. It’s just that, uh, well…”

Ava coldly glared at them from behind her mask.

“I-I was summoned here by you…or so I was told. B-But I don’t understand…”

“What don’t you understand?” Ava questioned. Her patience was wearing thin.

“I’m just a student – basically, a nobody. And you’re the Grandmaster of the Seventh — er, I mean, you’re one of the Foretellers.”

“And? So, what about it?”

“I’m not special. I could never be. I didn’t do anything but put both myself and my friend in danger. What happened back there during the scourge…t-that was all my fault. We should’ve — n-no, I should’ve listened to her and ran away when we had the chance. I-I mean, we’re just students. There was…no way we were going to stand a chance against that monster.”

Nos clenched their fists, and their eyes started to tear up. “But no, I had to be selfish. I had to fight because I wanted to believe that I’d make a difference somehow. Nothing else mattered. So, I’m the reason things are the way they are now and why my friend…why she…why she’s barely holding on now. All because I wanted to be a stupid hero.”

Unable to hold it in any longer, Nos broke down and quietly cried.

Ava sighed. “Well, this is unexpected. I did summon you here in part to scold you for your foolish and reckless actions. Fortunately, you’ve beaten me to the punch it seems. You’re right; as a student you had neither the right nor authority to take action. You risked not only your life but your friend’s life too. That level of recklessness is something I will not tolerate.”

She paused and took a calm and quiet breath. “But I see that you’ve accepted responsibility for your actions. There isn’t much else I can say besides giving out an appropriate discipline. But that can wait for another time.”

Ava hopped off the windowsill. She started to walk toward Nos but instead of going around her desk she physically phased through it. This was an advanced aethereal art that nullified the aether surrounding a subject, allowing the subject to physically pass through objects with little resistance provided they were stationary. Ava made her way to Nos and stood before them.

“Lift your head and tell me your name.”

Nos raised their head and hesitantly looked.

“N-Nos.” They sniffled.

Ava patted their head and, although it was hidden behind her mask, she smiled.

“Nice to meet you then, Nos.”

Once Nos calmed down and stopped crying, Ava told them to grab the chair next to her library – which was a wall of shelves filled with hundreds of books – then to take a seat in front of her desk. Ava returned to her comfy spot on the windowsill and began talking to Nos – mainly asking them about themselves. Seeing that they were still a bit anxious, Ava spoke to them in a warmer and less intimidating tone.

“…I see. So that’s why you’ve enrolled in the Union Cross academia. It’s a common goal amongst the students here, especially the ones who’re eager to prove themselves. Wanting to make a difference is an admirable goal to have. It’s what we all strive to do. However, there’s more to being a Guardian than just that.”

Ava went on, “What we do and how we affect the world and the people around us is important but making sure we can secure a future for those who’ll come after us – that is our sole purpose. It’s our mission – one which will never end even after we’re long gone from this world.”

Nos listened intently as she spoke.

“To be a Guardian, you must be a beacon of hope — a shining light for those trapped in darkness. You must give your everything: your heart, body, soul, and even your life for the light of tomorrow. That’s what it means to be a Guardian. Tell me, is that something you’re willing to do?”

Nos answered, “Y-Yes. I want to help keep the light of this world alive in any way I can. This is our world – our home. So, I’m going to protect it no matter what even if that means giving up everything.”

Ava smiled behind her mask. “Great answer. Although, I don’t want you going out there and being any more reckless than you’ve already been. There are too many Guardians in our ranks who are content with becoming martyrs.”

She let out a soft, slightly annoyed sigh. “Please be careful and don’t sacrifice your life for a shot at posthumous glory.”

“Yes, uh, Grandmaster Ava. I’ll, uh, make sure to keep that in mind.”

Ava moved on. “Putting that aside, I’d like to know how your time in Union Cross has been. I’m always curious about what the students think of the academy and how they’ve been handling their themselves here.”

Nos thought for a moment. “I’ve been doing okay, I guess. The classes are about what I’d expected but the work isn’t too difficult. I like that we have a bit of freedom here and the dorm is a big step up from home. I’m fine with it.”

Ava nodded while they went on.

“Amica on the other hand is a different story. She constantly complains about how hard and boring the classes are and she sleeps through most of them. I can’t count how many times I’ve helped out so she wouldn’t fail – not that I mind. She isn’t interested in becoming a Guardian though, so I guess that makes sense.”

Ava was confused. “Hmm? Is there a reason she chose to enroll in the academy?”

“She felt like there wasn’t any other choice.”

“Did she say why she felt that way?”

As Nos thought about what Amica told him, an interesting question crossed their mind. “I don’t mean to pry or anything, but did you always want to become a Guardian, Grandmaster Ava?”

“I did. Why’re you asking?”

“Was there ever anything else you wanted to be? You know, besides a Guardian.”

Ava thought to herself with her brows raised, aimlessly staring off. Nos’s question intrigued her. This was the first time anyone aside from Blaine boldly asked her something personal.

“Hmm. I enjoyed making up and telling stories when I was younger.” She said, her eyes having shifted back to Nos. “Back in the orphanage I lived in, there was a caretaker who’d read books to us sometimes. Every book they read was different from the last one and it seemed like they could never run out of them. After a while, they stopped reading books and started telling us all sorts of crazy stories. I realized then that you didn’t need books to tell stories; all you needed was an imagination.”

“When the caretaker left, I decided to take their place and tell my own stories. As you can imagine, they weren’t as good as the caretaker’s stories. But it was fun, and the other kids seemed to like them. If I had given up on my dream of becoming a Guardian, then I probably would’ve wanted to be a storyteller.” Ava answered.

Nos nodded while slowly rubbing their thumb across the underside of their chin. “Suppose someone didn’t want to become a Guardian but everyone around them wanted to be one. And instead of following their dreams, they decide to follow someone else’s —”

Ava cut them off. “Because they believe that’s their only choice, right? I understand what you’re getting at. It’s true – for the people who want to protect this realm, it’s the only path forward. In the sea of shattered realms out there, ours is one of the few that’s left. So, we feel obligated to protect all that we have.”

“Even so, we heavily rely on the people who chose not to follow our path in so many ways and that’s something that’ll never change. Everyone matters. The person who tells silly stories and makes everyone smile is just as important as the people protecting us. Your friend isn’t wrong to feel how she does. But I hope that with time, her perspective on becoming a Guardian changes.”

“I…hope so too.” Nos agreed.

Ava’s ears perked and she turned to look out the window. It wasn’t difficult for her to hear the evening bells ringing from the Seventh District clock towers, however faint they were.

“It’s around that time, huh. Let’s end things here.” She said then turned back to them. “You need to get going before curfew strikes. Wouldn’t want you getting into any more trouble.”

“Okay – uh, I mean, thanks for allowing me to speak to you, Grandmaster Ava.” Nos said then humbly bowed.

“The pleasure is all mine. Go on now.”

Just as they turned to leave, Ava cleared her throat. Nos stopped and looked back.

“By the way, you’ll be receiving your punishment as I’ve instructed to the headmaster of your dorm. I trust that you’ll follow their rules until your disciplinary period is over. And if you decide to make more trouble, then I’ll personally deal with you. That isn’t something you want, right?”

Nos’s shoulders sunk down.

“No, ma’am.” They sheepishly sighed.

“Good. I’m glad you understand. One last thing before you leave –” Ava gave them a strained and irritated smile. “Don’t ever call me “ma’am” again for as long as you live, got it?”

Nos’s shoulders briefly stiffened up, then sunk as they lowered their head and quietly moaned.

“S-Sorry, Grandmaster Ava.”

After Nos left Vulpes Chamber, they were led outside of the Vulpes Unionis Praetoria by a female Guardian. When they arrived back at the entrance plaza, Nos spotted Ephemer against one of the stone pillars near the stairs leading down to the street. True to his word, he’d been patiently waiting for them. Ephemer looked at them and, upon seeing the dispirited look on their face, grinned. “Grilled ya hard, huh?”

“You knew that was going to happen.” Nos said then sighed. “Fortunately, Grandmaster Ava didn’t go too hard on me. The “grilling” was lessened because, in her words, I had already beaten her to the punch.”

“Huh, well look at that — you beat yourself up so much that the Grandmaster decided to take it easy on you. Guess luck was on your side.” He said then chuckled.

“I still got lectured by her more than once and she told me she’d personally deal with me if I screw up during my disciplinary period.”

“Yeah, that’s Grandmaster Ava for you. One minute she’s cool as an autumn breeze and the next she’s a ticking time bomb ready to explode. Don’t sweat it though.” Ephemer lazily flapped his wrist at them. “The Grandmaster’s got a big heart. She cares about everyone – especially the students. You’re all under her watch after all.”

Nos groaned and pouted, “That’s nice and all but I’m seriously dreading whatever punishment I’m facing when I get back.”

“Eh, you’ll live.”

Then, the streetlights began to turn on.

Nos took a deep breath. “I should get going. If I miss curfew, I won’t hear the end of it from the headmaster especially after everything that happened today. Also, I don’t want to get on the Grandmaster’s bad side already.”

Ephemer raised his hand. “All right then.”

Nos hurriedly walked down the stairs. When they reached the bottom, they stopped and turned around. Ephemer was still watching from above.

“I know it’s kind of late to say this, but thanks for saving us back there. If you hadn’t showed up when you did, then we wouldn’t have survived. We owe our lives to you – even if one of us is barely hanging on. I know this kind of stupid to say since I’m only a student and have nothing to offer really, but if there’s ever anything I can do to repay you, then —”

“Actually, there is something.” Ephemer said, then stepped away from the wall. “I still haven’t asked my question yet, remember?”

“Oh, right.” Nos remembered. “What is it?”

“Well…”

Ephemer walked down the stairs, keeping his eyes firmly on them, then stopped in front of them after making it to the bottom. He raised his arm then softly planted his hand on their right shoulder then smiled.

“Let’s hang out tomorrow. Just you and me, all right?”

A long silence passed by. Nos stared back at him completely dumbfounded by what he said.

“Eh??” ------------------------------------------------

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tranakin-skywalker · 1 year ago

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hey look i added a shit ton to Cytokinesis ch 1

The sky is a cheery blue. It shouldn’t be, not with the thick haze of artillery smoke crawling over the pock-marked landscape, the earth torn and churned up as if by the hand of some indifferent god, mud coagulating where rainwaters have gathered, sucking down machinery and man alike.

Like the earth itself is hungry for them.

This is the first that the rain’s stopped since they landed on this deathtrap of a world. Not that it changes much, the gray haze blanketing over the horizon limiting visibility to almost nothing, the sunlight that peaks through reflecting off in a blinding glare. It would almost be better if it were raining, might at least wash some of the blood and sweat and mud off. It’s hard enough to move with muck caked under armor and between the gears of the scant few walkers they have left.

Makes running for your life all that more impossible.

Blaster fire and artillery shells rain down, blowing the unfortunate soldiers who couldn’t move out of the way fast enough to pieces, pelting the ones who can in a rain of mud, rocks, and gore. The air is filled with the sound of screaming.

It’s everything Anakin can do to keep his feet under him, his lightsaber up and deflecting bolts back the way they came on instinct more than conscious thought. The ground ripples underneath him, black mud slippery beneath the tread of his boots, the rubber grips on the soles doing nothing against the viscous sludge. He nearly falls, a blaster bolt whizzing over his head and scorching sweat plastered hairs, charring the skin of his temple with the heat of it. Just a small burn. It could have been so much worse. If he hadn’t slipped his head would be nothing but red pulpy carnage soaking into the mud.

Sometimes he thinks he has the Force itself at his back, pulling strings to keep him alive. Sometimes he thinks he just has the best luck in the galaxy, or maybe the worst.

It’s hard to tell the difference.

If luck or the Force or whatever else were really on his side, he doesn’t think he'd be in this situation at all, stumbling knee deep through mud and crawling over the bodies of his men he’d lead to their deaths, the horizon lighting up red and orange like some Corillian hell.

They’re stuck on yet another backwater planet fighting tooth and nail to survive. He thinks this one’s called Abraxis or Arubix or something to that effect, but Anakin is going on his third day with no sleep and he doesn’t have much faith his brain remembers much other than keep moving and deflect that bolt and don’t die. The details of this campaign were lost to him sometime between when a Separatist fleet blew one of his venators to cosmic dust three weeks ago and the sixteen hour long firefight that followed it. (He’s so tired…)

Not that it matters much what this world is called- past maybe that he'd like to at least remember the name of the place he’s going to die on. Or maybe it’s better- leaving it nameless. Could be any of those prior battlefields he’d only survived by the skin of his teeth. It’s just like the dozens of words they’d been on before, hunkered down in the mud, hidden flush behind rubble of some razed city that looks just like the last. The same sky, the same screams, the same frantic move-fight-survive that gets him through every battle.

(He’s not sure they’re going to get through this one. There had always been that dead certainty that they would pull through, that he’d see the end of this fight but every passing hour as the bodies pile up and they give more and more ground with nowhere to retreat to, Anakin is more and more certain that this will be his last fight.)

Just another firefight. One after another after another to the point they all blur together and become nothing but one long slog. It’s been hours since the shooting began. Days since the engagement started. Weeks since they became trapped on this little nothing world.

After endless weeks of fight-kill-fight he stopped being able to tell the attacks apart. Just hours of killing and dying interspersed with weak moments of peace and sleepless nights. And hasn’t that just been this entire war so far? The backdrop changes, the rest doesn’t. Every battle is the same down at its hollow picked-apart bones. Carcasses, all of it.

Bright plasma flashes as laser fire flies too close for comfort, downing bodies right and left of him and he can’t think about that right now. Can’t afford to pause for the dead- not when it’s the living that makes priority. The earth shaking beneath his boots as explosions rock the ground, plumes of fire and the smell of burning flesh that makes him want to retch just as much as it makes his stomach cramp with hunger because they’ve been running low on supplies for weeks now as the siege drags on and his men need the food more than he does and at the end of it roasting human smells no different from any other kind of meat.

It’s enough to make him miss the smell of rot instead. Give it a few days. Soon they’ll all be choking on the stench of it, that thick miasma of sweet-rot that only wet, bloated bodies can give. Strange to think that it used to horrify him, when the war was still fresh and new and he was still blind to how bad things could get. Now it’s expected, routine. People would die and their bodies would fester and rot if you couldn’t bury or burn them fast enough. At least the carrier eaters the smell lured in sometimes gave them something to pick out of their teeth.

Just another day in the meat grinder that was this endless bloody stupid war.

He’s surrounded by the sounds of dying men. They scream. Not like people assume they do, not like they do on a holo. A real dying scream is short and it’s strangled, like the screamer didn’t mean to make the sound but couldn’t help it. It’s an ugly sound.

Those, at least, he can drown out. The screams and the ear shattering boom of detonations. Close his ears to turn deaf to them. He’s been hearing people scream as they died since he was a child. It’s familiar by this point. Background noise.

It’s the other sounds that are harder to ignore. The weak wet gasps of those too far gone to make any other noise. The pleas for help. The begging to make it stop. The furious mumble of names, of brothers, of numbers, because for some of them that is all they have.

He can’t afford to freeze on a battlefield, not when one moment of stillness can mean death. But he can’t help it. Not when he can feel the life flicker out with every dying man like an itch beneath his skin. It hurts, feeling them die. Not just knowing that they died, knowing that he could have been better, could have done more. It physically hurts, the echo of wounds, fire burning him and melting plastoid into bubbling molten slag, burning him alive, shrapnel spearing through his body and ripping his stomach open, spilling out hot steaming intestines that sit wet in the dirt, a head split open with a lucky shot, plasma cauterizing the wound but skull fragments and bits of soft pink brain tissue still smoking where they touch open air.

Anakin’s always been able to feel people dying, ever since he was small. He thinks he was never meant for war, if this is what it feels like to him. Or maybe he’s perfect for it.

He remembers when it was louder, remembers when he was nine years old and he begged the Jedi to just rip the Force right out of him because it was all so loud it hurt. He’s not sure if he’s just grown used to it over the years, or if the pain was so great it eventually just killed the nerve from feeling anything at all. Sometimes that happened, a wound left so long it was hardly a wound at all.

Usually it was with slaves who’s backs were whipped so deep there was nothing left to feel the pain, but he’d seen the same on soldiers too, in the three long years he’d been fighting this war.

He’d find it strange that sometimes he can’t tell the difference between the horrors of battle and the horrors of his childhood, if he had any room left to wonder. But Anakin had long ago come to realize his life was just a series of waking nightmares interspersed with brief moments of peace. What did it matter what shape the horror took? Sometimes he thinks he’s been at war since the moment he was born. He can’t imagine his life without it.

He was once told the only thing he was good for was destruction. Cutting through the droid army as easy as breathing, he thinks they were probably right. There’s carnage left behind in his footfalls and not much else, broken droids and the corpses of clones, a long winding trail of violence and at the end of it he thinks he’ll be the only thing left standing. The one thing left in this rosefield of bodies and maybe then he’ll finally be allowed to just lie down and let the mud smother him.

Until then, he has to keep going, keep moving, always forward, rending and tearing and breaking with every step.

He’s good at fixing things, always has been, but he’s even better at tearing them apart. Good thing then, that what the Jedi needed was a weapon of mass destruction.

The droids part before him in piles of molten metal and crumpled shards, clearing out a path for his men to follow behind. Clear the way, thin the herd, give them every advantage he can to make sure they live. They won’t, not all of them (they never do, no matter how hard he tries), but he will give them every chance and he will feel every life snuff out when he fails. The least he can do is share the pain when he feels those bright lights vanish into the Force.

He wishes Ashoka were still here. It used to be easier, when she was still around. Used to hurt a little less.

More soldiers survived when there were two Jedi, not one, but the fact he couldn’t hold up the slack was just proof of another failure. He’d been doing that a lot, lately. Failing.

They were stacking up, slowly, weighing on him. Have been for years now, he thinks, but the crushing weight has only grown in the last few months, the war unraveling along with the last ties of his sanity. This latest one stings. (Should have been better-)

He is just so fucking tired.

Not just physically (though the nightmares do a good job of ensuring that, too. The constant battles, the sleepless nights. He can’t remember the last time he got enough sleep). He is tired down to his soul.

He thinks of the clay dome houses back on Tatooine, thinks of how they would wear down, bit by bit. How howling sandstorms would tear at them. Every day, the wind stealing more of them away, until eventually there would be nothing but loose sand. Sometimes he thinks he’s one of those little clay buildings, the galaxy slowly wearing on him until there’s finally nothing left. (And what does it say about him, that even all these years later, he looks back on that place and still thinks home?)

A blaster bolt shoots by too close to his face and Anakin decides he needs to stop thinking about Tatooine and start focusing on making it out of this mess alive. He wouldn’t mind dying. Not really, but he’s not going to leave his men without a general and he’s not going to leave his wife a widow. Not even if sometimes he thinks they would all be better off without him.

His saber spins, an extension of his body, and it’s easy to fall into the old familiar pattern of cut, slash, destroy. Molten slag lies around him and Anakin takes it as a sign of a job well done.

They’re winning, bit by bit, and it’s something they so desperately need.

The battle’s been stretching out for hours now and the battalion has enough men left that they can cycle them out and keep the lines fresh (for now, for now, but how much longer? He feels them dying), but there is only one Jedi and he is needed at the front. Even the indomitable Skywalker begins to tire after a while, but he’ll see this through and done before he finally lets himself collapse. He’s always been the first to enter the fray and the last to leave it. He knows he’s good enough to survive the slaughter and he knows he’s not valuable enough to stand by the side and let these men die for him. He’d rather they not die at all, but none of them have the option of not being here. Not really.

So Anakin does what he does best and he kills things before they can kill the people he cares about and the whole time all he can think is that he’s glad it’s droids and not people because droids don’t scream as they die. They give him far fewer nightmares.

The trouble with droids, though, is that they just keep coming and coming and coming. This is why the war just won’t fucking end, Anakin thinks. When you can just build yourself another army, there’s no need to ever stop.

He tries not to think about how the Republic is doing the exact same thing with the clones, but it gets harder and harder to ignore when each new batch of shinies that comes to replace the dead is younger than the last.

An explosion rocks the earth, red tongues of fire licking at the blue haze of sky above, and in the distance Anakin sees one of the Sep tanks blow. He wonders which of his soldiers managed that, if they survived or if this was a suicide run. He hopes they made it, but that’s all he can do, hope.

The destruction of the tank is enough to open a gap in the Sepratist’s defenses, just enough to get their walkers in closer and start firing on the lines of clankers without getting blown to hell in turn. Anakin doesn’t even have to order the advancement, they’ve been at this song and dance long enough to know what needs to be done. Any chance you’re given, you take it. It was the first lesson he learned in this war.

They’d been boxed in and losing ground, but one after another canonfire lights up against the blanket of smoke choking the ground and Anakin is blinded by the white-hot bloom of exploding metal that is the droid tanks combusting, one, two, three, four, in quick succession as the 501st push their advantage for all it’s worth.

They’ve been given a sliver of a chance and they will take it, every inch given them they will take and push and with nothing but bullheaded stubbornness they will refuse to give in and die. It’s what makes the 501st the 501st.

An AT-TE erupts into flame somewhere behind him, heat licking down Anakin’s back as he crouches low to dodge flying shrapnel. They’d managed to whittle down the enemy tanks to a handful, but a handful can still do catastrophic damage. It’s enough though, it will have to be.

Without the heavy cover of cannon shells screaming down and cleaving acres of desolation where they land, it’s easy to push forward and tear into the battle droids on the ground. B-1s are easy things to kill, even a fresh minted soldier could take one out without much trouble and there’s no shinies left on the ground, not anymore. The new blood have all either lived long enough to earnt their mettle, armor scuffed and charred and blood stained, or they’re dead and left miles behind in the mud.

There’s a saying in the GAR, that one way or another there’s never any shinies left after a battle.

Just another thing Anakin tries not to think about.

He moves with the soldiers around him, blocking streaks of red with his blade, that familiar blue glow always moving, spinning and spinning and spinning and he never thought he’d be grateful for Dooku but at least the mech hand doesn’t get carpal-tunnel. The rest of his body isn’t so lucky to be made out of metal and wires though. He’s tired, he’s so fucking tired, but he can’t stop. Not yet. Not until they’re either off this world or they’re all dead.

They break through the line, eventually, finally, tides of battle slowly shifting and Anakin is too tired to remember what the plan had been for after, if they’d even had one (maybe not, the attack had come out of nowhere. They always did), all he knows is that he has to keep moving, keep his blade swinging and he’ll probably make it through this in one piece. Survive this, and you might actually get to go home.

(Not Tatooine home, where his mother’s bones lie beneath the sand beside sins he’d rather let himself forget. Not the Temple either. He’s never really been able to think of that as home, even when he was able to delude himself into thinking he belonged there. Home is his wife, now. As long as he’s with her, he’ll be happy, he thinks. All he wants to do is go back to her and let her hold him in her arms until he stops feeling like he’s going to shake apart, until he feels like he’s a person he can recognize again instead of this stranger wearing his skin. She’s the only thing that makes sense anymore. He misses her so much it hurts.)

He fights.

It’s all instinct, falling back on well honed muscle memory and the reflexes the Force gives him. He’s not even really aware anymore, just fighting, fighting, all the battles eventually get like this if they last long enough. It’s less his own conscious action and more the Force moving through him, directing his body for him. Keeping him alive, just for one moment longer.

Even the pain of his dying soldiers raking like claws down his psyche can’t quite pierce the haze that’s taken over his brain. Just another step forward, another step after that, keep that blade up and that guard closed or you’ll take a bolt to the chest. Don’t go dying now Skywalker, not when there’s still use for you.

Anakin feels as close as he ever had to invincible in these moments, caught somewhere between exhausted and exhilarated.

And then, sudden as an explosion and just as devastating, his entire world ends and begins again. He feels it, down to his molecular structure, in every atom and weave of his existence, this earth-shattering change. The shock of it sends him to his knees, saber sputtering out as it falls from his hand.

He hears his soldiers scream around him, calling out “the General’s down!” and circling around him in a protective formation but Anakin doesn’t have enough of a mind to spare on that. Every sense, every bit of his awareness is laser targeted to this change inside him.

His hand, the flesh one, goes on instinct to press against his stomach. It hasn’t changed. Of course it hasn’t, still flat and taut and hard muscle, but everything else is already impossible so he half thought maybe-

“General, General, where are you hurt?” asks a trooper who kneels in front of him, but Anakin’s having a hard time focusing on his voice. He’s having a hard time focusing on anything, really. The screams and explosions and blaster fire wobbles like sounds underwater, faded and distant and there is only him, only him and the force and-

This is impossible.

“You need to show me, General Skywalker.” The trooper peels Anakin’s hand away from his stomach but there’s nothing to see. Not yet. There won’t be for another few months at least.

“M’not hurt,” Anakin mumbles, brain still stuck on the fact that he, that he-

The trooper grunts and angles his body over Anakin’s protectively as a shell explodes much too close for comfort. “We need to get you out of here sir,” he says, voice edging toward frantic, even if all of his men are too well trained to really let it show. The Force, though, doesn’t care for training. Neither does the life-and-death fervor of battle. Anakin can taste the trooper’s fear in his mouth like the blood of a split lip. It’s bitter.

The trooper wraps a strong hand around Anakin’s prosthetic and pulls him back to his feet. Anakin lets him. As soon as his boots are solid beneath him again Anakin finds himself hunching forward, hand once again finding a protective place over his abdomen. It’s not even a conscious action, using the bulk of his body and the defense his armored shoulders offer to protect his belly. It’s something instinctive. Maternal, or paternal, whatever. He’ll figure out the linguistics of it when he’s not being fired on. (It’s not like he’s ever had the luxury of wondering if it would make more sense to call himself mother or father, even back before he’d been able to get his outside to look the way his brain told him it should. He’d been a slave first and then a Jedi, it’s not like children were ever an option to him, so this is, this is-)

He’s got enough awareness left in him to call his saber back to himself and Anakin stumbles after the trooper toward the relative shelter of the shadow of one of their tanks.

It’ll protect them from the droid’s fire, at least.

He’s in shock, Anakin knows in some distant part of himself. And he needs to knock himself out of it and get back into the fight or else he’s going to get himself killed, but he can’t. He can’t shake himself out of this startled haze because in one monumental moment there had been nothing and then the force had boiled around him like a thunderhead and when it had broken, he suddenly was no longer alone in his body.

He knows it’s not a person yet. He’s familiar enough with biology to understand that. It’s cells, just a couple of cells collecting together and slowly starting to grow. Doesn’t even have a force signature of its own yet but already he can feel it. It’s only minutes old. If he were to take it out of his body the entirety of it would fit on a pin head but he can sense where it is, sense it growing, feel in his bones and his marrow where it had not existed before and where it is now.

Anakin wonders, hysterically, if this is what had happened to his mother.

Well, his mother wouldn’t have been in the middle of a fire-fight when she fell pregnant with him.

He’s not sure if he’s terrified or if he’s elated or maybe it’s just the sleep deprivation talking. I’m gonna be a dad, he thinks to himself, bracing against the side of a tank as it fires volley after volley. A Seppie bomb lands far too close and the explosion sets Anakin’s ears ringing and covers him in the spray of dirt and debris. If I live that long, he amends.

The saber is lit in his hand a moment later and Anakin throws himself back into the fray, because now he has to survive this, has to make it out of this shitstorm intact, because it’s not just him he’s protecting.

The whole time he’s thinking, how the fuck am I going to explain this to Padmé?

#my writing #fic: cytokinesis #some of this i updated a while ago but some of it is new #the fun/terrible part of fanfiction is that the editing stage never ends #i swear i will be posting edits to my fics until i die

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favefandomimagines · 2 years ago

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Lucky Charm 3 (b.b)

Summary: not every burned bridge is beyond repair

AN: Part 3!!! There is so much dialogue in these few scenes so I skipped some lines and added some in for creative purposes! Next chapter is gonna be ANGSTY

Part 1

Part 2

Kimberly was feeling light, much lighter after all she said to Bradley. It was something that needed to be said. Though it was hard and neither of them wanted to completely burn down the bridge that was their friendship, it was something that she needed to get off her chest.

However, she was beginning to think it may have made things worse. What if she did permanently burn that bridge? No matter how angry she was with him, Kimberly still loved him. And maybe as more than a friend.

She’d never admit it out loud, scared that once she did it would make it real. Loving your best friend was the most cliche trope ever. There were a million rom-coms, books and songs about it.

Kimberly just needed to remind herself why she was here and maybe that wasn’t the fix what was broken between her and Bradley.

“Time is your worst enemy.” Maverick spoke, standing in front of the rest of the pilots. “Stage 1 of the mission is to advance at low altitude in two teams.” He continued as they all watched the screen behind him.

“You will reach your destination through this narrow cannon. The area smells of radar-mounted heat-seeking missiles. These missiles are deadly.” Maverick said.

Kimberly and Phoenix exchanged worried glances. Flying at such a low altitude is very, very risky, almost impossible. But obviously that was why Maverick was the one teaching them.

“They are designed to protect the sky above, not the canyon below.” Maverick explained. “Because they know that no one is crazy enough to fly under them.” Bradley interjected.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to train you for. On mission day, your altitude will be 1,000 feet. Maximum.” Maverick said.

All the pilot’s faces dropped upon hearing their altitude and the parameters of the mission.

“If you pass this altitude, the radar will catch you and you die. Your speed will be 600 knots minimum. Arrival time at destination, 2 and a half minutes. This is because of the 5th generation warplanes waiting at the nearby airport.” Maverick continued.

Kimberly began to wonder if she was really cut out for this mission. These were new limits she had never tested before. Could she really pull this off? Or would she be another military training statistic?

Training that day wasn’t easy. Going up that canyon at a speed none of them had ever flown before, was gearing to be too much for the pilots. No one had flown it successfully so far, except Rooster.

“Why did you die? You are the team leader up there. Why did you and your team die?” Maverick asked him. “Sir, he was the only one to reach the target.” Phoenix interjected.

“One minute late. He gave the enemy planes time to get him.” Maverick rebutted. “He’s dead.” He added. “You can’t know that.” Rooster said. “You’re not flying fast enough.” Hangman commented. “We don’t have a second to waste.” Maverick said.

“We reached the goal.” Rooster said. “And superior enemy planes cut you off while you were leaving.” Maverick rebutted. “Then it’s a dogfight.” Rooster said.

Kimberly watched them hash out their differences in front of everyone. “Against 5th generation warplanes.” Maverick said. “Yes, we still have a chance.” Rooster answered. “Rooster,” Kimberly started only loud enough for him to hear.

“In an F-18?” Maverick questioned. “It’s not the plane sir, it’s the pilot.” Rooster said, ignoring Kimberly. “Exactly! There is more than one way to fly this mission. In this mission, a man either flies like Maverick or he doesn’t come back.” Hangman spoke.

“Now is not the time to think about the past.” He added. “What is that supposed to mean?” Rooster questioned. “Rooster,” Maverick warned. “I can’t be the only one who knows that Maverick flew with his old man,” Hangman started.

“That’s enough.” Maverick said. Soon Rooster shot up out of his chair and lunged for Hangman. Kimberly and Maverick stood in between the two aviators, Kimberly pushing Rooster back.

“You’re all dismissed.” Maverick announced. The pilots scarcely dispersed, each going in different directions. Kimberly watched as Rooster stormed out of the classroom.

Without anyone noticing, Kimberly slipped out and followed after Rooster.

“Is there a reason you’re following me, Kazansky?” Rooster asked. “Uh, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. After what happened in there.” Kimberly answered.

Every ounce of confidence she had before disappeared the second he spoke to her first. “I’m fine.” He answered. “I know things aren’t good between us right now but I’ve known you since we were six years old, I know when you’re lying.” She said.

“He had no right to bring that up. What point was he trying to make?” Rooster stammered. “Hangman is a piece of work. But he’s wrong, you know. You are good enough to fly this mission. Probably the best person to do it. And I don’t give out compliments to my competition easily.” Kimberly replied.

Rooster stifled a laugh at her response. “I really am sorry, Kim. I know it doesn’t mean much and you’re right, I don’t understand what you felt after what I did. But I’m so sorry and even if you can never forgive me, I just need you to know that I’m sorry.” He said.

“I know you’re sorry. And I know I shouldn’t forgive you so easily but in order to get through this mission we need to be at our best. And I don’t know about you but I’m at my best when I don’t have any more drama stressing me out.” Kimberly replied.

“So, I forgive you.” She added. “Really?” Rooster questioned. “Yes. My dad told me to be the better person, take the high road and that’s what I’m doing.” She answered.

Rooster gave her a smile, feeling like he was finally making progress with Kimberly. It was a step in the right direction.

The next day, Maverick told everyone to meet at the Hard Deck and that training was going to be a little different that day.

Kimberly, Phoenix and Halo arrived together, the group of women finding the rest of their peers and Maverick with two foam footballs.

“What’s going on, Mav?” Kimberly asked. “Well, Clover, you all need to work as a team if you’re going to survive this mission. You need to trust each other so, we will be playing dogfight football. Offense and defense at the same time.” Maverick explained.

Kimberly was competitive, always has been always will be. Rooster knew that better than anyone. She was a volleyball star at their high school, the most ruthless on the court. There was no doubt that this wasn’t going to be any different.

Teams were made, Rooster and Kimberly being on opposing teams. “Think you can beat your lover boy, Clover?” Hangman teased. “Think you can keep up, Bagman?” Kimberly rebutted.

Hondo blew the whistle and the game began. It was something to get used to, offense and defense playing at the same time but everyone soon got the hang of it.

Kimberly and Rooster were facing off in the next play, Hangman being the quarterback for her team. The ball was snapped and Kimberly took off running to catch the ball but it was intercepted by Rooster.

The blonde pilot jumped on the back of her friend causing them both to fall to the ground, the ball coming loose.

“That’s not fair, that has to be cheating.” Rooster laughed. “Defense, Bradshaw. You should try it sometime.” Kimberly replied, offering a hand to help him up. “Guess you never lost that competitive edge.” He said. “Duh. Why do you think I’m so good at my job?” She said with a smirk.

“Kazansky! Bradshaw! The game is this way!” Coyote called. The two gave each one last fleeting smile before he jogged off ahead of her. “Seems the two of you made up.” Maverick spoke to her. “We’re getting there. Slowly but surely.” She answered.

“Good. You two are too good for each other to let my mistake ruin your friendship.” He said. “And I think you're getting too old to be playing football for an hour.” Kimberly joked. “And you’re too much like your dad.” Maverick replied.

The game went on for a couple more hours, the team feeling a new sense of comradery that they hadn’t felt before. It was refreshing to have a group of the cockiest pilots in the Navy feel like a team.

It was also a nice break from real training. The day after the football game, they were brought back to reality.

“Your target is the uranium enrichment plant and it will start working sooner than expected. Raw uranium will be delivered to the plant in 10 days. As a result, your mission has been pushed forward a week to avoid contamination of the target valley with radiation.” Maverick informed everyone.

“Sir, no one here has successfully completed the low altitude course.” Kimberly commented. “Yet you have been ordered to advance.” He said.

Kimberly clenched her jaw as Maverick went into explaining what needed to be done and how they needed to fly to successfully complete the mission and come home alive.

Phoenix, Bob and Coyote were the next pair to fly the course. Kimberly, Yale and Omaha had unsuccessfully flown it before them. She was nursing a killer headache after pushing 9 G’s to make it through Coffin Corner.

Everyone was listening on comms, hearing that Coyote wasn’t responding. Everything was going wrong, Maverick had to get a lock on him so the tones would alert the pilot currently falling towards the ground.

Kimberly thought she could breathe after Coyote regained consciousness but a bird strike on Phoenix and Bob sent her into a mental spiral.

She had never lost a friend to something like this and Phoenix was her closest friend aside from Rooster. “Come on, Phoenix, eject.” She muttered, hearing the commotion.

Rooster could see that Kimberly was worried, more worried than anyone else in that room. He placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, something he used to do to bring her some sort of peace.

The comms stopped, no one saying anything else and the time that went by felt like hours. When they were told that Phoenix and Bob were okay and in the medical wing, Kimberly took off towards that part of the wing.

“Lieutenant, she needs rest right now.” The doctor told Kimberly. “Please can I just see her for five minutes? I need to know she’s okay.” She pleaded.

The doctor paused for a moment, deciding if he wanted to go against orders. “Five minutes, then she needs to rest.” He said. Kimberly gave him a smile before entering the room.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” She asked gently as she entered. “Hey, I’m good. Just a little shaken up. Is Bob okay?” Phoenix asked. “Yeah, yeah, Bob’s okay. You’re both okay.” Kimberly answered. “I was freaking out. Thought you weren’t going to eject in time.” She added.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Kazansky. You always got me.” Phoenix said. “Speaking of, what is going on with you and Rooster? You were all chummy at the football game.” Phoenix added.

“We talked, he apologized again. We’re on the road to recovery. Things aren’t going to go back to normal overnight but we’re both trying.” Kimberly explained. “He’s totally in love with you.” Phoenix said. “What? He is not!” The blonde woman said. “He so is! The way he looks at you when you’re not looking, the picture in his flight suit-“ Phoenix started before Kimberly cut her off.

“Photo in his flight suit? What photo?” She asked. “He keeps a photo of you in his flight suit. I first saw it when we were stationed overseas together and then I saw it the other day after you ripped him a new one on the tarmac.” Phoenix explained.

“If that’s not true love, I don’t know what is.” She added. “He doesn’t love me.” Kimberly said. “Kim, trust me, he does. And I know you love him too.” Phoenix said.

Before Kimberly could reply, the doctor came back in and told her she needed to go.

She was walking down the hall towards the rec room where Rooster was waiting and to let him know that Phoenix and Bob were okay.

“Lieutenant Kazansky,” Admiral Bates stopped her. “Admiral, is there something wrong?” Kimberly asked.

Kimberly didn’t need him to say anything, she could tell by the look on his face that something was definitely wrong.

“Kimberly, your father has passed away.” Admiral Bates said. Kimberly was silent for a moment, it taking longer for her to process the news she just heard.

Soon she began to feel numb. Lost feeling in every part of her body. Her legs grew weak and before she fell to the ground, Admiral Bates caught her. It wasn’t until then that she allowed herself to cry.

The man set her on the ground given that she couldn’t stand and allowed her to cry on his shoulder for a few moments. “Do you want me to get Maverick?” He asked.

Kimberly nodded her head, putting her face in her hands as the man stood up.

Maverick and Bradley were in the middle of a heated argument when Admiral Bates entered the room, breaking the news to Maverick.

“Kimberly, where’s Kimberly?” Rooster asked. The three men exited the room and saw the woman sitting on the floor, back against the wall, sobbing into her hands.

Maverick couldn’t even move before Rooster was already at Kimberly’s side. “I got you, I got you.” He whispered to her as she held on to him like a life vest.

Though she thought she needed Maverick in that moment, Rooster was the person she really needed and the only person who was probably able to get her through this.

Taglist: @n3ssm0nique @glowingtree @mmkkzz @alanadetigy @letusbewildflowers @justanothermagicalsara @azure23x @luckyladycreator2 @barista-library @alana4610 @kyramaximoff @harperrbradshaw @katiemcrae @callalily2000 @mads-weasley @chaoticassidy

#imagine #imagines #top gun imagine #top gun maverick #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw imagine #rooster bradshaw fic #phoenix top gun #jake hangman seresin #robert bob floyd

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rainandandy · 3 years ago

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Chemtrails (Yelena Belova x reader)

Summary: You and Yelena are finally free from the mind control of being a black widow. How does everything fare out as you both return to Ohio to start a new life?

Pairings: Yelena Belova x reader, Natasha Romanoff x Steve Rogers (Kinda platonic, kinda not), Alexei Shoskatoff x Melina Vostokova

Word Count: 1,862

Translations: Malishka (Baby), Krasotka (Beautiful), Liybimaya (My Love)

Masterlist

There were some people who had the idea that being on the run meant being scared, lonely, always on edge. Perhaps that is how it should have felt. You just felt like you were free. Free from being used in any way. They treated you as if you were just another pawn on the chessboard as if you were just another number to them. It is a piece that no one will remember.

Yelena too. The two of you had freed yourselves and the others from the harsh crutches of being a black widow. A killer and a trained spy in all the fields that a spy could be. Sly, sneaky, conniving, and murderous. There had never been a time when you had any control over your actions. Never being able to be yourself. Living life on the edge, skirting all over the world in a number of days. Killing people without a second thought, because you weren't able to control your mind. You weren't in control.

Until Yelena came along. Till she abolished the control over your mind and cut the tracker from your leg. Till she held you while your body wracked with sobs of finally being free.

She stayed with you, helped you recover physically and mentally. Patching up wounds with medical bits she found in gas stations. Driving stolen cars and motorbikes through the darkness of the night. A new city each day, hiding in rundown motels on the side of highways. Each one of them smelling worse than the previous one.

In the aftermath of Dreykov's death, you would keep your eyes on the news to make sure the black widows left over weren't doing any harm. Once you both reached Ohio, where she planned to meet up with her family and establish a base to free the black widows, you both could be free. Over the long nights of traveling and the days of laying low, you went from strangers to lovers very quickly.

You weren't sure when it happened, but she fell first. A glance at you that was once cold has become a loving gaze. As she learned what food you liked, she would be sure to bring it back from her grocery store runs. It was something you didn't notice at first. She changed her attitude towards you suddenly and when her touches on your wounds became lighter and she began to tell you more about her life, you too began to fall. You discovered why she was aiming for Ohio in the first place. In other words, she did not want to be what she was made to be. Both of your skills would only earn you dirty money, and she desperately just wanted to settle down. You did not talk about children between the two of you, but you frequently talked about a dog shelter.

As soon as you reached a small suburban home on the outskirts of Ohio, you and your partner quickly went into undercover mode. Posing as a newlywed couple, with her sister who is a part-time science teacher and her parents who are coming to welcome the new family. In the morning it appeared like bliss to the neighbors, but really it was at night when the family seemed to sit around and play Monopoly that they planned their roles for recovering the last of the black widows. The rest of the widows who had been freed would come over under the guise of being friends, but Yelena and you would give them money and new identification provided by Mason, so they could start their new lives. The widows wanted their chance to live a normal life, just as you and Yelena did. Many of those who rely on doing what they know only too well, choose to work with Melina in St Petersburg.

In less than a year, everyone was free. With the last of the widows freed, Dreykov's remnants were abolished. You and Yelena were finally free. As soon as the word was given you and Yelena marched straight down to the shelter where she picked a gorgeous American akita and Yelena straight away called her Fanny. When Natasha heard the name, she rolled her eyes and asked, "Really Yelena? I hate that name. You know how much I hate it. In response, Yelena hit back with an infamous "HA!"" and Fanny had now become a part of your dysfunctional family. Alexei and Melina flew in and out every few months, checking up on both of you or on some wild mission to find Captain America. It was much to Alexei’s surprise the day Natasha brought Steve Rogers home, posing as her husband.

“Papa, you remember Steve. My adoring husband" Each word spit back as fast as possible while making sure Alexei didn't start a mini war among them right under their noses. Natasha was extremely coy at first and you didn't know whether there was anything more than just friendship between them.

During their time at the Ohio house, Yelena and Natasha would relax in the small pool that is located out the back. Their tanned skin became more obvious as they raced in laps of the pool against one another under the scorching summer sun. The whole family had a good laugh when Steve wore swim trunks with the American flag on them and then had another fit when Alexei wore ones with the Russian flag on them. “I feel like all my dreams have come true” Yelena said hazily as she kissed your hand on the lawn chairs.

“What dream is that Krasotka?” you asked, smiling as you didn’t fully take in her deep words. “I have my family back” you felt the strings of your heart being pulled at the softness of the girl's words.

She pulled on your hand and led you to join her on the lawn chair, sitting in her lap. As she wrapped her arms around your waist, you looked up into the clear blue sky to see a distant plane leave a long white trail in the clear blue sky. “What are the white lines made of?" It was a question you asked aloud. "Maybe the government is slowly poisoning us with Dreykov's toxic chemicals," she said in a funny way, but you knew it was on everyone's mind. What if he wasn't really dead after all. What if the dream turned into a nightmare and you were no longer yourself. Your panic caused your breath to quicken its pace, and you touched the beautiful gemstones you wore around your neck. Some eastern culture your therapist had thrust onto you, rubbing some amethyst and turquoise would help ease the pain of the memories. In a manner of speaking, it did work, as it eased the nightmares little by little. There were times when holding those tiny stones felt like clutching a lifeline. You desperately try to hold onto this reality with Yelena as long as possible. The blissfulness of it all. Yelena became restless after losing the constant sense of action that had been part of her life. The excitement of going to the farmers market only lasted for a limited amount of time. It was one of those days when the rumble of an engine and the smell of gas broke your concentration from doing laundry, and you were met by a gorgeous vintage red Chevy pulling into the driveway. The look on Yelena's face was incomprehensible, which made you hard to believe that she had just went out and bought such an immaculate, expensive-looking vehicle. The car was a convertible and fanny sat in the back, her tongue hanging out, panting in the golden sun, as she sat there. "We are supposed to keep things on the low down" you whispered to your 'fake' wife, scolding her.

It's time to enjoy yourself, Malishka!"

You knew it was worth it when the rouge on her lips matched the color of the cherry red car. When she opened the passenger side door, she motioned for you to get into the car.

"No no, I think it's time for me to take this baby for a spin". You pushed her across the white leather as you got into the driver's seat and sat in it. There was a soft white leather under your grip on the wheel. "Don't you like it, sweetheart?" Yelena smirked at you as you adjusted the mirror while Yelena was chatting. Upon turning the key, the engine roared to life. "Shhh sweetheart, you'll pay for this later" and you took off racing down the avenues of white picket fences, passing children playing in the front gardens.

Families who seemed perfect on the outside but you knew that each one had their problems. As you reached well over the speed limit, with your hair blowing wildly behind you, you felt as if you were at liberty. It was impossible for those families to stop you from doing what you did. You could not be stopped by Dreykov. At that moment, all you wanted was to keep speeding along the winding roads while Yelena put her hands up, grasping at the invisible air. She was your sweet love. Your happiness. She made the freedom worth it. The winding roads soon gave way to a small clearing where you were able to park your car on the side of the road. The engine died slowly, and her smile was beaming back at you, pure happiness oozing from both of you. Fanny jumped out of the car, her paw pads crushing the gravel under her feet as she jumped. She trotted around sniffing at the new surroundings. In the company of Yelena, you made your way to a small bench that overlooked a valley. The sun was looking low and heavy as it was making its way towards the horizon for yet another day. The silence was relaxing, settling over you as you stared out at the sky. Yelena spoke openly from the heart or perhaps her soul when she said, "I am not religious, but if there is a god out there somewhere, I hope he lets it stay like this forever.". The truth is, she was never one to think of such things in this way, especially in regards to god, religion or even something as grave as losing what you had. "It's not going to happen. We have made it. Nothing could break us apart, Liybimaya”

I know, I know, I feel silly thinking about it when this perfect paradise is all around us; but I cannot help it.

"There is nothing wrong with contemplating God…. or our paradise…. If you have second thoughts-”

“No. God no.” She took a deep breath and replied, “That's not what I'm saying. I am terrified that I will wake up back in the red room. That all of this was just a dream"

You scooted over to her side of the bench and cradled her against you and said, "I'm real, baby.". The sun set, leaving you and your partner in the darkness, the streetlight flickering behind you. It is time for us to go home"

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fearlesslilarose · 3 years ago

Text

How fast is the Carte Blanche in real life?

That’s a question I asked myself one night as I looked up at my ceiling. It is very difficult to pinpoint the speed of space crafts in fiction when you can easily attribute it any speed you’d like! You can just say ‘’Oh, well it’s so fast it can reach the distance of three solar systems in a day.’’ and it sounds believable in a futuristic science-fiction world. But, how fast can the CB travel in real life? That’s the question I decided to answer on that night and the results I got may shock you!

(Note: The calculations are an approximation of what the Carte Blanche speed may be. It will take out the fact that the CB crashed in Shadow on the Ship. You don’t have to take those answers seriously, it’s only a fun thing I did because I was bored.)

Warning!!: spoilers for season 3!!!

Alright here is the result I got!

-Speed can be found by taking the distance an object traveled and divide it by the time it took it to travel said distance. So I had to find a distance and a time to get my answer. It is actually pretty easy to find.

In Man in Glass part 1, The Carte Blanche had just took off of Mars when Buddy tells Juno and Nureyev their heist will be ‘’tomorrow’’. Assuming she meant ‘’tomorrow night’’ and it is already night time at the time she said that, we can assume a time of 12 hours to go to the place of the heist.

Now we need to find the distance the CB traveled (Sorry fellow Americans, I’m using km). In the tpp wiki, it is said the Nova Zolotovna is from one of Jupiter’s moon. Even if there is no evidence the heist happened on a moon of Jupiter in the script, we will take Jupiter since it’s the next planet after Mars.

The distance between the sun and Mars is about 250,21e+6 km and the distance between the sun and Jupiter (technically a moon but this is easier) is about 752,62e+6 km, so the distance Mars-Jupiter is around 502,41e+6 km.

By dividing the distance by the time, we get the speed of the CB, which is around 41,8675e+6 km per hour or maximum 1 billion km per day (1e+9).

-Now we finally have the speed of the Carte Blanche, but I decided to go further than that and try to find more about what it means to be able to travel a billion a day.

-In Tool of Rust, the CB reaches Neptune to find M’tendere. Neptune is about around 4,5e+9 km from the sun. It would take around 4 days for the CB to reach Neptune if they don’t stop on their way from Jupiter, so about a week since the start of their criminal journey.

-It took around a year for the CB crew to complete their Cure Mother Prime journey, so let see the distance they could have made in this time. If we take into account that they made stops on their journey, (let’s say they took three months of down time in total) They would have travel a distance of 2,75e+11 km or 2,9e-5 light-years for 9 months worth of travel. If we take out those stops and decide they didn’t stop for 12 months, they would have made a maximum of 3,67e+11 km or 3,88e-5 light-years.

-I used light-years in the previous point for this precise point. I also decided to calculate the time it would take for a spaceship like the CB to make one light-year and it’s a pretty impressive number. It would take 25800 years for the Carte-Blanche to travel one light-year!

In the light of my calculations, these results are really impressive!... for the Carte Blanche.

Not taking into account that it crashed on a planet and therefor reduced it’s efficiency in term of speed, the Carte Blanche is a repurposed tour ship. It was most likely designed to tour around the solar system like a cruise and is on the same level as shuttles. So what about other types of ships like those used for trade, military or research purposes? I do not have a clear answer for the first two, but I may have one for the research ships, and the results are quite scary.

In What lies beyond part 2, Sasha explains that the CMP came from the galaxy next door after what happened on Osiris and it took a 100 years to travel to it. The pharmacorps involved must have put an impossible amount of money to get the best ship possible. Granted there most likely wasn’t a single human on that ship, it still did it’s job. The closest galaxy to the solar system at the moment (and hopefully at the time the junoverse happens) is Andromeda. Do you know how far that galaxy is from us? 2,5e+6 light-years away! They did 2,5e+6 light-years in 100 years!! The Carte Blanche can only do 0,0000001% of that distance in the same amount of time!

It is obvious how big the pharmacorps are in the Junoverse. Do you know who is bigger tho? Dark Matters. DM could easily pay for a technology like that. It would explain how they were able to surround the Carte Blanche in the blink of an eye. If they are able to find Juno in the next season, it could be over for him in a matter of minutes, and it could be even worse for Nureyev with the lack of Ruby7 he has.

Of course, this is only an approximation! When you write science-fiction, you do not need to be a tad bit scientifically correct to make an interesting futuristic story and Kevin and Harley definitly did not take into account the speed and distance that the characters had to travel in order to give us an intriguing story. These calculations are only a fun and interesting way to put things into perspective. The limit is above the sky in those circumstances.

Thanks to those who made it this far into my rant, I hope you liked it. I appreciate all of you who decided to give me a minute or two of your time to talk about science and space. Have a nice day!

#the penumbra podcast #the penumbra fandom #tpp #carte blanche #junoverse

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keilemlucent · 4 years ago

Text

lavender latte: vi

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1 || chapter 2 || chapter 3 || chapter 4 || chapter 5 || chapter 7 ||

masterlist

word count: 6.8k

finally. god.

warnings: none really! reader’s foot booted, but that’s about it.

---

well. here we are. thank u to everyone for reading this sweet, sweet story. we’re not through it yet, but i’m happy to offer a meal with this chapter. enjoy lovies. beta’ed by the lovely love @keiqos.

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You had several problems after returning to your apartment from the hospital. One of your coworkers was nice enough to drive you and your things back, but quickly the niceties stopped and your vague hell began.

Exclusively being on crutches sucked. Navigating your apartment and trying to live somewhat normally was a massive pain. Even just showering was a task that sapped most of your energy. Standing one-legged and balancing made your body ache with a deep soreness, especially the first few days you returned.

This was not even to mention the unpleasant dreams you were having.

‘Unpleasant’ & ‘dreams’ were a nice way of putting it.

You could recall that during your first night in the hospital, one of your doctors told you of the possibility of experiencing a few post-traumatic symptoms. Considering how out of it you were at the time, it was unsurprising how you brushed it off.

The reality was much harder to ignore.

...

Cars revving.

Shouting.

Shattering—

Your eyes flashed open, chest heaving and brow covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Fuck that.

It was the same dream, an obvious recreation of the stimuli of the event. Though it was scattered in your memory, the dreams made it horribly vivid and vibrant despite lacking detail. The sounds and smells of that day clung to you as you shook your head, forcing yourself into wakefulness.

Your comforter was thrown from your body, and you shivered as cold air rushed over you. As jarred as you were, you still swung your legs off the bed, readjusting your boot and your aching leg, half-heartedly glaring at your crutches.

Your apartment wasn’t terribly set up to get around with your limited mobility, but your difficulty functioning didn’t help your overall mental state. Everything was just harder with the boot on, and you did your best to work with it.

Being locked up in your apartment added to the hellishness of it. You were so used to the stimuli and social environment of the teashop, it felt like a cold water shock when you were confined to your home entirely alone except for your cats.

You could, of course, try and venture out into the world. But, it was still winter and the ice-covered sidewalks didn’t seem like the best place to try and crutch around.

Within the first day or two, you resigned yourself to your three-week fate of being holed up.

You had a laundry list of things you could do. Shows and movies to watch, places in your house to clean, your cats to pet, but—

You still had far too much time on your hands.

A lot of your newfound time in the first few days was spent on your back, leg propped up, and draped in ice bags, musing over Hawks.

Hawks.

Holy fuck.

You couldn’t avoid it, couldn’t stop it. Just thinking about him made every part of you swirl and thrum like you were listening to some sort of contently-chorded song and you were more than happy to play it on repeat until your ears bled. Maybe that feeling towards Hawks had always been there (it had), but now you accepted it and stopped holding yourself back as much.

You never thought the idea of someone squeezing your shoulder would send you into literal fits of giggles and butterflies, but boy, did it. Not to mention all of the careful touches and gentle words you two had shared in the aftermath of the attack, though the memories were hazy. What you did remember and cherish was the warmth of him, quirk activated or not. Each time you recalled it, your gut fluttered and your hands twitched.

Your ceiling was the most interesting place to look in your apartment. The plain texture was the perfect canvas to allow your memories of the sweet interactions the two of you had shared to play like comforting reruns. The commercial breaks of these daydreams were the texts exchanged between you and Hawks.

Keigo couldn’t stop thinking about you either.

It wasn’t as distracting as it once was, as he had been more liberal with letting himself text you. The high number of messages between the two of you was maybe ridiculous, but he was a fast texter and you seemed to have plenty of jokes and banter for him to share in.

As good as the texting was, it was also nice to check-in on you and your recovery. You seemed more annoyed than anything else, but Keigo wasn’t so much of an idiot as to think you weren’t in any pain or struggling at all. Though you didn’t explicitly tell him or show him, he was familiar with the pains of healing and could infer some things about your state.

Keigo tried to brighten your day as he could. ‘Hawks’ still had plenty of hero work to do, especially with the information extracted from the recently detained syndicate members. Despite this, he took as much time as he could to stop and send you little snippets and messages which hopefully would help you smile a little.

It did, of course. Just talking to Hawks did.

You had moments of awareness a few times a day where you had to remind yourself that, yes, (Y/N), you were just casual friends and deeply enamored with the number two hero and that sentiment was at least partially returned.

You had a lot of time to wonder to what extent the feelings were returned. They obviously weren’t entirely one-sided, right?

It was completely possible that they were, but you did your best to shake off the thought.

It was more likely that notorious bachelor and flirt, pro hero Hawks, just wanted a fuck with some feelings. To fuck with some feelings, right?

Though, he did say that he cares about you.

But, you definitely can care about someone you only want to fuck.

You wished you had some sort of definitive answer. The murkiness of it all just made the sweetness of the past and the texts of the present seem a bit sour.

Confessing to Hawks was daunting and terrifying. Not to mention, it felt a bit juvenile, all of it. People weren’t supposed to get melty crushes like this past high school, right? Especially not ones this deep on someone who couldn’t possibly feel the same as you, right?

During one of these moments of uncomfortable clarity, your phone beeped as you rested on the couch. Despite not even seeing the message, you knew it would be Hawks.

You grabbed your phone, clicking open the newest message.

[birdboy]: hey hey angel

[birdboy]: look at this fucker i found

The image attached was a photo of Hawks standing next to one of his own billboards, advertising some sort of sports drink. The photo had obviously been taken with a timer, the angle of the photo tilted as Hawks and the billboard were quite small in the frame. It added to the charm of the photo, the way Hawks was holding a feather blade to the throat of his own advert. You could even tell through the pixels he was wearing a wide smile as he did so, wings spread behind him

You snorted.

You and Hawks are just friends, you reminded yourself.

[you]: looks like a punk bitch 2 me dude

[you]: kinda uncanny resemblance tho

[birdboy]: i agree

[birdboy]: he’s hot tho

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you readjusted on the couch. You weren’t disagreeing, not at all.

[you]: not wrong

[you]: still, punk bitch

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: feelings = hurt

[birdboy]: please tell me the photo is funny

[birdboy]: it took like five tries

[you]: very funny, im gonna save it and sell when im short on cash

[birdboy]: my publicist will blacklist u

[you]: i’d like to see them try

[birdboy]: is that a challenge angel????

[you]: a promise

There was a break in the messages, though Hawks appeared to be typing.

[birdboy]: unrelated but

[birdboy]: how are you doing?

You paused, taking stock of your disheveled, sleepy self. You were only a few days out of the hospital and you definitely could’ve been worse off.

[you]: im okay!!!

[you]: sore and tired honestly

[birdboy]: :^(

[birdboy]: i'm glad to hear its not worse at least

[birdboy]: ill send u lots more embarrassing photos

[birdboy]: a million angel

[you]: my hero <3

It all was surreal and mentally impossible to avoid.

You really, really liked Hawks and had for a long while.

...

Keigo spent most of the rest of the day busy with patrols and work for the Commission, much to his chagrin. He hardly got a chance to text you. It reminded him of his reality as a pro, his fast-paced nature and how he truly couldn’t slow down, not at that point anyway. He had a brand and habitual way of being that was standard. Even for you, he wasn’t sure if he could slow down, even if he wanted to or needed to.

The idea scared him, pieces of his reality.

But, at the same time, Keigo hadn’t ever felt like this before. The weird, but incredibly alluring and comfortable heat in his chest made him feel like he’d do anything for you. Fuck, he’d fly to the stars and move them if he could, if that’s what it took.

Maybe he even wanted to.

Keigo couldn’t become a different person, for anyone, that’s not how things worked. But if getting closer to you meant... adjusting, he could do that. Easily. He was adaptable as all hell and he’d be glad to use it for something that made him feel good instead of hollow.

Keigo busily flew the day away. As the afternoon turned to night, the sky going pink and purple with dusk, he settled on top of a taller office building. It looked down on a street market, its smells and sounds wafting up to him on his perch.

It gave him an idea.

A good one.

You were inspecting your fridge with a grimace. Balancing on your crutches and being counter-weighed by the boot on your foot made your angry stance a whole lot less intimidating, but it was the sentiment that counted.

Several days post-hospital had done a number on your food supply. The fridge was empty except for a few nearly expired items and condiments. The dry shelves weren’t looking much better.

The shrill sound of your ringtone from the couch made your jump, nearly falling. You teetered back over to it, eye-widening at the caller ID.

[birdboy] calling...

Hawks had never called you before.

You quickly picked up the call, “...Hello?”

“Hey, angel!” Hawks was chipper on the other line. “What’re you up to?”

“Currently?” You hummed, turning forlornly to your kitchen. “Thinking about how I either need to order groceries or order dinner before committing to my couch for the rest of the night. Why? You don’t usually call.”

“I don’t,” Hawks’s smile was apparent in his voice, even through the receiver. “But, I had an idea.”

“Shoot.”

“I might just be near a super good takeout spot. How hard would it be for me to convince you to let me drop some food by your place? My treat.”

You didn’t reply for a second.

Stunned.

“Are you sure?”

“More than, dove. I’m off the rest of the night, anyways.”

Oh.

That gave you an idea—

An idea that would surely push the envelope of your feelings.

Let it.

“Okay, I’m in. One condition.” You bit your lip, willing your stomach to seize fluttering.

“You name it. This place is really good and—”

“I have been going a little stir crazy, and,” You cut him off, squeezing your eyes shut in anticipation, “how hard would it be to convince you to come over and stay awhile?”

Hawks was silent.

Your stomach dropped.

“Wait, I-I mean—” You stuttered, trying to gather yourself, but this time Hawks cut you off.

“Like, to hang out?” Hawks sounded shocked on the other line.

“Yes.”

You kept your breathing even and prayed it didn’t read over the call.

“God, dove. I’d love to. I can be over in like ten—”

“Wait,” You fisted the fabric of your sweats. “Can I have a little more time? For myself and my apartment.”

Hawks chuckled on the other end of the line, “Sure, angel. Thirty sound better?”

You let out a sigh of relief, falling on to the back of your couch, “Sounds perfect.”

Keigo decided to tease a bit, his heart pounding in his chest almost painfully. He knew from day one that you were bold, but this was a treat. He had to spare back, just a little.

“Though, dove, I’m sure you look more than perfect yourself. You always do.” He didn’t wait for your response, either out of fear of what you’d say or being a bit smug, he wasn’t sure.

Keigo hung up the call, burying his face in his gloves to try and stifle the blush on his cheeks, though it hardly helped.

It didn’t have to.

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Thirty minutes later and you were mostly sorted.

You managed to throw yourself into the shower, tossing on something half-way decent, but still comfortable. Had to keep it casual.

Crutching around your apartment, you picked up what clutter you could, mind spinning. Hawks coming over to your fucking apartment filled you with elated, and yet terrifying, anxiety. A few times while cleaning, you legitimately paused to muffle quiet screams in your hand at the prospect.

You felt like you were going to burst.

Keigo did too, notably.

He took the time to fly all the way back to his apartment, take the world’s fastest shower, and throw on some clothes other than his costume. Going back to get food, his hands shook as he handed the bills to the starry-eyed vendor who he’d just written an autograph for.

You’d sent a quick text just before he’d left with a description of your balcony, so neither of you would have to figure out how to let him in through the roof.

As he flew to your place, Keigo felt like he was going to implode.

He didn’t ‘hang out’ with people. Nope, far too busy for anything like that. He was a compulsory workaholic, it was part of his mental brand of being (or, mental ‘branding’, maybe). The closest he got to casual time with folks was the preamble before a hookup or the time he had spent at the tea shop with you. Actually going to spend time with someone, casually, and it was you? It was all new and terrifying.

But, above all? Exciting.

The whole situation opened many doors, all of which Keigo pictured and picked apart as he neared your apartment. There were so many potential situations to appraise and plan for, he felt overwhelmed by it all.

The opportunity to spend some... time with you outside of the tea shop was a necessity, right? Keigo’s original idea had been to drop off some food and banter for a while, but the idea of spending one of his precious nights off with you was so much better than he could’ve expected.

Not to mention the warm bit of validation sparked by the fact that you asked him to come over, you wanted him around —

It felt nice.

So nice.

You paused, hearing telltale scuffing of someone on your balcony.

Oh my god.

He’s here.

Hawks is here.

You gulped, shaking your head.

Don’t you dare chicken out now. Commit, dammit. You’re just... hanging out. With your friend.

Yeah.

A knock on the glass pulled you to the door of your balcony, hobbling to slide it open on your crutches.

Hawks was happy to push the door the rest of the way open, stepping inside with a bag of takeout slung on his arm.

Your mouth parched, seeing him once again in civilian clothing. Was it... normal to get turned on by the fact that he looked normal?

As Hawks stepped into your humble apartment, wings tucked tightly to his back, you drank him in, hair ruffled with his clear visor placed on top of his head to push back the windswept front pieces. He wore a white sweater and black trousers complete with heavy black boots that were quickly untied and left by the door.

“You’re staring, you know,” Hawks interrupted your thoughts as you straightened up on your crutches.

Recover.

“Can’t prove that,” You tutted, crutching away from the door. “Also, welcome. Watch out for my cats, they might try to get a mouthful of your feathers.”

“Duly noted,” Hawks clicked his tongue, standing up and following you as you meander to the kitchen.

Keigo had to admit that your apartment was relatively... cute. He was used to his own, seldom-used digs. He had a big, uncomfortably nice penthouse with too many disused rooms and too much open space. Fixtures and furniture that were too expensive, probably, but it had been far easier to hire some big-name interior designer and not bother with dealing with it himself. Keigo had trouble keeping many ‘personal’ possessions, anyways. His training with the Commission made him almost revile the thought of keeping unnecessary, material objects, sans a few.

Your home was the exact opposite.

Maybe it was that he didn’t know how to have a personal touch that it made your cozy little apartment feel so full of them.

Little photos and artworks on walls or in frames caught Keigo’s eyes as he followed you to the kitchen. He took note of several blankets on the couch, catching sight of the plushie he’d given you at the hospital. Even the lighting of the apartment was personal, diffuse. With how easily overstimulated you became, it made sense that you’d keep your apartment so ambiently dim.

“So, first off, thank you for coming by and delivering dinner. I am eternally grateful,” You bowed dramatically, leaning to flail out a crutch at the motion. “Second, as payment, I’ll make you a drink. Maybe not with my quirk, but I have some of my old tea blends here.”

“It’s the least I could do,” Keigo shrugged, setting the takeout down on the counter while his ever-present grin nearly hurt his face from how relentless it was. “And tea? Show me what you’ve got. Or, should I trust you to pick one out for me?”

You hummed, clicking your tongue before moving across the kitchen to a different set of cabinets, “I think I’ve actually got a good one for you. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Lay on the details, angel,” Keigo hummed, leaning against the lip of the counter.

You did have the perfect blend in mind. It wasn’t too old, hardly stale. It would pair as well as a nice tea could with fried takeout, judging by the smells wafting from the bag on the counter.

“It’s one I made for a brunch we catered a few months back. It’s just a white tea raspberry blend, but it’s not delicate. It should stand up to any sort of food you’ve brought. Thank you, by the way.”

Setting your crutches down, you started to push yourself up onto the counter without thinking much of it, booted-foot going limp off the edge.

“Of course, anytime— woah, angel,” His voice choked as you wavered on the edge of the counter, off-balance.

There was a short flap of wings and rush of air as you tried to rebalance, cursing the deadweight of your leg.

If Hawks hadn’t been directly behind you, you probably would’ve eaten shit.

You turned yourself as far as you could, cheeks going hot.

Hawks’ face was just inches away from yours. That was even to mention the hands hovering around your waist, chest brushing up against your back.

“S-sorry,” Did he just fucking stutter? “You looked like you were about to eat shit there.”

The words hardly reach you, you were too busy actively telling yourself not to stare at his pretty, plump lips because that is not something friends do. Not the can of worms you needed to open, right?

“I-,” You turned away from him, stretching up to the tea tin that had been out of your reach. “To think you’ve saved me from falling while reaching for loose leaf tea, twice.”

“All in a day's work,” His hands twitched around your sides but hardly shifted until you began to descend from the countertop. In fact, Hawks hardly moved away at all until you were situated back on your crutches.

You pretended not to notice the flush on his cheeks.

Maybe, it was a bit too close. Definitely too close, and bad circumstances, but god, you wanted more and more of him.

You swallowed your desires down, cracking a smile.

Be normal.

Be cool!

You shook the tin, leaves and dried fruit rattling inside, “So, cream or sugar?”

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The two of you ended up on the couch, picking through the several boxes of takeout that Hawks had brought. Most of dinner was spent bantering back and forth about one of Hawks’ newest modeling contracts and if it was ‘ethical’ for him to wear his own feathers for the sake of ‘fashion’?

“So, off-topic from insulting my employment ethics, ” Hawks spoke while munching on a piece of chicken. “You surviving?”

“Barely,” You laughed, setting down your utensils with a huff. “I forget how isolation makes you go a little crazy. I’m running out of dumb shit to watch and even dumber shit to send you.”

Hawks snorted, setting down his own box, having had his fill, “I know you are more than adept at combing the internet for more good shit to send me.”

“I mean, maybe, but you keep sending me juicy photos of you being a dumbass. They’re hard to show up, you know?” You side-eyed him at the birdish tilt of his head.

“You don’t need to show me up, angel,” Hawks reminded you, some feathers packing up what was left of the food. “Though, it’s fun. You’re fun.”

You internally winced at the sentiment but forced the smile on your face not to waver.

It was a needed reminder.

This close to Hawks, you could fucking smell him. Maybe it was a little creepy, but you remembered it so well, after the villain attack. The scent of some sort of spicy cologne and old sweat, but it was hardly unpleasant. No, it was intoxicating. It made you feel almost fuzzy, as it wafted around like some reminder that Hawks and you were so close.

You thanked the stars that the apartment lacked the stimuli to make your quirk activate on its own.

Your couch wasn’t very large, and it seemed even smaller with how Hawks had laid his wings over it. They were propped up over the back, outstretched just the smallest bit to relieve some pressure. All the same, the massive feathers made you feel minuscule.

Even the way he was sitting was intoxicating and a bit gut-wrenching. It was casual, the way he leaned back against the far cushions, legs somewhat spread with an ankle over the opposite knee. The pose oozed a weird, untouchable confidence that you hadn’t seen in Hawks in months, maybe ever. At least, not directed at you.

Despite the warm nature of his words, he seemed guarded.

It made your throat dry.

Keigo was quite on edge. He hadn’t meant to get so close in the kitchen, really, he hadn’t. But, seeing you dangling off the edge of the counter like that, even if it was harmless and mundane, made his entire body and mind react before he could think.

But, you weren’t in any danger. Even if you had been, Keigo would’ve been there to catch you.

He’d put himself out of it, overthinking the whole thing. You were fine. Safe.

The other part of his mind spun with how he wanted to be so much closer.

Feeling the warmth of your body, the lines of your waist, the thrum of your heart and breath so fucking close—

It was a lot.

But, he was well-trained and not going to choke.

He’d shoved himself to the opposite side of the couch to you, keeping his boundaries up, strong as steel and hard as carbon.

Of course, Keigo knew the feelings were mutual. That didn’t mean that none of this was terrifying in the same way that it was exhilarating.

As much as he wanted to be closer (so much closer), Keigo remained careful. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was ruin something before it had even truly happened.

You sat back against the couch, repositioning your injured leg on the coffee table, “So, thoughts.”

“On?”

You didn’t look at Keigo as you replied, rather glared at your TV, “What to watch?”

“Oh,” You could hear the smile in his voice. “We’re watching something?”

“You tell me. I imagine you don’t get lots of time to do this sort of thing, do you?”

Hawks didn’t reply for a moment, sitting deeper into the couch, “Not really.”

“Then indulge, tailfeathers,” You tossed the remote in his lap. “Anything, go for it. Go nuts.”

Hawks nearly put on watching a reality cooking show, before you said that that was off-limits, per an odd conversation from way back when where he had admitted to be hot for Gordon Ramsey. He had been a little too vague as to whether or not he would pop a boner from Gordon’s filmed degradations. And truthfully, if anything was gonna give Hawks a hard-on tonight, you were determined for it not to be competitive cooking TV. Maybe, just maybe, you’d rather it be you.

...

Eventually, he settled on some psychological thriller you’d never heard of.

Keigo hadn’t either.

He was glad that you couldn’t hear his heart in the same way he heard your’s pounding.

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched you crutch around, turning the already dim lights lower.

Calm the down, Hawks.

Calm the fuck down.

He’d never even done this before. Keigo wasn’t sure how to handle the situation, even if it was as simple as watching a film.

It would’ve been simpler if the tension in the air was thick and foggy, clouding over his consciousness as he tried to focus on anything other than your nearness and how much he wanted to drag you into his lap.

…

His feathers fluttered as you plopped back onto the couch, pulling a blanket over your lap and offering one to him.

He took it, settling it over his lap as the movie went on.

You weren’t an idiot. You could feel the blood rushing in your hot ears as you fisted the blanket over your legs.

Your mind spoke a lot louder than you wanted it to:

Just fucking do it.

Do what exactly?

The paramount thought that was causing anxiety to twirl in your gut.

Maybe, you could just tell him how you felt.

Maybe just hold his hand.

Maybe get fucking rejected because he’s out of your league and out of bounds.

Maybe even kiss him—

You were torturing yourself, the movie just background noise to your internal dilemma.

You’d asked him to your apartment and Hawks had bought you fucking dinner. That wasn’t a lot, sure, maybe, but there were also the months of lead-up.

There were all of the cold mornings and cheeky grins you gave each other in the waking coffee shop. There were the fuzzy jokes, the lingering glances, and the tight feeling you got in your chest whenever he graced you with mere eye contact.

It felt like you were already in too deep to not be honest about how you felt towards him. Fuck, you’d been in too deep for months. Every time you made him a damn drink, you wanted to just drink him in. You were all fluttering hearts and sweet smiles for him in a way that you couldn’t suppress, only squash in moments of such intense anxiety like this—

“Hey, dove?” It was Hawks, shocking you from your turmoil with a soft voice. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah, I’m good.” Your reply was curt and clipped.

Make a decision now.

Pull the bandage off, (Y/N).

It’ll just be worse, the longer you wait.

Maybe Hawks did just want to fuck with some cute feelings, the seemingly longing looks be damned. Yeah, you liked him way more than for just a fuck, that was obvious and unavoidable. Besides, it’d be better to know than to not know, right?

“You sure? If the movie’s too much, we can turn it off,” Hawks sounded genuinely concerned from the other side of the couch.

...

You committed, taking a deep breath and turning to Hawks.

“It’s not that,” You looked at the couch between the two of you, tracing the seam of the cushion. “The movie’s fine.”

“Then, you’re not feeling great for another reason?” Keigo asked, feeling each of your breaths and heartbeats like bass drums in his ears. He hides the shaking of his hands by crossing them over his chest. “You can talk to me, (Y/N).”

“Can I?” You asked, shaking your head and laughing at yourself. “Hawks, I need to do something really fucking stupid.”

Holy fuck.

Are they—

“What’s that?”

His voice was smaller than he wanted it to be.

“Fuck, Hawks,” You finally forced yourself to look at him, taking in his guarded posture and pained expression.

Your heart sank.

“I just need to be honest with you.”

Hawks’s brow soured, lips twitching, “Go for it, dove.”

You laughed, maybe trying to soothe yourself, “It’s probably is just, so fucking stupid, all things considered.”

You ran a hand through your hair, biting your lip between sentences and willing yourself to just get it out—

“Hawks, I like you. A lot.”

He still didn’t say anything and you could feel shards of your heart drive into your lungs.

You forced yourself to look up at him, smiling with the slight release of tension in your sternum, however painful.

“I know, we’re just friends, right? I’m just the barista and you’re my special, pro hero regular. I know I’m overstepping right now, but it feels unfair for me to not be honest with you.”

Keigo already knew this, right? He knew how you felt, fuck, he’d felt how you felt. He just wasn’t prepared for the exploding and thrumming in his chest when you told him with your sweet lips and kind words.

Why did it feel so different when you were smiling at him like you were in pain and telling him so fucking honestly with your words?

It was the thing about you that he admired the most, that candor in your tone and the grin in your cheeks as you spoke so.

But, your smile was falling, leaving watery-looking eyes.

“Hawks, I like you. Way too much for friends, and I needed to say something.”

Keigo’s mouth was dry.

For the first time in so fucking long, he was genuinely speechless.

He couldn’t recall a time in his life anyone had spoken so earnestly to him, just you. Just you, you, you— casually, over and over again, you talked to him like he was something real and something to be cared for. It was subtle, but it was one of the many things that made him want you closer.

Yet, despite all his bundled up desires, he was lost for words.

“I’m sorry—”

He stopped you, “(Y/N), please don’t apologize.”

“But—”

“(Y/N).”

Hawks’ voice was sharp. It made the expression on your face rapidly fall.

He looked at you with rapt attention, arms uncrossing from his chest.

He turned to you on the couch, feathers fluffed up and twitching.

Your nose stung as Hawks, all pretty golds and ambers, shook out an exhale and balled up the blanket in his lap.

“Hawks—”

“Why would you need to be sorry?”

Hawks looked at you with wide eyes, brow creased. His shoulders were... shaking?

Your head spun, leg aching, “... What do you mean?”

Hawks finally met your gaze, giving you the sweetest, saddest smile you’d ever seen, “Dove, you’re acting like there’s no way I could feel the same way.”

Every cell in your body stuttered.

“You’ve done it since we’ve met.”

Hawks scooted closer on the cushions of the couch.

“You’ve always acted like there’s just no way I could like you, give a shit about you—”

He moved a bit closer.

You couldn’t make yourself move.

“You want to know the truth?”

You creaked out a nod.

Keigo couldn’t help the way he went to cup your cheeks in his hands, thumbs rubbing along the apples of your cheeks. You lean into his touch, just like at the hospital, despite the blend of absolute fear and confusion in your expression.

“How could I not care about you, dove?” And it finally came out. “I care about so much— dove, I don’t know what to fucking say.”

That made you speechless, lips parting just the slightest bit as Hawks continued, losing composure with his morphing expressions.

He wet his lips, swallowing, “Dove, I’ve never—any of this. I-I don’t know what o-or how to say any of what I want to right now.”

You speak before thinking.

“Show me, if you don’t know how to say it.”

The idea seemed so novel as Keigo ran a thumb over your bottom lip, pulling it from between your teeth. He met your gaze with the gooiest, sweetest look you’d ever seen in your life, “You want me to?”

“Please.”

It was all the two of you had wanted for a while now, right?

“If I kiss you, I’m not ever gonna be able to make this go away, am I?” Keigo was speaking to himself, just above his breath. But, you were more than close enough to hear him.

“Hey, Hawks? I don’t know if we can make ‘this’ try to go away.” You grabbed one of the hands cupping your face, pulling it away, only to shakily press in your lips to the bones on the back of it. “I don’t want to anymore.”

“Y-you gotta stop being so sweet, (Y/N)—”

Neither of you could wait a moment longer.

Your arms wrapped around Keigo’s shoulder. In the same motions, he pulled you closer by your waist, dragging you finally closer to him.

He held your jaw like you were the most precious thing in the world. Because, truthfully, you were to him. The sentiment was shared Deeply.

Your lips pressed together and the long-held tensions in your chests mutually shattered, dissolving in the honeyed touch of each other’s genuine attention.

You angled your head perfectly, Keigo’s hand guiding you as his mouth worked against yours. It wasn’t a particularly steamy sort of affair, but by god, it wasn’t in any way chaste. Not with the tight grip and thumbing on your ribs. Not with the way your hands tangled in the soft (holy fuck, soft) hair at the base of Keigo’s skull.

You both tasted each other's sweetness, craving more of it after denying yourselves of it for so long. It was white-hot, exploding behind your eyes, even as your quirk remained dormant. Keigo was honey and cream and smoked spices all dancing across your palette.

To Keigo? You were sweet, cool water over a hot burn. You were the heat of a hearth rolling over him on the coldest of days. He swears that in the first moments he finally got to be close to you, and over and over again— he finally understood how your quirk worked.

There was no way that finally feeling you, feeling you as he felt you, could be described with just five senses.

You pulled away first, gasping for breath and arching your back into him. You lingered as close as you could, pressing your forehead to Keigo’s while your breaths mingled. You didn’t dare stray far.

“Was that enough to show you?” Keigo asked, breathless. He kept a wide hand against your back, urging you with a bit of soft pressure to put your weight into it. You complied, settling in his hold as Keigo stroked at your hot cheeks.

You nodded, beaming up at him with that sunny smile of yours. It never failed to make heat burn through Keigo and god, did it feel good to finally let it unabashed.

“I take it, you like me too, huh,” You smiled, looking a bit embarrassed.

“Very much, very much,” Keigo repeated, pressing a kiss to your nose (he’d always wanted to do that). “So much, (Y/N). I apologize for not saying anything sooner. This is just...”

“New to you, right?” You finished his sentence, thumbing along the back of his neck in a way that made Keigo just melt. “It’s been a while for me too, if it makes you feel better.”

“It does, dove. Thank you.” Keigo let out a deep breath, shaking his head against yours. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”

“It’s alright, same goes for me,” As much as you needed to adjust due to the angle of your recovering leg, you couldn’t make yourself do it. You were so wonderfully close to Hawks, you never wanted to move.

“If we’re being honest, then I need to be honest with you,” Hawks met your eyes, his expression going a little dimmer.

You braced for the worst.

He picked up your shift easily, finally able to express how quickly he caught your mood after so long of being attuned to it.

“Oh wait, no, (Y/N), nothing terrible, I promise,” Hawks rubbed at your sides. “It’s about the miel.”

“The... miel?” You cocked your head to the side, confused, recalling the drink somewhat hazily. “The drink I made you on the day of... the attack?”

Hawks gave you a tense smile, “That one, yeah. Remember how you said it was just based on your ambient feelings?”

“Uh-huh.” You let confusion lace your tone until it slowly started to dawn on you.

“You made the drink, ambiently, around me—”

Your eyes widened, mouth falling open, “Oh my god, Hawks, did my feelings for you get in the drink?”

Hawks graced you with a sweet, sympathetic smile, fingers tucking at the hair around your ear, “They did, dove. I’ve kind of known for a few days, it just hasn’t been the time or setting to say something. I apologize.”

“N-no, it’s okay, I totally understand,” You sighed into his grip. “I really thought it might be something worse.”

“Consider your worries assuaged,” Hawks hummed, eyes drifting to your boot. He deadpanned suddenly. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad does your leg hurt right now?”

Fairly bad, considering. You were half on your knees, the booted leg twisted awkwardly while still raised to the coffee table. This wasn’t even to mention the arch of your back so you could be all that closer to Hawks.

The pain of the position was easy to forget; you were still shaking from kissing Hawks just once.

“Uh, maybe like a seven, once I can feel anything other than how good you felt just now,” you hummed, grinning up at Hawks as his face went bright red.

The infinite pleasure you received, making him blush so sweetly.

He shook it off, squeezing your sides, “Cute. Very cute. Mutually returned sentiment, but let’s adjust.”

You nodded but didn’t have much time to react as a bundle of Hawks’s feathers lifted you every which way, albeit incredibly gently. All said and done, he was fully upright against the back of the couch. With the support of a feather or two, Hawks’s arms tugged you into his lap. Your legs stretched to the side, the booted one immediately propped up by a feather-supplied pillow.

You both settled yourselves, blushing and leaning on each other now that you finally were allowing yourself to.

Keigo fully wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tight against him. One of his wings even shifted to drape over one his shoulder, sheltering the two of you in a canopy of a crimson. Keigo let his hands wander over your hips, not seeking anything more than blessed attention and heat. You gave it all to him, tucking your face into his collarbone, drowning in the scent that made you feel at home.

Keigo pressed his lips to your crown and legitimately shuddering.

He spoke to himself, so faintly and quietly, you hardly caught it, “I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”

There was melancholy in his voice, but you were quick to strip it away.

You brushed your lips along his jaw, savoring the way he held you tighter, “I have too. Can we do this more?”

“Anytime, dove. Anytime.”

“Right now sound good?”

You withdrew to beam up at him as you were so good at doing, only to be smothered by craving-satiating kisses anywhere Keigo could get to. The sweet, high laughter that he dripped onto you made your heart burst all over again.

And you finally, finally fell into the other sweetly, warmly, and properly.

||||||||||||||||||

taglist: @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce @yee-fxcking-haw

#salem writes #lavender latte #hawks x reader #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo x you #takami keigo x y/n #mha reader insert #hawks reader insert #hawks #takami keigo #hawks mha #hawks bnha #im soft for this one yall #so soft

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joel-millerr · 4 years ago

Text

Choices Are Made in an Instant

Chapter Six of We Are One When Together (formerly A Mandalorian and a Smuggler)

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 12.1k

Summary: You and Mando help Ahsoka in battle. Then, when you get back to the Crest, he starts acting weird. You couldn't have been prepared for what happens next...

Warnings: SMUT, dom/sub mentions, mild choking, (maybe a bit of edging?) aftercare, graphic depictions of violence, a sprinkle of fluff. mando is possessive af during sexy time

---

“What’s the plan, again?” Mando asks you, not because he doesn’t know the plan, but because he wants to make sure you know the plan.

Scowling up at him as you sit on the floor of the Crest, Grogu slowly falling asleep in your lap, you roll your eyes when you see Mando put his hands on his hips like he’s annoyed with you.

“Seriously?”

His head tilts to the side, and then shifts his weight over to one leg. For someone who doesn’t like to talk about their feelings, he sure does wear his emotions on his sleeve. Mando’s body language is a dead giveaway as to what’s going on under that bucket of his.

“Fine. If it’ll make you happy.” You pick the kid up off the ground and hold him in your arm as you explain to Mando—for the third time, what’s going to happen.

“Ahsoka will storm the main gate and engage the guards. You and I are going to walk around the wall and find a way into the village without getting seen. The Magistrate—”

“Morgan Elsbeth.” Mando chimes in.

“Yeah, whatever.” Using your free hand to wave him off because who cares what her name is? “As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted—Ahsoka needs some information from Elsbeth so she’s off limits.”

“Good. You remember.”

“You know—”

“Yes?” He probes.

Lips forming a thin line, and realizing he’s just trying to rile you up you shrug it off and bite your tongue, instead opting to put Grogu down inside Mando’s bunk. The Child looks up at you with his big eyes, babbling incoherently. You wiggle your finger in front of him, causing him to giggle excitedly.

“Are you sure he’ll be safe here, alone?” You ask Mando over your shoulder, continuing to play around the kid.

“There’s no one else out here but us, and I’m going to engage the ground security protocols once we leave.” He explains as he fiddles through his armory, gently placing his pulse rifle back on its hook, and reaching over to his jetpack and strapping it to his back. “Nothing will penetrate the Crest.”

It doesn’t do much to ease your anxiety but since Mando seems comfortable with this, then this must be the safest place for him to be. Air exhales through your slightly parted lips as you turn to the armory and grab a vibroblade from Mando’s stock, strapping it to your right thigh. As time ebbs on, the sound of the blood pounding in your ears becomes louder and louder, and you’re unable to stop the steady thumping of your heart against your ribcage. This feeling reminds you of spice running. The rush, the excitement, the worry of not knowing what could happen or if part of the plan could go wrong; it’s something you’ve always chased after.

The plan is almost foolproof, so you shouldn’t worry. Of course, the thought of something going wrong is always there in the back of your mind, but how often do you see a Jedi, a Mandalorian, and a smuggler working together? You’re almost certain this is the first time in the galaxy that this has happened, so how could you fail?

As you make your way to the ramp, you feel a rough leather glove grab hold of your wrist, and turns you around gingerly to face the Mandalorian.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, tone low and husky, and it strokes that part inside of you that forces you to rub your thighs together.

No matter how much time you two can spend being around each other, the moment you’re standing only inches apart—you can’t stop your heart rate from picking up. Your mouth dries up like the sand dunes on Tatooine, and the only thing you can focus on is how fucking intoxicating this man is.

“You can stay here with him.”

His hand is still on your wrist, and you look down to where leather meets your skin. His thumb brushes small, gentle circles on your wrist; an otherwise small token of affection, but taking into consideration that Mando is willingly giving you such a gesture, it makes you heart do cartwheels.

“And miss all the action?” A smile stretches across your face, arching an eyebrow at him. “No way, Mando.”

“What if something goes wrong?”

“Then you’ll need all the help you can get.”

He whispers your name softly and drawls out exhale that cuts up through his vocoder, as if your name is his way of begging you to reconsider. The ‘T’ of his visor stays glaring at you, but it’s damn near impossible to sway you from doing something once you’ve set your mind on it, so no matter how he stares, it won’t make much of a difference. He knows this isn’t a battle he’ll win. Your free hand reaches out, fingertips brushing against his elbow, hoping your touch will help calm his apprehensiveness about you coming along.

“Mando, I’ll be fine. I know you like to worry, but I’ve been in plenty of worse situations and I’m still here.”

Making a noise deep in the back of his throat, he gives you a quick nod and lets go of your wrist. A groan threatens to escape through your lips at the sudden lack of touch, but you manage to keep it under control as he breezes passed you, hearing his boots hit the durasteel ground as he descends the side ramp of the Crest. Taking one last deep breath and looking at Mando’s cot where Grogu is resting, you walk over to the panel by the door, and whisper “We’ll be back soon, kid,” before pressing the button to close the door, watching it come down with a hum. You turn on your heel and march down the ship to meet Mando, who waits patiently for you to join him before using his vambrace to shut the ramp.

You tread towards the village in a comfortable silence. Nightfall is especially unnerving here. The air feels dirty, like dust and ash mixed together, trekking through large gusts of wind as it almost knocks you off your feet. The sky is a dark mossy green, glooming over you, almost like there’s an ominous presence watching the night unfold. Three clicks away from the wall is where you meet Ahsoka. She’s wearing a long robe that aides her in hiding within the shadows, the hood pulled over her montrals, cloaking them from being detected. Her lightsabers, not laser swords like you thought they were called, dangle off her waist. You eye them curiously, wondering how it must feel to wield one of them. The thought makes you chuckle. If you really wanted to know what it felt like to hold such a beautiful weapon in your hand, you just had to find someone to train you, and then you’d be privy to it. A problem for another time, though. Right now, you had more important matters to worry about.

Just as you reach the woodland edge, Ahsoka turns to you and Mando and once again repeats the Magistrate is not to be harmed.

“Save the prisoners,” She reiterates.

Offering her a nod and a smile of reassurance, her hand touches your forearm, squeezing it gently. Mando detaches his right pauldron—the one with his signet engraved and hands it to Ahsoka. It looks like a mudhorn signet. You’re reminded of what Grogu had shown you just a few days ago. Mando battling the ferocious beast, and the Child, watching him on the brink of death, feeling his need to save the Mandalorian.

“We’ll go around the perimeter,” He announces, shooting you a quick look that you acknowledge by dipping your head downwards. “Just make my death believable.”

The corners of Ahsoka’s lips curl upwards. “Don’t worry about that.”

You and Mando break off, choosing to go to her left. Being mindful of where you walk, and making sure not to rise any suspicions by making noise and accidentally stepping on a broken twig, your eyes shift constantly between the ground and the giant wall just a few metres in front of you. Given your experience with sneaking around, you’re basically a master at keeping to the shadows.

Once Mando’s content with the distance you’ve put between yourselves and Ahsoka, he scans the area of lifeforms with his helmet. Beckoning with his hand, he moves forward with you following closely behind him. You crouch over, making yourself seem as small as you head straight for the fortified village.

“We’re going to have to climb it.” He says, realizing the sound of his jetpack would be too loud and alert the guards.

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had to sneak around,” You jest.

Mando lifts an arm towards the top of the rampart and a grappling line shoots out from his vambrace, flying right over the top of the duracrete wall and latching onto the parapet. Tugging the rope to make sure it’s got enough of a sturdy grip for both of you to scale, he hands you the wire to climb first. Blood pounding in your ears and your heart racing faster than the fathier races on Canto Bight, you take the line from Mando’s hand and pull on it hard enough until your body is leaning backwards.

Your left foot presses against the rampart, making sure to balance yourself properly before your other foot hits the wall, then you begin scaling it. Mounting it quickly, you make it to the top in just under a minute—you can’t help but be impressed with yourself.

Once you climb over the parapet, you crouch down immediately, head whipping to the left then to the right to make sure there aren’t any soldiers in sight. In the distance you hear cries of pain, whooshing, and a loud bang. Ahsoka must have engaged the guards by now.

Taking notice that the coast is clear, you beckon for Mando to join you, and he scales the duracrete wall, beating your time by just a couple of seconds. Show off.

The village is a good… maybe thirty or forty feet drop, and the thought makes you groan. Already you can feel the ache in your legs and knees, but better to get it over with. As you’re about to jump off the wall, Mando’s arm comes flying out across your torso.

“What the hell are you doing?” He whispers through gritted teeth.

Standing there somewhat dumbfounded, your eyebrows pull closely together. “I was going to jump?”

“And break your legs in the process?” He asks rhetorically. Then, without waiting for your answer, he coils the grappling line around his arm that you used to scale the rampart and drops it on the other side of the wall.

“Are you sure you’ve done this before?”

Your eyes dart over to Mando’s eye slit, narrowing them as you watch him climb down just as fast as he came up. When you hear him reach the ground and taking one last look around, you grab onto the line and head down into the village.

The fighting in the distance has stopped, you hope that means Ahsoka’s made it through the barricade of guards. Darting between alleys through the village, you can hear her voice echoing in the distance.

“Your bounty hunters failed.”

Making sure to keep your centre of gravity low as you continue to navigate through the huts, you follow Mando on his heels until you see Ahsoka in your sights. She’s standing just a few metres away from Elsbeth, who has her own platoon of armed soldiers behind her, holding the staff in her hand, alongside the gunslinger Lang.

“Tell me what I want to know.” Ahsoka says, voice calm and stern. “Where is your master?”

Elsbeth stays silent for a few seconds, scowling at Ahsoka, eyes burning into hers, rage all but spilling out of her words. “Kill her.”

Lang takes a step forward, hands gripping his gun fiercely as he says with amusement, “Love to.”

A blast of red shoots out from his gun, narrowly missing her as she jumps onto one of the roofs. Her lightsabers come to life, beams of white whirl around her as she blocks an onslaught of blaster fire. You want to help her, to take down just even one of the guards, and Mando seems to sense your urgency because he grips onto your arm as a warning. You can’t blow your cover, not yet. The guards need to follow Ahsoka and leave the prisoners alone so you and him can free them.

The Magistrate instructs Lang to take her battle droids with her before turning on her heel and stalking back towards her fortress. She orders the remaining two guards by her side to execute the prisoners. Shrieks and cries fill the air as the prisoners start begging for their lives, and then your feet move before your brain takes notice, running straight for the guards before Mando can pull you back into the shadows.

You come up behind the soldiers, just as one aims their gun to one of the men strung up. Your hand flies to your blaster, unholstering it and shooting him right between the shoulder blades. He cries and falls to the ground with a loud thud. The remaining guard pivots towards you, aiming his own rifle at you but is shot down by Mando before he can pull the trigger.

“You were supposed to wait for my signal,” He hisses through the helmet as he appears from behind one of the houses to join you.

“You were taking too damn long.”

“And why the hell is the safety on your blaster not on?”

Narrowing your eyebrows, your mouth opens to answer but you have trouble finding the words. “Uh—is that reallyimportant right now?”

He doesn’t answer, but sighs somewhat angrily. Okay…

In the corner of your vision, you see the elderly man from yesterday emerge from one of the huts. Out of reflex, you catch Mando pointing his blaster at him. The man’s palms fly up in defense and freezes. They exchange a series of glances, ending with Mando placing his blaster back in his holster. They make their way to one of the prisoners, trying to gauge how to free him without hurting him or themselves.

The sounds of gunfire in the background catch your attention. Looking over to Mando and the elderly gentlemen, you really want to go out there and fight.

What if Ahsoka needs backup?

Surely, you should help her, right?

Hands fidgeting at your sides, your body racing on adrenaline and the urge to make these soldiers pay for what they’ve done, you take one last glance over to Mando who instinctively looks back at you. By his body language, you know he understands what you want because he squares his shoulders and takes a tentative step towards you. Shaking his head, slowly but nothing shy of authoritative, basically warning you not to go after her. Giving him a shrug and lips forming a tight line, you whip your body towards the sounds of gun fire and disappear into the shadows.

“Get back here!” Mando’s voice come from the commlink on your wrist as you continue zig zagging through the city, following the sound of gunfire. Ignoring him, you turn the volume down on your commlink until it’s fully muted, as to not draw any attention to yourself. Your body is running entirely on the electricity pumping through your bloodstream right now. Senses heightened to a degree you’ve never experienced before. The wind brushing against your hot cheeks, hearing the thumping of your heart in your ears, you feel everything so much stronger, now. Maybe it’s because you’ve never being in such a gritty battle like this, but it’s so much more intense than any spice run you’ve ever done.

Navigating through the huts and keeping yourself hunched over, you look out for any potential threats, coming up on dead-end after dead-end. You’re running out of time, and need to find Ahsoka now.

A hand touches down on your shoulder, causing you to gasp a little too loudly. Reaching over your chest and gripping the hand tightly, you twist your body around to face them while pulling downwards on their arm, vibroblade flying into your free hand. Relief overcomes you when you see it’s Ahsoka.

“Felt like you were missing out?”

You give her a smile, tucking the blade back into its strap on your thigh, hand clutching your chest as you try to come down from the sudden alarm. “Little bit.”

The moment is short lived when a blast of red gunfire flies by the back of your head, missing you by only inches. Ahsoka wraps her arm around your back, pushing you behind her as her lightsabers come alight once again, using them to dodge and ricochet incoming fire. As she continues to block blasts, a guard emerges from behind you, giving you only a second of time for your blaster to come out of its holster and into your hand, shooting them down with two blasts. Just as his body hits the ground, a second soldier comes right for you from the left. Your free hand shoots up close to your body, palm facing him. Taking a step forward, your arm straightens out and the power of it sends the guard flying backwards, hearing his skull hit the ground with an echoing crack.

You don’t have time to process it, to think about the fact that you’ve just heard that man’s skull split because you propelled him so aggressively into the ground. Turning your body back towards Ahsoka, she continues to fight off blasts, one of them knocking a lightsaber out of her hand and sending it flying through the air, landing just a couple feet behind you. Without even taking a second to think about it, you dash for the lightsaber, gripping it with your hand just as you fall over onto your stomach. A black gloved hand grabs hold of your shoulder, flipping you onto your back. The man crouches down and presses his body into yours, each leg on either side of your body, pinning you to the ground. You wrestle for a few seconds, dodging some punches but ultimately taking a couple hits to your stomach. All of a sudden, a bright white light nearly blinds you—the lightsaber buzzes to life, and then you’re pushing it in your hand through the man’s chest, screaming as it impales him. The sound of flesh sizzling against the lightsaber makes your skin crawl, never before hearing such a foul noise. Maker, even the smell is agonizing. Something you never thought you’d ever experience. You’ve cauterized wounds before, but that was just kissing the skin. This? Fuck, this went through his body, burning his skin, bones, and whatever organs were in the saber’s way. Ego and pride aside, it makes you nauseous. Pushing his limp body off yours and rising to your feet, the smell still lingering in your nostrils, you attempt to shake it out of your mind and wrench your eyes shut for a moment. This isn’t the time to dwell on things.

Feeling the lightsaber in your hand, something in you changes. Everything stills for a moment. All of the insecurities you had about yourself, the feeling of having lost your way, not knowing which path to choose, it all comes together. The answer is around your fingertips, its power clearing your mind of the questions you so desperately wanted the answers to. For the first time in your entire life, you feel at peace, like you finally found your place in the galaxy.

A new power courses through your veins, enabling you to take down enemy after enemy with Ahsoka’s lightsaber. As you battle in between the huts, your eyes meet hers for a brief moment, and it’s almost like she understands how you’re feeling. After cutting down the last guard, your chest is heaving, body shaking as it burns off the adrenaline that was exuding from your body just seconds ago. You head over to where Ahsoka is standing, a pile of bodies surrounding her. Mindful not to step on anyone, you tiptoe around them and hand her her lightsaber.

“And?” She asks, head cocked to the side.

You can’t even find the words. How can you even describe such a feeling? All your anxieties solved in just one moment. Jaw nearly dropping to the floor, you want to say something but the only thing coming from your mouth is a laugh. Ahsoka smiles back, but it quickly disappears, leaving you to look into her eyes, she seems…sad? You want to ask her what’s wrong, but you table it for another time.

As you both make your way back to the main street of the village, she treks along the rampart of Elsbeth’s fortress. Once you clock the second gate ahead of you, Ahsoka leaps onto to the top of the wall, leaving you to meet Mando on the main road. Keeping to the shadows of the little houses around you, you see him standing just a few feet shy of the wall, hand hovering over the blaster strapped to his thigh. Towards the end of the cobblestone street is Lang, hands on his rifle.

No one speaks for a moment; Lang’s eyes shift between Mando and Ahsoka who stands at the top of the rampart. Your body is still shielded in the shadows, gauging Lang’s body language; waiting for the right moment to show yourself. Finally, Ahsoka turns her body and jumps into the Magistrate’s home, leaving you, Mando, and Lang behind.

“So, you threw in with the Jedi.”

Taking a quick look around, and noticing you to his right, he answers Lang, “Looks that way.”

Maker, you’ll never get tired of looking at him. Broad shoulders pushed back so his all-encompassing chest is on full display, practically toying with Lang because he knows they’ve lost, it’s not only intoxicating how much he turns you on, but it’s quite frankly obscene how your pussy gushes at the sight of him. His ability to stay calm, even when he’s seething with anger. It’s easy to get wrapped up in the heat of the moment, but watching Mando in his element, full of gusto and brawn…It’s quite a shock that some people choose to fight a Mandalorian rather than save themselves the trouble and simply surrender.

Sounds of beskar clashing with lightsabers ricochet through the air. Cries from both women pierce your ears. You want to see Ahsoka fight, curious to see how a Jedi battles with a formidable opponent, but you’re too transfixed on Mando right now to tear your eyes away even if for a moment.

“Who do you think’s gonna win?”

Mando doesn’t answer, just stays ever still, his cape flapping in the wind behind him. Lang takes a tentative step forward, and then another, and then another. “Could be your side…” He taunts. “Could be my side.”

He’s getting too close for comfort; you think to yourself. Stepping out from behind one of the homes, you make sure Lang sees you. Squaring your shoulders, you walk over to Mando cautiously, keeping eye contact with Lang the entire time. Once you’re by his side, your arms rest by your thighs, one hand gripping on your blaster.

“Ah, there you are. I was beginning to think that you were left behind… or dead,” The last word drips from his tongue like venom.

Clamping down hard on your jaw to keep yourself from snapping back, your free hand balls into a fist, white knuckling so aggressively, you’re digging half-moons into your skin.

He takes one more step forward.

“I got no quarrel with you two.”

Another step.

“That’s far enough,” Mando warns, his hand coming up to stop Lang in his tracks.

The Magistrate’s cries blend in with Ahsoka’s. The silence between resonances of weapons colliding become more and more frequent. The fight must be nearing its end.

“You know, we’re a lot more alike than you think.”

What in the kriffing hell is this man talking about? To think that you or Mando could ever be similar to someone like Langmakes you scoff, an empty laugh expelling from the back of your throat.

“All of us, willing to lay out lives for the right cause.” He says orotundly then pauses for a moment, listening to the two women fighting on the other side of the rampart. “Which this is not.”

He can’t honestly think either of you believe him, right?

All of a sudden, you hear the beskar staff hit the ground, bouncing a few times before everything becomes jarringly quiet. Tilting your head slowly in Mando’s direction, his visor keeps to Lang.

“Looks like you guys win.”

Holding out his gun in front of him, he shows you the weapon and ever so slowly places it down on the ground, motioning his surrender. Mando’s hand flexes over the blaster, gauging Lang’s next move. Without skipping a beat, Lang’s hand flies to a blaster at the back of his waist, but before he can even take it out of its holster, Mando’s own gun flies into his hand and shoots him down.

“Did you have your safety on before you shot him down?” You ask sarcastically, darting an eyebrow at him as holsters his weapon.

“Is that really important right now?” He repeats, using that same mocking tone that drives you fucking crazy.

Eyebrows pulling together in a frown and rolling your eyes, you reply, “I hate you,” while also trying to hide the dumbass smile that’s sneaking up on your lips.

The elderly gentlemen, who has apparently been watching you this entire time, emerges from his home. One by one, the villagers come out, stunned that they’re finally free. They cheer and holler, walking over to you both to give their thanks. Seeing the instant smiles on their faces fills you with warmth and pride. All the pain, all the cruelty they were forced to endure is gone. They can live the rest of their lives free of tyranny.

“WATCH OUT!” Someone cries. In a nanosecond, panic sets in, whipping your head in every direction trying to find the threat. Looking at the roofs, there’s the faint silhouette of a battle droid, crawling on one of the homes, its gun aimed right at Mando.

“Mando!” You shout. The droid’s weapon then switches to you, a red beam of light flies from his gun, hitting you right in the shoulder. The force of the hit sends your body flying backwards, landing hard on your back, head smacking the ground hard enough to make you dizzy.

The pain in your shoulder is fucking intense, the smell of sizzling clothes and burnt skin quite literally burning into your nostrils. Hand flying to your shoulder and pressing down on the wound to ease the bleeding and hopefully the pain, you realize your shoulder has been taking quite the hit lately. First the bruise, now a fucking gash.

Mando rushes to your side, holding the back of your head with one hand as he eases you to sit upright.

“Are you okay?” Baritone pulling rough through the helmet, panic sits at the back of his throat. The hand cradling the back of your head travels down to your lower back, the other reaching for your hand that’s keeping pressure on the place where the droid hit you.

Unable to answer, you groan low in your throat and gesture that you’ll be fine with a simple nod of the head. When you finally look over to Mando through hooded lids, the corners of your lips curl upwards in an attempt to prove to him that you’re fine. Folding your legs at the knees and using his forearm to pull you to your feet, he helps you stand up, keeping his hand on the small of your back the entire time.

“Kriff, that hurt.” You groan through jagged breaths. When your hand finally moves away from the injury on your shoulder, you peek down to see just how badly you were hit.

Thankfully, it’s actually not that bad. There is a gash where the blast connected with skin, but the bleeding has stopped significantly, although your tunic and hand are drenched with blood. You could probably cauterize it right away to close up the wound and then put some bacta on it once you get back to the Crest.

Mando’s still holding you. It’s like he’s too scared to let you go, like he needs to protect you and the only way he can think of doing it is to keep holding you. In any other moment, you’d be absolutely loving this, but right now? His body heat mixed with the fervor and throbbing from the gash near your clavicle is making you burn up. It’s when you finally take a step forward that his arm falls back to his side, fist balling up like he’s fighting the urge to keep you in his reach.

“The droid dead?” You manage to say through winces of pain, hunching over.

“Yeah.” He says breathlessly.

“Okay, good.”

As more and more villagers approach you both, they continue to give you their appreciation and continuously asking if there’s anything they can do to thank you. An elderly woman even retreats back to her home and comes out just a few minutes later with a medpac for your gash. Initially, you reject her kind offer, insisting that you can wait till you’re back on the ship for your wound to be taken care of, but after she continue to argue that you should accept a bit of help, you take it graciously. They seat you down on one of the cobblestoned steps, and begin wiping away at the dried blood, trying to be mindful not to touch the actual wound.

“We can’t thank you enough,” She says kindly.

“You’re—ah shit—” You try to thank her, but despite her best efforts, you’re still in quite a tremendous amount of pain. “Sorry. It’s our pleasure, really.”

Once she’s done cleaning up the blood, you look down at your shoulder to see that the wound isn’t even as big as you initially thought. The blood splattered around your shoulder had made it seem much worse than it actually was. It’s barely the size of a Calamari Flan coin. It’ll definitely scar, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

“Your husband doesn’t ever take his helmet off?” She asks, trying to keep you distracted as she begins to spray bacta on it.

Completely taken aback by the word ‘husband’, you blurt out a laugh. “Husband? Oh no, he’s not my husband. We’re just…” Your voice trails off because in truth, you have no idea what your relationship to Mando is anymore. It doesn’t seem appropriate to say that you two are friends because your relationship has certainly developed passed that, but to go so far as to say you’re…together doesn’t really seem to fit your situation either.

“Oh, my apologies.” Shaking her head like she’s embarrassed by assuming the nature of your relationship, you place a hand over hers and smile.

“It’s okay. No need to apologize.”

“I just assumed that because of the way he was so concerned for your health after getting shot by that droid…”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you mull over how Mando held onto you for a lot longer than he needed to when you finally got to your feet. How he stood so close to you, even when you assured him you were okay. How he still looks over to you every couple of minutes while he talks to Ahsoka, like he needs to watch over you.

You watch as Ahsoka hands the staff over to Mando, who seems to hesitate to accept it at first, but is eventually persuaded to take it. He takes a moment to speak into his commlink, your wrist comes alive to the sound of his voice.

“I’ll be back in a moment. Will you be okay here, alone?”

You can’t help the smile that forms on your lips, and you attempt to hide it by biting down on your lip. Bringing your wrist up to your lips, you press on the talking button on the comm, “Yes, I’ll be fine, Mando.”

As Mando disappears into the forest, Ahsoka makes her way over to you, just as the elder is finished addressing your wound. She’s put a bacta patch on your laceration now, its cooling sensation untensing your muscles and relaxing you almost instantly.

“Thank you.”

She grabs your hand with both of hers, giving you a gentle squeeze before letting you go, and hobbling back over to her home.

The city is full of life now, residents cheering and conversating. The children are running around, laughing and shouting with joy, even kicking a ball around the main cobblestoned road. It’s such a stark contrast from the city you and Mando had entered just two days ago.

Pushing yourself up to your feet, you pat the dust and dirt off your pants and face Ahsoka.

“How the shoulder?” She asks.

“I’ll be fine. It was barely a scratch.” You joke. She laughs in response. The first moment of genuine happiness you’ve seen on her face since you two met.

You both begin to take a leisure stroll through the village, noting how different the villagers seem now the Magistrate is gone. It’s such a fulfilling moment for you. For most of your life, you’ve behaved selfishly, usually only caring about yourself and doing whatever was in ever was in your own self-interest, and now you’ve just helped hundreds of people. You don’t want to put yourself on a pedestal, but if you’re being entirely transparent, you’re pretty proud of the change that’s happening to you. This? You could get used to this.

“If I did want to train…”

Ahsoka turns her head to face you once you address her. “Yes?”

“Like…How would I go about doing that?”

She stops walking, looking down at the ground. “You need to learn to control your emotions before you can even think of training. You’re pretty reckless.” Her voice stays kind, but she’s very much warning you of the difficult road ahead if you choose to go down this path. “I worry that your own attachment to the Mandalorian will be your undoing.”

You could argue with her, you could say that there is no such attachment, but if you were to be completely honest with yourself, you’d be lying if you said there wasn’t something there. It’s almost unbelievable to come to terms with the fact that you’ve developed some kind of connection with him, especially when you used to pride yourself on the idea that you had transformed into the type of person that did not become invested in someone else but Mando is different. He’s unlike anyone you’ve ever met.

He’s full of mystery. An enigma that you could learn about every day for the rest of your life and never even scratch the surface. Mando can be cold and callous in one moment, then tender and kind in the next. It quite literally makes your head spin. He can be so distant, and then all of a sudden, he can’t bear to be away from you. The inability to know what he’s thinking or what he wants just reels you in even more. You want to know everything about him, to feel like you’re a part of him, that you’re more than just someone passing through his life.

“Surely, the two can coexist?”

Ahsoka doesn’t respond right away. Her eyes leave you to look up at the sky, as if searching the clouds for help. “Asking that question just proves that you aren’t ready to train. Attachments clouds the ability to see reason. If you let your attachments control you, you can never act solely based on the good for all. You’ll always put your loved ones first, and that’s something the Jedi do not do.”

Your lips press into a thin line.

“If you want this, you have to realize what you’ll be giving up. What you’ll end up denying yourself later on.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “There will come a time when you’ll need to make a choice. To embrace the way of the Jedi, or walk away forever.”

“It’s just…” You begin shifting, pacing around as the words come to you. “Ahsoka, the darkness I feel inside me? It scares me, like I’m never actually in control of it.”

“The Dark Side is powerful. It’s something you’ll fight your entire life as a Jedi, but it’ll become easier to deal with as the training progresses.”

“When I held your lightsaber…” Voice trailing off, you let out a small chuckle. Her lips curl into a smile, she knows the feeling all too well.

“I know.”

As you both stand at the gates of the village, the newly appointed Magistrate—the old man that aided Mando in rescuing the hostages, approaches you both, smiling from ear to ear.

“Thank you again for saving the village.” His eyes are kind, the wrinkles on his forehead giving you an insight as to the many years of injustices and struggles he’s had to face, as well as the hope he’s held that his people would one day be free once again.

Dipping your head downward, he grabs your hand in his, shaking it twice before turning to Ahsoka. “The New Republic will be here soon for Ms. Elsbeth. If there’s anything else you’d like to question her about, now would be the time.”

“Mando should be here by now…” You remark, noticing that it’s been too long since he left.

Ahsoka nods in agreement. “Go. I’ll catch up with you.” She doesn’t wait for your response before following the Magistrate back into the city walls.

During the walk back to the Crest, you continue to go over everything Ahsoka’s told you over the last two days, weighting out your options. You’re not like Mando. You’re not a Mandalorian, nor are you a bounty hunter, so naturally you couldn’t expect to stick with Mando once you get all of this figured out. Going back to spice seems irresponsible, given that you know you were destined for something better. Moreover, now that you know why you’re different, it would see inappropriate to ignore that side of you and continue to live a life where your powers were wasted. Maybe this is something you could discuss with Mando. Maybe he’ll offer a different view that you hadn’t thought of before.

When you catch sight of the Crest, you suddenly feel a bit nervous, almost shy. You can hear the pounding of your heart in your ears as you near the ship, and clutch your chest with your hands when you see what’s happening inside the ship.

Mando’s sitting by his cot, one leg resting on the edge of the bed, Grogu seated on his thigh, and speaking gently to him. Even if you tried not to get sentimental about it, you’d never get tired of seeing how endearing Mando is with the Child. Every moment is more precious than the last, warming your heart and making you fall for the Mandalorian even more. You know he doesn’t need it, but you want to protect them both—to keep them both safe from anyone who would ever try to harm them, and on some level, you think Mando would do the same.

“Hey,” You announce as you get closer to the edge of the ramp, making your presence known so that he hopefully doesn’t think you spent the last minute gawking at them during their little intimate moment.

As you approach them, Mando rises to his feet and walks over to you, holding Grogu with both arms. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Much better. The bacta really helped,” You answer, keeping your voice low as to not wake him. Grogu’s eyes flutter open, head tilting to the side when he sees you.

“Hi, little guy.” Your index finger gently boops him on the nose, causing him to giggle in Mando’s arms. Although you don’t know for sure, you have an inclination that Mando’s watching you, and when you look up away from Grogu, sure enough the eye slit in his helmet is pointed at you.

“You’re like a father to him.”

Your turn your body around and see Ahsoka standing at the end of the ship, arms crossed against her chest. Mando heads down the ramp first, and you follow closely behind him.

“I cannot train him.” She says, a bit of disappointment hidden in her voice.

“We had a deal, and we held up our end.”

Letting out a deep breath, Ahsoka takes a step towards Mando and takes Grogu’s little hand in hers, rubbing her thumb across his tiny claws.

“There is one possibility.”

“We’re all ears,” You reply.

“Have you heard of the planet Tython?”

“No.” Mando answers dryly.

“It has a strong connection to the Force. There you will find the ancient ruins of a Temple atop one of the mountains. Place Grogu on the seeing stone and wait.”

“Wait for what?”

“For Grogu to choose his path. If he reaches out through the Force, there is a chance that a Jedi might sense him and come searching for him.” She looks down at the ground for a moment, before pulling her eyes away from the dirt to look at you. “Then again, there aren’t many Jedi left.”

“Thank you.” He answers sincerely, then turns on his heel and heads back into the Crest.

You take a step towards Ahsoka and wrap your arms around her, giving her a gentle squeeze before pulling again. “I hope our paths cross again.”

“This will not only be a test for Grogu, but for you as well. You will need to make a choice.”

“I know…”

Her head dips down, offering you a farewell smile. “May the Force be with you.”

Heading back into the ship and closing the ramp, you hear the Crest’s thrusters come to life, finally feeling like you now have a purpose.

“Do we have enough fuel to make to it to Tython?”

“We’ll have enough to get there, but not enough to leave. We’ll have to make a stop beforehand to refuel.”

Mando punches in some coordinates and activates the hyperdrive. You look out through the transparisteel and watch the stars change from small specks in space to giant rays of light as you beam passed them, and then cockpit is surrounded by waves of baby blues similar to the waters on Naboo.

“Hey, where are we headed?” You ask once Mando rises from the pilot’s chair.

“You ever been to Coruscant?”

Fuck. “There’s nowhere else we can go?”

He walks over to where you’re still seated. At this angle, your eyeline is pointing right at…that. Trying to look anywhere but there, you opt to tilt your head at high as it can go so you can look at Mando in the ‘T’ of his visor. Maker, don’t you dare even peak down there.

“Is there a problem with going there?” He asks in jest, head tilting ever so slowly to the side. When you don’t immediately answer, he takes an excruciatingly slow step forward. He’s now almost touching your knees with his, making it even more difficult not to look down and catch sight of his—kriff, pull yourself together!

“No—” You squeak, your voice embarrassingly high. “I mean,” Clearing your throat in an effort for it to go back down to its normal octave. “No, that’s fine.”

Mando hums smugly in his helmet before disappearing through the cockpit door and descending down the ladder.

Uh… what the hell was that about? Was Mando acting…coy? No, surely you were misreading things. He’s not like that. He doesn’t joke around or act smug…right?

Sleep.

You should get some sleep.

Shifting around in your unbearably uncomfortable chair until you’re in a somewhat comfortable position—which is just you sitting upright in the chair with your leg crossed over the other, you fold your arms across your lap and close your eyes, hoping it won’t take long for you to fall asleep.

You can hear a light scuffle in the hull, and you try to ignore it, but now that you’re aware of the sound, it’s impossible for you to ignore it and try to get some sleep. All you can focus on is trying to ignore the sound which just makes the noise that much louder. Letting out a groan in annoyance, you move around even more in your seat hoping you’ll be able to find some kind of position that’s more comfortable, but to no avail.

Not only is the noise annoy the hell out of you, but you’re completely hung up on your interaction with Mando just a few moments ago. He usually doesn’t get that close to you unless he thinks you’ve been injured, but there he was, willingly getting closer and closer. Actually, it seemed like he was enjoying watching you squirm and get frazzled by how close he was to you.

Just when the sound stops, you hear heavy boots hit the metal rungs of the ladder. Great, he’s coming back.

You sense Mando reach the top of the ladder before you see him. Although, he doesn’t directly step into the cockpit. After a couple seconds of still not seeing him, you look over your shoulder to see where he might be, but you end up craning your neck to an uncomfortable amount and still no sight of him.

Fuck it. You jump to your feet and face the door to the cockpit, and see him standing like a goddamn statue. He’s still in full armour, but you definitely notice something different about him. His fists are balled up together at his sides, black eye slit pointed directly at you, and by the way his shoulders rise and fall, his breathing is uneven. As your eyes travel downwards from his helmet down to his feet, you can’t help but notice the bulge in his pants. Shit.

Your mouth instantly goes dry, your own heartrate picking up slowly, heating pooling in your belly. This isn’t the first time you’ve both been in this exact situation. It happened before on Sorgan, but somehow this is a hundred times more intense. Maybe it’s because of the rush from today, maybe it’s because you’ve tasted him before, but whatever was on your mind right before this moment is totally gone.

Right now, you can feel the blood pounding in your ears, you can feel the fucking heat radiating off Mando, your panties sticking to you like glue because of your slick, causing your pussy to fucking throb.

You want to say something snarky, but words are something you’re not even able to come up with, you’re so fucking spellbound by him that nothing in this galaxy could pull you away. He’s got you entirely wrapped around his leather finger and he hasn’t even said a word to you.

A broken moan forms at the back of Mando’s throat, coming out rough and distorted. It reminds you of his sobs the night his cock was wrapped around your lips. You want to run to him, feel his big arms pull you closer to him, but you need to know he wants this as badly as you do, so you wait. You wait for him to speak, to make the first move.

“I—” His voice is barely above a whisper, like he’s struggling to find the words.

“Tell me what you want, Mando.” You say breathlessly.

He takes a step towards you, and your breath catches in your throat. His own chest is heaving, his quick breaths cutting through his helmet. “Fuck.”

Realizing how hard this must be for him—admitting how he feels, you step closer to him. Now, you’re just arm’s length away. If one of you reached out, you’d touch the other and it’s becoming more difficult with every second that goes by not to jump into his arms, rip that helmet off his face and kiss every inch of his skin, but you won’t. You would never touch him in a way that would compromise his creed.

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about bending you over that control panel and fucking you until you begged me to stop?” He nearly growls. Voice so rough and low, you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips.

Your pussy gushes in response. “Maker…”

He inches closer to you, taking his sweet, agonizing time as he continues to taunt you. “I’ve thought about it ever since I picked you up on Kijimi.”

Another inch.

“I thought about it in the alley with my hand touching your drenched, sweet cunt.”

Another inch.

“I thought about pulling you off my cock and pounding into you right against that wall.”

The heat coiling in your stomach is so fucking intense, you can feel it all over your body. Your heart is thumping against your ribcage, jaw slacked so you can breathe in quick little bursts of air. He’s standing merely inches away from you, and you want to reach out and touch him. You want him inside you, but you’re frozen, unable to move. Unable to break free from the trance he’s put you in. All you can do is stand there helplessly as he continues to torture you with his confessions.

“But I was able to control myself.” He grits out, head tilting ever so slowly to the side.

“Mmm…” Is all you can say. Your mind is on fire, your body’s on fire. Everything’s fucking on fire.

“I don’t think I can control myself anymore.”

Only one word comes to mind now. Once you say it, your relationship to the Mandalorian will never be the same. It’ll definitely make it harder to choose between Mando and following the way of the Jedi but quite frankly, right now, you really don’t give a shit. You want this. You want Mando, and nothing is going to come between you and him. “Good.”

Finally, he closes the tiny gap between your bodies and wraps a big arm around the small of your back, spinning you around and pushing you up against the door to the cockpit. You yelp at his swiftness when you feel metal hit your back, but it’s still not fast enough.

You want more.

You need more.

“Mando…” You moan helplessly.

The shakiness of his breath, kriff, you really want to drop to your knees and make him feel so good. His hands try to touch every part of you. They settle on your waist and he flips you around. Your face nearly smacks into the door but you’re able to catch yourself before your cheek makes contact, hands bracing up against the wall. He grinds his hips into yours, and you feel the outline of his cock nuzzle against your backside.

“If I’m too rough…” He begins to say, but you cut him off before he can finish his sentence. “I’m not fragile, Mando. Do what you want with me.”

“Fuck,” He punches out, fist hitting the door in front of you. “Y-you can’t say things like that to me.”

“I want you to,” You make sure to drawl out your words, to make sure he really hears you, so that he knows you want this just as badly as he does.

The sound that comes next is almost animalistic. It’s somewhere between a cry and a snarl, but it’s the sweetest, most arousing sound you’ve ever heard. It’ll be something you replay over and over in your mind.

His hands travel down to your hips, grabbing onto the waistband of your pants and yanking them down in one swift motion. A brown leather glove flies to your throat, using his thumb and index finger to press on that sweet spot right under your jawline. You sob brokenly as he continues to apply more pressure on your neck, but still gentle enough for you to know he’ll never actually hurt you.

“M-Ma-n-ndo…” You manage to choke out.

Mando hums in the back of his throat, pressing his body into you even more. His cock is rock hard in his pants, and your hands leave the wall to fumble around behind you, trying to touch him. With his free hand, he grabs hold of both your wrists and holds them in place behind you. “Let me take care you, pretty girl.” He purrs, his baritone dangerously low.

When his hand leaves your throat, you whine at the sudden lack of pressure. Cupping your jaw, he drags his thumb across your bottom lip, your tongue darts out and tastes leather. Two fingers force themselves into your mouth, and Mando growls into your ear. “Bite.”

You obey like the good girl you are, biting and tugging on the glove until it comes right off his hand. He takes it from you and tosses it on the ground, revealing his beautifully tanned skin. It’s a little embarrassing how just the sight of his hand makes your pussy pulse, but everything about Mando draws you in. His smell, his stoic demeanor, even his fucking hand.

As his naked hand travels back down your body, fingertips barely touching your tunic, it’s driving you crazy. He’s taking his sweet ass time, reveling in the fact that he has you completely spell bound against him. You can’t move, you can’t shift under him and create more friction for yourself. No, you’re going at his pace, which is making you fucking dizzy.

When his hand reaches the edge of your underwear, sending shivers down straight to your throbbing cunt, your body is basically shaking from the lack and overwhelming amount of stimulation all at once. It’s too much, yet it’s nowhere near enough. A thumb begins to trace the skin around the waistband of your underwear, tantalizing you. Your broken sobs echo through the cockpit, and then in a second, his hand pushes passed the thin material and cups your sex.

“Fuck!” You cry out.

“Look how wet you are, and I’ve barely touched you,” He whispers.

Pushing your ass out and rubbing against his cock, you feel him twitch in his pants as you continue to tease him. The hand on your cunt disappears and wraps itself around your throat again, pressing into your flesh just enough for you to stop grinding your hips. When Mando speaks next, he growls through gritted teeth. “Do that again, and I’m stopping. Do you understand?”

Your throat is dangerously dry, and all you can do is moan in response.

“No, pretty girl. I need you to use your words. Do you understand?” He says again, this time in a much gentler tone, but without relinquishing any of his control over you.

“Yes,” You whisper breathlessly.

“Good girl,” He praises, and then his hand is back on your pussy. His fingers rub between your folds, sending shockwaves through your body as he starts collecting your slick on his calloused fingertips, and then he’s rubbing tight, quick circles around your clit. You mewl helplessly into the door, forehead pressed against door with such force, it’s actually starting to hurt, but in the best way possible. You wouldn’t dare move from the spot you’re in right now, not when Mando continues his agonizingly slow assault on your bud.

“I’m going to let go of your wrists now,” He begins to instruct, his head resting on your left shoulder. “And you’re going to be a good girl and keep them there, right?”

Your orgasm begins to build in your stomach, the rhythm on your clit never faltering. “Y-y-yes,” You answer, voice hoarse and barely audible.

Letting go of your wrists, you do as you were told and keep them behind you on the small of your back. You hear him fumble with his utility belt and pants. Panting and having to manually control your breathing because air just isn’t fucking coming into your lungs fast enough, your body starts to shake from the white-hot pleasure, causing your hands to clench violently. Mando thrusts his body against you once again, almost flattening you on the door, but now you feel his free cock pressing between your ass, feeling drops of precome graze your skin.

His hand drenched in your slick, you’re on the verge of coming. Breathing picking up even more, he must sense you’re close because his rhythm gets quicker and quicker, nearly pushing you over the edge.

“I’m g-gonna c-come, Mando.”

“Already? Hmm,” He hums proudly. A gloved hand comes up to your throat, using his thumb and index to choke you again. The pressure on your throat and cunt is making your head fucking spin. It’s too much all at once, your orgasm teetering right now. This is so much more intense than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“Come for me,” He commands gently in your ear.

Head lulling back, your knees are about to give out, but he never stops. He develops a pattern now, rubbing even tighter circles on your clit and then brushing his fingers through your soaking folds, then back to your bud.

“Fuck fuck, fuck, Mando!” You cry out as your orgasm rips through you, sending waves of ecstasy through your entire body. He doesn’t stop though. As you cry out, riding out your climax, he slams his gloved hand over your mouth, muffling your cries; still continuing his pace between your thighs. Practically convulsing from the overstimulation, your knees almost completely cave in, and you almost feel your body going limp, but Mando keeps you steady.

“Such a good fucking girl.” He praises.

You don’t even have time to come down from your climax before he’s thrusting a thick finger allll the way inside of you. Flexing it in and out of your pussy and body trembling, if you don’t grab onto something, you’re sure you’ll drop to the ground. Broken sobs stifled by leather, feeling the corners of your eyes getting wet with tears, your mind is going fucking blank. Maker, the Mandalorian is going to be the death of you.

Pushing a second finger into you, your eyes wrench shut. He eases them in and out of you at a deliciously slow rate, sometimes choosing to roll his fingers inside you before pulling out. One of your hands grabs onto his vambrace, using that as a means of staying upright because you’re hanging on by a thread right now. This is the most intense feeling you’ve ever experienced. No one has ever even come close to making you feel the way Mando is, and you’ll never be able to be with anyone else after this. He hasn’t even fucked you yet, but you’re literally coming apart under him. He pushes two gloved fingers inside your mouth and orders you to bite down again. You do as your told and his hand yanks free of the glove, tossing it to the ground like he did with the other glove.

His precome continues to paint your back and backside, and you start begging and pleading.

“Please, Mando…”

“Please what?” He asks, and then he’s fucking curling his fingers inside you, hitting that sweet spot that makes you see stars. You cry out again, feeling a second orgasm bubbling to the surface.

“Please, f-fuc-c-k me. Please, Mando I need you inside me.”

“Mmmm,” He drones deep in his throat. Flexing his fingers inside you once more time before pulling out, you feel suddenly empty.

Need more.

Using the slick he’s gathered on his hand, you look over your shoulder and can barely make out him smearing it all over his thick length. “Gonna make you feel so good, pretty girl. Gonna fill you up, and fuck that pretty cunt of yours until you can’t fucking walk.”

All you can do is mewl back, a broken sound that he barely notices. Mando grabs hold of the waistband of your underwear and pulls them down to your knees. One hand digging into your waist, the other holding his length, he starts to rub his cock between your sopping folds, gathering even more slick. Once he seems satisfied hearing your broken sobs, he angles himself to your entrance, and pushes just the tip into you.

Kriff, you’re not even sure if you’ll be able to take all of him.

He stills for a moment, and then he’s back to pushing himself against your cunt.

Fucking unbelievable.

Mando’s teasing you, getting off on the sweet torture he’s putting you through. Every time you think he’s about to fill you up, he pulls away and continues to toy with you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge, but then pulling away at the last second.

“Mando!” You whimper.

“Shhh…” He scolds, giving you gentle slap on your left buttcheek. “I want to take my time.”

He continues his gradual onslaught, and then finally, he’s lining up his cock with your pussy, and ever so slooowly eases an inch of himself in your entrance.

Maker, he’s huge. Even with just an inch inside of you, he fills you up, your walls clamping around him in an attempt to stop him from pulling away again. “Fuuck.” He drawls out through shuddered breaths. “You’re tight, pretty girl.”

You don’t answer because you can’t. Words are no longer a thing inside your mind. Just Mando.

“You’re mine.” He snarls, pushing another inch of himself inside you.

Something like a sob escapes your lips.

“No one else will ever get to touch you like this.”

Another painful inch. You can feel the veins around his girth pushing against your walls.

“I’ll kill anyone who comes close to you, do you understand me?” Mando doesn’t wait for an answer, just continues to push himself more and more into your pulsating cunt. He must be almost fully inside you now. It burns, almost painful. It’s uncomfortable but it’s so fucking good, it feels so fucking amazing to be filled up by the Mandalorian. A delicious pain you’ll be thinking about for days.

With both hands on your hips, he seems to lose control for a second because the next thing you know, he stills for a moment, his helmet dropping to rest in between your shoulders, and then he’s grinding even more of himself into you. Kriff, how fucking big is he?

When Mando finally fucking pounds into you, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision go blank, you scream out, feeling completely stuffed to the brim. “Fuck!”

He’s so much bigger than you thought. Your walls flex around him, your pussy is on fucking fire right now, pain and pleasure mixed together to form a delicious cocktail, you’re drunk on this feeling. Mando widens his stance to steady himself, and pulls out just enough for only the tip of his head touching your walls and then slams into you so hard, your entire body flattens against the door, his cuirass digging into your back.

“Ah shit!” He swears breathlessly. Mando’s barely began fucking you, and a second orgasm is seconds away from unleashing electricity through your entire core.

“I can feel you clenching around my cock, sweet girl. Are you going to come again?” He taunts deliciously, pulling out once more and snapping back into you with such force, it blinds you momentarily. Bending your knees and using one his hands to push down on your back so you’re arched with your ass out—almost sitting back on his cock, he wraps a hand around your throat and begins pounding into you like an animal. The sound of skin slapping skin pierces through the cockpit, you can’t even make a sound. Your pussy clenches once again, climax nearing.

Two rough fingers find their way to your clit, and rub tight circles on your bud, the sounds of his length thrusting in and out of you are downright obscene.

“Be a good girl and come for me again,” He orders, voice so deliciously low in your ear. You last only a couple more seconds before a second orgasm rips right into you. White-hot pleasure tears through you, the ecstasy so intense, tears are streaming down your face at a constant rate. He doesn’t relent, just continues to plow into you over and over and over again.

“Fu-ck, you feel so fucking good. I’m g-gonna, shit, I’m gonna c-come.” He pants, his rhythm beginning to falter as he approaches his own climax. “Wh-ere should I…?”

“Inside…please.” You choke out.

“Kriff, are, a-are you sure?” He punches out, thrusting deeper into you between each word.

“Im—implant,” Is all you can manage to say, but it seems to be enough for Mando, because he uses the remaining strength he has to pound into you a few more times before his own orgasm hits him.

“F-fuck, pretty girl.” He grits out as his cock starts pumping his seed into your worn-out, swollen cunt. He sheathes himself one more time, reaching that sweet spot inside you before ever so slowly starting to ease out of you. Being the brat you are, using all the strength you can muster—which isn’t very much right now, you fiercely clench around his cock, causing Mando to cry out in the back of his throat.

“Maker, you don’t want me to leave, do you?” He says, shuddering but ending with a soft chuckle. “Well go on then, squeeze out every bit of come out of my cock like a good fucking girl.”

And so you do. You continue to squeeze down on his length, milking every single drop of his seed until you feel it trinkle down your legs. As soon as his hands leave your body, your knees cave in and you double over, nearly falling right on the cold metal floor, but Mando manages to wrap an arm around your waist before you do, holding you upright. Lifting you off your feet, he pulls you close to his chest, hooking his arms under your legs and around your back. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean your cheek against his cuirass. Beskar cools the heat on your face, and you swear you could fall asleep right now in his arms. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, nostrils filling up with the smell of sex and gunpowder, your eye flutter shut, feeling the exhaustion hit you all at once.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet.” Baritone low and gentle. “We need to get you cleaned up first.”

“Mmm,” You mumble in protest. “ ‘M gonna sleep here.”

“Hey,” He repeats, this time more commanding. “You’ll need to climb down the ladder, can you do that?”

Pouting and wanting to resist, but knowing Mando won’t take no for an answer, you give in. “Fine,” You answer, petulantly.

He puts you down gently, making sure that when your feet touch the ground, you’re able to stand up straight on your own. He pulls your underwear and pants back up from your knees. His come mixed with yours sticks to your underwear, and you hate to admit it, but he’s right. You definitely need to clean yourself up before falling asleep. Legs still buckling, Mando opens the cockpit doors and heads down the ladder first.

“Okay, come down.” He whispers kindly.

Kriff, your whole body is shaking. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to make it down those stairs without falling back. As you begin to descend the ladder, your grip on the rung loosens and you slip. Thankfully, Mando’s waiting at the bottom of the ladder and catches you in his arms before you could hurt yourself. Leaning on his pauldron is the only way you’re able to stand up, so you continue to lean into him as he guides you over to the fresher.

“Will you be able to clean yourself up?”

Looking up at the visor through hooded lids, you nod your head slowly. The possibility of you falling asleep in the fresher is very real, but you could try not to…

“Dank farrik…” He swears to himself. Mulling over his options with your half-asleep body leaning into him, he must realize there’s only one option available. “You’ll have to keep your eyes closed the entire time, okay?”

You look up at him sheepishly. “Okay.”

“I mean it,” He repeats. “You can’t—”

“I won’t look, Mando. You can trust me.”

A drawn-out sigh emits from the helmet, but he seems to be satisfied enough with your comment. Keeping yourself steady by holding down on his pauldrons, you watch as he carefully begins to remove your pants and underwear, gently telling you to step out of them and tossing them to the side.

“Lift your arms,”

He pulls your tunic over your head, and even though you’re absolutely wrecked and exhausted, being completely naked in front of the Mandalorian while he stands there, fully clothed and wearing his armour, you begin to feel a bit self-conscious, and try to cover up your body with your hands and arms.

“What…are you doing?” He asks, head tilting to the side.

“Feel so exposed,” You mutter.

“Now you feel exposed? Not when my cock was inside you?” He jests.

“Mmm, that was before.”

Mando sighs once again, the sound breaking apart like static through his helmet. “Get in the fresher, I’ll be there soon.”

“M’okay.”

Turning around sleepily, you head into the refresher and turn the water on. Kriff, it feels good. Standing directly under the hose, you let the water cascade down your body, closing your eyes and enjoying the warmth that tickles your skin.

“Okay, eyes closed,” Mando says, voice no longer modulated by his helmet. Maker, his voice is heavenly. Curse the helmet he wears, covering up a sound as sweet as Mando’s voice. Smooth like silk, you wish you could listen to him for hours, undistorted and naked. Keeping your promise, your eyes wrench shut, palms coming out trying to find him in the small space you’re both sharing. You feel his hands meet yours, your own feels so small in his. Calloused fingers trail up your arm, causing goosebumps to form on your skin and you purr into him.

And then, he’s gently massaging the bar of soap across your body, ridding your body of the grime and sweat from the day. It’s ridiculously intimate, and it’s actually quite surprising how gentle he’s handling you, given the fact that he kills people with those same hands, but it’s incredibly endearing. The entire time he cleans you up, your hands are resting on his broad shoulders. Suddenly, you feel him get closer to you, and you’re forced to back up, feeling the wall touch your bare back. Mando leans forward and presses his forehead against yours. You need to crane your head upwards to meet his, but it’s not uncomfortable. This is probably the first time his face has been touched by another being since…well you’re not sure when because you’ve never actually asked him when the last time he took his helmet off was, but you assume it’s been years.

“When’s the last time you took off your helmet in front of another person?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, not only because your vocal cords are shot from all the obscene noises you made before, but also because you’re scared that if you speak too loudly, he’ll dismiss your question.

“I was just a child.”

“You don’t ever want to show your face?”

The water trinkles over both your faces and bodies, hands carded together.

“This is the Way.” He answers plainly, but you sense a bit of uncertainty in the way he speaks. It’s almost like he’s lost the true reason for covering his face—that there came a time in his life where he began to question his Creed, but still feels like he has an obligation to adhere to it.

You want to see his face. There are so many questions that you wish you had the answers to.

Do the corners of his eyes wrinkle when he laughs?

Does he have any scars or dimples?

Have the many years of fighting and surviving aged his face beyond his actual age?

What color are his eyes?

You’re not sure if you’ll ever know the answers to those questions, but truthfully, it doesn’t really matter. You don’t need to know all those aspects of him because they’re simply just arbitrary details. Everything that you really need to know, you’re already aware of.

And what you know is, you’re in love with a Mandalorian.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #the mandalorian smut #we are one when together #fics

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captains-simp · 4 years ago

Text

Carol Danvers ~ Two Sides Of The Same Coin

Chapter 2: Owe Me

One

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The explosion on your left was far too close for comfort. The shock sent your body hurling forward a few feet with a distinct ringing in your ears. The high pitched sound was all you could focus on for a few precious moments.

When the dust started to settle and the ringing got slightly quieter, you knew you needed to get up. You were vulnerable. And you were outnumbered.

You could handle something like four or five-to-one, but twenty was a little more than you had been prepared for. The fact that they were a heavily armed twenty made it worse. You were pretty sure you had seen Owen's logo on one of those weapons.

You turned onto your side to try to take in your surroundings better but visibility was still limited. The shoulder you had landed on protested against your movements but you were forced ignore it. There was no way you were going to get out of there without using it again.

You groaned as you finally got yourself onto your knees and pushed off of the ground to stand. You were extremely disorientated and unsteady but you continued to look around until you could make out distant shapes amongst the dust.

You shook your head and raised your hands in closed fists infront of you in hopes of it preparing you even a little.

Just as you managed to narrow your focus onto those infront of you, heavy footsteps were heard from behind.

You spun around to meet whoever was charging towards you only to stumble sideways. Much to your luck, the exact moment you moved to the side the attacker had swing his fist and ended up stumbling forward too from having not landed his punch.

You noticed this just in time and managed to swipe his legs out from under him while maintaining your own balance. The victory, no matter how small, made you feel more confident about the situation. Maybe you would be able to get out of there in one piece.

Just as you had that optimistic thought bullets went whizzing by the side of your head. You were grateful for the attacker's terrible aim as you ducked behind a large cluster of debris.

Your gun had been thrown from your grasp in the blast and to get it back you would have to run a few feet away from the safety of your temporary cover. Bullets continued to smack against the debris, the frequency and the amplitude both increasing to warn you they were getting closer.

It would hard - near impossible - to get your gun, shoot every attacker with the few bullets you had and avoid getting seriously injured, but it was that or wait behind the debris for a bullet to finally find you.

Your eyes locked onto your unharmed gun as you sat up gradually. Now or never.

You sprang up from your position and sprinted towards your weapon as the bullets relentlessly followed you. You swiped it in your hand and instantly aimed your gun towards the attackers.

They may have had bigger, much more intimidating guns, and there may have been a lot more of them, but they had no idea what to do with those guns or how to work coherently together. That made it easier for you to hit each target perfectly without a single bullet even skimming you.

But there was only ten of them down. The blast had disorientated you so much you hadn't noticed them scatter to surround you. Panic rose in your chest when you saw the remaining attackers spaced out in the distance.

That same panic was amplified when a small object came hurtling towards you, the small blinking light was enough for you to figure out what it was.

With all the energy you could muster, you put as much distance between you and the explosive device as your legs could give you. Your hands instinctively covered your head when your feet left the ground and the defeaning boom filled your ears.

You expected to feel bullets rain down on you. You expected everything to go completly dark. You expected the worst. Nothing happened.

You glanced up at the nearest attacker, your ears ringing once again, and saw him staring up at the sky. He was looking around frantically. You couldn't really make out his face, but you could tell he was scared.

You couldn't see anything in the sky either, leading you to wonder what they were all trying to look at. That was very quickly answered when something bright dropped down infront of you.

You were dazed for a brief moment until the familiarity of the bright light hit you.

The energy around Carol was far stronger than it was the last couple of times you had a demonstration. It was flowing over her entire body and although you couldn't see her face because her back was turned to you, the confidence and power she emitted was something you couldn't help but be in awe of.

The attackers backed away slightly however this seemingly wasn't enough for Carol. She shot her photon blasts faster than anyone could comprehend or get away from. Swirls of blue, yellow and red light was fired in every direction and it was over so quickly.

When Carol turned around to face you her powers were fading yet the soft glow around her made her look angelic, you would never admit that to her of course.

"You look like you need some help." The blonde smiled knowingly down to you.

"I'm perfectly fine on my own." You defied stubbornly.

"On the floor?" She gave a smug grin as you huffed and got off of the floor. You patted the dust of your clothes and tried to assess your next move while you tried even harder to ignore the hero and the fact she may have just saved your life.

"You could say thank you." The smirk was still present in Carol's voice.

"Are they dead?" You asked, avoiding the statement like the bullets you had just encountered. You walked towards the nearest attacker with Carol close behind.

"Just knocked out." As she said that, the nearest man groaned and tried to sit up. "I guess not all of them." The man startled when he heard Carol's voice and sat bolt upright as he legs kicked out to try and back himself away, it didn't work very well.

"Can we go back to our convosation before you started shooting at me?" You asked as you stood over him.

"I don't know anything." He stammered as he looked between the two of you.

"You're awful defensive for someone who doesn't have anything to hide."

"I've noticed that with a lot of people." Carol added. You didn't object to her presence this time.

"I don't, I swear! We were just told that if anyone came looking for Daexire we had to kill them." The man explained with a pleading look.

You smiled at his answer and nodded slowly, taking a step away from the two and glancing around at the other attackers, non of which moved.

"You're happy with that?" Carol questioned as her brows furrowed. Confused by your apparent contentment.

"It's actually quite relieving to hear. It means I'm on the right track. I much prefer people trying to kill me over people misleading me." You explained as you started to wander away.

You had been in that situation before, it always happened with the biggest bounties who had a lot of people defending them. The misleading happened first, and then the paranoia kicked in and everyone was told to go into full defense. It also meant you were getting closer, but with Daexire you were sure you had a way to go before you could truly celebrate any progress.

"So you know where to go next?" You cringed slightly at that. It did help, but the next place you had in mind was one you never thought you would return to. You had wanted to put it off for longer, but seeing how defensive the people in that area had been made it the logical place to go.

You didn't answer Carol, knowing what she was going to suggest. She seemed to know what your silence meant.

"You know...you kind of owe me now." She said slowly. You turned to her sharply and met her searching gaze. You hated that she was right. You also hates being in people's debt. "And don't say you had it under control because we both know you didn't." You still stayed silent but avoided her gaze this time, pretending to survey your surroundings.

"We're on the same side, you know?" She said. There was no arrogant tone to her voice this time. No superiority. She spoke as though it was genuinely something she wanted you to understand. You did.

"I have rules." You stated, looking back at her. Carol smiled hopefully, it suited her. "You follow my lead when we're talking to people." Carol instantly opened her mouth to oppose but you stopped her by speaking louder. "I know these people, you don't. I know how they work, how they think. You can fight, Danvers, I'll give you that. I know that you're a superhero and all, but what we're doing now is bounty hunting. That's my world. It'll only work if you follow my lead." You explained to her as best you could. You needed her to understand that. Carol considered your words as she searched your face for...well you weren't entirely sure what she was looking. So you took a guess.

"I know I'm getting money out of this when it's done. But it's about more than that with Daexire, I know what he's done, what he'll continue to do. He needs to be stopped, and we can only stop him if this is done right. I'm not even going to attempt to boss you around, you're far too stubborn, just trust that I know this better."

She continued to look at you carefully until, you weren't sure you even wanted to hazard a guess as to know what she was thinking. Finally, Carol nodded tightly, you knew she was still unsure. It must have been a while since someone had asked that of her, you just hoped she would understand early on.

"Great." You released a breath you didn't know you had been holding and ran a hand through your hair as you stepped back.

"Do I at least get to fly your ship?" Carol asked as a mischievous twinkle emerged in her eyes. You rolled your eyes to stop the smile that threatened to form as you walked back to your ship.

"Don't push it, Danvers."

#brie larson #captain marvel #captain marvel imagines #captain marvel x reader #carol danvers #carol danvers imagines #carol danvers x reader #captain marvel series #carol danvers series #enemies to allies to lovers #enemies to lovers

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thefanbasewhore · 4 years ago

Text

Little Bird. || Part 2

Summary: Din shows you the stars, like his promise the night before but the way they shine against your skin creates a new sense of beauty that even he can’t run from.

Warning/content: Soft Din (like usual), touched starved beskar babe coming your way. (Din takes his helmet off)

Taglist (only for this series) || Series Master list || My Master list || Part 1

“Good morning Princess.” The voice of another startles you, no matter how sweet and soft the rasp of the younger woman is. It makes you groan, but is nothing compared to the one that rips through your throat as she pulls on the curtains, letting the harsh morning rays slip through the cracks. “The Mand'alor is requesting your presence at breakfast in ten minutes but he said if you don’t want to go it is okay.”

As soon as she says the words your stomach growls loudly, a reminder that you didn’t eat at all yesterday. “Ten minutes? I don’t have any time to get ready.”

“Oh, these are from the Mand'alor as well.” Sitting up you take the two pieces of fabric from her hands, messing the neat folding but not caring too much. Both pieces are light gray, a simple long sleeve shirt and matching pair of gray pants. Comfy and thankfully something that wasn’t as constructing as the twenty pounds dresses you were forced to wear. “There is no need to ready, the Mand'alor does not care, it is only breakfast.”

“What kind of princess would I be if I showed up to breakfast without brushing my hair.”

“You would be normal Princess.” The words leave a sour taste in your mouth as you watch her leave the room. Looking across the room, a mirror tucked in the corner reflecting back at you, hair messily sticking up, face bare from makeup from the bath last night.

You sigh, standing up quickly changing and taming your hair to the best of your ability. Honestly, you would have gotten ready but the pull for food was too strong besides you couldn’t help but realize the girl was right and there is nothing more in this world that you want then to be normal.

Following the invisible pull your growling stomach creates to find the Mandalorian, he’s not eating but there’s a a paper spread out in front of him at the table and with every step closer realize it’s a map, not any normal one. Foreign symbols and lines etch the old, weathering paper. Looking down at your socks covered feet, waiting for his greetings.

The smell of fresh, sweet fruits make it difficult. Sweet, sugary syrup with buttery waffles make it nearly impossible as your stomach grumps and exaggerated sounds fill the room. The Mandalorian finally looks up and pauses, too absorbed into the stars and names of the map to notice the other presence.

“Please sit, you don’t have to wait for me.”

His gaze never faltering as he sit, nervously smiling up at him. Despite not being able to see it, he returns it. “You don’t have to ask to eat either, what’s mine is yours.”

The smile never leaves your face, reaching over politely to the bowl of strawberries, popping a few in your mouth. It feels like he’s burning holes into your skin with the way he’s staring but you don’t say anything. Din’s eyes run over the bareness of your face, naked unlike the night before due to your mother’s hand. A simple pair of gray sweats and a matching pull over fit you in perfectly. You’re just about to ask him why he’s staring but he answers the silent question, “You look comfortable.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” The small snort that comes from your nose has to be one of the cutest noises he’s ever heard.

“That you don’t have to wear those ridiculous dresses when you’re here.. you look beautiful just like this.”

The words flush your cheeks instantly, mouth slightly dropping in surprise and the Mandalorian visibly stiffens, growing red under his helmet.

“I’m sorry -.” He’s trying to apologize, mentally face palming himself as he stumbles over his own words, worried he’s gone too far, if you’ve taken offense. “I mean if you like them then by all means -.”

“I hate the dresses.” His fumbling comes to a stop, head lifting to meet your eyes, kind and sweet. “Thank you, Din.”

It’s referring to the compliment of your beauty but all he can think about is how his name sounds coming from your lips. How sweet and foreign it is to hear but soothes his anxiousness as he watches you stab the strawberry with a fork before bringing it to your lips to disappear.

“After breakfast, go get ready, I believe I made a promise yesterday.”

*****

There’s no way to contain the excitement that bubbles inside your stomach, anxious but heart beating so fast you swear it’s hard to breath. The Mandalorian walks slightly in front of you, the crash crushing under his boots but he doesn’t seem to care as he waves at a few village people who pass by.

A few wear the helm of a Mandalorian but take it off as a formal greeting towards the king but it got you thinking. Was he allowed to remove his? If so why hasn’t he? There’s stories that they can’t but the few who curiously look at you prove that wrong. Din is walking faster then he intends, you can tell he doesn’t mean to as his speed decreases but not once reach out to help but allows you to climb the slightly elevated land and you’re thankful for it.

Finally through the mess of trees, a few hills give or take a small ship starts to peak though the greenery. "This is my ship.”

You smile to yourself, it’s nothing fancy, nothing compared to the high tech ships located right within the castles limits but he still intends on keeping his own and hidden away. “It’s…”

You’re trying to find the right words to say, he answers instead. “Old.”

“Homey, worn in was what I was looking for.” He looks at you from over his shoulder, you can’t but notice the way his shoulders slightly drop, voice filled longing.

“I did have a better one, well maybe just as old but that’s a story for another time. It was called the Razor Crest.”

“What’s this one called?”

“Doesn’t have a name, haven’t had it long enough.”

***

“Have you ever been in the cockpit before?”

“They make me stay in the back, I never got to see hyperspace.” It’s so dark, you can barely see your hand in front of you, only the dark shadow of the towering man to the side of you. Space was dark, this you knew but tiny, bright dots reflect off the shininess of his armor.

He can’t look away as you press a hand against the windshield of the ship. It’s beautiful, eyes grow big in astonishment. He’s almost jealous, understand the feeling of knowing there is something so large and beautiful, to see space again with optimistic eyes is something he can only wish for.

“Well let’s change that yeah?” Din’s loss is felt, the heat of his body disappearing from the side of your own. Hand extending, not wanting to push but more as an invitation that you can’t pass up. The large, padded leather gloves are cool against your skin, tugging you towards the pilot’s chair were he mentions with a head tilt.

Sitting down you look up at him unsure, he stands behind the chair, heart beating at the close proximity as he leans over trapping you between his arms as the one is pressed against the dash for support and the other pressing a large, red button. Cheeks are filled with instant heat, the Mandalorian was such a sweet man but he made you nervous. It’s instant, the shift from darkness to long rays of color, different shades of purple mixed with hues of blue and bright form in the sky. Eyes widening to quite believing that you’re so close to the stars. A small audible gasp falling from your lips, you’re not sure where to look but you can’t take your eyes off of the stars. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful, reminds of the roses in the garden.” He hums in agreement, watching the way the corner of your lips twitch into a smile, sweet and genuine just like you. He feels different.. he can’t really put a name to the unfamiliar rhythm inside his chest? His cheeks flushing at the thought of getting caught be he can’t help but notice how beautiful you are, how close the back of your head is to his chest.

He wants to say it, wants to tell you that he’s always been missing that certain someone to hold close and he really thinks it’s you but instead thinks of the only other thought that swarms his head.

“Your parents have sent word of our wedding date.”

“Oh.” He doesn’t miss the way the smile drops, eyes shifting to his but it’s not to dismiss him or deny him. Din knowns exactly what it is, you’ve been pushed around your while life, never able to make decisions, not even your own wedding date.

“I told them no.” Din watches as your head whips right around, confusion pinching wrinkles between both eyebrows.

“You did what? They’re going to be so mad. I’m going to -.”

“I told them no because I want you to choose. It’s your wedding after all.”

The words die in your throat and feel a ball grow in its place, a wave of emotion making your chest heavy, tears gathering in the corner of eyes. Honestly, you’re never this emotional but feeling a little bit overwhelmed. It’s the first time you’ve ever left your planet and it’s to stay with your future husband who is surprisingly sweet, caring and everything you thought he wouldn’t be.

Din panics as he watches the emotion pinch your face, the sign of tears has him regret every word. It’s hard enough, marrying a stranger and he’s only making it worse. “I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll go tell them whenever they want.” He rambles, can’t get the words out quick enough, on the edge of his tongue, so fast he can barely understand. “Don’t cry. Look, we’ll go back right now. I’ll tell them the dare is okay.”

Leaning over you with both hands on the armrest of the chair as he searches for anything besides the look of horror in your eyes, tears slipping past those beautiful long eyelashes. Your cheeks are darker in color, no doubt a result of a stuffy nose and how much harder it is to breath. He about to walk past, steer the ship home but small hands reach out for him, he visibly stalls, stiffening as two arms wrap around his neck and pull him into a hug?

Tilting his head the slightest, a small peak of skin revealing itself between where the turtle neck of his tunic and the helmet end. His own cheeks are on fire, belly turning and filled with heat. At the very moment you nudge the tip of your nose against his bare skin makes him wonder how long it’s been since he’s held someone, since a person has touched him.

“Thank you Din.” The words are broken, a small sob coming past your lips. “I’m not upset with you, I-I.”

There’s no right words to explain what you’re going through, nothing to sum up the ball of emotions that tug at your heart strings. “All my life.. I just, thank you for giving me a choice, making this seem normal.”

He understands, whispering a small you’re welcome that barely catches the static of his vocoder. He holds you for just a little bit longer, allowing you calm down before he pulls away but he doesn’t go far. Din’s one knee touches the ground so he’s between your legs, cool leather of his glove pressed against your cheek as he wipes the small tears.

“You always have a choice. You won’t be just my wife, but my equal.” The words make you smile, guessing that’s just what he’s looking for as he sighs under the helmet. “With that said..”

He clears his throat, his other hand strokes the small, loose strands from your hairline. “Will you be my wife, little bird?”

And at that very moment, despite the circumstances and that fact it was your duty, you wanted nothing more then to marry this man.

“Yes.” Another choice, another reason you feel gentle tears nip and fall.

When his hands leave, it’s cold and you wish for them back but don’t push it. Your eyes open quickly but only to be met with chestnut curls that block the curve of his jaw. His hair looks so soft, dark with a few peppered hairs, no doubt older then you but you can’t seem to care.

His eyes meet your own, nervous and unsure as he quickly looks away. They’re dark but gentle, crows feet under his eyes and patchy beard show his age but he’s handsome, still has a boyish charm. Din’s breath catches in his throat as he feels smooth fingers press against his jaw applying just the right amount of pressure to turn to face you.

No words are said, which he’s grateful for but the smile that reaches from one ear to the other tells him everything he needs to know. Without a second of hesitation, he smiles back.

It’s beautiful, a little misshaped but fits him so well but pauses as he watches you look up again, his favorite new way to see the stars is etched in your eyes.

Next chapter summary: With only a few nights before the royal wedding, Din tells his bride to be about a little green baby that changed his life.

Tags:

@jeeperky, @illuminaro @weirdowithnobeardo @vanillapig @kasianthus @harrys-stan @boomtownboy @thecraftyartist @adonikosmos @mrpascals @psychedelic-rainbow @thebookisbetter13, @theelilbritt @stars-trash-18 @remmysbounty

forever tags: @victias, @altarsw , @nikkixostan , @moonlightnumbsthepainifeel, @est19xxshit , @owloveyounever , @engie115@dinsbeskar, @akatasukilove , @nerdalert-andi , @mailee420 , @you-and-i-deserve-the-world, @thatonedindjarinfan, @Sporadicshoebailifffish, @coldlilheart, @starsvck, @agirlinherhead, @lokismidnight, @expellopatronum, @dinschutta , @queenbbarnes, @ironbabey, @i-ship-it-ironically, @coonflix, @ilikemymendarkandfictional, @maileecabudal, @buckysalefty, @fangirlmendes, @godohammers, @mermaidbrina, @capsheadquaters,

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin imagine #din djarin x you

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missathlete31 · 2 years ago

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DEAD ON YOUR FEET Chapter 2 -

An AU in which Hangman is team leader and takes the missile to save Rooster. As he struggles to get himself and his teammate home, Jake is pushed to his limits in more ways than even he anticipated.

link below for chapter 1 if missed

(Does this picture have anything to do with the story.... not really but Glen looks hot and exhausted and in this chapter Hangman gets hot and is exhausted so we go with it)

Warmth is what brings Jake back to awareness after his plane crashes to the ground, and not a gentle warmth like an afternoon sun on a spring day. No, this is straight heat he feels, worse than the time his parents locked him out of the house in the dead of Texas summer. Jake struggles to open an eye; to gauge his surroundings, but even lifting an eyelid feels like a herculean effort and the pilot just can’t muster the strength at the moment.

Heat…Fire… Plane on Fire….Get up!

Jake’s brain pushes the connection through his body, awakening enough wherewithals for him to open a green eye and see the fiery remains of his jet all around. Somehow the crash threw Jake’s body out of the worst of the debris but when he looks up he sees pieces of the plane ready to fall and land on top of him. By his left side Jake can see flames licking at the ends of his flight suit and he knows he has to move. He turns his head slowly, cautious of whiplash or a back injury to see a clear path towards his right. An army crawl seems impossible so Jake tries to roll over instead. He makes it about an inch before a sharp pain on his right side makes him stop and swear for a moment before he gains enough momentum to lift his head.

He expects to see something sticking out of his stomach, the pain so bad he must be impaled, but nothing is visible meaning Jake is facing an internal injury. He’s had broken ribs before (his father the culprit of more than a dozen in his childhood years) but they never felt this bad.

A piece of burning wreckage teeters above him and pain be damned Jake forces himself onto his front as he scampers out of the way. He doesn’t clear completely, something hitting the back of his head sharply and causing his vision to tunnel. He pushes past it though, getting himself into a safer position before he falls back into the snow.

Jake is on his back now, looking up at brightened sky that feels wrong with all the discomfort coursing through his body. He knows he should catalogue his injuries, find what really hurts but his body is just one giant pulse of pain and he is almost over-stimulated because of it. He closes his eyes, almost on the verge of passing out again when he hears a plane’s engine. It snaps him back to reality, his eyes scanning the skies to see a familiar F-18 super hornet heading towards his location. For a moment Jake fights the urge to cry, the thought of one of his teammates coming back for him enough to quell the feelings of worthlessness he had grown accustomed too. Instead he tries to sit up, the sharp throbbing of his abdomen making it exceedingly more difficult, as he tries to flag down the jet overhead.

As the plane gets closer Jake can just barely make out that it’s a single-seater; meaning that unless Maverick broke the speed of sound to try to supply support, the pilot that came back for him was none other than Rooster. Jake’s mind wants to unpack this bit of information, but the blonde refuses to give it credence, his concern staying focused on showing Bradshaw that he is indeed alive.

The jet circles once but Jake’s not sure he’s more than a speck of debris from Bradley’s vantage point so he struggles to stand himself up. It’s not easy, not that anything at this point has been, but Jake manages to get to a knee before he looks up again and waves a weak hand up. He hopes Bradley sees something before a noise makes his stomach drop- Bradshaw hit one of the other missile zones and he’s below the threshold. Three surface to air missiles come shooting out but it only takes one. It makes a direct hit with Rooster’s left engine and Jake watches in horror as the plane starts making a beeline for the ground.

With a cry of anguish, Jake’s body crumbles to the ground. This is exactly what he never wanted, a teammate, a friend, dying for him. His father was right, Rooster was right, the team was right, all Jake was good for was to bring death and sadness to those around him. He wishes he never got himself up to wave, wishes Bradshaw saw nothing and headed back to the ship, away from danger and away from the damage Jake inflicts on those around him. Jake’s not sure how he could face a rescue now, how he could dare go back to the carrier and tell the others that Rooster died trying to save him of all people. Jake fights the urge to throw up but it’s too much, the grip of grief too tight on his heart and his stomach and he heaves into the snow roughly, the pain in his side burning at the effort.

Tears continue to well in his eyes and he blinks them away, his vision turning watery as he pushes himself back onto his hunches and looks around him. It is then he catches something falling slowly from the sky, a parachute deployed with a pilot attached. He gasps with a combination of shock, alarm and the underlying feeling of hope before Jake gets himself fully standing because Bradshaw is alive and he has to go get to him. It’s the motivation he needs to get himself moving again and he grasps that fact with all the willpower he has left in him.

Jake wants to run through the woods immediately but he forces himself to think logically first. He heads back to his plane’s wreckage, and can just make out his go bag under the flaming remains of his fuselage. It’s filled with a canteen, some rations, a first aid kit, a compass and his knife- basically everything he needs if he wants to survive and Jake finds in his heart he does, if not for himself than for the teammate he trapped with him. Shuffling painfully low, Jake reaches through the flames, struggling to ignore the licks of fire burning his fingers as he finds purchase on the bag straps. He pulls but nothing moves and now Jake can smell gas leaking, the ultimate sign of things getting a hell of a lot worse quickly. He pulls again, harder this time and the bag slowly wiggles but still it’s not free. He braces himself to pull once more but before he can the fuselage explodes in the most brilliant display of flames Jake’s ever seen. He’s too close to it though and he is pushed back with a force that knocks every ounce of air from his lungs before throwing him back into the snow. His head connects sharply with the ground and he’s seeing stars for a few moments before he can even begin to function. When he comes back to some semblance of reality Jake feels heat on his face. He tries to turn over but suddenly he’s vomiting again, this time with an alarming amount of red tinged in it before he falls over to his left, his face finding solace as it hits the coolness of the snow.

He wants to stay there forever. He wants to stay in this frozen tundra with his burning face buried in the snow for the rest of time. The feeling of cold is the only relief he’s felt since the crash and if he’s taking an inventory, his body is very close to its limit. Yet Jake knows he can’t stay. Bradshaw’s out there, in the woods because of him. He’s ejected from a plane and could be injured because of him. Burns, fractured ribs, concussion be damned, Jake owes it to Rooster to get to him. He thinks of Maverick’s pre-mission words once more and slowly gets his body moving.

Pain has always been a part of Jake's life: physically, mentally, emotionally. He taught himself early on how to deal with the worst the world has to offer so he tells himself that this is nothing. These pulsing waves of pain, that slowly overwhelm his senses are just a distraction. He forces himself up, moving first to his knees and then finally when his head stops spinning he gets his feet under him.

Once standing, he shoulders his go bag and takes a deep breath. It isn't as hard as he expects with possibly broken ribs or maybe he just doesn't let it be as hard as it should be. He is focused now, stubbornly so, and his mind has always been frighteningly obstinate when he wants it to be.

He looks back up at the treeline but he can’t see Bradley’s parachute anymore. He knows which direction it was headed though so he shuffles that way. Taking one last glance at his burning jet, Jake closes his eyes and wishes for strength. He doesn’t exactly get it but he’s got enough determination to push himself forward in a slow trot through the trees. It’s excruciating on his ribs but Jake’s made of tougher stuff than anyone’s ever given him credit for. He dissociates himself from his injuries as much as possible and keeps putting one foot in front of the other, his mind only on his teammate.

Like he promised himself before this mission, he is getting them all home.

Chapter One in case you missed it:

Ao3 link if you want to read ahead:

#jake seresin #top gun hangman #top gun maverick #ao3 link #glen powell #maverick #pete mitchell #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #tom cruise #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fic #Jake Seresin whump #whump writing #top gun fandom #top gun

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ahsxual · 4 years ago

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Sassy Girl

Pairing: L!Joker x Fem!Reader

Summary: J finally took you to a meeting with his men. After seeing you agitated, he decides to confront you about it once you leave.

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Sir kink, spanking, dom/sub, vaginal sex, nipple play, degradation, rough kissing, slightly exhibitionism, dirty talk, breath play (nothing too serious), sassy reader, swearing

Word Count: 3,3k

A/N: soo me and @harlequinjoke were role-playing about L!Joker and Harley Quinn, and I really liked the idea, so I decided to write something about it <3 It's my first time writing about J (internally shaking). I got inspired by the incredible, unique and talented @jokerslilhyena, so I hope I get more comfortable with time writing him, because I REALLY love that chaotic bastard 💜💚

Gif Credits: @antonija89

You and J had an uncommon relationship: you weren't considered his girlfriend and vice-versa, however you were together. It was a totally different experience dating someone so chaotic as him, someone so dangerous and unpredictable. In the beggining, you actually were scared that he would hurt you, however he has proved the opposite: whenever you argued, he would break the first thing he found, scream or even leave for a long time... but he never would lay a hand on you and would always come back, eventually. However, he never apologized, not directly. He was extremely aggressive and reckless towards others, but with you... he wasn’t any of that. Of course he was very proud, would still throw tantrums here and there and sometimes he seemed indifferent, especially when the subject was about affection. Nevertheless, he loves you in a way that, even if it’s strange and unreal to others, he still shows you that he cares for you, that he doesn’t want to make you feel bad and he does anything to protect you from the rude and injustice world you live in. For you, it’s his "special" way to love and honestly, you are fine with it, since he always comes back to you and keeps you alive and safe.

Sometimes you wondered how did you get where you were, having a "relationship" with the one and only prince of crime, the one that everyone fears with all their being. But you, you were unordinary and different from others... and that's what caught his attention. You knew you wouldn't be judge by him, wether it was physically or mentally.

You always had a thing for villains, J being the most dangerous and strategically intelligent of them all: you saw J as someone who doesn't care about other's opinions, someone courageous enough to prove and make the world wrong, someone who isn't afraid to express himself and be the way he was meant to be... the way life made him. You deeply admire all those features about him: his confidence, his intelligence, his insight...

Today was an unexpected day: you wanted to see how J worked, how he organized and "planned" his ideas, how the "bad guy" life was. J, of course, didn't let you go... at first. He said that it didn't make sense for you to join him and he didn't want to get distracted by you, but you knew that was not the whole truth. J didn't want to show his only weakness to others, especially to dangerous people. As intelligent and practical he could be, he was just one man, so he avoided dealing with even more problems, mainly because you were the one who would be in danger. Nevertheless, you insisted, telling him that he didn't need to present you as someone he was having a case with, just a girl who wants to be apart of his "plan".

J knew you would bother him about that until he accept it, so today he finally gave you the answer you were dying for to hear.

"Oh... really? You won't argue with me about this anymore?" you were surprised for him letting you go.

"What do ya want me to do, huh? You were pressuring me all the time about it, so this is the only way to ah... end this." he was obviously annoyed, but he wanted to do that favor to you too. Maybe it wouldn't be as bad as he thought, and it would be one time only, so it was not a big deal.

"Thanks, J! I knew you wouldn't be such a daddy, it means a lot to me!" he smirked before you hugged him by the neck, something he was not expecting. He just tapped your back with his gloved hand in response, a gesture meaning you were welcome.

"Come on bunny, I can't be late. The boss have always to show up before his ah... employees." he joked, earning a laugh from you. You quickly put some comfortable shorts and a top that slightly showed your cleavage.

"I'm ready, time to go!" you said excitedly. J noticed that your outfit wasn't the most appropriate, but he didn't have time to tell you to change into something that wouldn't show too much skin. He thinks that you should cover the first piece of your neck's skin, to the tip of your toe. J was a possessive man to that extent... and you were a teasing to that extent too.

When you entered J's stolen car, you noticed how the back seats were spacious... immediately your dirty thoughts signaled their arrival, which made you unconsciously bit your lip slowly. Your clown didn't miss it, being as observant as he was, and instantly thought this wasn't a good idea... at all.

"Ya better stop doing that with your ah... lip, doll. Ya better behave or I will make ya be sorry later." he said in a serious tone. The sexual tension between you two was always evident, something that both of you loved and needed: J could have his way with you, respecting your limits obviously, and you would just enjoy the sex as much as he did, since no other man could dominate and have his way with you the way he did... you were his little masochist, his strong woman that simultaneously was so easy to break. He was obcessed with you: you were his drug, his only weakness, his vicious, his significant other... you just completed him, even though he never told you that, he definitely proved it to you everyday.

You usually have an answer for everything he says, but now you remained quite to not make things worse for both of you. You had to keep that fire inside your core hidden from his men or there would be consequences... after all, he is a man of his word.

You finally arrived to the place where the meeting would occur: it was an abandoned building as expected; around it, was nothing more than grit and some old and rotten cars; the sky was almost black, the stars and moon being the only ones lightning the establishment; there were two men located at the front door of the same big building, and surely there were others in the rear entrance. You couldn’t deny you were feeling nervous. As much as sometimes you wished, you couldn't be completely fearless like J.

"Don't worry doll, ya don't need to be afraid. If something goes wrong, we ah... always have a backup." he confidently said, showing you the inside of his coat covered in bombs and grenades. You laughed once again.

"Sure you do, J. You wouldn't be you if you didn't have it." you said while winking at him. He smirked before getting out of the car.

You knew from now on, until the meeting is over, he would act differently: he couldn't have the reputation of being a murderous clown with a soft spot for his little bunny. No one would take him seriously once that was revealed, and you understood it perfectly.

Once you arrived at the front door, where the two men were, they looked strangely at you and then at J.

"Will ya stay there looking at me like the ah... dick heads you are, or ya will let me pass already, huh?" J was expecting this reaction from them, yet his acknowledge didn't prevent him from being annoyed: he wasn't in the mood to give explanations to anyone, mainly to his temporarily needed men. The two men looked at each other, before nodding towards their boss and letting you both pass the tall, rigid door.

The moment you entered the room, you saw all of his men in their seats, already prepared for their meeting with their boss... and his company.

"Who's that?" a man asked boldly.

"She's our ah... tonight's special guest. She will help us with our mission by dealing with the ah... cops." he lied, successfully convencing them. He knew they wouldn't be suspicious about it, since that was his task. You sitted right next to him, noticing the side glances from some men.

While time passed and J talked about his "plan", you deeply admired how attractive he looked: he was so confident, fearless, so right about what he was saying and doing... it made you think how is it possible for a single man to be so strategic and dominant with others... and when J was with you, it was impossible not getting completely horny, feeling hot as hell and being completely at his mercy, gladly. He obviously noticed your long glances in his direction and felt how your legs would rub shamelessly against each other under the table, where only he could catch your signals, since you were almost glued to each other.

"Any questions about what I just said?" he asked after explaining everything that should be done. His men just nodded in return. "Good. Tomorrow morning, 9:30 am. I will be ah... extremely upset if any of you arrive late. And trust me, gentlemen, you wouldn't like to see me mad." he then got up, grabbing your arm and pulling you in front of him while you were walking, which surprised you. Once you approached the car, he opened the back door and pushed you roughly into the back seat, making you lay down with him above you after removing his long purple coat covered in grenades into the passenger seat.

"Now, now... would ya explain me what you were ah... doing back there, huh? Ya seemed very... restless during the reunion, don't ya think... bunny?" he whispered one of your favorite nicknames given by him into your ear, being so close that you could see every little and precise detail on his face: you could feel his hot breath against your skin and see his pupils dilating more and more by every passed second. J decided to confront you about it, wanting you to admit everything you did back there right in front of his face... and you would be the best liar if you said he didn't give you chills all over your body, especially making your core dripping from excitement and eagerness.

"I-I wasn't doing anything, I was just listening to y-"

"Ata-tada, ya don't wanna go that way, doll. You ah... know very well that I don't like when people lie on my face, especially you... not-one-bit." he madly said, pressing firmly the last words with his skilled tongue. Oh, how you loved seeing your psychotic clown having his way with you...

"What do you want me to say J, huh?? That yes, I was feeling horny like a goddamm whore just from seeing you leading those assholes, that I couldn't stop looking and admiring you?? That I couldn't even countain myself from touching myself like a fucking needy virgin?!" you couldn't take it anymore, so you spelled it out so he could make a move as soon as possible... because you knew very well: if you aren't honest with him and don't tell him what you desire, he will tease until you cry and beg desperately for him to touch you... and when that happens, J won't do anything until you admit it. That's how provocative and bastardous he was... but you loved it. J seemed pleased with your answer, since he grabbed you hardly by your hair and pushed you for a clumsily and rough kiss. You wanted to test his limits a little further, so when you felt his tongue against your lower lip, you didn't give him the permission to explore your mouth like he wished. By this, he bit your lower lip hard enough to draw some blood, showing how you couldn't be in control. If you even tried, you would suffer the consequences. You groaned while you tasted your own blood, seeing his face lighten once he saw and tasted the blood himself. His eyes were totally dark now, just like his soul and heart: you knew how much he loved pain and blood, something that was fully attached to his being.

"Ya really know how to make me crazy, Y/n. And ya know as well that has ah... price to pay, dontcha?" you simply nodded, wanting to feel the little pleasure he was giving to you. Suddenly you felt your neck being forcely grabbed by a gloved hand. "I want a strict answer." he said with a deep and low tone, making goosebumps all over your skin.

"Y-yes..." you moaned quietly.

"I couldn't hear ya. Yes what?" he asked even more serious now, pressing harder into your neck, but not enough to cut your air completely. The car door was still open, so if you spoke or moaned too loud, his men would hear you.

"Y-yes Sir!!" you shamelessly spoke loudly. J didn't closed the door for some reason, so why would you care?

"Hmm that's what I like to hear, my good little obedient girl..." he then rubbed his hips hardly into yours, moving his lips towards your neck while sucking and biting until it was red and purple. "You look amazing with those painted on ya, doll. The purple ah... suits you perfectly." he praised you, slowly moving to your already harden nipples. J grabbed your top and ripped it off, but you couldn't care less about it. Luckily, it wasn't your favorite. You didn't own a bra, grabbing his attention immediately. "Hmm someone hasn't been behaving like they should. Ya know what happens to ah... naughty and miss-behaving girls, dontcha doll? Huh?" he dangerously spoke, while pinching your nipples hard enough to give you immense pleasure and the right amount of pain.

"N-no sir, I don't..." you eagerly answered, afraid and excited at the same time about what it would happen next. He smirked at you, his yellow teeth now red from your blood, a view that would give nightmares to anyone, but it only made you wetter. J slowly approached you, whispering dangerously into your hear.

"They get punished." the only thing you knew was being brutally turned over, making your ass being exposed after he ripped your shorts as well.

"No, p-please sir!! I promise I will be a good girl..." you cried, which didn't affect him at all.

"Too late for apologies now, sweet cheeks." suddenly you felt a hard spank into your right ass cheek. "Count until five to me, doll. If ya don't, I will start over... you already know the rules." you knew you had to endure your punishment or it would be much worse. Obviously he was doing this because he knew you liked it as much as he did: if not, you would never be in the position you were right now. You didn't have a choice but to count every spank he gave you, involuntary missing on the fourth, which meant he would have to do everything over again.

"Five!!" you screamed, your ass now painted in red and some shades of purple. You felt the burning sensation so intensely, you could swear your butt was actually on fire. Yet you wouldn't complain, since you loved the feeling of burnt skin after his spankings. "P-please sir, just fuck me, I'm begging you!! I-I will do anything to please you, anything!!" you cried harder, both of you knowing those tears were nothing but a reaction of the pleasure you were feeling and wanted to feel. J thought for a moment if he should make you beg for him a little more, or have mercy. After all, he was just eager was you were, yet he loves to play with you first more than anything.

He suddenly pressed his cock against your dripping entrance, without give you time to adjust to him. It wasn't too much hard to take him, since you were so wet, he could slide inside you extremely easily. But that didn't prevent you from feeling the pain right after, when he grabbed your hips harder than ever and fucked you faster than the light itself. His nails were breaking your skin with each deep thrust he did, more blood flooding down your thighs. J thought in taking his knife to cut you, but he preferred to do it when the two of you were in your house by yourselves, where he had the whole time he needed to really play with you.

"F-fuck!! Please J, don't stop!!" he loved how easily it was to make you cum. You once told him in your first times it would take time for you to cum, because you were shy and insecure at the beginning. But ohh, how that changed... for better, surely. And you know he was the responsible for making you feel comfortable about it: J is the only man who gives you pure pleasure, without making you feel ashamed. After all, he is not a monster like everyone, incluinding batman, thinks. He's just... a man ahead of the curve.

He grabbed your hair forcely with his left gloved hand, while his right one came directly to rub your clit hard.

"Cum for me, you fucking slut. Show me how such a needy whore you are, let me feel ya squeeze my cock hard while I fuck ya until you can't fucking walk tomorrow." he groaned into your hear, his tone much lower than before. That was enough to make you cum right there, even if he wouldn't touch you at all.

"Ohh f-fuck, I'm gonna cum J!!" you moaned loudly before cumming hard on his thick, merciless cock. You felt his dick twisting inside you, while his pace became sloppy, faster and harder, a sign that he was about to cum.

"I'm going to fill that fucking tight pussy and you will keep my cum inside of ya, do ya hear me?!" he loudly demanded, wanting to hear your response before he cums.

"Y-yes sir!! I-I will keep every last drop of you inside me, please just cum inside me, please... I'm begging you!" and that was it. J came deeply inside you while groaning like a wild animal.

The two of you laid there to get some air, him being on top of you, supporting some of his height with his elbows to not crush you. You gently massaged his back in a comforting way, your code to let him know you enjoyed your moment and were okay, that he didn't hurt you badly.

"Wow, that was... amazing. I should come to your meetings more often." he laughed at this, finally looking into your eyes.

"Ya really aren't innocent as ya seem to be doll, and I really like to see that ah... sassy side of yours. We should discuss that after our... second round when we get back home, huh? I mean, if ya can be able to speak after that." you playfully punched him on his arm while laughing, already feeling excited again.

"We will see about that, then. Let's just get home now, can't wait for that promised second round." you winked at him, earning a big smirk from clown.

"I'm sure they know now that ya aren't just some ah... chick apart of the mission."

"Well, at least they know now that they don't have a chance with me, even if they tried." after hearing that, he kissed you passionately in his own way, grabbing your ass in the process, before moving to the front seat so he could drive home to where both of you will continue your so promised round two.

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