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bookishofalder · 3 years

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The Captain’s Error

Summary: Steve Rogers is protective over his bookworm friend, until an attack makes him realize he failed his one objective. The question is, will she forgive him?

Warnings; Fluff, angst, and then a bunch of great smut. Wrote this for a friend. WC: 7,144

You had your head in a book again. It was one of the more endearing things about you, had been what captured Steve’s attention when you started working for Stark. If you weren’t working, you lost yourself in whatever novel you were reading at the time, full stop. He was sure he had never seen you reading the same book twice, now that he thought about it. And he did think about you a lot.

And while as much as he loved the sight of you strolling the hallways of the compound with your brows slightly pinched, hips swaying, entirely focused as you consumed every genre imaginable, it also drove him a little crazy. Or a lot crazy, depending on the day.

Because Steve Rogers was first and always a protector, whether he carried the Captain America shield or not, and you were giving him a run for his money when it came to near accidents. Ranging in potential severity, it was like you were programmed clumsy. He wasn’t sure he could handle the burst of fiercely protective and equally jarring adoration that sprung up each time you walked into a wall or door, tripped, or hissed in pain from banging your hip off of a corner. He’d seen you tumble down the stairs once, though thankfully Clint happened to be coming up them at the time and managed to catch you before anything bad happened, before Steve could get to you and demand you just sit in a chair to read.

He wanted to beg you to quit the habit, at this point. He may be super due to the serum, but he was certain you would be the one thing that could kill him, the stress surely too great on his heart. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, though, not just because he didn’t want to overstep. He’d overheard you tell Nat, a few months prior, that you needed to stretch your legs a few times a day when you could get out of Tony’s lab and away from your work. Nat had joked that you needed a protector, in that case, because you were surely a liability Tony can’t have had coverage for.

And it was Nat’s simple statement, her joke, that gave Steve the great idea to be just that. Your protector. Whenever he reasonably could, he’d be there for you, organizing his days around your clockwork-like schedule so that when you took those walking while reading breaks, he was around. He convinced himself it was simply his duty-you were an important member of the team, and it was the least he could do. But then, the knowing looks his fellow Avenger’s would throw him, or the way his heart would threaten to beat out of his chest when you would stop to chat with him, kind of gave away that there was a selfish aspect to the self-designed arrangement.

He liked you. And after months of getting to know you better and better, with daily conversations that would lead to movie nights or walks around the compound, he eventually started to love you. It was easy as apple pie to fall in love with you, the resident hacker, hardworking and brilliant and funny as you were.

You’d recently developed a habit of bringing along the copy of the book you’d previously finished, tucked under your arm, and offering it to Steve to read. And while his preferred hobby was sketching-actually, Bucky was the reader of the two of them, he found himself eager to consume the ones you deemed good enough to pass along. Though he didn’t get through them anywhere near as quickly as you did, he found himself in his room alone most nights, flipping through pages that smelled faintly of you.

If you had ever caught on to the reason for his sudden consistent appearances during your lunch and afternoon breaks, you never commented. Sometimes, you had a pinch in your brow that told Steve you were focused on the story, and he would give you space, though the one time he’d tried to back away completely you’d caught his arm, sending electricity shooting through his body, and wordlessly beckoned him to walk with you. He liked those days as much as the ones where you would hold your book open, but rather than read hold long conversations with him, sometimes to discuss the books he’d borrowed, often to just talk about anything and everything.

Steve had learned so much about you. He knew you liked to paint, that you were a fan of the beach but only if you could go into the water, not fritter away on the beach hiding from the sun (because skin cancer, of course), that Autumn was your favourite season and you wanted a dog one day. Your favourite book was The Hobbit but you were a sucker for a good steamy romance. The more he learned, the more he fell if he was honest.

And it wasn’t onesided-as much as he preferred to talk about you, you asked your fair share of questions with a stunning abundance of delicacy, mindful of his history, his life, his differences. And while you sometimes teased him (like when he’d tell Tony to watch his language in front of ladies and he’d see you shoot him a little smirk for it) you never made fun of him, never made him feel like the old man he technically was. And it was like...like you could empathize better than others, maybe because of all the worlds and minds you lost yourself to in the pages of the books, you were better equipped to consider his perspective. To understand why he became self-critical when the world was counting on him, and then gently coaxing him out of his dark thoughts to offer him a different point of view or a reminder that he couldn’t carry the weight of the world alone.

But Steve didn’t feel alone when he was with you.

It was coming up on a year since his new daily routine with you had begun. He tried not to miss both of your breaks in the same day if he could help it, but sometimes duty called and as much as he missed you during missions, he knew he couldn’t skip on them just to follow you around. You would probably lose it if he did.

Though it was tempting to ask F.R.I.D.A.Y to keep an eye on you, he hadn’t, but it was tempting. It was early fall, the weather still warm but a slightly crisp edge to the breeze that seemed to act as a siren call to you, your feet always pattering away and out of the building to wander the compound’s property. But there were more obstacles outside, more hazards that had him imagining you upside down in the fountain or covered in poison ivy from a tumble near the thicket on the east side of the property.

He’d been quick to have Tony call in special landscapers when he’d thought of this, just to remove all dangerous plants. It was a service to everyone there, really.

Today, he couldn’t spend time with you, because Nat needed him for a mission to nab a Hydra agent that you had managed to uncover the whereabouts of. It was a few hours, tops, but he was boarding the Quinjet when he glanced around and watched you wander out the front doors, head in your book. The smirk on Nat’s face was enough to prevent him from running back down the ramp and instead turn to hit the ramp recall button. He was being over cautious-it was a bright day and there were plenty of others on the compound property who would notice if you had an extended absence from your lunch.

When he entered the cockpit, his friend opened her mouth to tease and Steve cut her off by raising his hand in a wordless request for silence on the subject. She merely laughed and made no further comment. It wasn't like he hadn’t already heard her opinion on the subject.

The HYDRA agent in question was one known to Nat, so Steve let her take the lead on capturing him while thoughts of you fluttered in the back of his mind. He did give her a look when she punched him an extra time, the broken-nosed agent's hands bound behind him as he was strapped into the Quinjet. She rolled her eyes but relented. Once back in the cockpit, however, she started on Steve- ‘Just tell her how you feel...ask her on a date...you really think she’d say no to Captain America?’

Ah, but that was the question, wasn’t it? Because whether one saw him as Steve Rogers or Captain America, the reality was that he was forever both, each at the same time, which meant that dating him came with a lot of baggage. He knew you well enough to know that you saw him first and foremost as your friend, Steve, but all the same, you were as aware as anyone of what his title meant to the world, the duty he had to fulfil and the dangers that came with that territory.

And if he was protective over you simply tripping over your own feet, it was nothing compared to the fierceness of his need to safeguard you from any and all threats. You were already a valuable target-no combat training or powers to speak of, but a big brain that did some seriously complicated and involved work for Tony Stark and the Avengers-throw dating one of them into the mix and you would be priority one. Whoever took you would own the team.

You lived on the compound for this very reason. At the initial insistence of Tony himself once he’d found you (you were skilled enough to cover your tracks in your underground hacking over the years, but eventually Stark caught up with you and begged you to join the team). You’d told Steve you’d resisted at first, believing you could work for Stark without needing to remove yourself from your studio apartment and the routine you had in your quiet life, but then Loki’s attack on New York had happened and you happily moved, keen to avoid being stomped on by aliens.

A call came through the Quinjet then, a screen appearing over the centre console and revealing Bucky’s face over the caller ID. Nat answered as Steve focused on bringing the jet into the air, punching in the coordinates home.

“Hey Buckaroo,” Nat quipped as Bucky came into view with a tense expression on his face. Seeing as he often looked like this, Steve paid no attention and simply called his greeting as he put the auto-pilot on. “What’s with the long face? And where are you?”

“First of all, you can call me Barnes, I don’t like you enough for nicknames,” He began, and Steve smiled at the banter as his eyes took in the unfamiliar background just insight over Bucky’s shoulder.

“Aww, and here I thought we were besties,”

Steve interjected, “Bucky, are you in a bookstore?” It wasn’t that it was odd to think of Bucky in such a place, it was just the combination of him calling and the fact that the shop was empty of patrons that caught his notice.

With a sigh, Bucky nodded, “Listen, Steve, she’s alright,” Bucky replied, and Steve narrowed his eyes as his mind started reeling over what exactly that meant. You were okay, but...?

“What happened?” His voice was harsh, and he saw Nat flinch out of the corner of his eye. Bucky knew him too well to not expect his response.

“Well she came out to this bookstore an hour ago, and I guess someone has been watching her when she leaves the compound. Knew she liked to come here,” Steve’s fists clenched as Bucky spoke, “They tried to grab her today but she hit the panic button on her phone and one of our operatives happened to be outside and saw the struggle. He interceded until Sam and I arrived.”

“Was she hurt?” He demanded, willing the Quinjet to move faster. They were only minutes from the compound, but every one felt extended and torturous now because even as Bucky assured him you were more shaken up than anything, Steve wouldn’t believe you were alright until he could see you.

He realized his greatest error, then. In his efforts to ensure he didn't overstep when it came to you, he allowed himself to ignore the instinct that you should, at the very least, be assigned a guard when leaving the compound. And now you’d nearly been taken because you thought it was safe to drive to a bookstore. After all, you weren’t (and really, he loved this about you) programmed to see danger at every corner. He was, and he’d allowed his feelings to cloud his judgement.

“Stop brooding, Steve, Bucky said she’s alright. Sam’s with her back home right now.”

He bristled immediately, “Doesn’t make it any less concerning though, Nat. Clearly, she’s on people’s radars now, we should already have implemented safety protocols for her! She isn’t trained to protect herself, she doesn’t even carry a weapon.”

He could see the compound now and relaxed marginally, running a hand over his face in an attempt to steady and ease his racing mind. After a long pause, Nat spoke up.

“I’ll train her, to defend herself and to use a weapon,” Nat suggested, and he glanced at her in surprise, “Yeah, I don’t mind, I like her, care about her. And we’ll talk to Tony, see what we can do about ensuring she has protection outside of the compound. I’m right in thinking she’s good while in the compound, eh Steve?”

He let out a broken laugh, shaking his head as Nat wiggled her brows suggestively at him. He had to give his friend credit, she did a good job of pulling him from his darker thoughts and refocusing him on the issue at hand. He needed to think of a way to thank her one of these days.

It had been a week since the attack and Nat had stayed true to her promise to train you. Now your lunch breaks were spent sparring with the redhead, who was teaching you the basics of hand to hand. Steve had been surprised at your excitement over the suggestion. Now he was pretty impressed with your willingness to learn.

When he’d found you upon returning to the compound, you were wrapped in a thick blanket on the couch of the main living room. Sam was handing you a cup of tea and Tony was on the phone from wherever he was, yelling his assurances that they’d find out who the culprit-currently locked in the compounds jail-worked for and nail them all to the wall. Steve had walked in just as Tony swore and interrupted Stark to remind him to watch his mouth.

You’d turned at the sound of his voice and given him a look so blatantly relieved that he simply pulled you into his chest and hugged you. When he heard your heart rate pick up in response, he told himself it was due to leftover adrenaline and not because of him.

Steve liked to come down to the gym and watch your sessions from a distance, though today there was an additional person in the room-Bucky. You and Bucky had always been close, happy to talk about books for hours on end, to banter and tease to the point where Steve had almost wanted to be jealous, only his best friend had pulled him aside a long time ago to tell him you reminded him of one of his younger sisters.

Now though, Bucky was there for a reason. He was dressed in gym clothes, his long hair tied back off of his face, and was currently waiting patiently as you repeated Nat’s instructions aloud while indicating where on Bucky you would be aiming for each maneuver. Steve realized Nat wanted you to learn to take on an attacker much stronger and bigger than you and internally agreed with the idea.

He smiled as he watched you, eager and almost hyper with focus and determination. Bucky was giving you a bemused sort of look as you repeatedly poked him in his flesh shoulder to illustrate a point. When Nat asked you if you were ready for Bucky to ‘attack’ you, your response was to fall into the relaxed stance with your back to him and give a vigorous nod.

This is where it became...complicated. Probably, it would have been best for Steve to sit this session out, or at least to have been warned of what was going to happen. And the thing was, he trusted Buck with his life. With your life, for that matter. But the moment his super-soldier best friend set his jaw and pressed up behind you, going into attack mode, Steve snapped.

He was moving forward before you’d even got past the first step in your offensive plan.

Being that Bucky was the only other super soldier in the room, he was the only one who knew Steve was watching. You and Nat were focused, Nat calling instructions to you, your head facing in the opposite direction he was storming over from. He grinned at Steve, immediately relaxing his stance and taking a half step back from you. While you turned around to question what Bucky was doing, Nat’s eyes found Steve.

“Well, shit.” She murmured, quiet enough that you probably hadn’t heard.

Bucky’s eyes were still on Steve, and he raised his hands in mock surrender while a knowing smirk tugged his lips up. You spun on your heel to see what he was looking at, just as Steve stepped onto the sparring mat. You had to tilt your head back to gaze up at him, a curious frown replacing your confusion when you saw the look on his face.

“Steve?”

He forced himself to smile, though he’d been tempted to give Buck a shove away from you. “I’m sorry to interrupt,” He replied, pulling his gaze from his friend to meet yours, “I was hoping to speak with you if you don’t mind?” He kept his tone light, actively working to relax because you hadn’t been in any real danger and he didn’t want to offend or upset you.

You hesitated, giving Steve a once over that told him you didn’t buy his friendly demeanour, before nodding, “Sure, excuse us, Bucky, Nat.” You said, sparing them barely a glance and missing the twin smirks they were both sporting.

“Thank you,” He gestured toward the exit and let you lead the way out of the room. He shot his friends each a glare over his shoulder, though they merely grinned at him, before returning his attention to you. Once in the hall, he wondered if he could have this conversation with you here, and hesitated.

Sensing his unease, you spoke up, “Can we go to your room?”

“Oh, yes,” He blinked, following you in the direction of the elevator. Once the doors closed, he asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to take you to the living quarters' floor and then fell silent, unsure of what to say now that he was calming down. He could sense you were mulling over a question and was proven right when you looked up at him.

“You’re upset with me.”

He glanced down at you in surprise, his heart stuttering at the sad look on your face. “No,” He said truthfully, and although he stayed rooted to the spot, he brought his hand up to rest on your lower back gently, “Not even a little bit, darling. I’m sorry if I gave you that impression.”

He took a deep breath as you nodded, and had to focus his mind. Being a super-soldier increased his senses, and those abilities didn’t just come into play in the field. His taste, sight, sense of smell, hearing, were always advanced, on, and in moments like this, it could be difficult to focus on just one. He could smell you, the fading scent of your shampoo, the sweat on your skin, and a sweet scent he couldn’t quite place. He could also hear your heart beating, and didn’t miss the way it stuttered when he placed his hand on your back, nor did he fail to hear the slight intake of breath you had taken.

It could be too much, at times. It had taken some time to learn how to focus himself. To find grounding tricks that helped keep him from being overstimulated. But around you, it was another story and he hadn’t quite figured out how to relax around you yet.

And it didn’t help matters that you were reacting to Steve more and more in the close confines of the elevator; your pupils were dilating, your heart rate was increasing, and fuck, that sweet smell was increasing and it was driving him...a little feral.

It was a relief when the doors opened, pulling in a wave of fresh air that cleared his head enough to remember to move forward. He walked to his room with you in silence, clearing his throat at the door, which opened at his command, then followed you in. He remained next to the door, though you continued into the living room that separated open space from his bedroom. You looked around, eyes widening in surprise when you saw him so far away.

“You better not be about to give me really bad news, Steve,” You quipped, arching a brow at him and crossing your arms. “Seriously, who’s dying?” And here he had hoped that by giving you space, he would be easing any discomfort you might have with the situation.

He laughed at your words, grateful as ever that you seemed to understand him and knew how to diffuse the thick tension better than he ever could. Moving further into the room, Steve made a point of keeping his distance from you, almost edging around the space to give you a clear path to the door. You frowned as you noticed this gesture, your eyes narrowing, but did not comment.

“Can I be honest with you about something?” He finally asked, hands on his hips. You nodded and he continued. “I’m very...I care about you, a lot, darling. And I’m protective of you, and seeing you sparring with Bucky just-well, I didn’t like it.”

Your brows rose in surprise as he spoke, nearly disappearing into your hairline, and he worried he was doing a poor job of this. He faltered, unsure of how to properly explain without overstepping.

“You don’t trust Bucky?” You said, knowing the answer but pulling Steve from his silence all the same.

“Of course I do, and I know you can handle yourself. I’ve been watching all week.”

You held his gaze, your arms crossing over your chest, “Good, because once I’m done with Bucky I know Sam wanted to join in, and I’m pretty sure Tony could take a turn with the suit, see if I can handle taking punches from Iron Man-“

“Okay, enough, please,” He pleaded, each image in his mind of you fighting against men who could snap your neck in the blink of an eye now causing him great distress, “I promise it’s not about...about...”

You tilted your head, and even from across the room he could hear your heartbeat pick up a little as you took in his reaction. “Come on, Stevie, be honest with me here.” You finally said, worry flashing over your pretty face.

“I can’t-that is, I don’t like seeing you have to train like this because of my failings. You shouldn’t have to be spending your spare time-“

“You agreed to this from the start, Steve. Nat offered basic training because of MY mistake, not because of you!” You were stepping closer now, eyes never leaving his.

Steve nodded, swallowing heavily, “I did agree, yes, but you didn’t make any mistakes, darling. Everything that happened, that could have happened to you, that’s on me. I should be keeping you safe and I,” He closed most of the gap, now standing just inches from you as you gazed up at him with wide eyes, “I failed you, before, I let my...my feelings get in the way of my better judgement. You should have already had a security detail, then you’d never had been assaulted in the first place. I’m so sorry I let you down, darling. I’ll never forgive myself.”

You gaped up at him and Steve didn’t even blink, eager to watch every expression cross your face as you absorbed his words. His heart was about to jump out of his chest, but somehow he already felt a little lighter for what he’d confessed.

“Steve,” You finally broke the silence, speaking slowly, “You could never let me down. But I...you need to tell me what you mean, w-what feelings?”

Perhaps, had he not been keenly aware of your racing heart, your shallow breathing, he might have faltered, edged the conversation to more neutral grounds. Because admitting how he felt about you was terrifying, even as you looked at him softly.

“I love you,” He replied, the words bursting out of him and he saw the delight flash across your face before he even finished, “I’m in love with you, and I should have told you sooner. You were attacked the other day because I thought I was overreacting by thinking you should have security. I didn’t want you to be unhappy, either, so I made a bad call. Please tell me you’ll forgive me.”

“Did you just say...shit, Steve, of course, I forgive you-there’s nothing to forgive, really,” You were speaking quickly, your cheeks flushing. “I probably would have resisted having security before being attacked, if I’m being honest. Also-“ You suddenly cut yourself off, reached up and grabbed the back of Steve’s neck, drawing him down and crashing your lips to his.

You caught him off guard, but he barely fumbled, immediately kissing you back, one hand gripping your waist, sliding the other to cup your jaw. You pressed your whole body to Steve’s like you’d been wanting to do it for a long time and now that you didn’t have to hold back, you weren’t going to. He couldn’t help it then, he gathered you close in his arms and simply lost himself in you in those moments, the way you tasted, the softness of your lips, the sound of your heart thrumming like a hummingbird. The underlying sweet scent he was becoming more and more aware of.

Steve would have been content to remain like this, exactly here; holding you in his arms while his tongue traced over your lips and you parted them for him to lick into your mouth, your hands gripping his shoulders hard enough that were he not a super soldier, you might have left some bruises. He was a man from a time when it would take a few dates before a kiss even close to resembling this intensity could occur. He hadn't forgotten that part of himself. The part which demanded a sense of propriety, to treat you like the lady you were. To bring you flowers and write you letters and hope you’d say yes to another date, and then another, never lingering on the doorstep too long at the end of the night, and certainly not coming in for drinks.

But you weren’t from that era, and maybe that was one of the reasons he loved you; you were strong-willed and quick-witted, a woman more than capable of handling herself and making her own decisions. Even though you walked into walls and tripped over your own feet, Steve saw your strength and the depths of which you held empathy and kindness for others.

He thought he had an idea of who you were, now, after all this time as close friends.

However, when you traced a hand along his jaw and then let slip a quiet, needy moan, Steve Rogers quite literally came undone at your fingertips.

The kiss morphed then, a little more rough, teeth clashing as you struggled to pull in air but refused to pull away, your fingers sinking into his hair and gripping. He growled, a low rumble because the shift of your body let loose another wave of the scent of your sweet arousal and it assaulted his hyper-senses, his length straining painfully in his shorts, pressed between your bodies.

“St-Steve, I love you too” He grinned as happiness filled him. You sighed heavily when he pulled away only to move his lips down your neck, sucking the skin gently as he went. He moved slowly despite the desperation he felt to have more of you, to give you all of himself, and you seemed to read his mind and understand exactly what he needed to hear-your permission if you so wished. “More, Steve, please. I want you.”

“Fuck,” He groaned, because he knew you meant it and hearing it out loud was almost too much, he couldn’t be this lucky, this trusted. How could he have earned the right to touch you so? As if sensing his turmoil, you suddenly tugged at Steve’s shirt and he let you guide him...straight past his couch and through the open door to his bedroom.

If that wasn’t clear enough permission, Steve didn’t know what would be. With renewed passion, he picked you up and deposited you onto his bed, climbing over top your body and simply drinking in the sight of you, still clothed; sweaty and needy and beautiful, your hair fanned to one side across his duvet, and your hips-

Shit, your hips were rutting up into his, desperately seeking friction.

“Am I-I neglecting you, darling?” He breathed, face just next to yours. You shuddered as his warm breath brushed over your ear, then let out a moan when he placed a hand on your hip, stilling you.

“Stevie, please,” You whispered, and he loved the way you bit your lip, how your pupils were blown wide in desire. And as much as he wanted...everything, with you, he also kind of enjoyed teasing you. He saw no reason to rush, and he was going to take good care of you now.

“Something that doesn’t get spoken of,” He began, leaning his weight onto one elbow so that he could trace his free hand across your body. Skipping the most sensitive bits and making a point of touching only your thin gym clothing, “Is how the enhanced abilities of super-soldiers like me don’t just apply to battle.”

He let that sit between you, watching your face as you trembled under his touch before your eyes snapped up to meet his in surprise. “Like, you can hear my heart beating?” You asked, your face flushing even more than it already had been, heat rolling off of you in waves.

Steve nodded, lips tugged into a confident smirk, “Exactly. Among other things,” He brought both hands to the top of your leggings, hooking his thumbs in. He started to drag them down, “I can smell you, darling, how worked up you are. You smell amazing, you know.” The leggings came off and your hips moved again as you let out the filthiest little moan at his words.

“Fuck,” You were trying to push down your panties. Steve gripped them in his hand, bunching the fabric and, with no real effort, tore them off of you. He’d buy you more. You giggled then, as he tossed the torn remains behind him and then brought his lips back to yours, meeting you in another passionate kiss.

Once he had you distracted with his lips, he quickly slid his hand over your thigh and down your now very wet pussy, moving between your folds to dip two fingers inside of you. Groaning, Steve instinctively rutted his hips into the bed, his erection impossibly hard now. You whimpered, clenching around him as he teased you with slow, come-hither motions with his fingers. He moved his thumb to your clit and experimented gently, seeking out the right way to...yes, there it was.

“Steve!” You cried out, hips bucking as he brought you to the edge. Steve was enraptured by every expression, every sound you made. You were more than beautiful, you were everything.

“That’s it, darling,” He whispered into your ear, panting from arousal, “You feel so good, don’t you? I’ll take care of you. You can let go.”

You whined a little, eyes rolling and your hands now gripping the fabric of his shirt tightly, and he felt the first wave of your orgasm as your body stiffened before your head fell back and you let out a loud yell of his name as you came. He slowed his movements but didn’t stop, drawing the bliss out for as long as he could as you trembled and jerked in his arms. Even when you collapsed back into the bed, he kept going, until a stutter in your heart rate gave way to your overstimulation and he eased back with a grin.

“S-shit,” You gasped, your eyes opening and seeking his, “How the fuck did you do that?”

Steve chuckled, his brows knitting together in confusion, “Do what?”

You seemed to grapple for words, then gestured vaguely at your lower half, “Steve you made me cum with just-just your fingers! I can’t even do that!”

“Then how do you...”

“My vibrator, but after what you just did I don’t think I’ll be able to look at it the same now.”

Steve laughed loudly, then sat up and pulled his shirt off, eager to feel your skin against his. You watched him, eyes wide in anticipation. “You feel alright, darling? We can stop, just say the word.” He reached down and stroked your cheek affectionately. Focusing on your comfort helped Steve keep from becoming overwhelmed by you, your smell, your heartbeat, the fucking look in your eyes.

Your hand covered the back of his, holding it against your cheek firmly, “I never want to stop, Steve,” And then, before he could process the want in your tone, “Can I touch you?”

He groaned, jumping off the bed to tear off his shorts and briefs, baring himself completely to you. Automatically, his hand fell to grip his length, and then he tuned back into you on the bed. Your breath had caught, and Steve looked toward you in time to see your jaw drop, eyes on his body. “You didn’t say please.” He joked, and your eyes flicked up to meet his, a smirk tugging your lips up.

You sat up then, shucking off your shirt and bra before his eyes, “Please?” You said softly, tossing your clothes aside. Now it was Steve’s turn to gape as he drank in your every curve, “Please, Stevie, can I touch you?” You licked your lips. Fuck.

“Yeah,” He breathed, struck momentarily dumb, but when you giggled he realized he stood frozen at the edge of the bed. Clearing his throat, Steve sank to his knees on the bed next to you and pulled you against him, dipping his head down, “Touch me.” He whispered, then pressed his lips to yours.

You moaned into his mouth, swallowing his when your hand found his length and gripped him, stroking slowly. His hips bucked in response and Steve quickly brought his hands to your hips, holding you tight against him as he lowered you back onto the bed. Laying over you, Steve eased your legs apart and settled between them, his cock resting against your thigh. He broke the kiss and met your gaze again.

“I want you. I trust you.” You promised, your hand tilting him toward your core, “Please Steve, I want you so badly.”

“Fuck. Darling, you gotta tell me if anything is too much, alright?” You nodded, your hips now wriggling desperately. He drove his hips forward then, slowly parting your folds and sinking into you in one motion. “Oh, darling...” He sighed, eyes on your face.

“Steve!” You whimpered, and he could feel you clenching around him even as he stilled, waiting for you to adjust to him. You wrapped your legs around him, signalling he could move, and Steve started a slow pace, dragging in and out of you.

Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, Steve closed his eyes and focused-first, on the feel of you around him, of your curves pressed into his body, then onto the sound of your heart beating, the way the air puffed out of your lungs in little half gasps. He moved without thought, using you as a guide to decide his pace, happy to draw as many moans from you for as long as possible. He felt you rolling your hips slowly, the movement sinking him into you deep on each downward thrust, and he grunted at the perfection of the sensation.

“How do you feel?” His voice was a breath in your ear. He had propped himself up with one arm and now ran the other down the length of your torso, pausing at every curve to grip your soft flesh. You moaned out each time he did, your walls clenching him tighter. “Because I’ve never felt so good in my entire life, darling. You’re perfect.”

Whimpering again, your hands sliding over the muscles of his broad chest before coming to hold his shoulders. “S-so good, Stevie, I can’t fucking stand it, you feel so good,” Your back arched slightly and Steve dropped his mouth to your breasts, taking turns between them to lick over your nipples. You sunk one of your hands into his hair, pulling his face against your body, and then cried out and the same moment he heard your heartbeat swell, “I’m going t-to, oh shit, shit!”

“That’s right, come for me, let go again beautiful,” Steve sighed in content in the brief moment before you toppled over the edge, your barely open eyes meeting his before snapping shut.

Your entire body went rigid as you came, your cunt clenching viciously around Steve, begging him to follow you but he resisted, pulling his head from your chest to watch your face. The expressions that flashed over you, the way your lips parted to let out a continuous stream of moans and curses, were enough to drive him beyond wild. The resulting increase in wetness made it fractionally easier for him to move within you.

You were panting heavily, your body relaxing back into the bed and Steve pinned you there with his slowly thrusting hips. You sounded wrecked when you spoke moments later. “Need to take care of you, let me please,” You begged him, pushing at him.

Steve met your eyes, unsure of what you meant, “What do you want, sweet girl?”

He felt you trying to rotate your hips to no avail, pinned by his strength, “I know y-you’re holding back, I can take it. Please, Stevie, fuck me, I can take-“

Steve almost came at your desperate plea and stopped moving, taking a moment to gaze at you in wonder, before pulling back. With quick, careful movements he lifted you off the mattress. Walking on his knees, he held you in his arms, still buried inside of you, until he had your back pressed against the wall at the head of his bed.

He growled then, dropping his hands to roughly hold the flesh of your hips and then beginning a ruthless pace, pounding into you over and over as you cried out for more and he was fairly certain he’d never known pleasure such as this. You were trembling, letting his strength hold you against the wall, your hands now both clinging to his hair, drawing his face to yours to kiss, tongues fighting each other for dominance.

It was the hottest fucking thing. You were the sexiest, most beautiful fucking woman and it only took a minute more to find his release, pleasure rippling up his back before he slammed you into the wall-one hand cradling your head protectively, and roared your name as he filled you. He came long and hard, easily the best orgasm of his life. “Fuck, fuck,” He gasped, kissing along your jaw before nibbling down your neck, his thrusts sloppy and slow now as he floated down to reality.

It was already easier for Steve to focus on you, his sense reaching out to ensure you were alright before he managed to lift his head and look at you. His serum-infused body was fairly unaffected by the physical aspects, he wasn’t sweating, hadn’t tired. But he was panting a little from the overwhelming intensity of his orgasm. You on the other hand were like Jell-O now, limp in his arms, body quivering and breathing erratic. When he finally looked up, his cock twitched at the blissed-out expression on your face, earning him another little moan as you felt him still hard inside of you.

“Good girl,” He breathed out, holding you steady. He eased out of you slowly, watching as your tight heat leaked out a mixture of fluids. You smelled heavenly, even with the layer of sweat, and he was tempted to lower you onto the bed and taste you. The small whimper you gave, however, warned Steve that you needed to be taken care of.

And so he took care of you, carrying you into his bathroom and helping you to the toilet, leaving you alone for a minute to run to his mini-fridge and pull out a cold glass bottle of water. You were attempting to stand when he walked back in, and Steve quickly put his arms around you, pressing the bottle into your hand, all while whispering sweet nothings to you. Words of praise, of love, comfort, encouraging you to drink the water and then, once he was satisfied with the decent amount you gulped back, he took you to his overlarge bathtub.

It was there that he spent the next hour, holding you in his arms in the warm water, his hands tracing over every curve and dip of your perfect body. You lay content and sleepy in his arms, your slow and steady heart rate enough to tell him you were relaxed until eventually, he thought you were about to fall asleep when you seemed to catch yourself, head raising from his chest.

“Stevie?” You whispered, your voice a little scratchy from overuse.

He brushed his hand over your face gently, smiling down at you, “Yes, darling?”

“Does this mean you’ll be training me from here on out? Because I have some ideas of scenarios and maneuvers I’d like to try...”

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider leaving a comment or reblogging to ease my inner turmoil as a writer 🤍

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niqhtlord01 · 3 years

Text

Humans are weird: Shock Troops Part II: The Drop

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

If there is one thing to be said about the age of interstellar travel it would be that it be impossible without the aid of the space gate network.

The space gates comprised of several hundred ancient machines scattered around the cosmos that formed a three dimensional network allowing near instant travel between star systems normally thousands of light years apart. Many of these machines were often located in empty space at the edges of their local systems, but the one in the Hodun system was situated directly over the planet of Hodun Prime and was considered to be the gate to the inner sphere worlds of the Tempish Ascendancy.

Considered to be one of the mightiest governing bodies of the era, the Tempish Ascendancy was a highly efficiently monarchy protected by a near fanatical well-armed and trained military. Their rise to power is often credited to the fact that the Temp people controlled the only space gate for several neighboring systems. With this level of control the Tempish people expanded, either through diplomatic undertakings or military campaigns, into those other systems and quickly incorporated them into their domain. Within a couple of generations the Tempish population was the dominant species on these worlds firmly placing them under their control. From here they had expanded through the space gate; an expansion that eventually led straight to the doors of humanity.

How the war started has been debated and refuted a dozen times and then again a dozen times more, but the end result always comes to the war that erupted between humanity and the Tempish. Each time humanity felt it was on the cusp of victory the Tempish would flee to Hodun Prime and through the space gate back to their territory to recoup only to reemerge several months later and begin the war anew. This back and forth had continued for over a decade as humanity lacked the needed manpower to secure Hodun Prime and in turn launch an invasion of the inner sphere. This tide of fortune for the Tempish soon turned when humanity made peace with several other factions it had been at war with and finally could turn its full attention to the Tempish Ascendancy.

The space gate in orbit above Hodun Prime was controlled by a secure facility on the planet’s surface. Surrounded by near impregnable walls, shield towers, orbital cannons, and a legion of the best trained soldiers the Tempish military had; the facility was able to deny access to the space gate to any ship that was not Tempish. Furthermore, when humanity had in the past launched raids to secure the facility in the past the facility would send out a distress signal through the space gate to the inner sphere worlds were a waiting support fleet would respond and jump through the gate and arrive over Hodun Prime within the hour. This threat of being assaulted by both ground and space forces had deterred further attempts to secure the facility until only recently when a specialized regiment became available for deployment. -----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ripja strode into the command chamber and ran a glance along the tactical displays lining the walls. He passed between rows of consoles to either side of him each controlling a vital system to Hodun Prime’s defense; each one now blaring warning sounds and baring red marks of imminent danger. Several of the soldiers stood to salute Ripja but he waved them away. Now was not the time to stand on ceremony.

“Report” Ripja asked as he approached the center of the room. There stood a large table displaying a three dimensional hologram of the planet and the orbiting space gate currently surrounded by the high command and their aides. Several icons were scattered around the planet listing military positions, outposts, defense sectors, and more.

His second in command, Kempid, approached and tapped a data wand against the table. A rash of red icons suddenly appeared in orbit of the planet directly above the command facility they now stood in.

“Roughly ten minutes ago three human ships exited the space gate directly over us.”

Before Kempid could provide more information the entire room was filled with warning alarms.

“Enemy bombardment incoming!” one of the console operators called out.

Within moments Ripja could hear a noise reverberating throughout the entire room. It was faint and sounded distant and yet there was no mistaking it.

“Shields are holding.” Another attendant called out.

“Send the signal to the fleet in the inner sphere,” Ripja said to one of the waiting aides, “we need reinforcements now.”

With that they scurried off to the communications bank and transmitted the signal while Ripja took a closer look at the holographic display.

Fiddling with the controls he enhanced the image in orbit and focused in on the human vessels. Two were cruiser class by their ship design and the third was a troop carrier of some kind. The cruisers were using their heavy cannons to lay down a withering barrage of plasma focused directly on the shields surrounding the space gate facility.

“This doesn’t make sense.” Ripja stated, making some of the nearby command staff turn to listen as he began pacing around the table. “They must know two ships can’t breach our shields, and our guns can’t fire so long as our shields are up.” He stopped his pacing and magnified the enemy fleet once again, this time showing a live feed from one of their orbiting stealth satellites.

The two cruisers had positioned the troop carrier between them while the bombardment was ongoing and appeared to have achieved a stable orbit. As he was pondering this defensive nature he noticed through the feed several of the hangar bay doors of the troop ship slowly opening.

In silence several dozen landing craft shot out from the troop ship and began heading towards the surface. To his amazement the landing craft were not arcing away from the orbital bombardment but instead were flying directly through it; their tiny craft veering and swerving in-between the human orbital fire like insects flying through the rain.

“They must be insane!” Kempid said as he came over and saw what had enthralled Ripja.

“Clever.” Ripja spoke as he motioned another aide over. “They’re using their orbital fire to disable our anti air capabilities while they land their forces.”

As the aide approached Ripja shrunk the hologram to only highlight the main command facility and the space directly above it. Already the red icons of the landing craft were appearing one after another as they raced towards the facility.

“Lower the shields in the south quadrant of the facility and have our orbital guns begin firing on the cruiser on the left.”

“But sir,” the aide spoke hesitantly, “that will leave that quadrant exposed to their fire.”

“They won’t change their target.” Ripja pointed to the central facility currently the focus of the human bombardment. “They need their bombardment to silence our own anti air cannons; if they deviate even for a moment it will give us a window to shoot down their landing craft.”

The aide nodded and moved aside to relay the new order while Ripja motioned Kempid over.

“Deploy all air squadrons and have them engage the human landing craft.” He said as he highlighted the leading ships. “I do not want one of them touching down on our soil unless it is a burning wreck.”

“Our pilots won’t be able to fly thro-“ Kempid began before Ripja grapped him by the throat and pulled him over to the hologram.

“The humans are flying through it!” he softly snarled at Kempid, “Get. Them. In. The. Air.”

“As you wish.” Gasped Kempid as Ripja let him go. “Command to all air wings, deploy and repel enemy landing craft.”

Within minutes a rash of new blue icons from landing fields surrounding the main facility were lighting up as dozens of combat air wings took to the skies. As he watched them take flight he also saw the shield in the south lower and the retaliatory fire commence against the human fleet.

Several cannons fired at once and impacted the left cruiser, its shields flashing bright blue in the cold void. As the retaliation strikes continued Ripja noticed that even though the fire wasn’t piercing the shields it was altering the human bombardment. The angle of the shots was being offset by the Tempish fire moving the cruiser and as a result the landing craft were thrown into a chaotic descent.

If Ripja had to guess the humans had coordinated specific flight paths to navigate the orbital bombardment fire to ensure their craft weren’t hit by friendly fire. Now however the paths were changing and the human landing craft were flying straight into their own bombardment and shattering.

Ripja let a faint smirk cross his lips as he watched the enemy icons slowly blip out one by one. Soon they will be forced to retreat and the day will be ours, he thought to himself. He watched the hologram waiting for the moment, waiting for the first ship to turn tail and flee back to the troop carrier in orbit, waiting for the enemy to flee the system in defeat, waiting for yet another achievement for his military record.

Waiting…..

Waiting….

The smirk vanished from Ripja’s face as he continued to watch in astoundment as the human landing craft did not flee, but instead sped up directly for his command facility.

Even when the Tempish air wings finally swooped in and began picking off the seemingly defenseless landing craft they still kept coming. By the count now the landing craft had suffer 37% casualties and they still had not even reached the planet’s surface.

Ripja watched in horror as even through the orbital strikes, even though the wings of fighter craft picking them off with every pass, even with another 15% of casualties the humans still kept coming until finally the moment Ripja had never thought possible happened.

The humans landed on Hodun Prime.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #story

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skellebonez · 3 years

Text

Why Worry At All?

I had so much trouble writing certain parts of this out for some reason, which makes no sense to me because I chose to write this on my own without a prompt. But I finally nailed out the in between parts that were giving me trouble! So... Billy Kametz can sing, huh?

Xiaotian knew what they were hearing. They knew it!

They'd heard Xiaojiao before and she wasn't that deep. They'd never heard Sandy but he had to sound much deeper if he could. Tang and Pigsy were out of the question, Tang couldn’t hold a tune to save his life and Pigsy never did more than hum at a much different octave. It couldn't have been Wukong, he'd still been asleep from overexerting himself in their last fight.

So that only left Macaque as the one who could have been singing outside the med bay door.

“But then I guess we know there’s blame to share... and none of it seems to matter anymore...”

It was such a soft tune, something that Xiaotian barely recognized from a video online he watched long ago. Maybe something Xiaojiao had shown him. Something soft and gentle, which made no sense given the possible culprit. Or the fact he heard it being sing just outside his mentor’s room while he was checking on him. But he was hearing it through the door nonetheless. Almost whisper like in how soft it was, it was too weak to have been heard belted from a distance, and muttered almost a bit off tune. That only left it being from someone right outside the door. But why not just come inside?

Unless the singer, who again Xiaotian was certain was Macaque, didn’t want anyone- even Sun Wukong- to know it was them who was singing and they didn’t realize that anyone was in the room with the power drained immortal.

So, like anyone who heard a mysterious singing voice would do, they pulled out their phone and started recording.

The song only lasted for another few seconds before silence, and then the almost deafening in comparison sound of running footsteps.

And as Xiaotian looked down at the recording on the phone, less than even 20 seconds in length, they were struck by a realization.

“... I can use this.”

“Well well well,” Macaque said with a chuckle, turning to face the person who joined him on the deck of the self piloting drone ship. Just where they knew he would be at this hour of the morning. “Didn’t take you for a morning person, kid.”

“I’m not,” Xiaotian grumbled, hair down and unkempt and clearly barely brushed just to keep it out of their face. "But I wanted to check on Wukong after what happened yesterday.”

This made the other’s fur stand up and his tail tense, though whether this was because he realized what Xiaotian meant or of it brought his mind back to the fight of the day prior they couldn’t tell. The fight that, for some reason, Macaque left himself vulnerable during. That left him wiped out and barely able to move out of the way of an oncoming attack. That make Sun Wukong rush in and save him much to the surprise of everyone involved, Macaque himself included.

The fight that Xiaotian was beginning to think was going to change a lot more than just knowing the de-powered duo’s limits.

“You’re going to be honest with me for once.” they proposed, joining the immortal monkey at the guard railing he casually leaned against.

“What makes you think I’m going tell you anything?” Macaque asked, chuckling boastfully and smirking that damn smug smirk he’d been wearing almost every minute since he had been taken onto the ship.

The longer Xiaotian saw it the faker it seemed to be.

“Oh, I dunno... maybe this?” They rebutted, pulling out their phone and hitting play on the open audio file they had pulled up long before the conversation, and they watched with their own smirk as a look of surprise and then horror and then something akin to “resigned but impressed” flashed on the ancient demon’s face.

After hearing the other speak there was no doubt that the two voices were identical now.

“Qi Xiaotian,” Macaque said, an almost cat like smirk gracing his face. This one seemed slightly more honest than the last one. “I didn’t take you for a blackmailer. Maybe I did have an influence on you after all.”

“Why were you singing this outside Wukong’s room?” Xiaotian asked, not in the mood for playing the other’s games this early in the morning. “Why were you trying to hide it? Why did you not realize I was in there? And...” He gestured to his phone, the soft gentle sounds of an almost uncharacteristically sweet song playing through his speakers. “What the hell is this song!?”

“Alright alright,” Macaque said, holding up his hands before he leaned forward on the railing. “No need to give the the third degree, great hero. It’s just a song I heard online.”

“You know how to use the internet?”

Turning his head, Macaque leveled the other with a very over exaggerated wilting gaze of disbelief. “I am honestly offended you’d think I wouldn’t learn how to.”

The tone of voice he had did not give the impression that Macaque even gave a shit, but Xiaotian muttered an apology regardless, to which the other simply laughed at.

“There’s this guy... Bill something? Kinds sounds like me, you know. Found him by chance one day and just kinda looked for all his songs and memorized them a long time ago out of boredom.” He shrugged, a distant far off look on his face. “Almost considered just being a copy cat voice for him once, way before I found out where our great King was, but I never followed through with that. Shame, though, knowing I’m on par with Broadway. Probably could have snagged a pretty decent amount of yuan from desperate fans. Don’t really have much use for money, though so eh.”

He shrugged, and for once he sounded... honest. Just honest.

“I wasn’t really trying to hide it, not from you anyway. Just... didn’t wanna deal with Wukong waking up and hearing me sing for the first time after. Ya know.” He waved his hand with another shrug. “History and all that. It was just a moment I had with myself, nothing more.”

Xiaotian took particular note that he avoided one particular question.

“You’re awful open about all this stuff,” the Monkie Kid mused, the two of them watching the horizon slowly move under the drone ship as the sun rise continued. Everyone else would be getting up soon enough. “Even for blackmail.”

“It’s not really effective blackmail,” Macaque admitted after a moment, tail lazily swishing behind him. “Not content wise, anyway. I was bound to be heard eventually no matter how much I hid. Think of this as more a... reward for you being able to catch me unaware. Take a lot of skill to do that with my ears.”

“I know most of your powers are gone too,” Xiaotian said bluntly, dropping the real piece of information he was here to hold over the other’s head out in the open, and that got Macaque to freeze instantly. “Not like ours are but... I dunno. I didn’t really think that far ahead. But if you still had most of them we wouldn’t be talking right now. You ran away instead of just whooshing into the shadows I know were in the hall. You’ve been wearing earplugs since we let you stay, I saw Sandy give them to you and you’re even wearing them right now, but even with your hearing dulled you would have been able to know I was in that room. You’ve been walking through doors instead of just vanishing. I don’t think I’d seem you walk through one except for at the shadow play before last week, and that was obviously to get my attention. I don’t think I’ve seen you make a clone or transform either, or manipulate a single shadow. Why not flaunt your powers over us, knowing we don’t have ours since you’ve made a point to annoy us about our lost abilities, unless you don’t have yours too?”

The elder said nothing, only growled and glowered out at the horizon before letting out a deep sigh.

“You really are a good kid,” he said with a humorless chuckle. “Smart, too, when actually you put your mind to stuff. But you’re only half right.”

“What do you mean?” Xiaotian asked in shock, amazed that the other was even still admitting to anything point blank at this point.

“I still have all my powers, it’s just... Not a good idea for me to use them too much,” he said vaguely, shrugging his shoulders and turning to walk away from the young man in a way that clearly indicated this line of conversation was over with. “I know you can keep a secret, kid, so do me a favor. Keep quiet about this.”

That same humorless chuckle, the one the young man now realized was more common from the demon’s mouth than not, sounded as he stepped into the forming shadows of the driver’s post from the rising sun and seemed to fall and melt into the floor in an instant.

Xiaotian couldn’t help the flinch that ran through their body at the implications of that final sentence. His training of Xiaotian. The second meeting. The Calabash.

The White Bone Spirit...

“Asshole,” Xiaotian muttered under their breathe, taking the door instead.

The very first thing Xiaotian was greeted with when they entered the communal kitchen was low and muttered but still the less than whispered tune of a song by a pop punk bank from overseas.

“Why do we worry at aaaaall,” Macaque sang just loud enough for everyone around him to hear, the baffled and in some cased impressed faces of everyone (barring the presumably still resting Wukong) looking in his direction as he seemingly ignored them to prepare his own fruit based breakfast. “Why, just tell me why do we worry? When worries never happen tell me why, why worry at all?”

When Macaque turned to look at Xiaotian he smirked almost playfully, winking at him.

And the only thing that ran through Xiaotian’s head was “there goes half of my blackmail... asshole.”

Though... when he looked closer...

Macaque seemed oddly tired.

Did he have the dark bags under his eyes during their conversation before?

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #mk #qi xiaotian #sun wukong #monkey king #six eared macaque #kinda sorta part of my s3 fic series #still debating on that #i wanted to work in the aladdin musical since billy was aladdin in that but i couldn’t find a song i liked #so i went with the joke/headcanon me and a few others on discord made about Set It Off being Macaque The Band #this isn't intended to be read as shadowpeach specifically but feel free to read it that was if you like!

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billiewena · 3 years

Text

since I never made a post for these, here are all of MY ideal endings for sam (and how I would do them) that I spite-wrote after a coworker told me about how perfect his finale was <3

HUNTER NETWORK ENDING: Sam establishes an official network for the American hunters, leading a new generation of hunters as the antithesis of John Winchester. One of the final shots is a montage of all the hunters working and saving people all across the country, proving the Winchesters are no longer alone in the world.

SAMWITCH ENDING: Sam becomes a full-fledged witch thanks to all the magic supplies he inherited from Rowena and blends hunting/witch shenanigans. He can still be powerful but now he gets to choose where that power comes from. Okay this is basically Goldenrod Revisions, leave me alone.

SEPARATE WAYS ENDING: Sam and Dean both alive but living / hunting apart, going their separate ways like a parent and child who is finally leaving the nest. Sam gets the independence he always wanted while also getting to keep his brother in his life, because this is the ultimate proof that Dean trusts him. For the first time, they can move on without the reason being the other is dead. They no longer doubt they will always be there for each other even if they’re not living under the same roof anymore. The episode ends with Sam breaking into Dean’s [insert post-finale residence of choice here] in a callback to the pilot, saying he was in the area for a hunt. The last lines are Sam asking if he wanted to reunite for the hunt for old’s time sake and Dean saying “looks we got work to do.”

PODCASTER ENDING: Sam starts a podcast about the supernatural discussing urban American legends, myths, and mysteries that also helps viewers know what to look for and maybe even teaches them to defend themselves. Some take it as fiction, some use what he tells them to save their lives. It hits the top of the paranormal/mystery charts. The Ghostfacers, whose attempt to get into podcasting failed, ARE livid.

THEY BOTH DIE AT THE END: Sam and Dean both die in a blaze of glory, sacrificing themselves to defeat Chuck and bring back the rest of the world. They both get a moment to say an emotional goodbye to Jack and to each other. The two get a massive hunter’s funeral where all the past hunters come to mourn them and talk about their impact. Jody’s speech probably makes us cry. They get to Heaven at the same time, where they are greeted by all their past friends and family at the Roadhouse. On Earth, they live on forever as urban legends and heroes.

SAM & ROWENA ENDING: Sam says #FuckHeaven and spends his afterlife in hell as the consort to Queen Rowena, drinking margaritas all day, living his best life and stopping any demon uprisings in their tracks. Anytime they give him a hard time, he reminds them that he was Azazel’s boyking and they’re just Random Demon #489. What are THEY doing with their life.

SAM & EILEEN ENDING #1 - MARRIED HUNTER LIFE EDITION: Sam and Dean both survive and continue to hunt / live together, except now Eileen and Castiel are around and live in the bunker with them too after Cas was saved in [insert Empty rescue scenario of your choice.] Sam has some deja vu to the vision he had of all four of them living together in 15x09. He realizes that this is actually real and not a vision; that they are actually together, at peace and beat Chuck. The episode ends with them going to have the movie night that they never got to have in the vision. As Eileen takes his hand to go to the movie room, you see two engagement rings on their hands. Sam realizes that his journey may have started with losing Jessica but he found love again, and that while once upon a time all he and Eileen wanted was revenge, they’ve finally both found peace.

SAFE HOUSE ENDING: Sam starts a trauma center/safe house situation for hunters and ex-monsters to recover and heal, dedicating his life to proving that no one is beyond saving and everyone can redeem themselves and defy fate like he had. Mia Vallens, the shapeshifting grief counselor, is on payroll.

SAM IS THE AUTHOR NOW ENDING: Sam narrates the finale the same way Chuck did for the original series finale "Swan Song", further proving that they are now in control in their story. We get Sam's POV as he tells us what happened to all the other hunters and side characters, as well as him and his brother, with flashbacks from all fifteen seasons and young Sam & Dean growing up together. The episode ends with the reveal that Sam actually finishing the journal entries for the Winchester family's edition of the Men of Letters Bestiary, putting the finishing touches on some monster entries and his own personal anecodotes. He treats the Bestiary like a journal, in a callback to After-School Special where Sam almost became a writer and wrote about his and his family's hunting stories.

BABY JACK ENDING: Sam raises Baby!Jack after he is de-aged and “falls” to Earth in the same fashion the angel Anna once did. Baby!Jack wears overalls that don’t say his name in giant letters because Sam is a good parent who would never do that to his child. The two have a happy life as an adopted father/son duo who defied everything Lucifer and Heaven wanted them to be.

SAM & EILEEN ENDING #2 - EUROTRIP EDITION: Sam going on a year-long vacation around the world now that he has a cool Irish girlfriend who is not afraid of planes, leading to a fun exploration of the supernatural in foreign countries. Who is Dean.

DOG SHELTER OWNER: Sam owns a dog shelter and gets to walk at least ten dogs a day. Jack helps out and Miracle is the HBIC. Life is good.

CHUCK WINS ENDING: Sam lives and Dean dies, Sam throws a funeral for him that no one attends but him and a dog, and moves to the suburbs to live a generic white picket fence life with an unidentifiable wife. As a montage of Sam’s life plays, the camera pans away what looks like a computer and Chuck’s old office. A string of quotes can be heard in the background (“we’re just hamsters running around in a cage” “what would you rather have: peace or freedom?” “I can do anything...I’m a writer” “We will never give you the ending that you want / We’ll see”). The final shot is Jack, dressed in Chuck’s clothes and glasses and using his mannerisms, typing away at a typewriter. He writes “The End” but punctuates it with a question mark instead of a period. His computer screen and our TV screen both go black.

#if you saw this in my yockeynatural uquiz already no you didn't <3 #credits to sammyblep for the dog shelter ending tho that was is a new one and not from the uquiz but he's so right for that one #anyways the moral of the story is here..both the writers and y'all could get more creative about him lol #not gonna tag this in the actual sam tag so if you see it you see it!#saileen #samwena #ntjdmakesthings #long post #these are obviously all the more canon friendly ones btw.. like if we're talking pipe dream endings than number one is magda is alive again

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crispyjenkins · 3 years

Note

Jangobi. After Melida/Daan Obi-wan comes back to the order but qui-gon doesn’t want him anymore so one of the council members jumps at the chance to apprentice him. This leads to him being encouraged to pay attention to his visions and feelings from the force because THEYRE REAL AND YOU SHOULD PROBABLY GIVE THEM SOME ATTENTION OBI-WAN. Obi gets a vision and a feeling that he needs to follow and tells his master. This leads to them finding Jango while he was still a slave and them freeing him.

(*gonna start putting translations up here like i do on ao3*

cw: drug use, cw: non-consentual drug use. basically second-hand highs from working with spice, nothing graphic but is mentioned a few times.)

Mando’a: kad’au — “lightsaber”, used here intentionally in place of jetii’kad, “Jedi’s saber” “Vor’e te Manda” — “Thank the Manda”, with Manda meaning “the collective soul or heaven - the state of being Mandalorian in mind, body and spirit - also supreme, overarching, guardian-like” (mandoa.org) “Tion’cuy?” — “Who’s that?”, “Who are you?” confrontational urcir’ijaat — “honor duel”, lit. “honor meet” – look me in the eye and tell me the mandalorians don’t settle more than just elections with trials by combat “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?” — “Who’s watching your back?”, “Where’s your backup?” osik — “shit”

Even completely fucked second-hand on the inch-thick dusting of spice on every surface of the slave transport, Jango knows the kid hadn’t been on Galidraan.

Wide brown eyes blink at him through the ray shield keeping Jango and six other slaves in the cramped space barely big enough for two of them, and Jango had thought he’d burned through his rage years ago, but seeing the kid with a kad’au held at their side in a reverse grip ignites something in Jango that he’d thought long dead.

They’re not dressed like a Jedi, instead decked in spacer’s rags that hang too-loose from lanky limbs that have yet to hit their last growth spurt, and the chain marking them as a padawan is tucked up into a soft blue cap that clashes rather horribly with the little ginger hair that pokes out the front. They look human, but then, so had Jaster; every Jedi Jango has met before had been human as well, though he knows they’re as diverse as Mandalorians.

“Vor’e te Manda,” the baby Jedi breathes, and Jango is far too high to tell if he had imagined it or not. He had not thanked the Manda in many years.

He pushes shakily to his feet, needing to lean on the wall until his head stops feeling like it’s going to float away, and the other slaves skitter as far back into the cell as they can. “Tion’cuy?” Jango hisses, four years of venom dripping from the demand (Who are you?), but the baby Jedi just extinguishes their ’kad and hits the panel next to the door to power down the ray shield.

“My name is Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I’m here to rescue you.” They smile at everyone hiding behind Jango’s fury, and take a step back to gesture them out of the room. “If you follow this corridor to the starboard side of the transport, you will find a shuttle waiting with nine other freed prisoners,” they say with an obnoxiously-High Coruscanti accent that was completely imperceptible in their Mando’a. “I will not hold it against you if you take one of the escape pods, but my teacher is waiting on Concordia to reprocess your identities back into Republic systems, and we will do all we can to find and contact your families or peoples, if you so wish.”

Teacher. Not master. And freed prisoners, not slaves.

Jango growls under his breath, not trusting this Obi-Wan Kenobi as far as he can throw them, but the promise of freedom hangs heavy in the air, and it only takes a moment for his cellmates to decide the risk is worth it, scrambling and shuffling past Kenobi with murmurs of thanks in four different languages.

Jango doesn’t move.

He watches Kenobi’s throat bob nervously, as they make no move to follow their “freed prisoners” down the hall.

He asks again, “Tion’cuy?”

“Naas’ad jaon’yc.” No one important. “I was simply in the right place at the right time.”

Banthashit. “Banthashit,” Jango snarls, and Kenobi has the good sense to actually flinch.

“Look, I know the last thing you want right now is another Jedi, and if you were to demand urcir’ijaat on behalf of your people, I would accept with honor; but, no offense, in the state you’re in, it wouldn’t be much of a fight.” They hook their ’kad on their belt, and nod to the corridor once again. “Now, as engaging as this conversation is, I believe one of the smugglers was able to get a distress call out before I could stop him, and I would really prefer not to meet whoever picks up the signal.” Raising a single brow expectantly, the child gestures for Jango to follow. The kid’s right, of course, Jango couldn’t fight off a rat at the moment, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Growling, Jango shoves off the wall and somehow keeps both his balance and his feet underneath him, out of pure spite for the arm Kenobi offers in support.

He had fully intended to take one of the escape pods and jettison towards Mandallia instead of Concordia, but halfway across the slave transport that seems even smaller than he'd remembered, Kenobi throws out their arm again, this time to stop Jango just before they turn a corner.

“Oh, that’s not good,” they mutter and barely manage to duck under the blaster rifle swung at them like a bat, and Jango feels himself be shoved down to the floor against the wall.

Above him, Kenobi ducks away from a hulking human with a rather unfortunate receding hairline, and all at once, the Jedi seems like a completely different person. Something shutters behind their eyes, expression dropping to a blank indifference that’s belied by the warrior’s ease with which they dodge both vibroblade and swinging blaster, dancing backwards down the hall and leading the yelling smuggler away from Jango.

Dizzied by his sudden drop from standing to sitting, Jango doesn’t try to get back to his feet, instead watching Kenobi play the other human like a particularly ugly hallikset*. They don't even pull out their kad’au, remaining weaponless as they bounce and weave like they have all the time in the world; were Jango not stoned out of his mind, he’d probably be impressed.

Then something flips a switch in Kenobi, and without telegraphing a single twitch, they dive forward instead of away, using their whole arm to knock the blaster to the ground. In the same breath, Kenobi rams their head into the other’s chest in a move that would make most Mandalorians proud, relieving the stunned smuggler of his vibroblade before driving their knee into his chest.

The smuggler drops with a muffled clang, and Kenobi steps cleanly out of the way to watch him land face-first on the durasteel floor. Kenobi picks up the rifle, discharging the clip onto the ground, and chucks the whole thing through the nearest open door. They leave the smugglers’s body right where it is.

“Sorry about that,” Kenobi murmurs, coming back to Jango and helping him to his feet. “I must have missed one of the guards near the back.”

Something about the phrasing unsettles him, but it takes another moment of forced concentration to put his finger on it. “Tion’ad hukaat’kama?”

Kenobi grimaces. “I’m not fluent in Mando’a.”

“Who’s watching your back?” Jango growls, getting right up in their space. “Where the fuck is your backup if your master is on Concordia?”

The kid —who’s really more of a teen, almost a young adult— winces and tries to start herding Jango towards the shuttle again. “I’m here alone,” they say, almost apologetic, “but I can handle myself.”

“Your magic wizard mentor let you stage a spiceminer slave rescue on your own?” It goes against anything Jaster had taught him about the Jedi, about an apprentice’s master being as close to a buir as the Jedi will allow; not to mention the galaxy-wide understanding that, if you mess with a padawan, make kriffing sure the master’s dead first.

Yet, Kenobi’s deepening grimace tells Jango all he needs to know.

“He doesn’t know?”

“Look, I didn’t have a whole lot of time, alright?!” Done with being patient, Kenobi grabs his arm and starts dragging Jango quickly through the ship. “We got separated and were going to rendezvous, but if I had waited for him, the spicers would have already moved on!” They yank him down one more hall before they reach the promised shuttle, docked directly to one of the transport’s exterior hatches. Out the nearest viewport, there is indeed another ship approaching, but Jango can’t tell if it’s friendly or not.

Kenobi doesn’t give him time to figure it out, pushing him into the shuttle and immediately closing the boarding hatch behind them.

The other slaves stand around the small cargo bay in various states of drugged-up panic, and if Jango is counting correctly, only one had opted to take an escape pod.

Far more carefully, Kenobi pushes Jango to the nearest bench, and then goes around the room coaxing the rest into seats as well. Even while gentle about it, murmuring words of assurance in as many languages as they know, Kenobi still moves and speaks with urgency — part of Jango wonders if they’re mind-tricking everyone into compliance.

He waits until Kenobi has detached from the transport and properly started their course to the nearest planet, a swirl of grays and browns that can only be Concordia, before following the Jedi up to the absolutely tiny cockpit.

There’s barely room for the two pilots’ seats, and the ceiling is so low that even Jango's hair brushes the roof, yet Kenobi looks right at home before the wildly overcomplicated controls.

They say nothing as Jango drops into the other chair, merely glaring sideways at him until they’re a good ways away from the spicers’ transport.

“I do ask that you don’t kill me before we get everyone settled,” Kenobi finally sighs, and Jango almost laughs at them: did they think he came up here just to shivv them?

“I’m not going to kill you, Kenobi.” At least, not yet. “You knew who I was.”

Kenobi winces and flips a blinking switch over their head. “I have a Jedi answer for that, and one where you’re less likely to use that vibroblade in your boot. Which would you prefer?”

Jango considers them for a moment, and he’s certain now that Kenobi is younger than Jango had been on Galidraan, but not by much: they have one of those faces that eternally makes them look younger than they are, but if he’s over twenty standard, Jango is a Kryze.

“Both. I want both.”

“Right.” Visibly steeling themself, Kenobi swallows and adjusts their course slightly; wait, when had they gotten away from that second ship? Had Jango imagined it? Then again, he barely knows up from down at the moment, only grounded by Kenobi’s infuriatingly calm presence. “The easy answer is that I saw your name on the freighter’s manifest when it was docked on Mandalore, and recognised it. I’m on an extended mission in Mandalorian space, and, well, my master thought it would be good to catch me up on the recent history, as I had only briefly learned about the Civil War while in the Temple.”

He’s pretty sure that makes sense, a logical A to B, an almost maddeningly ordinary explanation for the space-blown panic Jango had felt on first seeing them, on first hearing their relief at finding him.

“And the Jedi answer?” he prompts quietly, fingers twitching at his lack of a weapon.

They glance at him briefly, at his hands, before facing back forward. “I only knew to check the manifest because I had a Force vision, and I couldn’t knowingly leave you, or any of the others, to this fate. I knew what you looked like not from my lessons, but from what the Force showed me.”

“What the Force showed you.”

“Like I said, the first answer is easier.”

“I’m too high for magic osik.”

They wince again. “Yes, I suspected. My master has a spice specialist waiting for when we land, if any of you choose to detox immediately. She’s Old Clan, though — um, Vau Clan, I think.” The Vau Clan did not follow Jaster, but they certainly didn’t follow Vizsla either, and were unlikely to have sided with the duchy. Now, why Kenobi found that important...? “We couldn’t find any medics who used to follow Jaster Mereel,” they explain, as if reading his mind. “At least, not on such short notice. Obviously we wouldn’t trust anyone from Death Watch, or the New Mandalorians, or the mercenaries controlling Concordia, not with the Mand’alor.”

Jango laughs before he can stop himself, but it’s a bitter thing. “I’m not the Mand’alor. I have no people to lead.”

Kenobi’s frown only deepens as they steer the shuttle into Concordia’s atmosphere. “Perhaps we should discuss this when you’re not spiced burnt.”

He can’t but agree. “None of this explains how your master knew to arrange all of this, if you hadn’t rendezvoused with him.”

“Ah, well, I sent him a coded communication before um... finding this shuttle, and he only got back to me while I was searching the cells for you.”

“You stole this?”

“Listen, I was on a time crunch! I was going to give it back!”

Despite his better judgment, Jango lets himself go boneless and laughs, the reality of the situation maybe finally hitting him. The disgruntled pout Kenobi sports as they contact the nearest spaceport only makes him laugh harder.

Master Windu is waiting for them when Obi-Wan lowers the shuttle gangway, along with a flock of medical personnel and an Arconan with a datapad that reeks of Republic Judiciary.

Everything Obi-Wan had told Jango had been the truth, except that his master had been able to comm him after he had nicked the shuttle and left atmosphere; he’d had no doubt that Windu would come through, of course, even on Obi-Wan’s rather strange and specific request for Dr. Vau, but, well, Obi-Wan still disembarks with the freed slaves expecting a swift dismissal from the Order.

It’s worth it, he tells himself, watching Vau make a beeline to Jango Fett and knowing he’ll be in good hands. It’s worth it, Obi-Wan repeats to himself on loop as he slides his soft hat from his head and fixes his Korun padawan chain back behind his ear. This is far from the first time Obi-Wan has gone off script, has let his emotions get the better of him and acted against the wishes of a master, but it’s worth it, he tries to convince himself as he meets Master Windu in the middle of the flurry of activity of the hangar.

He twists his hat in his hands and immediately bends forward into a bow. “I’m sorry, Master Windu,” Obi-Wan says quietly, and means it: how many padawans could say they had disappointed two masters thoroughly enough to be kicked out of the Jedi thrice?

None, he knows.

“I acted without thinking, I—”

“It seemed to me that you acted with quite a bit of thought, padawan,” Master Windu says smoothly, a large hand settling on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Your communication was most thorough.”

Obi-Wan wets his dry lips and keeps his gaze firmly on his boots. “I know I’m not supposed to lose myself in my feelings, to act as if they are fact, but there wasn’t time, and I—”

“Obi-Wan.”

Snapping his mouth closed, he braces himself for the disappointment, the dismissal, but instead, Windu just sighs, and Obi-Wan only gets concern and apology from their training bond.

“Obi-Wan, can you look at me?”

He tries, he really does, but something seems to lock Obi-Wan in place, terrified of seeing that disappointment on the face of a master he’s only had for two years, after Master Jinn had dropped him.

Despite his fear, Windu isn’t angry when he doesn’t raise his head. “Padawan, the Force is not trying to catch you in a lie. For all that it tests us and pushes us, it would not show you things —past, present, future, or, yes, just feelings— if it did not deem them important. It is how you act that decides the future, not just what you see in visions.”

“Mas... Master Jinn always said to focus on the now,” Obi-Wan mumbles, remembering the sorts of mantras he would meditate on while Jinn’s apprentice.

Windu hmms. “And, in some facsimile, he was correct. No, let me explain myself,” he says, holding up a hand to halt Obi-Wan’s confused protest. “There is danger in getting lost in visions, Obi-Wan, of focusing so much on the future that one forgets to live in the present; this is what Qui-Gon refers to. As I’m sure you realised, Qui-Gon is exceedingly strong in the Living Force, yes?” Obi-Wan nods hesitantly, and Windu smiles at him. “The philosophies he subscribes to, on top of not being particularly prescient himself, puts awareness of the world around you above all else; you can see why it would be difficult for him to understand how those like you, like myself, could give that awareness up for even a moment.”

“But isn’t letting go...”

His smile turns rueful. “Ah, and now you see the Council’s frustration with him, for all that he is a magnificent Jedi.”

Shuffling awkwardly, Obi-Wan resists the urge to tug on his padawan chain like he would his braid, and settles for wrapping it loosely around his finger. “You are not upset?”

“Not with you,” he is quick to confirm. “You saved fifteen people’s lives today, Obi-Wan,” he gestures around them, “and allowed the arrest of several notorious spice runners. Yes, perhaps you acted rashly, but as you said: there was hardly time to hesitate. What matters is that you learn to discern when to act, and when to slow down.”

“... I shouldn’t ignore them?”

Windu blinks down at him, surprise quickly smoothing into something too tense to be entirely serene. “Ignore your visions? No more than I should attempt to ignore shatterpoints: the Force would not make us strong in abilities we couldn’t learn to control. I find I must apologise, padawan, I did not realise Qui-Gon... worked with you so little on your prescience; such an oversight is not one you should have had to worry about.”

Obi-Wan swallows, floundering for words, and absolutely does not know what to do with Windu’s easy acceptance and understanding despite Obi-Wan having spent the last few years hiding his visions and lying about his dreams.

“But now is not the time to delve into this, nor worry about how we will move forward.” Unfolding a brown cloth from over his arm, Windu holds out what Obi-Wan realises is his robe, that he had thought lost when he was separated from his master. Windu waits for him to put it on to gently start herding him towards the ship they had first come to Mandalore on, and quietly starts catching Obi-Wan up on all that he had missed.

He doesn’t know what to make of feeling Jango Fett’s eyes on him from across the hangar; nor the intensity with which they follow him until the ship’s hatch closes behind him.

(this took four iterations to write and i’m still not quite satisfied, but i’m very attached to obi-wan having a chain/beads instead of a braid after Melida/Daan; the lil wish-you-would-write snippet happens a few months before this!

thank you for the prompt and y’all’s patience! obi-wan has brown eyes now because you can’t stop me)

*hallikset a seven-stringed instrument that i think is just legends now. but cal plays one!

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funtimebunnyblog · 3 years

Note

So! What about the god ok switch-a-roo? The pillarmen are now human and their s/os are pillarmen!

I interpreted this request as body swapping (similar to what we see in a much later part of JoJo) and I hope this is what you meant, my dear Anon! 🙏❤🥰

If not and you meant for me to write this in another way, I am SO sorry I misinterpreted the request and I sincerely hope you still enjoy this nonetheless! 😅😇

Body swapping with the Pillarmen! 😱 🔁

(Under the cut for length!)

Kars:

• Ending up in your body will piss Kars off more than anything really.

• Don't get him wrong, he loves you with all his heart; it's just that he's a man who is rather comfortable in his superiority and status over your race.

• He had worked VERY hard to get himself where he wanted to be afterall...

• Suddenly being reduced to a mere Human is enough to make his (er... your) stomach turn.

• Kars' new "limitations" in your body however didn't stop him from working out how this happened and, more importantly, how to UNDO it ASAP.

• When you happen to come to in Kars' body, the feeling is unsettling and strange to say the least.

• Piloting not only a Pillarmans body but Ultimate lifeform's as well will take you some getting used to for sure.

• For one thing, you'll come to find his hair gets in the way of EVERYTHING.

• If the wind blows or if you happen to turn sharply it's suddenly in your (well... his, but you get the idea) mouth or sticking in your eyes or just plain in your face!

• You can't understand how he stands it at all!

• There's no time for you to ask him to teach you how to wrap it up like he does either to remedy the issue so you have to grin and bear it.

• On the other hand, even the slightest jump in your emotions makes his arm blades spring forth!

• You almost ended up accidentally stabbing Kars (while he was in your body) as a result of getting worked up over the whole matter.

• Kars could only watch you floundering about in his body, frowning and shaking your human head as he told you repeatedly to keep calm and they'll stay put.

• As if you could keep level-headed at all in this situation as it was.

• On the upside ot things however... you learn some interesting things about Kars.

• "...Wait." you paused, peering down at the muscular legs beneath you; your eyes bore into Kars' boots with a critical gaze. There was something cushy sitting just below the heel on the inside.

• "Do you... have cloth wedged into your boots?" A sangria eyebrow raised, ruby eyes falling onto Kars.

• You watched as the features of your own face shifted dramatically, mouth falling open, scandalized. "I--" he began, but your voice fell short as he couldn't find anything to say in defense.

• "Do you do this to make yourself look taller?" A wheeze rose up in the Pillarman's chest, rich barking laughter ringing out as you doubled over in laughter.

• You suddenly came to the realization that you had never once seen Kars without his boots off, the pumps at the very bottom of the boots gave him a little boost as it was but on the inside it quite literally felt like you were wearing a pair of high heels.

• You were starting to wonder just how tall Kars really was. Hell, you were starting to wonder if he even passed Santana in height without these boots on!

• Your laughter fell short as a familiar, much smaller, hand reached up and grabbed your new body by the scarf. You were hauled down to meet the burning and intense gaze of your own eyes, Kars snarling right up into his own face.

• Jeeze, had your face always looked that red when you got angry before?

• "If you speak of this to ANYONE, I will spill each and every one of your own secrets to the others," he growled lowly, giving your voice an uncharacteristically harsh and grating tone. "Am I clear?"

• It took all you had inside not to call him "shortie" once things were finally back to the way they were and you both settled back into your own bodies.

• Despite your curiosity, your question on his exact height would never get answered.

• Kars knew how to put those arm blades to use better than you of course...

Esidisi:

• Oh boy... you have to be VERY careful piloting this one.

• And I mean the absolute definition of careful!

• When your consciousness ends up transfered into Esidisi's body, its no surprise that you feel very warm and fuzzy on the inside.

• It's almost a feeling akin to when you sit just a little too long in a bath that's a little too hot.

• Strangely, it was actually kind of a comforting feeling amongst this whole ordeal.

• However, if you're not careful with your emotions (warm and fuzzy feeling or not) than you might just accidentally end up burning a hole right through the Earth!

• Or worse... end up spraying scalding hot blood and flaying fleshy veins dripping with the stuff in all directions.

• Your core temperature has to constantly be monitored or you'll pay the price.

• It seems like even if you unfocus for one singular second, the Pillarman's entire body starts to smolder like a cake burning in an oven!

• Esidisi, on the other hand, is actually quite enjoying being in your body.

• He's having a much better time than you are for sure. In fact, he's laughing like this is nothing more than a game to him!

• You'll have to keep your eyes on him because he can't keep his (or rather, your) hands off your body.

• "Esidisi!" You barked, the Pillarman's voice was like the clap of thunder as it raised in octave; clearing the air with its power and inevitably startling you (again) even though you were the one wielding it. "Get your hands out of there, right now!"

• Your command was met with laughter, you watched as a wide grin stretched across your own face as Esidisi pried your hands off of your behind (for the 3rd time) and tucked them neatly into your pockets as he continued to giggle to himself.

• "I wasn't doing anything~" he purred, making your voice sound uncannily like a bad child playing innocent, acting wasn't just caught squeezing your cake.

• He was being to curious for his own good.

• That and the fact that he's taking enjoyment out of little ordinary Human things while piloting your body

• Things like feeling actual pain when skin is pinched or when hair is pulled seemed like it could entertain him for hours on end.

• If you don't keep a close eye on him and his shenanigans, you might just end up getting your body back all banged and bruised up if he goes too far with his fun.

• Fair enough, as he might just get his back half-burned into the ground or covered in blood...

Wamuu:

• Wamuu straight up does NOT have a good time dealing with suddenly being Human.

• The fact that it's your body he's in doesn't help that any either.

• 12/10 would NOT do again. 0 STARS!

• Wamuu, always a composed and calculating Warrior and tactician, was now in full panic mode.

• All his life he carried himself with pride, building his little ego off all his strengths and victories because of his status and his incredible unmatchable power.

• Now, with all of that ripped away from him, the Warrior felt too vulnerable and naked for his liking in this Human form.

• "Ow! OW!!!" Wamuu cried, eyes wide as your hands flew to your back. "Why does it hurt there? Do you always have pain like this?" Came the question, it was more than strange (and a little unsettling) to hear your own voice asking you that so desperately.

• "You get used to it." You replied, the deepness of the Pillarman's voice sending deep vibrations through the hardened chest as you spoke.

• "Why-- Why does this body feel so sluggish? I feel so inexplicably weary..." "I know. You get used to that too." "WHY IS EVERYTHING SORE?! WHY IS EVERYTHING CREAKING?!" "It's fine. That's normal."

• On the other hand, your mind suddenly being swapped into Wamuu's body isn't quite as bad as being in the others but... there are still some things to get used to.

• For one thing, it was hard to get used to simply walking around in it.

• Wamuu was so immensely big, muscular and heavy that you felt as if you were shaking the Earth with each step, causing you to lumber and stumble around with no grace to speak of.

• For another, a wirlwind just seemed to follow you wherever you went. It was honestly harder to control than it looked!

• When you wanted it to move one way, it went another. Wind blew up, wind blew down.

• You found yourself standing around, massive hands flying to the loincloth in an attempt to keep it from flinging up and showing too much.

• You wanted to spare least a shred of Wamuu's lost dignity while he wasn't piloting his own body after all.

• His horn is an entirely different matter.

• At one point the breeze blew too strong and the Pillarmen's signature headpiece suddenly flew right off his head and then... out sprang the horn.

• It shot 18 feet into the air, skewering two trees and drilling right through them like an overcharged power drill; a terrifying whir filling the air as chunks of wood flayed in every direction.

• The entire time you screamed in terror (you had no idea Wamuu's voice could go so high until that moment), slicing through an entire plot of trees as Wamuu yelled for you to put it away before it went for something breathing... like your own body that he was currently inhabiting.

• In the end, the relief you both feel to be back in your own bodies once the entire mess is fixed is immeasurable.

• You also both agree to never speak of the experience again for as long as you live.

Santana:

• Much like Kars, Santana is more unimpressed about the whole thing rather than upset or worried.

• Apart from you of course, Santana just barely tolerated Humans (or Primitives as he liked to call them) as it was.

• He often spoke about how fragile and flawed your kind was, honestly the defenselessness of a Human was laughable in his eyes.

• Therefore, he absolutely does NOT like suddenly being reduced to one, even if it is your body.

• The entire time he's practically pouting, the very definition of apathetic, grumbling to himself and following close behind as you tried to chase down the person responsible for the swap.

• "This form is... limiting." Came the low growl, each word sounding so very unlike you despite the fact it was your voice he was using. Santana practically spat as he kept talking, "Flawed. Primal. Defenseless."

• You were handling things admittedly better than Santana but it was still more than overwhelming.

• For one thing, you'll come to find that Santana's senses are extremely heightened.

• You never realized how very unbelieveably strong a sense of smell, taste and hearing could be until now.

• You could smell animals that had passed through the area nearly a fortnight ago just by putting your nose to the air. You could hear the thumping of your own heart from where it sat back in your own chest as Santana followed close at your heels.

• For another thing... Santana's body felt... odd.

• It was a strange and indescribable feeling; it was best put as you felt like a substance that constantly balanced between solid and liquid.

• How on Earth could he stand being a living mass of puddy and sharp deadly bones all the time?!

• As Santana kept grumbling about how very imperfect his new form was, your only hope was to give him that huge bag of gummy bears you had been saving in your bag for later to snack on.

• It would give you a moment of silence to think straight. However, if Santana was himself that would've been a good idea but in this case... not so much.

• "What's wrong?" You questioned, the Pillarman's gravely voice holding a different tone than you were used to as you used it, studying him.

• Santana had suddenly stopped following and was now slumped over, clutching at your stomach. A low whine surfaced, almost a sob, as he spoke through clenched teeth.

• "Do.... not.... feel..... good." Came the whimper. You came rushing to his side, your temorary body dwarfing your real one as you pulled Santana close to see if he had somehow gotten hurt.

• "What--" the question fell short as you spied the now very empty bag of gummy bears laying nearby.

• That bag had been huge, filled to the brim with bright and colourful gushy candy... and Santana had eaten ALL of them.

• It was that day that Santana found out that a Humans biggest flaw was that too much sugar made them sick.

• Good luck with enjoying getting your body back when the time comes as you now suspected you would spend your time kneeled over a bucket with a hot water bottle instead of celebrating...

#funnybunny #pillarmen #pillarmen headcanons #kars #esidisi #wamuu #santana #kars x reader #esidisi x reader #wamuu x reader #santana x reader #anon ask #my writing

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thanksjro · 3 years

Text

Bayverse: Treating These Movies with More Dignity than They Deserve or Contain, Because I’m a Goddamned Professional - Part One

TRANSFORMERS (2007) - UNCOMFORTABLE SEXUAL TENSION BETWEEN TEENAGERS THAT I DIDN’T NEED TO SEE

So.

This is a little different than what I usually do.

Clearly.

God, how did we even get here?

Oh, I remember.

The date was September 17th, 2020, and I was in a stream with nine or ten other people watching the first Bayverse Transformers movie. Why we were watching it doesn’t particularly matter- sometimes you just gotta watch garbage so you can refresh your palate for the good stuff, I suppose. Also, a couple of folks wanted to make goo-goo eyes at Blackout’s rotors.

...It’s not my thing, but I’m glad they’ve got something to make the journey worth taking.

I made some sort of comment about only using my brain for this blog’s content, and someone (you know who you are :)) suggested that I take a proper look at the film. Being who I am, I immediately latched onto this idea, despite it being technically outside of what I write about.

And then I quintuple-downed, because winners don’t quit.

Good to know that my BA in Film Production wasn’t a complete waste of time.

Fun fact, I broke my television trying to watch Transformers for this. I think the universe was trying to stop me, by making me perform surgery on electronics, and also aggravating my carpal tunnel.

This movie came out when I was 13, and it was the first Transformers thing I saw after Cybertron. Yes, the anime one. No, not the one that’s objectively terrible.

Anyway.

How did I feel about Transformers when I saw it the first time? Well… it was okay. I liked the robots. I thought Mikaela was pretty, not that I knew what that meant back then. I watched it a few times, if only because my oldest younger brother kept renting it at Blockbuster. It was fun.

Now I’m older, and wiser, and know feminist theory, so my opinion is less “this exists” and more “blind, murderous rage”.

Our film opens up with some claptrap about the Cube™, a MacGuffin of ultimate power that allows the Transformers to create worlds in their image and populate them. Which means this is how they reproduce.

It always comes back to baby-making, doesn’t it?

The narration goes on about how the Cube™ is very powerful, and some folks wanted it for good, and others for evil. The criteria for being “good” and “evil” isn’t established, and I’m not exactly sure how one would define such a thing, when all the Cube™ does is create life, but, well, we’ve only just begun. Maybe we’ll get some answers later on.

Haha, I doubt it.

So, the Cube™ is the catalyst for our 4 million year war this continuity, and that sucker was lost in the shuffle a while back. This is a problem, because, again, the Cube™ is how the Transformers reproduce. Now everyone’s in a mad scramble to find the thing so their species doesn’t die out.

Three guesses as to where it ended up, and the first two don’t count.

Smashcut to the shit nobody cares about- the humans. We see an Osprey fly over the Qatar desert, carrying a buttload of American soldiers. We get a taste of some good old-fashioned xenophobia, as several soldiers mock a guy for not speaking English and loving his mother’s cooking, going full “funny haha gibberish language” on him. We’re two and a half minutes into the film, and I already want to stab something.

Ed Sheeran breaks into the conversation, I guess because he was feeling left out, revealing that he is the New Yorker stereotype of the film, for some reason. The fellas ask their captain, Lennox, what he’s looking forward to most about getting home from their tour, and he reveals himself to be a family man. While he’s been away, his wife had a baby, who he hasn’t so much as held yet. His men respond by mocking him.

For loving his child.

We’re three minutes into the film, and the toxic masculinity might actually make me have an aneurysm.

The Ospreys land, the lads disembark, and we get a snapshot of what downtime during deployment looks like to Bay. There are a lot of kiddie swimming pools involved. Two men play basketball. We watch multiple men take outdoor showers. A young Qatari boy brings Lennox a camelback water pack with a smile on his face. This lets me know that he’s a prop and not a character in this film. I can’t wait to see how many horrors he’ll be put through to simulate pathos.

We get a shot of a helicopter flying over the desert, one that the US military doesn’t recognize as their own. They send a couple of planes to check it out, and said planes get their shop wrecked. The helicopter is revealed to be the same ‘copter that was shot down several months prior. That’s… not good. Ghost helicopter?

No. Not at all, actually.

Lennox gets on a video chat with his wife and daughter, who is wearing one of the most ridiculous baby outfits I’ve seen in a hot minute. And I used to work in childcare, so I’ve seen a good amount of those. The writing implies that normal bodily functions are unladylike and therefore undesirable… in an infant… and that’s when all hell breaks loose, thankfully saving me from more of Bay trying to make me give a shit about these characters.

The helicopter lands, we get a shot of the mustachioed pilot, who glitches (gasp), and the line “have your crew step out or we will kill you” is uttered. Not even trying to hide the nationalism, are you?

This film hit theaters in 2007, when the xenophobia from 9/11 was still heavy in the air of the general populace, so things like this were more tolerated, and in fact approved of. Of course, it’s not like America has really improved on that subject, or ever really had a point where we weren’t terrible about it, since we live in a world where the military-entertainment complex exists.

See, the Department of Defense and a good chunk of American entertainment industries have a little deal going, and have for the last few decades, and it goes like this: The DoD will allow the use of their vehicles, personnel, and bases, or the likenesses of such, for free, in exchange for their operations being shown in a positive/morally justified light. This is why you never see the armed forces portrayed in a way that makes them out as anything less than heroes- nobody would be able to afford the sets/likenesses without the DoD’s aid. This is also why you see straight-up advertisements for the military branches on televison, in cinemas, and online, and why both the Army and Navy have flirted with having Twitch channels.

It’s all a ploy to get you to join the military, kids. It’s propaganda.

But enough about that, it’s time for our first transformation sequence!

We get a lot of moving parts with this, since it’s realistic CGI in a live-action movie, and it still holds up. It’s hard to tell what’s actually happening, but it, if nothing else, feels alien, surreal, and horrific to behold. They even included the original sound effect in the cacophony, which is nice.

Our ghost helicopter reveals itself to be a Transformer, not that we get that terminology at any point in this film. This specifically is Blackout, a Decepticon. The soldiers start firing on him the moment he starts transforming, then are surprised when the thing they started shooting with several guns retaliates. This is the point where everything ever in this military base explodes, brilliantly and repeatedly, because it wouldn’t be a Bay film without it. There’s a lot of shouting and bright lights, and I’m positively certain that a great deal of people died during this fight.

It’s just a shame that I don’t care.

Blackout rips the top off of a building like it’s a tin of anchovies, and then snags all the hard drives he can, downloading everything. This is a problem, but it seems like nobody was prepared for a giant alien robot hack-attack, because in order to shut down the power to the servers, you need to be able to unlock the breaker box, and no one seems to have the key. They solve the problem with a fire ax.

Lennox is leading the Qatari boy through the base towards safety. I should mention that it’s night now, and several hours seem to have passed since the Ospreys landed, so I don’t know why this kid is still here. He’s got, like, a house and family to go home to.

We get some more tank-throwing action, Sergeant Epps almost gets flattened under Blackout’s foot, then the movie decides it’s going to try to make things more interesting by having each shot cut flash, for whatever reason.

Someone shoots Blackout with a rocket launcher, I think, and this is the point where he throws his tiny little man off his back to go do his job. Yes, Blackout’s got a baby, and that baby is Scorponok, his symbiotic pal who likes to dig into the ground and be a sneaky little bastard.

Blackout blows up a ton more military equipment and personnel, and then it’s time for another smashcut.

Now we’re in high school, just like all those dreams I’ve had where I’ve forgotten my homework. This is where we meet Sam Witwicky, our main character, and also the stand-in for our target demographic. He’s insufferable, and I don’t like him. Mikaela Banes, our love interest, is also present in this scene, but we don’t get to know about her character for, like, another 20 minutes, because who gives a shit about women, right? They’re just props, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Sam is presenting on his great-great-grandfather, Archibald Witwicky, for his family genealogy report, in front of a class containing maybe three actors who are age appropriate.

I know child labor laws are a good thing, and that hiring adults to play teenagers is just the lay of the land, but I swear some of these students look like they’re old enough to be on their second mortgage and third kid.

Anyway.

Archibald Witwicky was an explorer, one of the first to traverse the Arctic circle, and apparently his crew was made up of folks from 2007, because I swear the clothing for a few of these dudes isn’t period-appropriate. We get a seamen joke, because of course we do, and a sextant joke, because of course we do. Sam is also hawking all this crap he’s brought in for the presentation, because he is a little bastard who has no idea what his peers would want to buy, or really how to relate to them at all. He’s selling these “priceless” artifacts so he can get a car. Mikaela finds this charming, for some fucking reason. Also, her boyfriend is weirdly stroking her shoulder blade with his knuckles the whole time this is happening, and I hate it.

Archibald Witwicky went mad after his expedition, talking about an “ice man” so often that his family ended up locking him in a mental asylum, likely to be forgotten about. Which is sad. But we won’t be getting into the medical mistreatment of the mentally ill in Bayverse, now will we? That’s just Too Deep™.

Sam’s teacher didn’t very much appreciate having his class be turned into an episode of Antiques Roadshow, but still gives Sam an “A” on the project, despite it being a very poor report that lasted all of two minutes. I suspect the teacher has tenure, and therefore no longer gives a shit about academic integrity. This “A” means that Sam’s father will buy him a car.

Which is nice, I suppose, if I gave a damn.

Sam’s father, Ron, picks up his son in a car he probably bought at the crux of his midlife crisis, in a green that reminds me of a school gymnasium floor, then plays a prank on his child by pretending to pull into the Porsche dealership. Sam isn’t getting a Porsche, which is good, because he doesn’t deserve one. As Sam gripes to his father, a yellow Camaro drives by oh so conspicuously. Wonder what’s up with that.

Instead of the Porshe dealership, they head over to the used car lot, which is being run by Bobby Bolivia, who spends his time yelling at his employees and wanting to murder his mother. Sam is incredibly ungrateful about the fact that his dad is helping him get a car, even though it’s his FIRST car, and nobody gets a nice one the first go around. Or, at least, they shouldn’t, given the statistics about accidents with young drivers.

“No sacrifice, no victory” is uttered by Ron, which is the family motto, or so he claims. Archibald Witwicky said the same thing when he had multiple people dying trying to get to the Arctic Circle, so there’s precedence for the phrase, but we’ll see how it holds up throughout the film.

Bobby Bolivia shows Sam and Ron the cars he has for sale, and Sam is immediately drawn to the yellow Camaro in the lot, though there’s a small problem- it’s too expensive for what he and his father agreed to. Also, nobody knows where the hell it came from, so paperwork might be an issue. When Bobby tries to show Sam the yellow Beetle they have right down the line, everything explodes, because this is a Bay film, and fuck the original material this movie was based on. Bobby lets them have the Camaro for a lower price, suddenly fearful of whatever strange powers have just visited his place of business. “The car picks the driver” is suddenly more than a bullshit line to spout off in order to sell cars, and I’m certain that’s shaken the poor man.

Over in Washington, D.C., the Secretary of Defense prepares to address just what the hell happened in Qatar, lamenting on how young the audience he’s going to be speaking to is. In particular, he’s referring to the two dweebs and the hot chick sitting in one of the rows. All the women in this movie who aren’t someone’s mom are made up to be very pretty. And not even in a realistic way. But we’ll get to that in a bit.

So, the military network was hacked. That’s bad. Nobody knows who did it. That’s also bad. The only lead the US has is a soundbite, which is the signal that hacked the network.

Everyone here at the briefing is going to be helping to figure this mess out. This is great, if you like looking at Rachael Taylor for a few seconds at a time, and can compartmentalize hard enough to make that worth the effort of watching this godforsaken film.

Back at the Witwicky household, we meet Mojo, a chihuahua with a cast that doesn’t seem like it’s actually doing anything. I wish he was the main character instead of Sam.

Sam arrives home from the dealership, and says “alright, Mojo, I’ve got the car. Now I need the girl.”

As if ownership of a person is something to aspire to.

As if women are property to be owned.

As if women aren’t people, but rather commodities.

We’re 17.5 minutes into this film.

We’re introduced to Judy, Sam’s mother. She’s shrill, and annoying. This is by design, because none of the women in this film are actually people, but rather archetypes to bounce off of the male characters.

Sam and his father have a moment of what some might consider banter, then Sam gets huffy with his mom over gender roles for the dog. I, for one, think Mojo looks positively dashing in his bedazzled collar, and to hell with whatever Sam says to the contrary.

Sam drives off to go be a misogynist, with the promise to be back by 11PM.

Over in Qatar, the soldiers and that little boy are running from the attack on their base, as Lennox’s wife watches a public announcement on the matter back at home. The Secretary of Defense lets us know that we’re at DEFCON Delta at this point. Lennox Jr. cries, and all I can think about is how they probably pinched that baby to make that happen. They pinched a baby for Transformers (2007).

The soldiers in Qatar talk about shit they have no idea about, Sergeant Epps going on about somehow having been able to see a forcefield around Blackout through his super special binoculars. I don’t know how, or why, he knows this. I don’t know anything anymore.

Ed Sheeran has his doubts about this whole thing, and Lennox is also present in the scene, because I guess he’s important. Through a bit of dramatic irony, Fig- the guy everyone was making fun of for being bilingual at the start of the film- says that this probably isn’t over, as the shape of Scorponok shifts through the sand just beyond them.

Epps is having a minor crisis over the fact that Blackout saw him, but we don’t have time for that, because we’ve got to get to cover. The lads decide to head to the little Qatari boy’s house. Again, I wonder why he was at the base at all, considering that it seems like they’ve been traveling for a good portion of the day.

Back with Sam, he’s picked up his friend Miles, and together they’re going to a lake party. Are they invited to this party? Yes, but also no. It’s public property though, so it should be fine. As they park, Sam notices that Mikaela is here, which is great for him.

Mikaela’s boyfriend, Trent- whose name I had to look up- is a massive tool, and starts pestering the two boys for daring to exist in his airspace. Miles climbs a tree. I’m glad he’s having fun, at least. Sam makes a joke at the expense of people with brain injuries, and this for some reason? Warrants a shot of Mikaela making the blank “pretty girl” face? In response?

Mikaela saves Sam from becoming a wet stain on the grass, which is very kind of her, and more than Sam really deserves. Trent, his boys, and Mikaela start to head off for another party, to get away from Sam and his tree-loving friend. Mikaela offers to drive, and Trent says that she can’t handle his truck, because she’s a ~girl~. This causes Mikaela to ditch him, and start walking home.

The script knows enough about misogyny to know that this would be a nice “take that”. Michael Bay, however, likely fails to see why everything he did with said script involving this character is a goddamned problem.

Because Mikaela, bless her heart, has a lot of problems.

Let’s start with the outfit: a croptop, a jean skirt that BARELY covers her ass, and a pair of wedge heels that are at least four inches tall. On a character that is, at oldest, freshly 18.

Look, I’m all about self-expression and the freedom to choose how you dress for yourself and yourself alone, but this clearly isn’t that. This is a character, not a person, whose wardrobe was designed for the straight male gaze. She’s wearing fucking STRAP HEELS to the lake. This is about oogling. This is about reducing a whole-ass person to the same status as a piece of meat. In fact, who was on wardrobe for this? I’d like to have a few words with-

A woman? Okay, well, what else has she worked on?

You can’t be fucking serious.

ANYWAY.

Miles just called Mikaela an “evil jock concubine.” I don’t like Miles anymore.

As Mikaela walks down the road, strutting hard enough that I’ve got sympathy pains in my hips, the radio in the Camaro turns on, playing “Drive” by the Cars, and giving Sam a hell of an idea; he’s gonna drive Mikaela home, so she doesn’t have to walk the 10 miles to her house. Why he knows how far she lives from the lake isn’t addressed.

Sam kicks Miles out of the car and goes to give Mikaela a ride, which she accepts after a bit of self-deliberation, and also him making an ass of himself. The shot here is framed with Sam like he’s a normal-ass person, and Mikaela from her breasts to the top of her waist. Because of COURSE it is.

She hops in the car and then goes off about her taste in hot guys. Which is weird, and out of left field. Sam is about as confused as I am, then continues to make a fool of himself. This is his nature as a person. Mikaela has no idea who Sam is, even though they’ve gone to the same school for the last 10 years and have multiple classes together. And the fact that she was staring him down all through his genealogy presentation. And at the lake.

This movie isn’t very well thought out, I feel.

It’s at this point the the Camaro turns the key on itself and starts to sputter out and die, as “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye pops on the radio.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid.

I don’t like how this car is trying to get Sam laid with a girl who didn’t even know his name five minutes ago.

I don’t like how this car knows what sex is.

The Camaro breaks down on a cliff, and Mikaela hops out to work on the engine, and also to get the hell away from Sam’s sputtering.

As Mikaela admires the sweet engine in this Camaro, showing off her knowledge of cars, we get several shots of her from her breasts to her thighs, while Sam is treated like an actual person. Don’t bother trying to play it off as an artistic choice, Bay, this is blatant horndogging. This adds to NOTHING, other than my ire.

Sam says more stupid shit, and Mikaela, who must be the nicest fucking person in the world, just tells him to fire up the engine so she can try to sort out the problem. Then he asks why she goes for jackasses like Trent, and she decides that she’s hit her limit for today, opting to walk the rest of the way home. Good on you, Mikaela. Don’t take Sam’s bullshit.

Sam, realizing that he’s put his foot in his mouth for the 80th time today, pleads with his Camaro to do him a solid and work, and this actually works out for him. Great. Sam, victorious, once again offers Mikaela a ride, which she, once again, takes.

He drops her off without further incident, and she thanks him for listening. Even though they didn’t really talk that much. I dunno, maybe they had a super deep conversation offscreen. Mikaela asks Sam if he thinks she’s shallow, because clearly all women need approval from the men around them, and Sam says that there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Which made me groan aloud.

Anyway, she gets inside without a problem, and Sam professes his love for his new Camaro for allowing him to talk to a girl. Or at least talk at her.

Back in Washington, D.C., at the Pentagon National Military Command Center, we’re making weirdly racist calls on who hacked the military.

Up with Air Force One, a conspicuous boombox transforms into a robot, and then runs off to hack shit. The President of the United States requests some snack cakes. A flight attendant goes down to storage to retrieve said snack cakes, and finds that boombox in the elevator with her. Considering this is Air Force One, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse, and we don’t think here.

The flight attendant brings the boombox down with her and places it on the counter as she goes to get the presidential snack cakes. The boombox immediately disappears. Now, you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing, but this is Bayverse-

The flight attendant opens up the snack cake package, for some reason, and drops the cake on the floor. She then proceeds to eat it, and then act shocked when it tastes like floor. There’s a robot in her fucking line of sight, and you’d perhaps expect her to immediately be suspicious of such a thing-

She leaves to go feed the President floor cakes, and our little robot friend gets to work stealing government secrets. He, if nothing else, looks pretty cool doing it. He’s a very pointy lad.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie- Rachael Taylor’s character- can hear the hacking. This sends everyone into a panic, because, well, that shouldn’t be happening. The hacking noise is a direct match to the one from Qatar, so that’s obviously a problem.

Back on Air Force One, our little robot friend is looking for “Project Iceman”, which he very quickly finds, and downloads everything they’ve got on it, and also plants a virus. The process seems to be… doing things to him. It’s weird. This movie is weird.

The Pentagon cuts all the system hardlines, stopping the process, but it’s too late- he got what he wanted, just about. Two security personnel come into the room, and the robot kills them both with some spinning blade disc nonsense. Air Force One is forced to land for the safety of everyone on-board. More security detail comes in to deal with the little bastard, but he transforms into a boombox and sits on a shelf to avoid suspicion. Now, you’d perhaps expect-

With the plane grounded, our robot is able to walk his little ass over to a cop car. And when I say walk, I do mean walk; this fucker is in multiple folks’ line of sight and nobody notices a thing. When he enters the car, he’s greeted by the mustachioed driver- the same driver who was operating the helicopter at the beginning of the film. This mustache man is a holographic avatar, one that’s being used by all the Decepticons.

We get our first real taste of Cybertronian language, as our robot- it’s Frenzy, his name is Frenzy- lets everyone know that he’s found a clue to the location of the AllSpark, and, through the power of the internet, knows where to find the guy who’s gonna give them what they need.

Three guesses to who it is, and the first two don’t count.

Back at the Witwicky household, Sam’s car does a runner in the middle of the night. Sam, horrified that his property is being stolen, pursues on a bike, screaming at his dad to call the cops. Sam also calls the cops, as he tears through the neighborhood.

The Camaro breaks into an abandoned building, Sam follows, and we finally get a shot of our audience appeal character. Sam watches in disbelief as a giant yellow space robot shines a beacon into the sky, then makes a video on his flip phone recording the experience. He apologizes to his parents for owning pornographic magazines, and goes to face his probable demise.

However, death does not come from above, instead manifesting itself as two of the strongest junkyard dogs in the known universe, who break their brick-inlaid chains to get at this little dip of a man. Sam is chased through the yard, climbing on top of a couple precarious oil drums, even though there’s a ladder, like, right there. The Camaro rolls in, scaring off the dogs, and Sam bolts, throwing the keys to his ride at his ride. When he gets outside, the cops have arrived, and immediately arrest him.

Back with the US government, the Secretary of State is having a conversation about all the bullshit that just went down with Air Force One. He and his fellow cishet old white men discuss their options, until Maddie comes in to set them straight on some of the facts. They act all indignant about it, because women can’t be smart, right?

Right???

RIGHT??????????

RIGH-

Anyway, we get a weird little deflection of Maddie’s role in everything, because a woman is nothing without the men around her, then she brings up the point that the bullshit that happened on Air Force One went down in just a few seconds, which isn’t something that anyone can actually do. She brings up quantum mechanics, which everyone blows off as nonsense- not that I wouldn’t as well- and theorizes on a DNA-based computer, which is technically a thing, if not trapped in the realm of speculation. It’s at this point that the Secretary of Defense tells her to come back when she can back these wild claims up, and isn’t just clearly spitballing.

And then he snaps his fingers at her, and any point he might have had leaves my brain so I have more room for being enraged.

Back with Sam, we’re at the police station talking to the cops. His dad is here, and Sam is trying to explain that his car is a dude. Even though he took at a video (one that was likely crap, given how quickly he spun his phone around to show off what he was seeing) the cops, understandably, don’t believe him. Then one of them, not so understandably, starts… threatening Sam? With his sidearm? And daring him to try something? This isn’t any sort of statement on the corruption of American law enforcement, it’s just bizarre.

Back in Qatar, our soldier buddies have found a telephone line, and are going to try to use it to get in contact with the rest of the world. It’s just too bad that Scorponok’s decided to make an entrance, and knock said telephone line the hell down. Ed Sheeran has next to no reaction to this, despite it happening maybe ten feet behind him. Fig speaks Spanish, and Ed Sheeran makes a point to be an asshole about it.

Scorponok is about to stab Lennox with his very pointy tail, when Epps notices- finally, someone with peripheral vision- and starts shooting. Then everyone starts shooting, kicking up enough sand to blind themselves, as Scorponok scuttles away, buries himself, then reappears behind Ed Sheeran.

Ed Sheeran does not survive this experience.

The others bolt, not wanting the same to happen to them, and for the fourth time I wonder just why the hell this young boy was at the base in the first place.

Off in the distance, the community of a nearby town wonders just what the shit is going on out in the desert. Our soldiers run into the town, and everyone gets their guns and start firing on Scorponok, who retaliates, because why the hell wouldn’t he?

Lennox demands that the young boy take him to his father, and proceeds to borrow his phone. As shit goes down outside, we have a sort-of gag where Lennox is trying to contact the Pentagon, while a telemarketer tries to get him to buy a phone package. In order for this call to go through, he’s going to need a credit card. This is where the well-known “pocket” scene comes from, as Lennox searches Epps’ pants for his wallet as he fires on Scorponok. It’s probably the best-written thing in this whole film.

With the credit card acquired, Lennox finally gets through to the Pentagon, and tosses Epps the phone so he can talk. Maybe he’s got anxiety about speaking on the phone, I dunno.

Scorponok shows off his disregard for historical architecture, blowing up several buildings, and the US government just watches this all go down. One of the actors in this scene looks like my dad, and it trips me up every time he’s on screen. Anyway, now the Pentagon knows about the giant space robots running around in Qatar. They send over some air support about it. All this manages to do is piss Scorponok off.

So they try it again.

This time it works, sort of.

At the very least, he’s left now.

Tail fell off, though.

Also, Fig’s been grievously wounded. The others, for once, don’t make fun of his native language while they help him hold his blood inside his body.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s looking to prove that the bullshit that’s been going on is of the sci-fi variety, and in order to do that, she’s going to need a little outside help. She takes the information from the Pentagon, slaps it into an SD card, hides that shit in her blush compact, and then runs out the door to Glenn Whitmann’s house. Or, rather, his grandma’s house.

Glenn is a hacker, and shouldn’t be seeing anything that Maddie’s brought him, but everyone knows that confidentiality is for nerds, so whatever.

Back at the Pentagon, Maddie’s immediately been caught. It’s almost like slapping the military network onto an SD card maybe wasn’t such a hot idea. But what do I know?

Glenn takes a look at the soundbite and figures out that there’s a code embedded in the thing in about two seconds. Good to know our tax dollars are being well-spent on the US military, that some dude in his jammies can figure this shit out faster than a whole team of analysts. They figure out that “Project Iceman” is involved with this somehow, and also the existence of Sector Seven. It’s at this point that the FBI busts in. Good. I kind of want Maddie to go to jail for this, because she was about as stupid as she could be handling the situation.

Glenn’s cousin goes through a closed glass door- don’t worry, it’s tempered- and there’s a weird cut before that exact same shot continues, and he’s tackled into the pool. There was no reason for that to have happened, but here we are.

Back with Sam, we’re treated to him in his boxers, shooting basketballs in his room. He goes into the kitchen, where Mojo is standing on a stool. It’s a very tall stool, the sort you sit on, and he’s just… there. I don’t know how he got there. There’s no one else in the room besides Sam, and I know he didn’t put him there.

Clearly this must mean Mojo is God, and being on that stool is his divine will. I will be approaching the rest of the franchise with this in mind, because it’s clearly the only answer.

Our merciful Lord Mojo jumps up on the kitchen counter and begins growling at something through the window. Sam looks out… the opposite window… to find that his Camaro has returned to him, and is less than thrilled about it, to put it lightly. He drops a jug of milk- luckily it was mostly empty, given the sound it makes when it hits the floor- and gives his buddy Miles a call. You remember Miles, don’t you? If you don’t, it’s fine, because he reestablishes his quirkiness with a single shot, as he sits in a swimsuit and bathes his huge-ass dog in a kiddie pool, and answers the phone with a headset he just happened to be wearing. He must get a lot of calls during Dog Washing Hours. 

After giving us one of the most intense voice cracks I’ve ever heard, Sam books it out of his house, hopping on a bike to escape his murderous Camaro. He’s not seen the thing commit any murders, mind you, but he seems pretty convinced that it would do the job, given half a chance. Also, this isn’t the bike he rode the night before; that one is likely being chewed on by those strong-ass junkyard dogs. No, for some reason, the Witwickys have a pastel pink girl’s bike, with the fun little handle tassels and the basket and everything. As far as I can tell, Sam is an only child, and if you think Bay’s going to allow for a teenage boy to have the vulnerability to own a pink bike, you’ve not been paying attention for the last 48.5 minutes.

The Camaro gives chase, rolling after Sam on his bike at a brisk 7 MPH down the friggin’ sidewalk, one of the only scenes in this travesty of a film to actually get me to crack a smile. Sam races through town until city planning puts a stop to him, through the magic of using chunks of cement to decorate the mulch around their trees. He crashes his bike, faceplants into the concrete in front of Mikaela, and promptly dies, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told a fib. I’m sorry.

Instead, he does a flip and lands on his back, likely receiving a concussion, in front of Mikaela and her friends. Her friends laugh, because everyone hates Sam, as they should, and Mikaela says that what he just did was “really awesome.” Don’t try to be nice, Mikaela, this is Sam we’re talking about; you could stick the dude in the freezer overnight and he still wouldn’t be even remotely cool.

Sam gets back to the whole “running away from a car” deal, and Mikaela decides that this is the sort of thing she’d like to do with her day, so she ditches her friends in the middle of their scheduled Burger King™ time to go see what the hell Sam’s on about.

As Sam is chased by the Camaro who is being chased by Mikaela on her motorized scooter, a cop becomes involved, tearing through the streets to join this ridiculous game of tag. Now, we’ve seen two different flavor of cop so far- the mustachioed avatar cop car that picked up Frenzy from the airport, and the dude who threatened a teenage boy with a gun after accusing him of being under the influence of drugs. Either way, I don’t think this is going to turn out well for Sam.

Sam’s cornered himself under one of those really wide bridges where people can park their cars, which wasn’t terribly smart, but it’s Sam, so this is about par for the course. The Camaro manages to miss him, but the cop car does not. Sam is actually pretty cool with the cops being here, as if they could do anything about “Satan’s Camaro.” I guess he didn’t see the decal on the side of this car that says “to punish and enslave…”

Sam attempts to approach the car for help, and gets clotheslined by a car door for his troubles. He hits his head on the pavement, certainly exasperating the brain injury he received not ten minutes ago. Still, he continues to try to talk to the holographic avatar through the windshield, revealing that the bike he’s been riding is his mother’s. Mystery solved, I suppose.

The cop car doesn’t much appreciate being slapped on the hood, and begins to rev violently at Sam, threatening to run him over several times. Then it explodes into being a robot. Sam, who’s seen a lot of really weird shit in the last 24 hours, nopes out of the situation. It’s at this point that I realize he’s wearing a shirt for the band the Strokes. I don’t know why that stuck out to me, but it did. Guess my brain needed something to latch onto during all this.

Sam is running as fast as his little legs allow, as our newest robot friend takes up a leisurely jog to keep pace. Then he kicks Sam. He kicks Sam’s body like the football. This, of course, instantly turns Sam into a bag of jelly and kills him, thus ending the film.

No, he doesn’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Sam somehow survives being punted by a giant metal leg and lands in the windshield of a car that doesn’t turn into a robot. Then he gets yelled at by the cop car. This is Barricade, a member of the Decepticons, and Sam’s got something he wants. Or, should I say “LadiesMan217” has something he wants.

LadiesMan217 is Sam’s Ebay username. This is both stupid because no teenage boy existing beyond the year 1985 would have ever called himself that, and also because it’s just stupid.

Barricade wants the glasses Sam presented for his genealogy report, and he wants them NOW. Seeing as the thing he wants is for sale, and nobody had been bidding on it, one would wonder why Barricade and his associates didn’t just try to purchase them like upstanding citizens. Perhaps Decepticons don’t understand the concept of money, or perhaps they don’t have a stable address to have the glasses shipped to. Or perhaps nobody considered that angle when the script was being put together. Who can say?

Sam gets back to running away from Barricade, we see where Mikaela got to, and the two of them collide. Sam rips Mikaela off of her scooter, and they both fall to the ground. Mikaela, who did not buckle the clasp on her helmet, asks Sam what his fucking problem is. Then his problem shows up, and they take a very long time to get up so they can run. So long, in fact, that the Camaro has to swing in to save them. After much pleading from Sam, Mikaela gets inside Satan’s Camaro, and the two of them are whisked away to safety. Barricade pursues, and then the butt rock starts.

There’s a lot of screaming and yelling, the Camaro busts through a window and several shelves in an abandoned building, there’s some drifting, and then suddenly it’s nighttime. Barricade somehow got in front of the Camaro, and is circling like a shark. The Camaro locks the two teenagers inside itself, though I suppose they could climb out through the still-open windows if they really wanted to. The Camaro cuts the engine off, then cuts it back on and bolts for the exit, and this somehow tricks Barricade long enough for them to get past.

The Camaro dumps Mikaela and Sam out one of the doors and then transforms into that yellow space robot we saw a bit ago. It’s Bumblebee! Nearly an hour in, and we finally get a proper look at the little bastard. I guess that’s what happens when you spend the first 20-something minutes on being xenophobic and appealing to the focus groups that think it’s fine sexualize high schoolers.

Bumblebee- no, he’s not introduced himself yet, but I just can’t keep calling him “the Camaro” anymore- comes out of his transformation ready to square the fuck up. Barricade throws himself at Bumblebee, they roll around on the ground for a bit, then things start sparking and exploding, because this is a Michael Bay film. Frenzy jumps out and starts chasing down Mikaela and Sam, while Bumblebee and Barricade murder death punch each other. Frenzy manages to grab Sam by the ankles, drag him to the ground, and rip his pants off. Not sure how that happened, considering he’s still got his shoes on.

While Sam’s busy being chased by a sentient pile of safety pins, Mikaela’s taken it upon herself to be proactive about her survival, and is raiding a nearby building for power tools. She sprints out holding an electric jig saw and saves Sam by decapitating Frenzy. If you know anything about Transformers, then you know this doesn’t actually kill Frenzy, but good on her for being a badass. Why couldn’t Mikaela be our main character again? Oh, right, because she’s a ~girl~.

Sam punts Frenzy’s head, like, 50 yards, which seems like something he shouldn’t be able to do, given that he’s a massive weenie, but there you are. With that out of the way, Sam takes Mikaela’s hand and they run off to go watch the giant robot fight. The bottom of Frenzy’s head turns into a spider and he crawls his way over to Mikaela’s purse. He’s gonna steal her gum, the fiend!

Mikaela and Sam have, unfortunately, missed the giant robot fight, which means that we, as the audience, have also missed the giant robot fight. Which is unbelievably stupid, seeing as everyone who has ever watched this movie came for the GIANT GODDAMN ROBOTS.

Mikaela asks just who the hell the yellow robot is, I guess because she’s finally had a second to process what the hell’s going on. Sam claims that he’s a super-advanced robot, “probably from Japan.” Whether or not this is a reference to the Japanese origins of the original toy line isn’t clear, though somehow I think it’s more xenophobia. Sam also makes the claim that if Bumblebee had intended to hurt them, he would have done it by now. This is quite the jump from a few hours ago, when he was calling the poor guy “Satan’s Camaro.”

Sam finally, finally asks Bumblebee what his deal is, and we get our first taste of the Bayverse Bumblebee Gimmick. The Gimmick here is that, due to an injury to his vocal processing, Bumblebee cannot communicate through traditional means, i.e. speech. Because of this, he instead strings together sentences by flicking through the radio frequencies and choosing key words. This can lead to some interesting audio design, like describing his fellow Autobots to “rain down like visitors form heaven, Hallelujah!” because a radio sermon fit what he was trying to say best.

This gimmick is one that has been used in other pieces of Transformers media, at least in part. Bumblebee is unable to speak traditionally in Transformers: Prime, and instead communicates in beeps and clicks that his teammates can understand, but not so much the humans, save for Raf. In Bumblebee (2018), the idea was used whole-cloth, with the injury resulting in his inability to speak happening on-camera within the first 10 minutes of the movie, and the idea of “expressing oneself through music” being introduced by his human companion Charlie Watson.

All in all, I rather like the idea going on here; it’s an interesting part of his character that opens up for a lot of interesting and creative moments.

It’s just too bad it was introduced in fucking Bayverse.

But yeah, anyway, the other Autobots are coming to Earth. Shit’s gonna be lit.

Bumblebee turns back into a Camaro, and Sam uses the power of FOMO to get Mikaela to go in the car with him. We get a shot of Barricade fucking dying on the side of the road. Frenzy murders Mikaela’s phone, and then steals its identity, including the little bejeweled heart stickers. Good thing Mikaela remembered to go get her purse, otherwise he probably would have felt very silly doing that.

Mikaela refuses to sit in the driver’s seat, seeing as she now knows Sam’s car is sentient, and sort of feels weird about this whole thing. Sam suggests that she sit in his lap instead, as the camera angles to give us a peek at the cup of Mikaela’s bra. When asked why the hell she should do such a thing, Sam says it’s a concern about her safety, given that the middle console of the car does not have a seatbelt. Sam either fails to recognize that seatbelts going over two layered bodies won’t save either of them in the event of a crash, or he’s just trying to make an excuse to have a pretty girl in his lap.

Given what movie this is, I’m going to guess it’s the latter.

Mikaela has a similar line of thought, but scoots over anyway, saying that the seatbelt line was a “smooth move”. It wasn’t, but if I picked apart every single bad line Sam had in this film, I’d be here all day.

Mikaela questions Bumblebee’s taste in alt-mode, which offends him to the point of dumping both her and Sam out in the street and driving away. He returns, moments later, as a sleek new Camaro, that I’m sure some car aficionados would call “sexy.”

Bumblebee’s alt-mode is a 2009 Chevrolet Camaro, of which there were none during the time of filming. It was put together for this movie in roughly five weeks. Sam is blown away by the fact that he now owns a car that does not currently exist in his universe. Mikaela is impressed, or at least she would be, if women were allowed to show that emotion in a non-horny way in a Bay film.

Judy doesn’t count.

As Bumblebee breaks into yet another restricted area, we get a shot of the Earth from orbit, as several objects rocket towards the planet. Sam and Mikaela watch the Autobots burn up in the atmosphere, and Mikaela tries to hold Sam’s hand as they do, and it’s at this point that I have to address how much I hate these two’s dynamic.

I don’t give a single solitary shit about this romance, because A) it’s poorly written, B) Mikaela could do infinitely better than Sam, C) I dislike Sam so very much, D) Mikaela, who is a way more interesting character, got placed on friggin’ love interest duty because ~girl~, and E) it’s useless padding to try and make me care about what’s happening here, and I just DON’T. I do NOT care about whether these two get together or not.

We see the Autobots crash-land, three out of four of them causing massive amounts of property damage and possibly killing at least one person. Their stasis pods crack open, and they each climb out, completely naked and in desperate need of clothing to hide their shame. With a quick scan of nearby vehicles, they’re once again decent to be seen in public.

Bumblebee drives the kids out to what I can only assume is the warehouse district he sent that beacon out in, as our collection of good guys finally come together at long last. A massive Peterbilt semi-truck stops directly in front of Mikaela and Sam.

We’re over an hour into this film, and we’re just now getting to the quintessential Transformer, Optimus Prime himself.

In the original cartoon, Optimus’s alt-mode was what’s known as a cabover truck, one where the cab- where the driver sits- is seated directly over the engine. These were popular during the days when maximum truck-lengths were much shorter than they are currently. This is why when you look at height charts for Optimus over various continuities, his G1 cartoon counterpart much shorter than his other iterations.

Modern trucks are longer, and don’t need the cab to sit on top of the engine to save on space. The designers chose to use a Peterbilt to make sure that Optimus would have an imposing stature when compared to his fellow Autobots.

Because heaven forbid we not have heightism come into play in this film.

Our Autobots transform, and say what you will about these bastards being visually incomprehensible, the transformations themselves are cool as hell. My personal favorite is Jazz’s, where he does a cool windmill into his root mode.

Optimus crouches like he’s looking at a cool bug on the sidewalk and addresses Sam by name. He doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela, which I find to be a bit rude, but whatever. He then introduces himself as the leader of the Autobots.

Peter Cullen is back as the voice for Optimus Prime, sounding wonderful as always. He almost wasn’t brought on for this project, because Michael Bay didn’t want him. If the fans hadn’t thrown a hissyfit, who knows who we would have gotten to be our space dad for the next hour and a half?

This is actually an issue that’s recurred several times in the last few years, and not just with Cullen; Frank Welker, the voice of Megatron, as well as many other Transformers, has been refused roles within Transformers properties. In general, this is because both Cullen and Welker are union actors, and Hasbro would prefer to hire sound-alikes than pay more money for the originals. This isn’t to shame the non-union actors, goodness no, just to merely point out less-than-fantastic business practices.

I realize there have been a lot of tangents, but you have to understand that I am suffering as I do this.

Optimus then introduces his team- there’s Jazz, whose first line is “What’s crackin’ little bitches?”, Ironhide, who incorrectly quotes Dirty Harry, and Ratchet, who calls out just how obnoxiously horny Sam’s character is. We also finally get Bumblebee’s name.

Mikaela asks the very good question of why the fuck the Autobots are here on Earth. Optimus explains that the AllSpark is here, and they’ve got to get to it before Megatron does. He then goes on to explain who Megatron is, stating that he “betrayed” the Cybertronian empire.

No, how exactly he did that isn’t addressed. We’ll just have to take Optimus’s word, I suppose.

If you’ve sussed out by this point the the AllSpark and the Cube™ are the same thing, congrats! You win. Megatron followed the AllSpark to Earth, where he promptly was neutralized by the cold of the Arctic circle. This was 110 years prior to the events of this film, and where Archibald Witwicky came in to the story.

When the expedition was happening, Archibald fell through the ice during a collapse, and ended up finding Megatron’s frozen body in an ice cave. He went poking around on this strange metal giant, and ended up activating Megatron’s navigation systems, which imprinted the coordinates of the AllSpark onto Archibald’s glasses.

Don’t ask how that works, it just does.

So, the Autobots need the glasses, so they can find the AllSpark before the Decepticons do, so those guys don’t use it to build an army out of Earth’s machines, which will destroy humanity.

Sounds simple enough, let’s go get that vision correction device!

Back with the military dudes, everyone’s taking a gander at the tail that Scorponok left behind. They theorize that the metal that makes up these giant murder-robots reacts to extreme heat, but elaboration on that point will have to wait, because the tail has begun to flail. They quickly strap it down, then call the military to let them know to strap anti-tank guns onto anything that’s going to be approaching any giant robots.

Meanwhile, in an interrogation room, Maddie and Glen have been left to sweat a bit. Glen takes to stress-eating, while framing it as a psychological tactic to subconsciously prove his innocence to the FBI.

This is a fat joke, with the added nasty layer of Glen being a black man about to be interrogated by one of the most intimidating white cops I’ve seen in a hot minute.

Glen immediately folds, pinning all the blame on Maddie, and claiming that he’s been a perfect angel his whole life. We get some weird purity culture out of him, before Maddie lets the FBI know that she needs to talk to the Secretary of Defense, NOW.

Over at the Witwicky household, Sam’s parents are watching the news, trying to find out what all those loud crashes were about. Optimus Prime drives down their residential street, the rest of the gang in tow, then they all park to wait for Sam to go get the glasses.

For about 20 seconds.

Sam has to physically hold the door shut to prevent his father from coming out and seeing several very tall robots from outer space tip-toeing around his freshly-landscaped yard, I guess because they got antsy. Optimus plods around on the grass and breaks a fountain, and our benevolent god Mojo comes out of the house, assuredly to smite the leader of the Autobots.

Mikaela runs onto the scene, and Sam chastises her for not controlling the robots who didn’t even acknowledge her existence, outside of pointing out Sam was sexually attracted to her.

Mojo pees on Ironhide’s foot, which prompts Ironhide to threaten to shoot the creature. This is why Ironhide isn’t getting into heaven. Sam, one of Mojo’s chosen few, claims that the mortal shell of his god is seen as a beloved pet by many humans. Sam runs into the house, before Mojo can incur his divine wrath on the Autobots.

While Sam goes to get the glasses, the Autobots decide to do a little peeping on the house, watching his parents watch TV. Sam tears his room apart trying to find the glasses, and Optimus thinks that it would be helpful if he brought Mikaela up to help look. It’s at this point that I realize that Sam has an utterly bizarre fish tank.

I mean, legitimately, what the fuck is this? No filter, no plants, might not even have any rocks on the bottom. Is this a comically oversized bong Sam threw a couple fish into? What the fuck.

Mikaela starts looking for the glasses, running into what is likely a box of porn mags, then they both look out the window to find that the Autobots have decided to hide in plain sight by transforming... in the middle of Sam’s backyard. Amazing work, gentlemen.

Sam finally convinces the Autobots to go sit in the alley and wait, only for Ratchet to run into a power line and trip into a greenhouse. The resulting impact is interpreted as an earthquake. Judy does not have the reaction one might expect from someone who’s lived in California for at least ten years.

Ratchet’s fine, by the way.

The power cuts out, and Ron goes up to check on his son, because he’s at least a halfway-decent father. Ratchet’s shining a light to aid in the search for the glasses. Sam’s parents notice this bright light, and bang on Sam’s door to see what’s up.

Sam quickly hides Mikaela and then attempts to salvage the situation, answering the door and trying to control the narrative. Unfortunately, Ron is far too inquisitive for Sam to do this, and then Judy asks if Sam was masturbating.

Judy, is privacy just not a thing to you? Because if not, it really ought to be.

She keeps going with it too, trying to come up with code words, until another one of the Autobots trips and causes Ron to panic again, climbing into Sam’s ancient claw-foot bathtub to protect himself. He looks out the window to check on his beloved yard, lamenting that the earthquake tore it up.

Ironhide is strongly considering killing Sam’s parents. Optimus tells him that they don’t harm humans, and also begins to wonder if he made a mistake bringing this guy along.

Back in Sam’s room, it’s becoming increasingly obvious that Sam is an absolutely terrible liar, and Mikaela reveals herself, if only to prevent Judy from trying to talk about self-pleasure again. Of course, now she gets to be subjected to both of Sam’s parents objectifying her, so this might be a lose-lose situation.

Sam is reminded that his backpack is in the kitchen, just in time for the government to show up at his house. Mikaela makes a comment about Judy being nice. I suppose on a surface level, yes, being told that you’re gorgeous by someone’s mom is nice. I do have to question the context that compliment took place in, however.

Sam’s about to hand the glasses over to the Autobots, when someone rings the doorbell. It’s Sector Seven, and they’re here to talk to Sam about his stolen car being part of an issue involving national security. Ron and Judy are more concerned about their yard being torn up, Judy yelling that they “need to get their hands off [her] bush.”

We still have another hour of this movie.

The agent leading this mission asks Sam to come with him for questioning, which his parents are very much against. Mojo also voices his displeasure, but it would seem that Agent Simmons is not a follower of the Tenets of Mojo. Sam gets geigered, and his readings are high enough for Sector Seven to take him and everyone in this house into custody.

As Sam and Mikaela are riding in the back of the car, Simmons brings up Sam’s Ebay account, and also the phone video he took of Bumblebee earlier in the week. Mikaela is rather unimpressed with Sam at the moment, probably because he’s gotten her arrested. She still tries to help him out though, because she really is just the nicest fucking person on the planet.

Alas, the combined efforts of these two teenagers isn’t enough to fool the long arm of the law, especially when it’s a branch of said law that deals with extraterrestrial activity. Simmons threatens to lock up these literal children for life if they don’t start talking. Mikaela isn’t taking the bait, so he goes after her father’s parole hearing instead.

Yep! As it turns out, Mikaela and her father stole cars to get by, and she’s got the record to back that claim up. Simmons calls her a criminal, then says that criminals are hot. Mikaela looks like she’s about to cry, and I don’t blame her in the slightest.

Optimus, I suppose because his dad senses were tingling, takes the opportunity to place his leg in the road for the car to run into, then grabs said car like an unruly cat and lifts it until the roof rips off due to stress. The agents in the other cars pile out and point their guns at the giant space robot. The rest of the Autobots quickly relieve them of their weapons.

Optimus notes that Simmons doesn’t seem surprised that a bunch of giant robots just took all his guys’ guns, and demands that he exit the vehicle, posthaste. Simmons obliges, after a bit more prodding. Mikaela undoes Sam’s handcuffs, and he gets fucking pissy about it, as if this girl he’s had a grand total of three (awkward) conversations with should have told him something as personal as “hey, so my dad’s in jail and I’ve been to juvenile detention.”

Luckily, she doesn’t let him get away with it, calling him out as the spoiled, self-centered, privileged little shithead that he is.

Of course, we don’t get any sort of real acknowledgement from Sam, having to move on with the plot. Perhaps, if we hadn’t spent the last hour and 20 minutes faffing about on drivel, we could have had Sam get an actual moment of self-reflection, and potentially even character growth. However, this is Bayverse, and everyone knows that personal accountability is for fucking sissies.

Mikaela and Sam ask several questions, but get no answers from Agent Simmons. And then Bumblebee pees on him.

I hate that I had to write that. I hate it very much.

Anyway, I don’t know why that had to happen, but it did, and I’m nothing if not thorough.

Optimus tells Bumblebee to cut it out, and with that the Sector Seven agents are cuffs and left on the side of the road. Mikaela orders Simmons to strip, as punishment for threatening her father, then cuffs him to a street lamp.

...Yes, that does sound like a bizarre sexual fantasy, doesn’t it?

Unfortunately for our teen heroes, they forgot to confiscate everyone’s phones, and Sector Seven knows what’s up, thanks to the power of speakerphone. More cars and a couple of helicopters show up basically immediately, and the Autobots decide it’s time to dip.

But not before Ironhide fires off a pulsewave into the ground that causes a five-car pileup.

Optimus, I suppose because he knows he chose a ridiculously flashy alt-mode that is in no way practical, just picks the kids up in and places them on his shoulder like a couple of parakeets, then takes up a leisurely jog to get away from the eyes in the sky. He runs through the city, racking up what is likely millions in property damage, as the helicopters pursue. He passes by a “Legalize LA” billboard, which feels odd to see, given what movie this is.

The ‘copters somehow manage to lose Optimus, despite him being relatively slow, and having a notable radiation level that they’ve been using to track him. He hides inside the scaffolding of a bridge, only for Mikaela and Sam to slip off of his polished body to their deaths, thus ending the film.

No, they don’t die. I just told another fib. I’m sorry.

Bumblebee snatches them up just before they hit the ground, the impact of his metal body catching them at 75 mph, killing them instantly and ending the film.

Nope, that doesn’t happen either.

Mikaela and Sam are fine, some-fucking-how, but Sam’s dropped the MacGuffin glasses. The helicopters swing back around, having noticed the sound of a car crashing into the ground and the screams of two whole adolescents. They break out a fucking harpoon gun and fire on our kid appeal character.

Repeatedly.

They wrap up Bumblebee in a series of cables, as he screams like a moose. Mikaela and Sam are held at gunpoint by what is honestly far too many dudes, and are then arrested for the second time in ten minutes. Bumblebee is smoked... because he’s a bee? Sam, not liking this one bit, finds the strength in his weenie body to push a cop off of himself, run at one of the dudes with the smoke guns, throw him to the ground, and then start smoking him. He’s immediately tackled, but points for trying.

Sam and Mikaela are placed back into custody, and the rest of the Autobots regroup with Optimus to see what the plan is. Optimus says that they can’t save Bumblebee without hurting humans, so I guess Bumblebee is just a POW now. Well, at least they got the glasses. That’s cool.

Back at the Pentagon, things are getting dicey, as the other world powers are starting to suspect that something’s up. The Secretary of Defense is approached by a man with a mustache and a briefcase. He’s from Sector Seven, but the Secretary gives not a fuck about mysterious organizations. All the computers in the room suddenly go down, the virus from earlier working its magic- only this time, the blackout is global.

Mr. Mustache opens his briefcase, while explaining that Sector Seven is something known as a “special access” sector of the government, which is why nobody’s ever heard of it; it’s beyond top secret. Commissioned by President Herbert Hoover 80 years prior, it deals with alien life.

When the Beagle 2 spacecraft was lost on the way to Mars in 2003, the mission was declared a failure. This was a lie. The Beagle 2 recorded several seconds of Mars before being crushed to death by a Transformer. This tidbit is pretty funny, given that the Beagle 2 was rediscovered on Mars in 2014, seven years after this film released. Not a terribly mysterious death anymore, is it?

Comparing the footage from Mars to the footage from Qatar has Sector Seven thinking that these are the same species. Which they are. God, it’d be so fucked up if there were two species of giant robots in this film.

Mr. Mustache theorizes that because the Transformers now know that they can be harmed by human weaponry, they’re being proactive about their safety and shutting down all forms of communication technology with that virus that keeps popping up. It’s only a matter of time before the shit hits the fan for humanity.

Mr. Secretary tells his guys to try going analog with comms, breaking out the short-wave radios, to tell their ships to return home.

Over at an Air Force base, Lennox and the gang have landed, only to be scooped up by a bunch of dudes in suits.

Back with Maddie and Glen, the two of them have fallen asleep in the interrogation room, Maddie still wearing her friggin’ four inch pumps as her legs are propped up on the table, crossed in a way that seems rather uncomfortable. Glen gets to sleep like a normal human being, with his head resting on his forearms. Why this place doesn’t have a holding cell for these situations is beyond me.

Mr. Secretary comes in to bring Maddie on as his advisor. Glen can come too, I guess, considering he’s the one who actually figured out the sound file virus.

We get a little military glorification, and then it’s revealed that Mikaela and Sam, as well as Maddie and Glen, are aboard this helicopter. Their paths cross at last. Our heroes are transported to the Hoover Dam, where Bumblebee is also. They are still smoking him.

Meanwhile, the Autobots are figuring out where to go, with the power of Archibald’s glasses. Ratchet, who I guess is omnipotent, senses that the Decepticons have also figured out the location, and that this is going to be a race against the clock. And I mean, he’s right, but the phrasing is a bit odd.

Jazz wants to know when they’re going to save Bumblebee. Optimus says that they aren’t, and that Bumblebee’s sacrifice is noble, and that he would want the Autobots to leave him and complete the mission. As this is said, we get another shot of Bumblebee getting smoked and trapped in a lab. Yep, this is totally what he would want. He absolutely signed up for this, giving himself up to the government and not at all fighting like mad to not be captured.

I don’t think Bayverse Optimus actually knows what martyrdom is, which is bizarre, given that it’s a major trait in a lot of other iterations of the character.

Ironhide isn’t even sure why they’re bothering to save humanity, given that humans are violent and awful, his point being hammered home as Bumblebee is tortured for scientific reasons. Ironhide seems to have forgotten that Cybertron has been at war for literally millions of years. Optimus has faith in humanity, however, stating that we’re “young”.

And then he says that he’s going to end his own race, by destroying the Cube™, which is how they reproduce, because that’s the only way to end the war.

Which is arguably one of the most hardcore fictional applications of eugenics ever conceived.

Being advocated for by Optimus Goddamn Prime.

We still have another 50 minutes of this movie.

Optimus then proves that he does, in fact, know what self-sacrifice is, stating that, if all else fails, he’ll shove the AllSpark into his spark, which will destroy them both. He’s pretty chill about it, too.

Up on top of the Hoover Dam, Frenzy has fallen out of Mikaela’s bag.

Mr. Secretary is also at the Hoover Dam now, as is Lennox’s team. Oh, and Agent Simmons, who is thankfully wearing pants. He offers to buy Sam a coffee, as repartitions for threatening his family, arresting him, and being a complete creep to a teenage girl. Sam gives not a fuck about caramel macchiatos with extra foam and chocolate drizzle, however. He only cares about his car.

Mr. Mustache, who is also here, needs Sam to spill the beans on all these friggin’ giant robots that are running around. This is where Sam realizes he has the upper hand for once, and he starts making demands. One such demand is having Mikaela’s record scrubbed clean, which is an actually very nice thing for him to have done for her. We’ll see if his intent comes to fruition. For now, it’s time to talk about Bumblebee.

We get a shot of all these folks heading into the secret base hidden inside the Hoover Dam, and it’s at this point that I notice that Maddie’s shirt is basically see-through.

Inside the Dam, we see that Sector Seven′s been keeping Megatron this entire time, keeping him neutralized with cryo-stasis since 1935. Cryopreservation was invented in the 50′s. This isn’t a nitpick, I just thought it was a neat little fact.

Megatron being on Earth has resulted in most modern technology. This sort of plot point always bothers me, because it takes away agency from the entire human race. We didn’t use our own ingenuity and work ethic to advance society, we plagiarized from a more advanced species. I dunno, it just rubs me the wrong way.

We get the part of the movie where info is hashed out, so that everyone is on the same page, Sam spouting off Autobot propaganda. We can forgive him for this,considering he’s 16, and no one is immune to propaganda, especially when they have zero way of doing their own research to form their own opinion with.

Sector Seven also has the AllSpark, kept in the room next to Megatron’s, like the chumps they will soon find themselves to be. It’s about ten stories tall and the reason the Hoover Dam exists. With so much concrete suppressing its alien energies, surely no one will ever find it!

Except for Frenzy, who came in through a mouse hole. Whoopsie-doodle!

The AllSpark zaps the nasty little man, restoring his body with its weird MacGuffin powers. Frenzy tells all his coworkers that he found what they were looking for, and everyone starts heading over.

Maddie asks Mr. Mustache what exactly he means by “energies”, perhaps worried that this whole thing has been some elaborate ploy to get her to invest in magic healing stones. Mr. Mustache brings everyone into a testing chamber, since the best way to explain how the AllSpark works is through a demonstration.

There’s a big fish tank in the middle of this testing chamber, in which Agent Simmons places a donated device from the crowd- Glen’s Nokia phone, specifically. Simmons makes a geologically-confused comment. When this is pointed out by Maddie, Mr. Secretary hushes her, simply saying that Simmons is a strange man. The tank is locked down, and then the show starts.

Cube™ energies are shot into the tank, and the phone explodes into life, transforming into a gorilla-shaped gremlin creature. Happy birthday, little dude!

Little dude starts shooting at the tank walls, cracking the glass until Simmons pulls the trigger and ends it. Happy deathday, little dude!

The Decepticons are making tracks towards the Hoover Dam, but Starscream- yeah, he’s in this now, don’t worry about it- arrives first, because he is a very fast jet. He transforms, showing off his ridiculous Dorito body, and fires on the base’s generators. The resulting explosions can be heard all the way down in the testing chamber, and Mr. Mustache calls upstairs to see what’s up. Looks like Megatron may be getting warmed up, seeing as his ice bath has been cut off. Lennox asks if there’s an arms room in Sector Seven, which sort of feels like asking a bakery if they have any flour.

Frenzy has entered the room that houses the controls for the cryo-stasis and set that whole system to “no, thank you”.

Mr. Mustache runs through the base, screaming for everyone to get to the Megatron chamber. Off in the distance, the Autobots approach. Could probably used some fliers on your team, huh Optimus?

Back with Frenzy, he’s decided to just straight-up raise Megatron’s core temperature directly. Hope he doesn’t do it too fast; rewarming hypothermia victims recklessly can do some serious damage.

Outside of the base, Lennox and the boys are loading up with weaponry, along with what’s the entirety of Sector Seven′s cannon-fodder department. Oh, and all the main cast. Yep, just got a couple of teenagers chillin’ in the munitions room.

Sam wants Simmons to take him to his car- he hasn’t used Bumblebee’s name in a hot minute, not sure what’s up with that- even though Simmons is currently busy loading a very large gun. Simmons doesn’t want to do that, because he’s got no idea if what Sam mentioned earlier is even true, and he doesn’t want to pin the fate of humanity on a single Camaro. Lennox takes this opportunity to tackle Simmons, despite likely not knowing that Bumblebee is one of the “good guys”. A Sector Seven guy very much doesn’t like that, and points a gun at Lennox, which prompts all of his guys to also start threatening folks with guns.

Mr. Mustache walks in on the scene, but doesn’t do anything, since he isn’t armed and knows better than to tangle with someone who’s packing. Simmons tries to intimidate Lennox, because he must have missed the day of boot camp where they tell you that guns kill people. Lennox is fully committed to shooting this dude in the lungs before Mr. Secretary suggests he give the people what they want, before things get ugly.

Simmons takes everyone to the robot torture department of Sector Seven, where they are still smoking Bumblebee. Geez, you’d think they’d have something in place for if they ever came across another giant robot after Megatron, but I guess not. The gang gets everyone to stop smoking Bumblebee, which allows him to stop moose-screaming and strongly consider murdering everyone involved with his forced captivity. Unfortunately, revenge with have to wait, as we’ve still got to deal with the AllSpark, and the fact that the Decepticons are here.

They take Bumblebee to the AllSpark, where he makes direct contact the thing, causing the AllSpark to transform, compacting itself down into a far more reasonable size that Bumblebee can carry in one hand. It doesn’t seem to weigh more than a grown adult, if his body language is saying anything. I’d make a joke about the conservation of mass being ignored, but since this is Transformers, I can’t really say much. Conservation of mass doesn’t exist for this franchise.

Bumblebee would really like to get this show on the road, and Lennox agrees, quickly formulating a plan to get away from Megatron and taking the AllSpark to Mission City, which is relatively close to their current location, so that they can hide it there.

Lennox, I know this plan is a first draft, and we don’t have a ton of time for revisions, but the whole point of building a whole-ass dam around the Cube™ was because it was very difficult to hide, given its magical MacGuffin powers. Regardless of this flaw, Mr. Secretary agrees. Lennox also asks that the Air Force be involved in this, I guess because the U.S. military wanted more screentime.

Of course, that whole “global blackout” thing is still going on, so we’re going to have to get creative with how we’re going to contact the Air Force. Mr. Secretary and Simmons make a break for the WWII-era radio Sector Seven has, while Lennox and the boys head out to shoot things, and Mikaela and Sam hop into Bumblebee with the Cube™.

This is about the point that Megatron wakes up. The first thing he does is introduce himself, which I thought was very polite of him. Then he breaks out his flail and starts bashing shit around. Not so polite, that.

Over with Bumblebee, we’re shown that the AllSpark, all-powerful object that can create life and is the whole reason this conflict is even happening, is just chillin’ in the back seat by itself. It’s not even buckled up.

Megatron escapes the base, and it’s actually super easy. He just transforms, goes through the tunnel, and he’s free. I feel like we could have at least attempted some security measures for in case the cryo-stasis failed, given that we’ve had this dude in containment for the last 70-something years, but okay.

Starscream comes over to say hi to his boss, not that Megatron gives a shit. He just wants to know where that fucking Cube™ is. When Starscream tells him that the humans have it, Megatron makes a comment about how Starscream has failed him yet again. This is their first interaction in this movie, and Starscream’s been in the story for a grand total of five minutes at this point. I know that this is a reference to their dynamic in just about every installment of the franchise up to this point, but it doesn’t feel earned in the slightest. Even if it’s going to be expanded upon in future sequels, this is a shit-tier way to set their (awful) relationship up.

Not that anyone should ever bank on getting a sequel anyway, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Megatron tells Starscream to retrieve the AllSpark, and then we cut over to the radio plotline. The radio, which is so cobweb-covered I feel like Sector Seven needs to have a serious discussion with their custodial staff, has its nobs and buttons fiddled with by Simmons until it crackles to life. But where are the microphones? Everyone starts looking for the mics, as Simmons pushes Glen into the seat, I guess because hacking modern computers and using Depression-era radio tech are similar enough.

Maddie asks Glen if he can hotwire a 90′s-era computer to transmit a tone through the radio, so that they can send a Morse code message to the Air Force. Which sounds ridiculous to me, but I don’t know enough about radios or computers to know if that sort of thing would be possible. Maybe it’s fine. Or maybe it’s Hollywood bullshit. Who knows?

Back over with Bumblebee, we get a bunch of car commercial shots, of both him and the other Autobots. Aww, the gang’s back together again! Nobody tell Bumblebee that Optimus was completely cool with leaving him to his fate.

Optimus and the gang whip around to join the convoy, and everyone makes their way towards Mission City.

Back at the radio subplot, someone’s bangin’ on the door, trying to get in. The others try to block the intruder, while Glen does his hacking stuff. Mr. Secretary breaks a case and pulls out a gun that’s about as old as he is.

Glen gets the computer working, and Mr. Secretary gives him the Super Secret Military Codewords™ to use to talk to the Air Force. While he does that, Simmons finds a flamethrower and starts burning Frenzy as he attempts to enter the room. The Air Force receives the message for an air strike. Oh, goody.

Over with the convoy, it appears that the Autobots and Lennox’s boys are being pursued by the Decepticons. It’s difficult to tell, seeing as the cameras have gone full Bay-mode, but I’m guessing that’s what’s up. One of the Decepticons flips over a minivan, likely killing a family of five. another causes a multi-car pileup.

Bonecrusher transforms, then Optimus transforms. Bonecrusher iceskates across the highway, slamming into a bus so hard it just straight-up explodes. He is on fire. He tackles Optimus, and they proceed to fall off the side of the raised highway they’re on. Then they beat the shit out of each other, until Optimus decapitates Bonecrusher with his arm-sword.

Yeah, space dad is a little intense in the Bayverse.

Back at Sector Seven, Frenzy’s decided to leave the door alone, and instead is crawling through the ventilation shaft. Mr. Secretary and Simmons fire off shots into the duct above them, as if bullets would do anything against this nasty little pile of needles.

Frenzy bursts through the bottom of the duct and crash-lands into a glass case, taking cover behind a pillar and fires on the humans on the other side of the room. While this shootout is happening, Glen receives a response from the Air Force, just in time for Frenzy to accidentally decapitate himself with one of his own spinning blades of death. This time, he does not survive losing his head.

The Air Force will be sending fighter planes to Mission City, and to establish this, we get several shots of what some might call “military porn.”

Over in the city, the convoy has arrived. Lennox hands several short-wave radios over to Epps, telling him to use them to direct the Air Force when they arrive, so they can take the AllSpark... somewhere, I guess. Above, an F-22 zooms across the sky. It is not one of the Air Force’s F-22s.

Ironhide recognizes Starscream, and gets ready to throw down. Bumblebee grabs a nearby Furby truck and hoists it up to use as a shield. This marginally works, as the missile that hits the truck doesn’t immediately kill him, though it probably did all those Furbies inside.

The resulting explosion throws all the humans around, Mikaela getting weird heaven lighting as she lies unconscious on the pavement. Sam gets it too, though, so I suppose I can’t complain too much about this particular shot. They touch hands. I really wish that I could take this moment of vulnerability as being anything other than an attempt to set up a romance between these two teens who have known each other for maybe half a week. This movie has so starved me of genuine human interaction I'm jumping at the smallest of scraps.

Bumblebee actually didn’t get out of that missile-strike unscathed, his legs having been blown off. All those Furbies died for nothing. Tragic. Sam asks Bumblebee if he’s alright, and immediately tells him to get up. Sam then remembers that Bumblebee’s legs are off, so he yells for Ratchet.

Over with Lennox and Epps, they’ve realized that the plane they saw wasn’t one of theirs. Which, you know, has already been established, but points for getting caught up, fellas. Sam is crying and still telling Bumblebee to get up. Bumblebee is dragging himself across the pavement and whimpering. It’s awful. Where the fuck is Ratchet? This is basically the only reason he’s in this film, and he’s nowhere to be found.

The actual Air Force calls on the radio, asking for their location. Brawl, who is a tank, starts firing on Lennox’s gang. Jazz and Ratchet race through the city streets. How they were separated from the rest of the team is anyone’s guess.

Sam takes a little sit on the pavement to be with Bumblebee, while Mikaela decides to problem-solve and heads for a nearby tow truck. Bumblebee hands Sam the Cube™ because, as the designated protagonist, it’s his job to handle it in the climax of the film.

Ironhide is shot at several times by Brawl, narrowly avoiding being hit each time. This, of course, means that the people he drives by in this shot are almost assuredly dead, since they’re right next to the explosions. He transforms and does a flip, as the film goes slow-mo on a shot of a woman in a low-cut dress watching him flip. She screams. Ironhide screams. I scream, though probably for a different reason.

Jazz jumps on Brawl, managing to kick off a couple pieces of kibble before Brawl grabs him and throws him into the side of a building. Ironhide, Optimus, and Ratchet descend on Brawl, and so does Lennox’s team, Brawl losing a hand and getting thrown into his own building as a result.

Mikaela breaks into the tow truck and starts to hotwire that shit. Wow, a relevant back story that culminates in her being able to save the day, thus completing her arc and staying on-theme for her character. Why isn’t Mikaela the protagonist again?

Oh, right, because ~girl~.

Megatron lands in a nearby alleyway, and Ratchet, knowing this dude is bad news, tells everyone to head for the hills. Jazz isn’t fast enough, however, and gets shot for his troubles.

Mikaela drives the truck over to Sam, who is still sitting there with the Cube™, and tells him to get his ass in gear.

Jazz gets taken to the top of a nearby building and is ripped in two by Megatron, who acts like a bird of prey the whole sequence. Down on the ground, Brawl is starting to get back up from his smackdown. Blackout appears on a nearby skyscraper. Things are looking grim for humanity.

Mikaela and Sam hook Bumblebee up to the tow line as Lennox approaches them. Sam has left the AllSpark out of his line of sight, like a fool. Despite seeing this, Lennox still gives him the flare to let the military know where to pick up the AllSpark. Doesn’t even acknowledge Mikaela. He tells Sam to head for the white building with statues on top of it and set the flare on top of the roof. Lennox can’t leave his men, because he’s the head of his operation. Why he can’t send literally anyone else who isn’t a 16 year-old boy isn’t made clear.

Sam really doesn’t want to do this, probably because he’s a child, but Lennox has recruited him to the military against his will, so he must. Lennox then attempts to make Mikaela leave for her own good, but she tells him to fuck off, because she’s gonna save Bumblebee. Clearly, this is a win for feminism.

Epps radios the choppers coming from the Air Force to let them know they’ll be picking up a package from a teenager, thus locking Sam into the job. Ironhide and Ratchet vow to protect Sam from the Decepticons on his way to the pickup point. Not one single person has pointed out how fucked up this is.

Sam starts to run off, when Mikaela stops him to let him know that she’s glad she got in the car with him roughly an hour ago. They don’t kiss goodbye, which, honestly? Good. This fucking movie hasn’t earned that. Sam for sure hasn’t earned that, even if he did clear her juvie record. No word on that having actually been done, by the way. Sam never got confirmation, and I feel like he’s not really the type to follow up on things.

Brawl fires off some shots and makes things explode. Ratchet and Ironhide provide cover fire as Sam sprints down the road. Yep, they’re making this idiot WALK to the pickup point. Sure hope the elevators are working today, otherwise this is going to take forever.

Sam carries the AllSpark like a football, and in a better movie, this would have been foreshadowed by Sam having actually been a football player prior to the events of the film, perhaps removed from the team for some character flaw he’s since grown from/accepted. However, this is Bayverse, and well, men don’t have to justify their existence in the story with things like themes and having even an ounce of thought put into their character.

Back with Mikaela, Lennox has refused to learn her name, calling her “girl” as he screams at her to get Bumblebee hooked up to the tow truck. Which she was already doing when he got here. Lennox, dude, you’ve got a daughter now, you’re super extra not allowed to treat women like this.

Optimus Prime pulls through an alleyway and crashes into a pile of garbage. I can forgive him being late, seeing as he is a big rig, and probably had to take the long way into town so he didn’t get stuck in too-low tunnels. Don’t worry about how we briefly saw him during the Brawl take-down. This is his for real entrance into the climax.

He whips around and transforms, ready to throw the fuck down. Megatron spots him from his perch and descends.

Y’know.

Like a vast, predatory bird.

Megatron shoots at Optimus in his alt-mode, and Optimus catches him like a frisbee. Unfortunately for Optimus, it would appear that the horsepower on a Cybertronian flightcraft is hella intense, and he’s carried away. The two of them crash through an office building, then roll around in the streets punching each other in the face, debating the worth of humanity as they do so. Wish I actually gave a shit about either of these people, but alas! The film spent most of its runtime objectifying women and insulting minorities. I know nothing about Optimus, and even less about Megatron.

Megatron transforms his arms into a laser gun, and Optimus does the same. They shoot at each other. Optimus gets thrown into a building, then lands on the sidewalk below, definitely crushing a dude underneath him, but I guess we didn’t check that the shot was clear for where the CGI was gonna go, so he’s fine.

Sam’s still running through the streets, while Blackout murders, like, so many people behind him. Starscream lands in front of Sam, running into roughly 30 cars as he skids to a halt. Ratchet and Ironhide fire on him, as Sam takes a breather behind a car. Starscream transforms and blasts off. He was here for about 15 seconds. Sam begins running again.

Megatron is now following Sam, because he wants that Cube™. Sam is hit by a car- not an evil one, just a regular car- and trips. The impact makes the AllSpark activate, which grants several machines in the vicinity the gift of life, including the car full of bitchy women that just hit Sam, who are upset that hitting a human being might have scratched the paint.

I get it, you hate women, can we PLEASE stop beating this dead horse?

Sam finally gets to the pickup building, which turns out to be abandoned and fenced off. Good thing the gate was open, otherwise things could get really complicated. He heads inside, Megatron crashing through a floor-to-ceiling window shortly behind him. Megatron makes the claim that he can smell where Sam is. I’m going to choose to believe that he isn’t lying here, since Ratchet did something similar earlier.

Sam finds the stairs, and Megatron calls him a slur.

He doesn’t, really, but the voice modulation certainly makes it sound that way.

While this is happening, Mikaela is driving the tow truck down an alley, dragging Bumblebee behind her with the tow cable. She stops for a moment to have a short breakdown, seeing as she is a teenager in what is currently a warzone.

Sam is still running up the stairs. Outside, the military shoots at one of the Decepticons. It is, of course, doing absolutely nothing to the giant metal space robot. Mikaela concludes her moment, looking back at Bumblebee, who gives her the okay to keep going with dragging his ass across the pavement. She whips the truck around and tells Bumblebee “I’ll drive, you shoot.”

Mikaela then proceeds to speed down a main road of this sizable city backwards, running into cars and more or less shoving Bumblebee along to his destination.

The military has finally realized that their efforts have been pointless, but it’s okay because Bumblebee is here with his superior firepower. Bumblebee proceeds to shoot Brawl in the chest, which kills him. After this, he tries to act cute, lifting up his battle mask in a very “did I do that?” way, as if he’s not the same guy who ripped Barricade apart earlier.

Sam, meanwhile, has finally reached the top of this dilapidated building. Helicopters are approaching his location, but will they make it to him before Megatron does? Honestly, I’d be more worried about Starscream on the building just due East.

Sam is just about to hand the AllSpark over, when Starscream fires at the ‘copter, causing it to crash and nearly chop Sam to pieces. Optimus Prime runs towards the scene, on a roof that I refuse to believe could actually support him. Megatron punches thought the roof from the bottom and asks Sam some philosophical questions. Sam can’t answer, given that he’s hiding on the edge of this building, his flimsy grip on one of the angel statues being the only thing keeping him from falling.

Megatron tells him to give him the AllSpark, and in exchange he might not kill him immediately. Sam tells him to fuck off, and Megatron flails the chunk of building he was hanging on to, causing Sam to fall to his death, thus ending the film.

I’m lying to you. Michael Bay is making me into a liar.

No, Sam is, instead, caught by Optimus, very likely breaking several ribs on impact. This is the point where I realize that they’ve given Optimus fingernails. Sam clings to him like a baby koala, as Optimus parkours down the sides of two buildings, Megatron in pursuit. Megatron actually lands on Optimus 2/3rds of the way down, causing the both of them to fall onto the pavement below. How Sam survives this is a mystery.

Megatron recovers from the fall first, flicking a human away from him for having the audacity to exist in his space. The flicked person hits a car, and is almost assuredly dead. At least, I sure hope so, given that this is the director cameo by the Bayman himself.

Feminist icon Megatron?

Feminist icon Megatron.

Optimus comments on the fact that Sam almost fucking died to get the AllSpark out of dodge, and we get the return of “No Sacrifice, No Victory”. Which, I mean, I guess he’s allowed to say that, since he’s actually had to do something that warranted it. His dad doesn’t get to, though.

Optimus then tells this teenage boy, who has already had a hell of a day, to kill him by shoving the AllSpark into his robot-soul-heart, should he be unable to defeat Megatron.

I dunno, I just feel like it’s a bit of an ask.

Sam climbs off of Optimus so the Prime and Megatron can rumble. He runs through the ruined infrastructure of the city, so he’s less likely to be crushed. Optimus tells Megatron to square the fuck up, stating that “one shall stand, one shall fall.”

Then he gets ragdolled around a bunch, so maybe he should have saved the talk for later in the game.

The military is running around some more, stopping in an alley to see Blackout transform to root mode. Yes, the goo-goo eyes were indeed made by several members of the watch party that started this whole thing. People went wild for Rotor-Cape Johnson.

The fighter jets from the US military are arriving in a minute. Epps warns them to aim for the robots that aren’t evil. Lennox and the gang spread out, reminding each other to aim for the underboob, since Transformers’ armor is weak there. Epps marks Blackout with a little green light, which Blackout almost immediately notices. Blackout fires on the military.

Lennox has stolen a motorcycle and is driving through the streets to circle back around and jump off of the bike, sliding on his back to shoot Blackout directly in his underboob. Wonder what his uniform is rated for for road rash.

Sam is watching as Optimus gets his ass handed to him. Up in the sky, Starscream commits identity theft, and then attacks the Air Force. The Air Force can multitask however, and light Megatron the fuck up. Sam has, for some reason, come out of hiding, and Megatron uses this to his advantage, trying to take the AllSpark from him.

Optimus tells Sam to put the AllSpark in his chest, but Sam has a better idea. He shoves it into Megatron’s chest, which has been basically shot open at this point. Megatron makes a Space Invader noise, convulses a bit, then falls over dead.

Congrats on your first murder, Sam.

Optimus tells Megatron’s corpse that he got what was coming to him, then implies that they’re brothers. What flavor of brother isn’t established, but neither was basically anything between the two main faces of the franchise in this film, so it’s fine.

Ironhide walks up holding the two halves of Jazz. Optimus informs Sam that he now has a life-debt to this child. Whether or not Sam is absorbing any information at this point is up in the air. Mikaela shows up, with Bumblebee in tow.

In tow.

In tow-

Sam stares at her blankly. Mikaela stares back, making the pretty girl face. Man, what a great dynamic these two have.

Jazz is dead. That sucks. Optimus is handed his corpse to hold, while he thanks his new friends for helping out.

Then Bumblebee talks and he’s fucKING BRITISH.

Sam is obviously shocked by the fact that Bumblebee is British able to talk now, since not talking has been his whole thing up to this point. Optimus doesn’t let it phase him. Neither does Ratchet, despite having been working on Bumblebee’s throat injury for centuries at this point.

Bumblebee wants to stay on Earth with Sam. Optimus is just like whatever. Sam agrees to have a sweet Camaro from outer space.

Optimus pulls what is left of the AllSpark out of Megatron’s chest. I’m sure that’s not a setup for potential conflicts, not in the slightest.

Over in Washington, D.C., the US President has ordered Sector Seven be terminated, and all the Transformer corpses be disposed of. And by “disposed of” they mean “thrown into the ocean.” Dang, sure hope Earth signed some sort of agreement with the Transformers so that they never come to Earth again. You know, just be proactive about our galactic safety.

The Linkin Park kicks on, as Optimus gives us our bookend narration, telling us what the Autobots plan to do now that their race is at a genological dead end. As he does, we see Lennox reunite with his wife and child, who I had genuinely forgotten were in this movie.

Optimus is pretty chill with Cybertron dying out, because now they know about Earth. We get a shot of Sam and Mikaela making out, a shot that becomes more and more horrifying the further they zoom out, because they’re making out on top of Bumblebee. Who they KNOW is a sentient creature at this point.

And then it gets even worse, because the shot changes, and oh hey! Turns out that the rest of the Autobots were just chillin’ off to the side while this went down. Optimus continues his monologue, just walking around in his root mode as he tells all of Makeout Point how they’re “robots in disguise” now.

The monologue is actually a transmission he’s sending out into space, inviting any of his leftover pals to come kick it on Earth with them, because Earth is pretty cool.

And that’s where they leave us.

IT TOOK THREE PEOPLE TO WRITE THIS SCHLOCK.

So. Bayverse 1. A film showcasing xenophobia, misogyny, and toxic nationalism. It’s rough. Is it the worst film I’ve ever seen? Not even close, but it’s bad, and it was a huge deal at the time of release. Everyone was seeing it, everyone knew the actors and robots, everyone had a scene that they liked. Everyone was exposed to Bayverse, and as a result, a lot of people entered the Transformers franchise thinking that it was all like this.

And really, how far off would they have been in 2007?

When a franchise refuses to introduce female characters until years after being established, when all those female characters have the exact same body type, when a franchise hires misogynists to write stories, when it allows shit like “Prime’s Rib!” to be published- no wonder Michael Bay was approached to direct.

What a mess.

--------------------------

COMING SOON:

TRANSFORMERS: REVENGE OF THE FALLEN (2009) - MEGAN FOX I AM SO FUCKING SORRY

TRANSFORMERS: DARK OF THE MOON (2011) - WILL YOU JUST STAY DEAD

TRANSFORMERS: AGE OF EXTINCTION (2014) - SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW SHUT UP ABOUT THE LAW

TRANSFORMERS: THE LAST KNIGHT (2017) - ACTUALLY, FUCK CONTINUITY

#transformers #bayverse #part one #maccadam #Hannzreads #Hannzwatches #text post #long post #film analysis #off topic

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ynscrazylife · 4 years

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Is it cool if u can request a avengers x fem reader where her powers are unique and born with them and she has ice and fire powers? Like half of her body she can control ice and the other half fire? Basically hot and cold lmao? Headlamps would be nice :) maybe some romance between Natasha x reader just cuz I miss her lmao

50% ice, 50% fire, 100% smitten

Summary: Y/N is an Inhuman. Half her body controls fire and half her body controls ice. Y/N doesn’t like to use her fire side out of fear, but when she sees her crush, Natasha, in danger, she’s forced to overcome what she’s scared of.

“Everyone ready for the mission?” Steve asked the Avengers as he boarded the jet. They were all preparing to go out and kick some ass.

“Yes”’s went around.

Y/N leaned against the wall, fixing her suit. The mission was simple enough. They were infiltrating an old Hydra base. They had gotten an anonymous tip that SHIELD files had been stored there. Phil Coulson (we’re pretending that they know he’s alive) had called, asking the Avengers to investigate as the files were reportily very important for Hydra’s plans and could compromise SHIELD’s safety. Phil was too busy with other problems, so the Avengers jumped to help out in anyway they could.

However, they had to take cautions. Even though it looked like it was abandoned, they doubted that anyone would likely leave these important files without protection. Which is why Avengers were going together, not quite knowing what Hydra agents were up to now.

“All set,” Y/N said, glancing up after she finished checking that everything in her suit was good. She gave a thumbs up to Cap as she watched Clint settle himself at the pilot.

Y/N situated herself in-between Natasha and Wanda.

“You excited, little snowman?” Sam asked as he sat next to Bruce and Steve.

Y/N rolled her eyes. The team loved to come up with new nicknames for her with her powers. Humoring Sam, she waved her hand and creating a flurry of snow that floated.

Steve grinned. “You know you can’t defeat Hydra agents with a snow flurry?” He joked.

Y/N bit her lip and sent an icicle at Steve, stopping just before it impaled his nose.

“Note to self: do not piss off Y/N,” Natasha said, making her heart flutter.

Y/N glanced over at Natasha, smiling. “Clint, can you go any faster? They’re tearing into me over here!” She called.

“Hey! That’s my job!” Tony called back from beside Clint.

Wanda slung an arm around Y/N, ruffling her hair. “Just joking, little one,” she said.

“I’m older than you!” Y/N argued.

“Tomato tomato,” Wanda said.

Ten more minutes of joking around and Clint landed, a couple blocks away from the base.

“Y/N, Sam, you’re gonna go in the base from the back entrance. Nat, cover the roof. Be ready to slip inside when Bruce locates where the files are. I will wait and cover the blocks, and will come back you up. Wanda and Tony will go directly through the front entrance and then Bruce, you stay here and monitor. I’ll let you know if we need the Hulk,” Steve told everyone.

“I’m not detecting any heat signatures. It seems like no one is there - but still, be on guard,” Bruce advised everyone.

Everyone nodded and split up.

“So,” Sam said as they walked around the building. “You like Nat, don’t you?”

“What?” Y/N asked, trying to play it off with a laugh. Seeing Sam’s smirk, she gave in. “How’d you know?”

“Despite popular belief, I notice things,” Sam said.

Y/N smirked.

“You should ask her out,” Sam whispered.

Y/N pushed his shoulder jokingly.

As they got closer to the entrance, they both stopped in their tracks. About a dozen Hydra agents stood in front of them. Waiting for them.

That’s when Cap’s voice rang through.

“They masked their heat signatures. There aren’t any files. There were files here - but they’re ambushing us now to distract us and get away,” Steve’s voice rang through.

“What do we do?” Y/N asked.

“Wanda, Bruce, and Tony are gonna go after the people escaping with the files. The rest of you - fight,” Steve ordered.

With a glance at Sam, the two began.

Y/N shot icicle after icicle, trying to trap as many Hydra agents as she could. Sam was doing well, and they almost had everyone knocked out, until someone managed to knock Sam out.

“No!” Y/N yelled. She thought quickly, and saw one agent moving towards Sam. Y/N, knowing she could take on the rest, put up an ice shield around Sam’s unconscious form.

However - she quickly realized that was a distraction when an Hydra agent shot two weapons at her. One was a weapon that sent out a burning flare at her ice side, as ice and fire didn’t mix well, and one was an ice flare gun that shot at her fire side. This made Y/N scream and stumble back in pain, after securing the ice shield around Sam. It gave one of the Hydra agents with powers an opportunity to make a ton of rubble crash down.

The Hydra agents grinned as they saw the rubble cover Y/N. She was knocked out, face first into the ground, and buried. The rubble was trapping one of her arms - the arm that could control ice. The agents ran away, knowing they could go after the other Avengers and when they’d come back, she’d still be here. With their plan, no Avenger would have time to come to her rescue. They ran away.

A couple minutes later, Y/N came back to consciousness. She groaned, spitting out dirt, and yelled when she felt the pain again. Y/N saw that her fire controlling arm was freed, but her ice was trapped.

Y/N thought. She couldn’t set fire to the rubble - that would hurt her even more. She was trapped, and her comms were knocked off. Y/N looked around for anyone to help. Sam was still knocked out but . . . The roof. Natasha. She looked up, trying to find the redhead.

What she saw crushed her (pun not intended). From what Y/N could tell, Natasha was fighting off about twice the Hydra agents she and Sam had. She was confident in Natasha as she was highly trained, but if Hydra had something up their sleeve like that they did to Y/N . . .

“NO!” Y/N yelled, seeing Natasha slip off the roof and fall. A Hydra agent caught her, though, and she saw his evil smile. He was going to drop Natasha. And Natasha was gonna fall.

She wouldn’t survive that height.

Y/N saw Natasha take hold of the roof with her other hand, so she wasn’t just hanging on from the Agent. However if he pushed her off, Natasha holding the roof wouldn’t do any good.

Y/N glanced down at her freed hand. She couldn’t do it. She was too scared to use her powers. She didn’t want to. She never did. It was too dangerous, too risky . . . But now she had no choice.

“NATASHA!” Y/N yelled. The Hydra agent was too prideful just to drop her - he had to get a view snarky comments in. “HOLD ON!” Y/N pointed to Natasha’s right hand, trying to indicate that she was going to save her. The spy seemed to get the message.

Taking a breath, Y/N conjured a hall of fire - it would hurt the agent, but not too badly and threw it up at him. Natasha ducked, and it hit him. The agent flew back, and Natasha held on from the roof. She scaled the building until she found an open window, slipping through it.

A couple minutes later and Natasha was practically running towards Y/N. “Oh my god,” she said, and Y/N smiled weakly at her. Natasha immediately began getting the rubble off of her, apologizing when Y/N would gasp in pain.

Finally, Natasha got enough off that Y/N could move without pain and get up. Natasha helped Y/N stand up, and she stumbled into the spy. Without warning, Natasha picked Y/N up, carrying her birdal style.

“Natasha,” Y/N groaned, leaning her head on Natasha’s shoulder. Her left arm, the fire ice, dangled limply as did the rest of her, essentially. She just had the amount of strength able to wrap her right arm around Natasha’s neck.

“Y/N, I’m carrying you. You’re heart,” she said firmly.

“No,” Y/N said quietly. “Sam.”

Natasha turned around, seeing their teammate’s body encased in the shield. She frowned. “You’re gonna need to melt that, Y/N. I’m sorry,” she said, knowing the pain it would cause.

Y/N took some breaths and let out a small cry of pain as she just about managed to melt the ice. Her left arm fell limp again.

“Someone else from the team will get him,” Natasha said, beginning to carry Y/N back to the jet.

“Why not you, after you get me back?” Y/N asked.

“I’m staying with you. Not only did you save my life - thank you, by the way - but I care about you,” Natasha said.

When they got back to the jet, they saw that everyone else - save Sam, of course - was back.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, paling.

“A bunch of rubble fell on her. She saved my life. Someone get Sam - he’s behind the building,” Natasha explained shortly.

Clint went to go grab him while Bruce directed Natasha to the back of the jet, where a medical table and a first aid kit was. Natasha laid Y/N, who had now passed out, on the table.

“You said a lot of rubble fell on her?” Bruce asked, opening up the first aid kit.

Natasha nodded. “I don’t think it was an accident. She was trapped underneath the rubble - save her fire power arm which she used to save me,” she explained.

“Friday, can you scan Y/N and give me a list of her injuries?” Bruce asked before turning back to his friend. “Did you get hurt?”

Natasha shook her head. “Bruises, but otherwise no. Is everyone else okay?” She asked, but never took her eyes off Y/N.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. No major injuries,” he said.

Friday’s scan came back. In short, she had a broken arm, broken ankle, a stomach wound, concussion, dislocated shoulder, and a broken thighbone. She also had many bruises and cuts which were at risk of being infected.

Bruce cursed under his breath and got to work. “This is gonna take a couple hours. You should get some rest,” he told Natasha, seeing that her concern had grown.

“No,” Natasha said.

“Would she want you watching over her?” Bruce asked.

Natasha glared at him.

The next morning, Y/N woke up. She found herself on lots of painkillers and she was lying in a bed, her own bed. Looking around, she saw Natasha sitting in an armchair, reading a book.

“You’re awake,” Natasha said with a smile, dropping her book and sitting next to Y/N. “You’re going to need a lot of rest and I’ll be your doctor. How are you feeling?” She smiled.

Instead of answering that, Y/N asked her own question. “Why do you want to take care of me so bad?”

“I owe you. You saved me.”

An eyebrow raise showed that Y/N didn’t believe her. “Please don’t lie.”

“Only cause you’re injured,” Natasha said, with a smirk. “However . . . I like you. You’re cute. And I care for you. Also . . . Steve won’t let me go after the Hydra agents who hurt you and kick their asses.”

Y/N smiled. “Well, it’s a good thing that I like you, too,” she said.

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lordabovehelpme · 4 years

Text

Reality- Din Djarin x Reader

This is the highly requested part 2 to Wonder! I hope you all enjoy!

Summary: The mandalorians wonders start to become reality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He can’t take his eyes off you. Your chest rises and falls with your rhythmic breathing. Your eyelids stay shut and your face looks serene.

The Crest stays silent as it flies past stars and planets. He turned auto pilot on long ago, something he rarely does, just so he can watch you. You had insisted on staying beside him as you fly to the next planet with the next bounty. But about an hour in and you passed out like a light. A smirk forms on his lips as he remembers your stubbornness as you tried to fight off your sleep.

Yet here you are, curled up on the copilot seat, looking as peaceful as ever. His fingers itch to reach out and trail across your form, to make sure you’re really here and not just a mirage of the night. Thoughts rush through his head, thoughts of pulling you into his lap. Thoughts of pressing soft kisses to your skin. Thoughts of holding you and never letting go.

But for now, he can’t.

Your soft snores bring warmth to his heart. What if he did just reach out? You surely wouldn’t know.

So he does.

His hand slowly rises from his lap and reaches out to your arm, aching to touch your skin, to run along the flesh that keeps you safe and sound. It’s like a magnet is pulling his fingertips closer. And when he finally faintly touches your skin, he can’t help the hitch in his breath.

He watches you, waiting for you to wake up and scold him. But you don’t, so he grows even more confident. His hand moves up to cup your cheek, and he almost gasps at the tenderness of the moment. It’s amazing how perfectly your cheek fits in his palm, as if you were made for him.

Thoughts start to sing out, assuring him that you were meant for him. That when the maker made you, you were made with the mandalorian in mind. Thoughts of you being his and the joys of being able to hold you.

But you shuffle slightly and he reaches back as if you burnt him. His head snaps back towards the dashboard, waiting for you to question him and declare your hatred. But it never comes.

He lets out a sigh and turns back to look at you. But he is met with your two very opened eyes.

In a panic his heart rate spikes and he snaps his head back towards the dash and places his hands on various levers, moving as fast as his body will allow. He curses and scolds himself, praying you didn’t notice him.

He can hear you stand and when you walk into his view he nearly cries, trying to get the ground to open up and take him away forever.

But instead of yelling at him, you just plop down in his lap and curl up against his chest.

His mouth hangs open and his hands stay frozen in mid air, his mind is suddenly silent. He is completely unsure of what to do. Your arms slide around his waist and pull yourself closer to his chest as you tuck your head away in his neck, perfectly slotted between his shoulder and helmet.

After a few minutes his mind flips back on and it screams at him to hold you. So he does. He wraps his arms around your back, still slightly unsure of this new intimacy. Under his helmet his mouth finally closes and instead a wide smile is formed on his lips.

All those nights of him wondering what it would be like to hold you don’t even shine a light on what it really is like.

His hands idly move up and down your spine, basking in the softness of your skin. But then he realizes how uncomfortable the beskar must be to you. So his hands leave your back quickly and start to unlock the various clasps on his chest.

You lean back and look up at his visor, confusion written all over your face. He nearly melts at your gaze. Once all the clasps are done he pulls the chest piece from his body, revealing a dark undershirt.

“Here, cyar’ika. It’ll be more comfortable.”

He watches as your eyes lock onto his chest. Shivers spark up and down his bones when you touch him. He nearly moans when you dig into his muscle with your thumbs. You nod, showing your appreciation, and wrap your hands back around his waist, your fingertips clenching the duraweave. But this time he helps guide your head to his neck, and pulls you close into his chest.

He’s so unsure if this is actually reality or if he is just dreaming again. He tries to take in every detail, even the small ones. He knows he’ll come back to this memory in the future. This is the one that will plague him every night when he wishes to be able to hold you again. When he wishes that you were truly his own.

He tries to sear everything into his mind. Your soft snores, the way your hands grip his shirt, the plush of your thighs on his own. He loves the comforting weight of you on top of him. He loves how he can feel your breath on his skin, eliciting bumps to rise on his sensitive skin. He loves how you keep your arms firmly wrapped around him, just as he keeps his own wrapped around you. He loves all of it.

In a thoughtless haze, he slides his leather gloves off, allowing his naked fingertips to trail over your skin. He runs his hands under your shirt and starts to trail your spine. His nails slightly scratch at your skin, not harshly but rather offering the most comfort he can.

He’s moving without thinking, just trying to get the most of what he can out of the moment. His heart swells with love that he knows he should not hold. He harbors an undying warmth for you, a warmth he knows he’ll never be able to shake.

His hands move to slowly lift his helmet from his head. Once his lips are revealed he presses them against your head, breathing in the floral scent of your shampoo. The scent that haunts him as you walk past him. The scent that floods his helmet whenever you’re near. The scent that he hopes will linger on his shirt once you wake up and leave him.

When you leave him.

He nearly cries at the thought.

Instinctively his hands pull you closer, vowing to never let go.

He knows he would never keep you against your will, but for now he can dream. He can pretend that you’ll always stay in his arms. He can try and convince himself that you’ll stay right here where he can keep you safe; tucked away from the horrors of the world.

Kiss after kiss is pressed to your head as he promises to protect you the best he can. His soft words may not reach your mind in your slumber, but they still hold the same power. The same promise. The same love.

Because right now he realizes that his wonders have started to become reality.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi guys! I’m sorry for being so inactive recently. I’ve been in a little bit of writers block recently, but I was able to write this sequel. I hope you guys liked it.

Please consider reblogging or leaving a comment. I love hearing what you all have to say.

Love, Lordy :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space @jedi-jesi @coldlilheart @remmysbounty @t3a-bag @all-along-the-resolute @impala1967666 @rosiefridayrogersunday

And I’m tagging you amazing people who wanted a part two or showed interest: @deceiverofgodss @cciolatte @ficcrypt @humansohuman @phantomreadsandreblogs @particularmariana @orivodika @mother-of-dragons-dany

#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mando #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader

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calpalirwin · 3 years

Text

Come Back

Summary: It was a standard routine mission gone wrong in all the worst ways possible, or so the world, and most of the Avengers, was led to believe.

A/N: When my 5sos writing addiction crosses paths with my superhero addiction. Beta-read by @jessalyn-jpeg thank you!!!!

Word Count: 10.8k

And away, and away we go!

“Hostage situation,” Ashton said, slapping the folder down in the middle of the table.

Y/N’s fingers grazed the manila folder emblazoned with a giant “MISSION” stamp in the middle of it. Fuckin’ subtle, she thought with an eye roll.

“Am I boring you already?” Ashton all but snapped at the woman, his arms crossing over his chest.

She raised her gaze to meet his, holding it steadily. Aside from Calum and Michael, Y/N and Ashton were the closest in age, with Y/N having the advantage over the man, a fact she knew he despised even though she graciously allowed him to take the lead at every opportunity. Leading had never been her cup of tea, but it was definitely Ashton’s, the arrogant little bastard. “Not at all,” she said sweetly, flashing him a smile. “Captain,” Y/N added as an afterthought.

Ashton pinched the bridge of his nose, shifting his stare over to Calum, seeing if he’d help tame the woman’s snark, so that Ashton could get on with the team meeting, preferably without a headache. Calum just gave his sister a small shove, which she gladly took as a way to knock into Michael on her other side, the blonde’s arm going to rest along the back of his girlfriend’s chair.

When Ashton cleared his throat, Y/N rolled her eyes again. “Oh, just get on with it, you prat. Hostage situation. And ready? 3, 2, 1, action!”

“Yes,” Ashton said, his tone taking on the edge that was aptly referred to Ashton’s leader voice. “We, that is SHIELD, infiltrated a Hydra base about a month back in an attempt to get a spy on the inside. Problem is, that SHIELD agent was working with Hydra, and led our men straight into a trap.”

“And women,” Y/N added.

“Yes, and our women agents as well, thank you, audience participation.”

“So our task is to do what exactly? Search and rescue?” Luke asked, leaning back in his seat.

“Pretty much, yes.”

“Great…” the blue eyes rolled.

“Yeah, it’s not exactly glamorous, but it’s well within our authorization to carry out ourselves.” Ashton puffed out his chest a little, like he was proud to be trusted with such a high class mission.

“Blow up New York a few times saving the world and everyone’s a critic…” Y/N joked half-heartedly. “Face it, Ash, we’re an over glorified search and rescue team. Just tell us when we’re headed out.”

“Jet leaves in a half hour. Folder contains more details regarding our individual parts and a map of the compound.”

Luke’s face lit up at the potential that individual assignments might have a little bit more glory to them, eagerly snatching the folder and passing out the packets inside to each team member before tearing into his. “Aw! C’mon!” he groaned, tossing the papers back on the table. “We never get anything cool anymore…”

Y/N kept her quip about how Luke should speak for himself to herself, as she glanced at her own personal assignment. Fuckin’ hell…

“You alright, babe?” Michael asked, his fingers rubbing at her neck as he started to pull his arm back across her chair.

She crumpled her assignment in her fist. “Hmm? I’m fine,” she grinned, kissing his nose.

Michael blew out his air in a huff, “Yeah, I know the mission’s kinda bullshit action wise. But when we get back we can play with these new arrows I’ve been working on. These ones have tracking technology, so even if I was to miss, I wouldn’t.”

“Aw, but you never miss a shot.”

Michael smirked, “I know. But now you guys can use them too. Doesn’t hurt to pick up an extra skill.”

“Sounds like a date,” she said, this time pressing a kiss to his lips, savoring the moment. In a couple of months to a year, she added in her head, because what Michael didn’t know, and what she couldn’t tell him, was that these were going to be their last moments with each other for a while.

~~~

Exactly a half hour after Ashton had dismissed his team, the group of five sat strapped in the jet, the engines rumbling as it took off, headed for the Hydra base. “Everyone has their assignment?” Ashton asked, eyes darting across everyone.

“Yes, Dad,” they all mock-saluted.

The hazel eyes rolled, and his jaw ticked in annoyance. “If someone else wants to be leader, be my guest.”

“So then I could be the prat everyone hates?” Luke scoffed. “No, thanks.”

“Aw, Luke. We’d hate you regardless if you're the leader or not,” Michael joked, clapping the other man on the shoulder.

“Hehehe,” Luke laughed in a high-pitched, mocking manner.

“Nobody has a problem with you being leader, Ash. You know this,” Y/N said. “Plus we all know that you’re just the one relaying orders from the higher ups. You’re just better at it than the rest of us. I mouth off too much, and these three are babies. Face it, you’re the perfect soldier.”

Ashton’s expression softened a bit at her words, the closest thing to a compliment she’s ever given him. “Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot.”

“Oh, save it. It doesn’t make you less annoying.”

“Babies? Who are you calling babies?” Michael asked, poking a finger in his girlfriend’s shoulder.

“Yeah!” Calum huffed. “No babies here!”

Y/N laughed, reaching out to pinch Calum’s cheek. “You will always be a baby to me, baby brother.” Then she turned her attention to Michael, “And you? You’re just my babe,” she grinned, kissing his nose.

“And me?” Luke asked, perking up his seat.

“A literal infant,” she grinned wider while everyone else nodded, including Ashton.

The rest of the jet ride was spent doing last minute training (Ashton), reviewing personal assignments (Y/N), tinkering with new technology (Calum and Michael), or sleeping (Luke) until Ashton called everyone back for a quick meeting.

“We’re approaching our drop off point.”

“Drop off point or…?” Luke whistled before slamming his hand down on the table. “Jumping point?”

Ashton held up 2 fingers, and Luke grinned, pumping his fist in small victory. “We can’t risk the jet getting anywhere near their radar, so we’re landing roughly here,” Ashton continued, pointing at the map. “Hydra base is here,” he moved his finger to where there was a giant red circle. “And safe to assume it’s heavily guarded on the outside.”

Y/N studied the distance between where Ashton said the landing spot was versus where the base was. “So we’re landing about a mile out, and we’re just gonna knock on the front door, hoping they let us in?”

Ashton snorted. “God no. Well, kinda. Luke’s breaking in to shut down their security protocols. From there, Cal should be able to hack and override their system. Mike keeps our path clear from the outside. Making our job,” he waved a finger between Y/N and himself, and Y/N gulped wondering how much he knew about everyone’s personal assignments, “easier for helping Luke get the hostages out.”

She breathed in relief. Good. Ashton was under the usual impression of personal assignments from previous missions, and not the other, slightly more complicated bit to the otherwise usual mission. Luke, with his ability to shrink and grow with the push of a button, courtesy of Calum and Michael’s technology, was the thief. The one with the power to get small enough to squeeze in anywhere unnoticed. Which set him up perfectly to gain security access for Calum, who could then override any system remotely, alongside piloting his drone for extra security coverage/fighting power. Michael usually hung back with Calum to keep Calum company, while being both an extra set of eyes, and an extra fighter with his hundred percent success rate as an archer. Which left super soldier Ashton, and non-super soldier, but highly trained martial artist Y/N to provide the bulk of fending off enemies. A ragtag team of not exactly super, but definitely better than your average SHIELD agent, SHIELD had dubbed the Avengers. “Sounds like we should get ready to jump then.”

While jumping was Luke’s favorite part of the mission, the rest of the team paled a little standing in the doorway of the jet, air rushing all around. But when Ashton yelled “Go!” they all jumped, Luke first with a whoop of “Showtime!” Y/N sucked in a breath, following Luke out and grabbing Michael’s hand to pull him after her, the ground hurtling upwards at her.

“Pull!” Ashton’s voice directed in everyone’s ears, and five parachutes deployed in unison, Y/N jerking wildly with the pullback.

“Whoa, easy there,” Michael’s voice was both in her earpiece and shouting above the wind, his hand squeezing hers. “You’re good, babe.”

“Ugh, I fuckin’ hate that part,” she groaned, her stomach churning.

“And I hate this part,” Calum groaned along with his sister, before all anyone heard was his feet hitting the ground and his string of curses as his body rolled with his landing.

“You gotta learn to land better,” Y/N and Ashton both scolded, as Y/N’s own feet touched down, and she ran a little with the momentum so she didn’t roll like her brother.

“You gotta learn to land better,” Calum mimicked as he picked himself up off the ground, shooting Luke a glare, “What are you so fuckin’ happy about?”

“That shit is the fuckin’ best!” Luke whooped in a whisper. “Fuck yeah! I’m pumped!”

“Good,” Ashton chuckled. “How do you feel about more flying?”

“Aw sick! Is Michael gonna shoot me?!”

“Not the way I’d like to,” Michael grinned sarcastically, reaching behind him for his bow and arrow. “Shrink down, giant man.”

While Luke shrunk down to the size of a tic-tac, Ashton started instructing Michael on where to shoot, but Michael brushed him off. “Yeah, yeah. Close enough to get him inside, but not anywhere that’ll draw attention. Cal, you got eyes yet?”

“Yeah, but I’m not gonna be able to get the drone in there until Luke gets in so I can hack the system.”

“That’s fine, I got it,” Luke said in the ear piece. “Cal, I’m on your right shoe. Lift up?”

Calum bent down to pluck up Luke, placing him carefully on Michael’s nocked arrow. “Just tell me where I’m aiming, Cal,” Michael said, breathing steadily as he pulled back his bow.

“Quarter inch to the right,” Calum directed. “If you aim low, Luke can run in from the ground, or if you aim high, there’s a branch that he can access the second floor from. Shooter’s choice.”

“Security’s on the second floor,” Luke and Michael both said, and with that, Michael inhaled, and on the exhale, sent Luke and the arrow flying towards Hydra, undetectable.

“And now we wait,” Ashton commented, stretching his arms up over his head. “Y/N, we-”

“Won’t have much time between Cal hacking the system and Hydra finding out. And Cal and Mike can only provide so much coverage while staying out of sight. So we’re on a time clock of maybe 5 minutes if we’re lucky. I know, Ash. I go left, you go right?”

He nodded. “Get ready to run.”

Y/N glanced at Calum. “How much time before Luke gets into the system for you?”

“Thirty seconds. Make it quick.”

She turned to Michael, tears brimming up in her eyes. “Aw, babe. It’ll be fine,” he chuckled lightly, kissing her.

“I know,” she answered in a shaky breath, resting her forehead against his, committing everything to memory from the sharpness of his green eyes, to the pink tint of his lips. To his calloused fingertips as they cupped her face, and the scratch of his beard under her own hand. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he chuckled again. “Now go kick some ass.”

“Luke’s in. 15 seconds,” Calum told Y/N and Ashton, so Y/N kissed Michael as deeply and fiercely as she could, clinging to every bit of those last 15 seconds. “2… I’m in. System’s down.” But Y/N wasn't ready to let go yet.

“Y/N!” Ashton growled harshly, dragging her by the back of her shirt and then shoving her forward. “Fuckin’ move!”

She swallowed her storm of feelings, shutting that part of herself off, and switched fully into Mission Mode, ignoring Calum's chuckle of “Damn, what kind of good luck kiss was that?” and Michael’s shy but proud, “I dunno, but I ain’t complaining.”

With the security breach came the storm of chaos that allowed Y/N and Ashton to enter the compound without raising any serious flags. With Ashton headed to the right flank, Y/N went left, and the first chance she had, she took it.

The Hydra soldier looked to be about her size, their attention not zeroing in on her until Y/N already grabbed them in a chokehold. “Sorry about this,” she whispered as she snapped their neck in a swift motion, then dragged them into a nearby supply closet. “Ash, Y/N, I located the hostages. Where are you?” Luke asked in the earpiece.

“Coming up on your right, Luke,” Ashton confirmed.

“Got in a small tangle, be there soon,” Y/N grunted as she started switching clothes with the body.

“God damn it, Hood…”

“Which one?” both her and Calum asked with an amused glint, their favorite little bit to annoy their captain.

“You know which one,” Ashton hissed. “Cal, time estimate. Mike, coverage report. Y/N, get a move on, seriously!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Y/N muttered before taking out her earpiece and stomping on it, leaving it with the dead Hydra soldier along with her tracker just outside the doorway of the supply closet. “Just not the way you think,” she then muttered quietly to herself before hurrying after the other Hydra soldiers, running for the back of the compound. “What the hell is going on?” she snapped at one of them, putting as much authority in her voice as she could.

“It’s the Avengers. Initiating protocol 78. Get in a vehicle and get out. 2 minutes until denotation.”

Denotation?! Son of a bitch… Ashton and Luke were still getting the hostages out. She had to warn them, but… SON OF A BITCH!

Y/N shook off the panic and kept moving, trusting that Ashton and Luke knew what they were doing, and that Calum and Michael could keep them safe and aware of the limited time before the whole base went up in a fiery explosion. Her priority wasn’t on the rescue mission anymore. It never had been. Hers was to carry out the original mission that had resulted in this mission in the first place. Get into Hydra. Learn what they had planned. Destroy them from the inside. But damn, it would be a lot easier if she didn’t have to hide it from the guys. Her guys. Her baby brother. Her boyfriend. I’m safe, she screamed in her head. I’m safe! Look after each other, please!

While she got herself onto a vehicle headed out, she caught a glimpse of Ashton and Luke herding people out through a side gate and into the neighboring woods.

“Hood, where the fuck are you?” Ashton hissed

“Which one?” only Calum responded, then, “Shit… Y/N?!”

“Cal, where is she?!” Ashton and Michael demanded at the same time.

“I- I don’t understand. Her tracker is still by the left side of the compound where she went in.” Calum started fiddling around with the drone, trying to find his sister with it. “Y/N? Y/N, do you copy?”

“Luke, take the hostages back to Cal and Mike,” Ashton instructed, his voice tight, but controlled under pressure. “Cal, where did you say she was last?”

“To your left. 50 yards. She should be right there, Ash, I don’t understand!” His voice was high with panic.

“I don’t see her,” Ashton reported, and there was a loud bang as he smashed his fist against something. “I don’t fuckin’ see her!”

“Maybe she’s on her way back!” Michael said hopefully. “Maybe she was helping clear the way for you and Luke. You know she can’t turn down a fight.”

“Heh,” Ashton chuckled. “Yeah maybe. I mean, these trackers and earpieces only stay on so well when you’re kicking some serious ass, ya know?”

“Exactly,” Michael chuckled in relief. “It’s Y/N we’re talking about.”

“Well let’s hope that’s the case, and that Ash is the fuckin’ Flash because guys… this compound’s gonna blow,” Calum spoke up, his voice still holding a small wobble.

“How much time?” Ashton asked, already running for an exit.

“40 seconds give or take.”

“Alright, I’m ou- whoa, shit.”

“What?!” three voices demanded.

“It’s Y/N’s tracker and earpiece. Just lying here in the fuckin’ hallway… and guys… there’s a body…” Ashton gave a small grunt as he flipped the body over with his boot. “Oh, thank God!” he laughed. “It’s not her! Probably just a scuffle where some of her gear fell.”

“Okay, well 1.) thanks for the heart attack and 2.) if it’s not her, then get the fuck out!” Calum yelled.

“Okay, but if it’s not her body then she’s fuckin’ missing, so where is she?!” Michael asked.

“She’s not with me,” Luke told them. “I haven’t seen her this whole time.”

“I don’t have eyes on her either,” Ashton chimed in, running as fast and far as he could before the compound blew.

“Cal, anything?!” Michael asked, now growing frantic as he scanned around, hoping to find his girlfriend lounging against some tree behind him. Safe. Laughing at her boys for ever thinking she was in harm’s way.

“No…” Calum choked, tears starting to spill down his cheeks. “C’mon, c’mon…” he prayed. “C’mon, Y/N, don’t do this to me.”

“C’mon, Y/N, where the hell are you?”

In the distance, Y/N heard the boom of the explosion, the vehicle shaking with the sound. She hoped her boys were safe and okay. And they were safe. But they were far from okay. Because what she couldn’t hear was Calum’s broken sob and Michael’s heartbreaking scream of her name.

~~~

The jet ride back to headquarters was heavy with tension. To keep his mind occupied, Ashton set to work getting statements from the hostages. Calum and Michael sat in their seats, every muscle tightened, faces blank and frozen, tear tracks running down their cheeks. Luke was the only one who looked remotely comfortable, lounging against the wall of the jet, legs stretched out, his index finger tapping an unrelenting rhythm against his jaw as he hummed to himself.

“Would you knock it off?!” Calum tried to yell at Luke, but his throat was rubbed raw, so it came out as a hoarse whisper.

“What? I’m thinking!” Luke defended.

“Thinking isn’t supposed to be loud.”

“What are you thinking, Luke?” Ashton asked, his own voice clear, but weary as he ran a hand over his face and then through his hair.

“Y/N’s not an idiot,” he started.

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit,” Calum spat.

Ashton held up a hand. “Let him talk, Cal. Go on, Luke.”

Luke straightened up, drawing his legs up, and resting his arms across his knees. “She’s not an idiot,” he repeated, studying his fingernails to keep his mind on track. “She always knew what she was doing. So she would have known that the mission felt off.”

“What do you mean, the mission felt off?” Ashton asked.

“Oh, c’mon, Ash. You couldn’t feel it, too? We got in and out without running into anyone trying to stop us. They didn’t care that we were getting out the hostages. They were evacuating. They had whatever they needed and were going to blow the place up whether we were there or not.”

“Okay. And what does that have to do with Y/N?” Ashton continued to prompt.

“I’m saying she knew. So she went in search of any plans she could get her hands on. Anything that might have gotten left behind in the scramble to evacuate sooner than they had originally planned.”

“So you’re suggesting that instead of helping us like she was supposed to, Y/N went off to try and get us more information?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

“Hmm…” Ashton thought, mulling over Luke’s theory. “That does sound exactly like the type of shit Y/N would pull…”

“BULLSHIT!” Michael screamed suddenly, jumping to his feet. “THAT’S FUCKIN’ BULLSHIT!”

“How is it bullshit?!” Luke yelled back, rising to stand toe-to-toe with Michael.

“BECAUSE IF IT WAS TRUE THEN WHERE IS SHE, LUKE?! HUH?! DO YOU SEE HER IN HERE?! CUZ I DON’T!”

“Obviously she’s not with us,” Luke scoffed. “But she got out, that I’m sure of. She’s somewhere.”

“Oh…” Michael nodded, his sudden drop in tone frightening. “So, what you’re saying is that WE left her behind! Our teammate! His sister! My girlfriend! And we just LEFT her?!”

“It’s better than the alternative of believing that she’s DEAD!”

“Oh, cuz that’s SO MUCH BETTER! What your theory suggests, Luke, is that WE either failed our teammate by leaving her behind, or she’s dead. Regardless of which of those options is the truth, WE FAILED HER! Whatever happened to her is OUR FAULT!” His hands clenched into fists at his sides and he raised them, whether to hit Luke or the wall behind him, no one was sure. Then, a sob was wracking through Michael’s body, his fists dropping back to his sides as his body crumpled. “Oh, God,” he cried quietly, curling up on the ground, his body shaking with the force of his cries. “Y/N, I’m so sorry… It’s all our fault… Fuck, I’m so sorry…”

~~~

Five months later found Y/N in a place within Hydra where she had enough access to send word out to SHIELD about Hydra’s plans: the creation of the an undefeatable army made up of highly skilled super soldiers injected with a recently perfected and modified serum that made Ashton’s super soldier skills look like child’s play.

The same five months found 4/5ths of the former team, smarter than they were before, but at the cost of diminished spirits as Ashton laid the all too familiar manila folder in the middle of the table, with its pitch-black “MISSION” stamp in the center.

Michael’s fingers went out to graze the stamp, his eyes meeting Calum’s as they shared a weak smile, both of them missing the way Y/N used to call the folder stupid for stating so clearly what it was.

“We’ve received intel about Hydra's latest plans. It’s not good,” Ashton said, pausing for a sarcastic comment about how if Hydra was involved then of course it wasn’t good that never came. “They’ve not only modified the super soldier serum, they’ve also perfected it. A hundred percent success rate. Hostages don’t stay hostages for very long.” Again, he paused, waiting for a witty quip, but was only given nods of understanding. He let out a small sigh. “With the intel, we also got information of where their supply of the serum is, and where they’re making it. As far as our source knows, it’s just the one lab. Our mission is slightly different than what we’re used to as it’s a three-parter. The first part is pretty standard. Get in and release the hostages they have before they can be turned. The second part is also getting more information about the lab and the serum. We have to make sure that this is the only lab before we can go about initiating Part Three, which is destroying any and all labs we learn about. But today, our focus is on Part One and Two. Part Three will be carried out at a later date once SHIELD has time to go over everything and assess the situation.”

“After I get in to override security for Cal, I can start looking around for lab plans,” Luke decided. “If you can handle the hostages, Ash.”

Ashton nodded. “Yeah, I can handle that. Mike, I might need you closer to the action though, rather than staying back with Cal, and providing your backup there. If you’re up for it, that is.”

“I can get closer, it’s fine,” Michael replied numbly.

“Perfect. And how are those new trackers you and Cal have been working on?”

“Ready. And injectable. Once injected, Cal has access to turning them on or off, so we’ll never have to think about trackers again. Like potentially losing one…”

“And some of them can be fitted onto your arrows, yes? So maybe we can stick a lab worker or two with them?” Ashton followed up, ignoring the bitter edge in Michael’s tone.

“Yes.”

“Alright. We leave in a half hour.”

~~~

Y/N was patrolling around the upper deck of the Hydra base when both an alarm sounded and her earpiece crackled to life. “Security breach. Fuckin’ Avengers…”

“Secure the hostages and the lab,” came a different order.

“On it,” Y/N answered with several other voices, but she stayed rooted in her spot, knowing her old team’s moves by heart. Luke was somewhere in the compound, no doubt hiding in his shrunken version. Michael would have taken a closer position now for Ashton’s sake to help keep the path clear for Ashton to escort the hostages to safety. And Calum would be flying the drone, being everywhere the rest of the team couldn’t be, informing them of every move.

The familiar buzz of a drone a few seconds later came as no surprise, and she turned to the sound, grinning.

“Y/N?!” the drone’s speaker yelled in shock.

“Hi, baby brother,” she said, waggling her fingers in a wave. Then, her lips turned down in a mock-pout. “Sorry about this,” she told him, grabbing the wings of the drone.

“Yeah, me too,” Calum’s voice said, as he pushed a button that shot out an arrow as Y/N brought the drone down over her knee, cracking the device in half. She let out a slow hiss as the arrow passed straight through her shoulder, and then embedded itself in the wall behind her.

“Tell Mike to up your archery practice,” she told the broken drone as she dropped the two pieces, then took off.

“Y/N?!” Ashton, Luke, and Michael were yelling in Calum’s ear. “You found her?! I told you she was alive! Where is she, Cal?!”

“Bitch broke my drone!” was all Calum could come up with as a reply.

“Calum!” Ashton’s voice was sharp, Michael’s desperate.

“Give me a second, she broke my drone!” Calum grumbled, his relief about his sister being okay mixing with the rage only siblings could have for one another when one of them broke something of the other’s. “Okay, okay. Yes! Fuck yes! Whoohoo! Mikey-boy the tracker arrows work!”

“Of course they work,” Michael scoffed proudly.

“Well, I sort of shot through her, so I wasn’t sure if the tracker got in her, or the wall.”

“You shot my girlfriend?!”

“She BROKE MY DRONE!”

“You can build a new one,” Ashton told him with a sigh.

“You shot my girlfriend!” Michael continued to screech.

“I had to get the tracker on her!” Calum protested.

“Well, fuckin’ track her then, and get her out of there!”

“Cal, send me and Luke her location,” Ashton ordered. “Whoever’s closest tries to get her. But Luke, we gotta head out before they surround us. This isn’t like last time. They’re standing their ground.”

“She was on the upper deck on your side, Ash. She’s headed your way now, Luke. Towards the lab,” Calum reported, his eyes on Y/N’s tracker.

“Fuck, I gotta get out of here with these guys. Luke, get Y/N,” Ashton said, guiding a small group of hostages to safety.

“I’m in the lab, I got h- Oh, fuck me!” Luke’s words of hope died down as he glanced out the window of the lab. “I gotta shrink back down if I’m gonna get out of here. They’re fuckin’ swarming the lab. Ash, that’s good news for you because it means your path is clear.” He grabbed as many folders as he could gather in his arms, before hitting a button to shrink back down, just as Hydra soldiers muscled their way into the lab, looking around for anything out of place. “ ‘Scuse me. Pardon me. Just gonna squeeze past…” Luke talked aloud as he sprinted across the tops of boots headed for the exit. “You know, maybe I should get some of those trackers next time. Got plenty of feet to stab them into right now.”

“Duly noted,” Michael said, loosing a volley of arrows, sinking as many trackers into Hydra agents as he could. “Did you get Y/N?”

“No…” Luke replied in disappointment. “Ash?”

“No, I had to get out with whoever I could. Luke, you out?”

“Headed back now. I snagged some plans, if that’s any consolation.”

“That’s awesome, Luke. Thanks,” Ashton said, but there was a lingering note of dejection that they couldn’t get Y/N too. “She’s alive, and Cal got a tracker in her, which is more than we could have hoped for anyway.”

“I know. But still. Sorry, Mike.”

Michael shook his head, straightening his bow and quiver on his back before following after Ashton and Luke back to Calum. “It’s fine. Ash is right. We’ll work with what we got.”

“We’ll get her back. Don’t worry,” Ashton said, his words mostly directed at Calum and Michael, but also as a vow on his and Luke’s part. They’d get their girl back if it was the last thing the team ever did.

~~~

Y/N sat with her mouth set in a tight line as the nurse patched up her wound. “You super soldiers are all the same. The blank expressions. Immune to normal pain,” the nurse commented as they worked.

“Not a super soldier,” Y/N replied numbly, feeling the thread pull her skin back together. “Just a regular psycho.”

“Mmm,” the nurse chuckled. “And this was ‘just some light training,’ yes?” They gestured at the wound.

“Sibling rivalry gone too far, actually,” Y/N corrected.

“Mmm, well in my experience, few things come between siblings. You will be fine.”

“I hope so,” she muttered under her breath, but Y/N wasn’t so sure. How did she justify leaving her brother, her boyfriend, and the rest of her team in the dark about a mission they were all part of? How did she explain that she had to let them think that she had succumbed to the worst of fates? That she had to let them deal with the heartache of thinking she was dead, only to find out she was working for the enemy? SHIELD assignment or not, that wasn’t the kind of news she could just waltz back home with and offer up a simple “Hey, sorry I’ve been gone.” Y/N and Calum had suffered a lot between petty sibling issues, like when he first learned she was sleeping with his best friend, to much bigger issues regarding missions as part of the Avengers team. But this? Playing double agent while having to leave him completely in the dark? There was no coming back from this. And Michael… Oh, the betrayal he must be feeling. And mix that with the guilt and blind rage? If he was functioning at all, she bet that it was an ugly sight. A shell of the man she loved. Any ounce of humanity turned off to not drown under the pain.

Still, a part of her hoped that Michael or, perhaps even Calum, would turn against orders to try and stage a useless rescue of her, now that they knew part of the truth. And while she knew it would be a meeting that ended poorly on all sides, she could at the very least slip them a note. So back in the safety of her room, she quickly penned a note, then tucked it into her uniform.

~~~

Similar to last time, the ride back to headquarters was tense. Ashton kept busy by collecting statements from the hostages they managed to rescue. Then, he joined Luke in pouring over the statements and the documents Luke got his hands on in the lab.

Calum kept his eyes glued to the device that held the locations of all the trackers, watching the way Y/N’s blinked steadily.

Michael sat off on his own in sullen silence, his mind racing, hands clenching and unclenching into fists in a repetitive manner. He wanted to order the jet to turn around. To go back and get Y/N if he had to carry her over his shoulder himself. He was angry at his team, and himself for leaving her behind for a second time. Angry that he couldn’t stop failing her at every turn. But in the anger was a twinge of hope and relief. She was alive. Which meant that they could get her back. Luke had been right along. She knew what she was doing. But he still selfishly wanted her safe next to him. He wanted her laugh ringing out as she annoyed Ashton. He wanted to be able to smell her shampoo mixing with her sweat when she rested her head against his shoulder, complaining about how she couldn’t wait to get back and take a long hot shower. He wanted to be able to cover her cheeks in a blush as he whispered dirty words in her ear about the things he’d do when he joined her in said shower.

“Could you stop?” Calum asked, snapping Michael out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?” Michael hummed.

“The banging. Wanna stop?” It was less of a question and more of a command.

Michael looked down at his fists, noting the redness form along the outer edge of his palms and pinky fingers. “Oh, sorry,” he mumbled, placing his hands in his lap, not even aware he’d been banging his hands against the floor.

“I want her back too, Mike. Just as much as you do.”

Enough to break protocol and go rogue? Michael wanted to ask, but all he ended up saying was “I know.”

When they got back to headquarters, Ashton and Luke continued their work of looking over every word on every scrap of paper. Calum wordlessly joined them, his attention still held captive by the location tracker with it’s slow, steady blinks. No one thought it to be out of the ordinary, when Michael opted to head straight to the armory. Just hand waving and mumbles of “Yeah, could you?”s.

So Michael lugged the bag of gear into the armory, setting to the task of putting things out, and taking stock. But instead of putting his own gear away as well, he prepped it, having no intention of sitting around waiting for orders to be handed down. Not now when he knew where Y/N was. Fuck the rules and regulations. He was done with letting her down, letting her wonder why her team still hadn’t come for her. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m coming. I promise,” he mumbled under his breath as he left the armory, dropping his bag in the doorway of his room, then going to find the rest of the team. “Hey, Cal?”

“Yeah?” the man asked, not lifting his head.

“You got a spare one of those?”

“One of these?” Calum questioned, holding up the device.

“Yeah. I, uh… Just wanna be able to see her, you know?” he half-lied, making his voice crack for extra sympathy points.

“Yeah, course,” Calum nodded, pushing his way to his feet. He walked a few feet to a docking station that held various other forms of tech. “Here,” Calum said, grabbing one and logging into it. He tapped a few buttons until the familiar map pulled up. “This is just hers, and this,” he swiped across the screen to pull up a menu. “You can click to see the location of any tracker. We’re 1-4,” he twirled a finger to signal he meant himself, Ashton, Luke, and Michael. “And Y/N is 5. And the others are various trackers we got in Hydra agents today, or just not in use yet.”

“Thanks, Cal,” Michael took the device in his hands, then titled his head slightly towards Ashton and Luke. “I think I’m just gonna shower, then call it a day.”

“We’ll holler if we find anything interesting. Feel better, Mike,” Ashton told him.

“Night,” Luke mumbled, even though it was barely noon.

“Night,” Michael repeated, heading back towards the rooms, swallowing the rise of guilt of lying to his team. But they’d understand that this was something he had to do. Or so he hoped.

In his own room, he turned on music, then pulled a knife from his bag. Taking a few quick rapid breaths, he cut into the skin of his arm, prying his tracker loose. Hissing through his teeth, he dropped the tracker on his bed before bandaging up his arm. “Fuck,” he shuddered. “Argh! Okay. Here we go.”

~~~

Not being able to risk taking out the jet, it took Michael until well after the sun went down before he came within sight of the Hydra base with its giant searchlights, both lighting up the place, and casting it in menacing shadows.

Michael ditched the motorcycle well before he needed to as a safety precaution, before creeping the rest of the way on foot. His breath came out in huffed little clouds as he headed straight for where Y/N was. If the tracker was as accurate as Michael wanted to believe, she was right where she was when she’d had her skirmish with Calum earlier. Upper level deck, left side.

It was only as Michael got closer, that he started to realize he had no plan for getting in. “Time for a distraction,” he whispered to himself, digging through his bag for a grenade. “Showtime, bitches.” He pulled the pin and sent the grenade flying. He crouched low, covering his ears, and waited.

There was a loud bang, and then a startled scrambling from inside the gate, as a couple guards rushed out to check what had happened. Michael snuck up behind one, covering their mouth with his hand and dragging them backwards. The guard kicked uselessly at the ground, thrashing about as they tried to get free from Michael’s hold until they finally went limp. Quickly, Michael took their earpiece, before swapping clothes with the unconscious guard he left slumped up against a tree.

“What was that?” a voice was barking in the earpiece.

“We don’t know sir. We don’t see anything,” a handful of voices answered.

“Well if you find anything, put a stop to it!” the voice barked again.

“Did you find anything?” a voice called out in the dark, a flashlight swinging in Michael’s direction.

“No,” he called back quickly, heart pounding in his ears as the flashlight stopped advancing. “All clear.”

“Stupid fuckin’ pranks…” the other voice grumbled, the flashlight retreating. “Headed back in,” the guard spoke into the earpiece. “All clear.”

“Copy that,” a different voice replied.

“Well?” the first voice demanded, the small beam of flashlight turning back to Michael. “Are you coming?!”

“Right! Yes!” Michael said, willing his feet to move, and controlling his breathing to not give away his excitement as he crossed into the Hydra base. He still had the problem of needing to get to Y/N and get them out without raising any alarms. Which started with first getting away from the group of three guards he walked in with without anyone stopping him. So, not thinking too much about it, Michael slowed his walk before stopping altogether. And when his guard counterparts paid no mind, he slipped his way between buildings, hiding in the shadows as he checked the tracker.

He walked purposefully towards the stairs that would lead him to the upper deck, hardening his gaze and sweeping it across the grounds, like he was just another guard doing nightly patrol duty. “I don’t know what Luke’s always bitching about. This shit’s easy and I’m full-sized,” Michael remarked under his breath as he climbed the stairs and rounded a corner.

At the end of the walkway stood a single guard, their hair obscured by the black cap on their head. But even then, it didn’t matter. He’d know her anywhere, in any disguise. It was the way she held herself, her chin slightly tilted towards the sky, her shoulders squared but relaxed, her right foot always slightly shifted more forward than her left foot. He opened his mouth to call out to her, but the words died on his tongue. Was he just supposed to say “Hi” like he hadn’t left her for dead for five months?

It turned out, he didn’t need to say anything, as he took a step in her direction, his boots echoing off the metal floor. She whirled around, her dark eyes zeroing in on him. At the very least he expected a grateful smile as her head tilted slightly to the side, and she blinked slowly, trying to determine if her mind was playing tricks on her. But instead, she just fixed him with a cold steely look that sent the wrong kind of shiver down his spine. He cursed himself as he faltered in his next step. He had never once entertained the idea that she could have been brainwashed in all this time. “Y/N,” he said slowly, holding up his hands. “C’mon. It’s me. Let me get you out of here.”

“You need to leave,” she spat.

“Not without you.”

“Michael, I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Don’t make me do this…” she whispered, bowing her head ever so slightly.

“Do what? I’m here to take you home, babe. C’mon!”

She crouched, tilting her head so her eyes met his. “Final warning.”

Michael shifted a protective stance of his own, raising his fists. “So this is really how you wanna have this reunion, huh?”

“It’s the only way.”

Michael dodged as her fist came swinging at his jaw. “Fine. Have it your way, then,” he growled, throwing his own punch that landed on her body. When she huffed in annoyance and slight pain, an apology was ready to fly off his lips.

She used his pause to tackle him, the walkway rattling with the force of his body hitting the ground. “C’mon, I know you hit harder than that,” she taunted, connecting a rapid succession of blows against his upper torso.

He twisted underneath her, bringing up his arms to block her hits. “Just come with me!” he begged, as he threw his arms forward, sending her skiddering backwards off of him.

“I can’t!” she yelled, charging at him again.

He did his best to block her attacks, but some hits still found a place to land, small grunts leaving his mouth at each connection.

“Fight back!” she yelled again, aiming for his jaw.

“No!” He snatched her wrist, as her knuckles started to brush into the side of his face. “I’m not gonna fight you, Y/N! This is ridiculous! I’m not trying to hurt you! I’m trying to save you!” he tried to reason as he spun her body so her back was flush against his chest, holding her tightly to him. “Baby, it’s me,” he whispered in her ear. “It’s me. It’s Mike. C’mon, baby. Come back with me. Come back to me. Please.”

A growl ripped out her throat as she brought one of her feet down on one his with as much strength as she had. And when Michael doubled over in pain, hearing the crunch of bone, her other leg kicked backwards, nailing him squarely in the chest, knocking him backwards.

“Y/N?” a voice sounded in both of their earpieces. “What’s going on?”

Y/N’s chest heaved as she stared down at Michael, who stared back up at her, struggling to find his breath. “Nothing,” she told the voice, before turning her back on Michael.

“Y/N,” Michael croaked out uselessly, coughing. His mouth tasted of blood and every part of his body felt like it was on fire.

He had no recollection of how he got off the compound and back to his motorcycle. Just like he had no recollection of driving all night back to Avengers headquarters.

He was, however, somewhat aware of his teammates' gasps of surprise when he dragged himself into the foyer of the building, as his body slumped against the cool tile, and he finally blacked out.

~~~

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Ashton thundered, his hand coming down hard on the table.

Michael stared blankly past Ashton, not bothering to give a response. Ashton didn’t care about the answer anyway, and it didn’t change anything. And now he understood what Y/N was doing, and she was trusting him to keep what he knew to himself.

Upon his arrival, Michael had slept for close to two days before finally waking in the infirmary, his body still badly battered, but his pain at a manageable level. He had trudged his way down to his room, rummaging through his things when the note fluttered down. With shaking fingers, he opened it, reading the hastily scrawled words, “It’s the mission. I’m safe. I love you,” in Y/N’s handwriting. He barely had enough time to shove the note in his pocket before Ashton was knocking on his open door, looking more pissed off than Michael had ever seen. Wordlessly, Ashton had jerked his thumb in the direction of the conference room, and wordlessly, Michael had shuffled after him, ready to accept whatever fate awaited him.

“Well?!” Ashton’s voice cracked like a whip as Michael did nothing but blink at him.

“What was I thinking?” Michael asked, his voice soft. “Oh, nothing really.”

“Yeah, no fuckin’ shit, Mike!”

“Oh, lay off!” Calum snapped, coming to Michael’s defense. “Mike did exactly what we all wanted to do, but were too scared to do. He tried to get her back. If you wanna fault him for that, Ash, then you’re a bigger jackass than we all thought.”

Ashton sighed, sinking into his chair. “I’m not faulting him, Cal. But what he did was reckless. It could have jeopardized all the work we’ve been doing. I get that it’s Y/N, but we still have a job to do. No one person is bigger than the mission, even if she is your sister. I’m sorry.”

“Fuck you,” Calum said with a sad shake of his head. “Fuck. You.”

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, Ash,” Michael said, his voice still soft. “Can I go?”

Ashton rubbed at his face in agitation, letting out a small scream. “Yeah,” he said, his voice muffled by his hands. “Yeah. Go. Whatever. I don’t care.”

“So you’re just giving up?!” Calum asked, his angry and broken expression sweeping across his team. “Just like that? We’re done?”

“Until we get our new orders, yes,” Ashton told him.

“That’s BULLSHIT!” Calum exploded. “You!” He turned, jabbing a finger at Michael. “You’re just gonna walk away?! You go rogue to rescue her on your own, without me, and now you’re throwing in the towel too?!”

“You heard Ashton,” Michael shrugged.

“Oh, you’re so full of shit! All of you! Fuck SHIELD and fuck you lot! It’s Y/N! She needs us! She trusted us! How many times are we going to keep failing her?!” Tears fell hot and fast down Calum’s face. “Please!” he begged, his voice cracking. “We have to do something besides sit on our asses! Mike, please! You can’t give up on her! C’mon! I thought you were on my side! Mike! It’s Y/N… please…”

“No, it’s not,” Michael said bitterly. “It’s not, Y/N. This,” he gestured about his beat up body, “is not her.”

“Fuck you!” Calum cried into his hands, and let out a muffled scream of heartbreak and rage. “I fuckin’ hate you!” He raised his gaze to shoot Michael his best death glare. “I hate you, do you hear me?! I fuckin’ hate you! You’re giving up, you fuckin’ coward! You’re supposed to love her, you fuckin’ bastard!”

Michael tried to bite his tongue as Calum continued to hurl abuse his way, but the last few words of the attack cut deep, and he couldn’t keep his composure any longer. “I gave up?! Me?! I’m the only one who wanted to go back for her five months ago!” Michael went off. “I’m the only one who went back for her a few days ago! Not Ash! Not Luke! Not you, her fuckin’ brother! ME! I went back! So fuckin’ listen, and listen good when I tell you that everything that makes her Y/N is gone! It’s useless, okay?! She’s Hydra’s now. The quicker you learn that, the better.”

“I FUCKIN’ HATE YOU!”

“ONLY BECAUSE YOU HATE YOURSELF MORE AND YOU KNOW IT! We all have to live with what we did. You have to live that you didn’t have the guts to go save her yourself. I’m not gonna carry that guilt for you, Cal. I’m not carrying any of your guilt, or Ash’s, or Luke’s. Because bottom line is I fuckin’ manned up when she needed us, while you three sat on your asses. So go ahead and hate me. Say I jeopardized the mission, or that I failed her. I don’t give a fuck. Because at least I fuckin’ tried, which is better than the three of you can say.”

Michael could hear Calum’s scream echoing off the walls as he hobbled back to his bedroom. He could also hear, or rather feel, the slam of Calum’s own bedroom door a few moments later.

Michael eased his way on his bed, the sheets freshly changed after he had left his blood splattered tracker on it. He knew a new one had been injected in him at some point over his state of unconsciousness, and he briefly wondered if it was the same one he’d ripped out. No sense in wasting technology when it wasn’t broken, after all. Laying back into the pillows, Michael dug out the note, and the device that still had Y/N’s location, seeking comfort in her looped handwriting, and the steady blinking of the device.

~~~

It took another week before orders came down, and Ashton summoned them all into the conference room. Michael’s fingers brushed against the empty chair between him and Calum as he took his seat. It took more willpower than he cared to admit not to slug Calum when the other man growled lightly under his breath. He doesn’t know any better, Michael had to remind himself. If he did, he wouldn’t be acting this way.

Ashton set the manila folder in the center, and when no one moved, he dove right in. “Between the files Luke was able to get, all the statements we have, the information we’ve gained from the trackers, and the intel SHIELD has from their agent inside Hydra, we have all the information needed to bring this to an end, once and for all. This is an all hands on deck situation. SHIELD is officially running the whole operation. They’re taking care of the hacking and gaining control of Hydra’s operating system. They already have a unit assigned to deal specifically with destroying the lab. Our job is pretty simple. We’re just soldiers.”

“Actual action?” Luke asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Actual action,” Ashton said, smiling a bit. “Something I‘m sure we’ve all been itching to do for quite some time.”

Luke pumped his fist, “Fuck yeah!”

“And Y/N?” Calum asked.

Ashton sighed. “Based on personal experience, we can assume she’ll be fighting for Hydra. So yes, it’s a good chance she’ll be around. Ideally one of us comes across her before the rest of SHIELD so we can subdue her, and get her out safely. But she’s not our priority, and yes, before you start, I tried to convince SHIELD into letting us specifically deal only with finding Y/N and getting her back. But all I got in response was bureaucratic bullshit about how we were being employed to do a job, and how we aren’t exactly in a position to ask for any favors.”

“So play good little soldier, but if we see our chance, take it?” Michael guessed.

“Yes, exactly. And Mike-”

“I’m not fighting, I know,” Michael cut him off. “Do I at least get to come and hang out wherever we set up base camp? Help with security, and the like?”

“Yes, of course. You’re not being punished, Mike. You’re not fighting because you don’t have medical clearance. But you’re still coming along. All hands on deck.”

Michael nodded. “Cool. That’s… Cool. Thank you.” He was fully expecting to be benched, and expected to stay behind. A lesson from SHIELD about how even the Avengers had to follow their orders. But getting sidelined only because he was still injured? Well, that… Fuck, he could handle that no problem.

“Be cooler if we can finally get my sister back…” Calum muttered.

“We’re gonna try, Cal,” Ashton said.

“You said that last time, and look what happened.”

“So… half hour til take off, yeah?” Luke asked.

“Not quite,” Ashton chuckled. “We leave tonight to meet up with SHIELD at the base camp they’re setting up just outside of Hydra’s radar. Then we go in just before dawn. I’ll give a 30 minutes heads up before we head out though.”

~~~

After the worst night of sleep he ever remembered getting, Michael got up just as the sun was beginning to brighten the sky from a dark purple blotch sprinkled with stars to holding soft shades of pink around the edges.

He stumbled his way to the cafeteria tent, finding the rest of his team at a table, each clinging to their coffee cup like a lifeline. “How’d you sleep?” Ashton asked, as Michael took a seat.

“Like absolute shit,” Michael answered honestly. “You’d think for how high tech SHIELD is, the bastards would have found a way to make camping missions less miserable.”

“Gotta cut expenses somewhere,” Ashton chuckled darkly, taking a sip of his coffee. “Fuckin’ bastards…”

“Fuckin’ bastards,” the other three repeated in agreement as a group of higher ups appeared in the entrance of the tent.

“First wave rolls out in 10 minutes,” the one in the middle barked. “Report to your positions, and standby.”

Everyone in the tent gave half-awake salutes, and the group of higher ups continued on their way. Then slowly, between stifled yawns, people started getting up from tables, dumping their half eaten breakfasts, and half drunk coffees, before going to their places.

Luke drummed his hands on the tabletop, a grin breaking across his otherwise tired face. “It’s showtime, boys!” he whooped before pushing himself to his feet. “Let’s fuckin’ go!” He rested a hand on Michael’s shoulder, dropping his voice into a low whisper, “We got ourselves a girl to bring home.”

In spite of everything, Michael couldn’t help but laugh at Luke’s infectious enthusiasm. “Stay safe, guys,” Michael told them as his three friends joined the rest of the crowd dashing off to their assignments.

Only after the last man had cleared out, did Michael finally get up himself. He made himself a tray of breakfast, before going off in search of one of the security tents. “Anything I can help with?” Michael offered the first person who looked in his direction. “Michael Clifford. Avenger.”

The SHIELD agent looked Michael over, with the boot on his foot, face still sporting a small bruise, and scoffed. “Here,” he said, shoving a clipboard in Michael’s hand that wasn’t clutching his tray of food. “This is a list of everyone involved in the operation. Those of us staying to do security are already accounted for. But the rest have been given strict instructions to check back in when they return. Whenever that is. You can be in charge of checking them in by the triage tent.”

“Gee, thanks,” Michael muttered, tucking the clipboard under his arm. “Triage is…?”

The agent pointed to a tent with a giant hospital cross decorating the top.

“Cool. Thanks.” Michael forced a tight-lipped smile before making his way over to a long table set up just inside the coverage of the hospital tent.

“Back already?” another SHIELD agent asked, pulling a clipboard close to them. “Name?”

“Oh, no, I’m helping you guys with check-in.”

“Oh. Have a seat, then.”

“Hey, is Y/N Hood on this list by any chance?” Michael asked as he took a seat.

“Nobody by the name of Hood has been checked in yet.”

“No, yeah, I know. I meant… is she on the list at all? Like are we expecting her to be one of the people checking in.”

“You’d have to check the list. I dunno, sir.”

Michael rolled his eyes. “Of course. Thanks anyway.”

“No problem.”

~~~

The sky had transitioned into a soft blue, the sun peeking out from behind the trees, suggesting that at best it’d only been an hour, maybe two since Michael took up residence at the triage tent. But it felt like a lot longer, and if something didn’t happen soon, he was going to lose it.

From his spot, he could hear the engagement of combat and gunfire, so he knew the mission was well underway. But, God, waiting for everyone to get back was so fuckin’ boring! And it wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being the one hanging back, because he was. But this wasn’t hanging back to provide back up. This was just waiting. Painfully boring waiting. His breakfast lay next to him, discarded and half picked over.

He was about three seconds from excusing himself to the bathroom just so he’d have a reason to get up and walk around, when a laugh rang out. A laugh he’d know anywhere. “Y/N?!” he shouted, scrambling from his chair.

The laugh paused, turning into a soft gasp. “Mike?!”

“Y/N!” Michael shouted again, rushing as fast as he could in the direction of her voice. “Y/N!” he called out for the third time, happily as he saw her pushing her way through a small group of SHIELD agents returning to camp.

“Mike!” she shrieked, before running full speed towards him.

He got his arms open just in time for her to crash into him. “Ow, ow, ow,” he winced as he hugged her tight.

“Oh, my God!” she said, holding him out at arm’s lengths. “Are you okay? What happened to you? Where’s the rest of the team?” the questions fell rapidly from her lips. “Oh, Mike!”

“I’m okay. Somebody beat me up pretty good, but I’m fine. The guys are off helping SHIELD play soldier. Oh, God, you’re back! And you’re you!”

“Did you get my note?” she asked, nuzzling her face into his neck.

“Yeah, I got your note.”

“So you forgive me?” Her brown eyes were wide and soft, and maybe even a little fearful as she peered up at him.

“Of course, I forgive you. You didn’t have to go so hard as to break my foot, but of course I forgive you, baby. Fuck, I’m just glad you’re finally here. For good. Safe.”

They could have stood there forever in their locked embrace. And they would have if someone wasn’t clearing their throat to get the couple’s attention. “Ma’am, we gotta check you in.”

“It’s fine,” Michael waved them off. “I got her checked in. It’s fine.”

The agent shrugged, and walked off.

“C’mon, let’s sit. We can catch up while we wait for the rest of the guys,” she directed softly.

~~~

“So Luke was the only one who believed I knew what I was doing?” she chuckled as Michael relayed the past five months of utter shit to her. “Remind me to thank him when he gets in.”

“Yeah, I probably owe him a proper apology for that still. Should probably apologize to Ash and Cal, too. A lot of things got said in anger that shouldn’t have.”

“At least you didn’t tell your best friend that you hated him,” Y/N pointed out, trying to calm Michael out of his remorse.

“Yeah, but still. We all sat around twiddling our thumbs until this last mission. I mean, we didn’t know what to do. We didn’t know where you were, or if you were okay. And when Cal told us you were okay like Luke had guessed, I dunno… I snapped. I thought I could rectify my mistakes by coming to get you myself. I never once thought that you were with Hydra on purpose. I hadn’t even thought you could have been potentially brainwashed by them. I just… I dunno. Went blind with rage and every other emotion I’d been swallowing since that first mission.”

She nodded understandingly. Then, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“How did you find me? When you came back on your own.”

Michael pulled the tracking device from his pocket, which he kept permanently in his pocket along with her note. “After the first mission, we upgraded our trackers. Well, we just used the technology we came up with for my tracker arrows, and injected them into ourselves. So that way it’s a little harder to dump,” he explained with a slight tease in his voice that made her giggle. “And we loaded some arrows with them too, obviously. I nicked a few Hydra agents with them. And Cal got you with the drone.”

“But when Cal shot me, the arrow went clean through me. He was too close. Entry and exit wound.”

“The trackers are set to eject at the first point of contact. Pretty nifty, huh?”

She hummed in proud approval. “Pretty fuckin’ nifty indeed. Fuck… I’ve missed you, Mike.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” he said, wrapping an arm around her and kissing her hair, breathing her in. “So fuckin’ much.”

“And I’m telling you,” a familiar voice growled, “that I have the bloody tracking device right here! She’s not at the Hydra base! She’s right… in… tada!” Calum said, sweeping the tent open.

Ashton and Luke’s eyes went wide, their mouths working to sputter nonsense. Y/N got to her feet, offering them all a shy wave. “Hey, boys.”

The magic words broke the spell, a giant grin painting each man’s face, before they were all rushing towards her in a gleeful cry of “Y/N!”

“Y/N, what the actual fuck?!” Ashton tried to scold but he was laughing too hard. “Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

“Sorry, Ash. SHIELD orders,” she giggled, hugging the man tightly. “Missed ya too.”

“So it was you! You were the spy on the inside! Fuckin’ brilliant!” Luke marveled. “Go in to rescue the hostages after our first spy betrays us, and replace them with a trusted Avenger. Wow… That’s fuckin’ genius!”

“So I take that as I’m forgiven for worrying you guys, causing you guys to fight amongst yourselves, and having to break Cal’s drone and Mike’s foot?” Y/N asked with a hopeful smile.

“Absolutely,” everyone but Calum told her.

“Cal?” she asked, turning to the man. “Baby brother? Forgive me?”

Calum narrowed his eyes, but there was no hardness to the expression, suggesting he wasn’t actually angry. “You owe me a new drone, first.”

“Deal!” she said, throwing her arms around him in a tight hug. “Fuck, I’ve missed you guys!”

“Glad to have you back with us,” Ashton smiled. “Guys, let’s go check in, so we can all go the fuck home, yeah?”

“Yes, Captain!” they all saluted with a laugh, heading towards triage to check in, and check out.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to get home and shower,” Y/N complained, her right arm thrown over Calum, and her left one thrown over Michael as she trudged happily between her boys once again.

“A good, long, hot shower sounds perfect,” Michael whispered against her ear. “And I think I can come up with a couple of other good, long, and hot activities for us after that shower,” he added, nipping at her playfully.

“Mmmm,” she giggled, leaning into him. “Think you got the strength for all that?”

“For you? Always. And we have a lot of making up to do. Might take days.”

She shivered against him, causing the other three to groan. “At least wait until after we get home before jumping all over each other, yeah?” Ashton asked.

“No promises,” they answered honestly.

Ashton groaned again. “C’mon, let’s give them a minute,” he said with an eye roll as he guided Calum and Luke forward to the line to check in.

Michael wasted no time in their friends’ quick departures to hook his fingers under Y/N’s chin, guiding her to meet him in a fierce kiss, fingers knotting in each other’s hair, breath rushing out of their lungs. “Promise me you’ll always come back to me,” he whispered when they had to break apart to gasp for air, resting his forehead gently against hers.

“I don’t think I can keep that promise, because I’m never leaving you again.”

“Good, because I’m never letting you go.”

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maladaptive-ninja-returns · 3 years

Text

It’s The Avengers (03x16)

Loki x Reader Avengers The Office AU (Slowwwwww Burn)

Season 3 Episode 16: You Picked the Wrong Weakness

Series Summary: Living in the Avengers facility post-apocalypse in a better timeline Tony Stark has decided to capture every moment by pulling The Office on the Avengers. All of housemates are pretty used to the idea except for you, who had just come here to finish her degree, and the newest member- Loki.

Warnings: did someone just go and tell the otp about the otp?

Word Count: you know that feeling when you have had a bad experience on some project or assignment or homework before. And you know that thing is going to come around again next month or something like that. And you just age yourself by giving yourself anxiety by thinking everything that could go worse in that area. Yeah. So, I kinda shut that off for a few hours and wrote this.

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

The Interview Room The camera is recording empty seats as a pair of voices grow louder with every second. "...it's like they don't even care about what the other person wants!" "...no, why would they. These rich daddies and their rich egos think they are the only ones thinking about the world." The camera swivels a bit to watch Peter and Scott enter with a new guest following them with a Caprisun in their hand. Peter: And why did you have to go ahead and help them? Shuri: *sits between Scott and Peter* *takes a long sip of her 'sun* What. I'm not going to give up any opportunity that involves space and weird energy boxes. Peter: Why did your brother even agree to it?? Shuri: *shrugs* all your sugar daddy had to say was 'what if it was Shuri'. And my thicc-head of a brother lost it like a rhino in a mating challenge. Peter: *scrunches his nose at the example* Scott: Great *sigh* now we'll never get to see them together. With your brains, those dads are probably already in space now. Shuri: Not so fast! They don't have the codes to neutralise the pandora's box yet. Peter and Scott: *look at each other* Shuri: So teleportation might be delayed as long as I am kept happy? Peter: *takes out a notebook* Scott: *takes out his phone and a card labelled Avengers Black Card* The camera pans in on a smirking Shuri sipping on her Capri sun.

Inside a Spaceship: Destination Unknown You and Loki were captured by the little drone flying at the same speed as the spaceship (which clearly had seen some remodelling, thanks to your rainbow buddies). Both of you were staring at something in front of you that lids by your waist level- something the outside drone was not able to capture because of the limited view in the spaceship window. The expressions on your face were serious. So was the arms-crossed stance. "Are you sure it wasn't just a noise?" Loki now had a finger on his lips in deep thought as he heard your words. "I am pretty sure of what I heard," he acknowledged without missing a beat. "So-" your voice faded as your fingers twirled in the air with a mind of their own- "that means he has...another..." "You really can't say it?" Loki looked at you with a questioning brow going up quite smoothly. You tsked. "It's my baby," you mentioned while Javier's camera watched you point down at slumbering Lulu. "I cannot just casually say he might have another hole and I think he farted through it. I cannot hurt my baby's feelings!" Loki scoffed. "Your baby's sleeping." "He still has ears." "You think he understands what a fart means?" "What do you think I've been teaching him when you, me or Javi pass the gas?" Loki's casual demeanour suddenly changed to an offended one. "I beg your pardon?" You were quick on your feet, already walking towards the front of the ship. "So, where exactly are we heading now? Aellae's next of kin? Though I find it hard to imagine she would have left your essence with anyone other than herself." Loki came and sat next to you, still pissed at that comment in those narrowed eyes. "I am going to circle back to your words-" he inhaled while you acted all innocent- "and no. We are not looking for anyone related to that witch." "Then are we looking for another one of your exes?" "No, we are n-" Loki stopped short, his lips right in a thin line as he stared at you. "Why are you so interested my exes?" You simply shrugged and raised your brows. "On the contrary, it seems your exes are still pretty interested in you." That casual expression turned into a familiar judgment as your head turned to look at him. "Though I wonder what did they find so-" you hands moved haphazardly- "interesting about you." Loki swivelled his captain seat towards you, locking your legs between his while grounding your armrests with his hands. Clicking the control button on your armrest, he moved your chair a bit closer to him, his face in close proximity to yours. Javier's camera panned in on the gulp moving down your throat while your eyelids did a flutter at this uncalled movement. The 4K caught those goosebumps rising right where his arm barely grazed yours and in the background, Lulu played an arousing violin piece. "Something you can only dream about, darling," he whispered. The violin picked up the charge in the air within its quick clean high notes. The only noise leaving you was the escape of the air stuck in your throat, shivering on its way out. "Of c-" you cleared your throat. trying to sit back up in your seat- "of course I can only fantasize. The reality makes me want to puck. Ugh!"

Loki: Y/N thinks space is all fun and games. What she does not realise is that just like earth, this universe too has an underworld. Ten times in size and twenty times as brutal. And Aellae was just the tip of the filthy iceberg. *camera zooms in on his tensed features* looks into the distance* Wonder who else she told about her. *looks back* *blinks* I'm taking her somewhere we can lie low for now. *rolls eyes* that is if she understands what lying low means. *sighs*

You: *eating bread like a peasant famished for days* Hm? What? No *shakes head* 'm nod nerbous. *takes another bite* debinidly nod becoz o doki. He wash jus playing wee me. *viciously bites into the bread* *growls and buries head in your lap*

"I am still telling you to ask for their help. It's not too late," you suggested in a composed manner, sitting in the co-pilot seat. "I am not calling seven alien boys just because you have a fetish for Korean pop bands." You thwacked his leg with yours. "I do not! And don't you dare talk shit about k-pop." Loki chuckled. "Why? What are going to do?" "I won't. But you know what k-pop fans are like, don't you?" The smile on Loki's face suddenly started to flicker away as he looked at the camera. "Remember that Vegas trip?" Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself on his seat, while you shared a devilish smirk with the camera. "We're going somewhere safe. Where I have a chance of getting my powers back and hopefully a gateway back to earth." You sat up. "Why didn't we go there in the first place?" Loki blinked, not really answering. You and the camera noticed the tension in his jaw. "It's not a place I like to talk about." The asteroid belt cleared in front of the spaceship to show the part of a planet covered in grey clouds shadowing frozen blue mountains and dark valleys. "Jotunheim," you whispered to yourself, letting the gloomy yet majestic scenery of the place reflect in your eyes. “Loki,” all humour in your voice seemed to dilute as you looked back at home, “we don’t have to go there. We-uh...we could go to one of Peter’s hideouts? Or maybe we could call the Boys and ask them to direct us to one of their safe places? You know, till we find a lead on your essence.” A smirk built upon the God's lips. "Is that concern I hear in your voice?" Those worry-laden brows suddenly dispersed all emotion to make way for anger. A slap made way from your hand to his right side of the back. The thwack was loud enough to wake Lulu and force a sincere 'ow' from the God's throat. "This concern is for me and my babies you awful animal," you growled, your voice considerably higher, "you think they'll survive there?"

Jotunheim If the mountains seemed to carry an eerie aura about them, the valleys were a straight suggestion of being pits straight to hell. To add to the effects of arriving at the gates of hell, the snow falling was harsh, to say the least. As soon as the door to the ship opened to let all the passengers feel the heat, the drone travelling outside took in travellers covered in thick fur. Javier carried Lulu on his front, both of them visible just with their faces- not to mention the former's blue eyes standing out over everything else in his surroundings. Loki too embraced the thick skin, looking quite the part of a Jotun till he picked up the hood of your coat to put it over your head without saying much; only smiling when you looked like a fluffed up birb in that Viking overcoat.

Loki: *smiling sheepishly**looks at you standing next to him* Angry birb *looks back at Javier's camera* Sam taught me that one. *camera pans at you simmering under that fur*

Lulu had already picked the background music for his pack's entrance. The Viking beat had just the right amount of weight and horror of the unknown in it as this place did. Just ahead of the pass lay the structure carved in the mountain itself. It could be called a palace or a temple. But that was not what sought your attention. Eyes. The camera caught eyes in the dark staring at the unwanted guests. Blue. Piercing. Murderous. And more than one pair. The drone panned in on that one subconscious movement of your fingers gripping the fur of the coat on Loki's back as the God walked gallantly- as if he owned the planet. But your eyes did not stop to observe the alien movement around you. "Remember-" Loki's whisper brought you out of the daze your own thumping heart was creating for you- "do not show them your fear. Show them that you are to be feared." It may have been his words or just his voice that started to melt the fear visible on your features, lasting for five seconds before a loud thump vibrated the land beneath your feet, making you all come to a stop. And when that was not enough, the audience saw the feet first, then the legs and then the whole length of a Jotun appearing before them. Some necks were really going to feel it tonight.

"Who dares enter the land of Jotunheim?" came the thundering and low growl from the Jotun that stood towering over you all. "The one who is alive and stands on this land," Loki announced, "with the blood of Laufey in my veins, I have come to claim what is mine." There was nothing but an uninviting smirk on the Jotun's face. "I am Loki, son of Laufey, son of Odin, ruler of Asgard and your King," he commanded with ice in his voice, "and you...need to bow...before your King." The dead silence proceeding his threat of a speech was enough for you nearly bury you inside your own overcoat. And when that did not seem enough, your body- on its own- moved a step closer to Loki's side. "Oooooh Gooood," you whispered with quite the shudder while your face was plastered with a no-fucks-given wave, "we're gonna die." On the contrary, the silence was followed by many Jotuns coming out of the shadows to surround your group one by one before bowing down. Even the ones who looked quite young did the same. All of them except for the one Jotun who had greeted you first. "Allir fagna konungi!" they chanted in unison. "All hail the king," Javier translated it for you. "Didn't know you were into Nords," you quipped, "the language, I mean." "Honey, I am all into Nords," he signed before looking around with a smile, finding a buff Jotun that caught his eye. He did not take another second to blink at him and leave that giant a bit confused and flustered at the same time.

Inside the Palace The throne was sculpted out of ice that seemed as old as the mountain. Alongside it had been made seating arrangements for the family, running parallel till the doors of the throne room, all greyish blue stones marked with Jotun carvings. You and Javier believed they might be names of dignitaries. Lulu thought they are just doodles by other babies and proceeded to contribute to the stone they were standing next to. A little female giant sat down and looked at Lulu's doodles with curious wide eyes. Loki stood rightfully in front of his throne, admiring it before turning to his subjects, most of them adults who were exceptionally taller and blue-er than him. The drone captured the magnificence of the throne room that had fire pits next to the seats at intervals right alongside the stone pillars and right in the middle, a few feet in front of the king. But none of them were lit. And the giants were visibly annoyed by the drone while the kids wanted to catch it and play with it. "An Asgardian announces himself as our King," the one giant growled as he stood at the steps of the throne, "why would we believe you to be our King, son of Odin." He nearly spat the last part. The drone captured that bit of concern breaking out on your composed features but Loki just smirked. Pulling his overcoat to the side- as magnificently as he believed himself to be- he sat down as if he has done it ever since he was born. The authority exuding from his presence certainly put the murmurs going around the hall to a standstill. "At ease, Helblindi," he stressed to the giant with a purr and directed the rest of the audience to take their place. "Not you." Everyone stopped short to looked at their king. And he was clearly looking at you. You pointed a finger at yourself in question. "Don't you know your place....pet?" he commanded ever so slyly, discreetly pointing his finger at the stone next to his throne.

You: *look around to make sure no one's looking at you* *anger about to explode through your eyes* *whispering* Pet?? PET?? I swear gonna just *gestures to grab the air* grab his throat and *punches the said air repeatedly in her palm* *camera pans out to focus on three baby giants looking at you in pure horror before their mother carries them away murmuring something* *camera swivels to show Javier looking disappointed* Javier: *signs* she said 'stay away from the crazy human'. *sighs* *shakes his head*

“Come-“ Loki’s fingers gestured at you to come over to that stone couch of a thing next to him- “sit.” Taking a breath to compose your usual embers of rage at that comment, you smiled and walked up the stairs to stand next to him. The camera recorded the little gracious bow you gave the God but not before your back was to the spectators and you signalled an insult with your middle towards him, nearly making him chuckle. And with one heavy inhale, you sat down next to him, clearly not at the same level as him. “Is this what Lulu feels like?” “I would’ve made Lulu sit in my lap,” Loki acknowledged with a smirk. “You’re welcome to join me anytime but for now-“ he adjusted himself on his seat and raised his voice to address the court- “let us have a feast tonight and raise our mugs in union of the Jotun king and his subjects.” Helblindi scoffed and spat on the floor. Loki did not look but he was surely observing his every move. “In union of an excuse of a giant who does not even resemble-“ “I would like you to stop there my brother-“ Loki announced as he got up, letting the whole room take one united gasp at the scene- “before you start regretting your own words.” You blinked at the reactions to turn and look at Loki. Now the lights from the ceiling did a stupendous job of catching the widening of your eyes while your pupils were dilated in an emotion only known to you when you witnessed- for the first time in your life- Loki's skin change its shade and features. The flawless paleness gave way to a blue so deep over those arms he rarely displayed in public. The colour ran up his neck as well, covering him all the way. And along with this shade came ridges on his skin which apparently every Jotun had; running up his face and down his limbs. Those smaragdines and whites around them were now replaced with red. “This Jotun-“ his voice was low, but with enough weight that it echoed to the last corner of the room- “has seen enough lives to know what is hatred and what is fear. So next time you try to question my right, Helblindi, know that I have no qualms in exploiting them in a way which seems necessary for me.” Helbindi did not seem to stand his ground much now. Not after a few Jotuns who stood up to speak against the giant who had been torturing them for a while with his reckless and greed-ridden laws. Javier's camera was stuck on your reaction in the middle of this mild chaos. Your parted lips, wide eyes, stare lingering all over the God's body, your throat feeling the urge to swallow the dryness; it really was a sight, an emotion that many fanfiction artists would want to take inspiration from. Loki- who was smirking at the warm welcome he was receiving through the roar against his brother- turned around to look at you. His smirk disappeared and his usually focused gaze was interrupted with those unsure blinks at your features. Before he could explain himself, one giantess blocked his way to you with a bow. "We have prepared the Bath for you and your companions, your grace," she announced, still with her head held low. His gaze was running between you and her. To make it easier for him, you got up from your seat and walked down to the giantess who wanted to show you, Javier and Lulu to the Bath. "Nandi," Loki finally looked at the giantess. "Yes, your grace." "I need you to choose four of your most loyal companions to guard them." "They are all ready to escort your companions where you please." Loki smiled at Nandi. "I owe it to your mother to protect you, your Grace, like she protected me and my children." "My mother had a loyal friend in you," the God appreciated before walking down the throne and away from the crowd. The drone followed him. The graceful composure of the God crumbled like a dry sand castle as soon as the doors closed behind him and he was alone in the icy corridors. His pace got faster by the second, his eyes searching everywhere. "This isn't fair, you know." Loki stopped at the echo of your voice. The pause of one breath, and he knew where to turn to find you standing in the shadows. Javier stood by the pillar next to you two with his camera, capturing this strange tick on Loki's features. You stepped out of the shadows, your gaze uninterrupted, looking right at those red eyes. "Do you know the amount of chaos it would create on earth if people knew that you look like..." "Like what? A monster?" Loki's voice was heavy. "Nah don't say i-dammit! Now I cannot stop imagining the term monsterfuckers." Loki blinked. His brows furrowed at you ever so slightly. "I mean-" you sighed with frustration- "was it not enough that you looked like a literal God in a human form that you had to now go and reveal that you are one buffed up alien? Look at you? You are one breath away from starting a cult of monsterfuckers! Do you realise that? Look at-" you grabbed that one barely naked blue arm and tried to squeeze it- "this firm, cold, arm that is people are going think about in-" you tried to breathe, your gaze still stuck on his shoulder- "their bed at night. God, why do have to be so-" you pointed at all of him with a frustration-filled, longing look of...disgust- "you." By now Loki was raising his brows in question and shifting his gaze between himself and you, clearly confused by your reaction. It even seemed he was a bit flustered at one point. You winced, looking at his body again. Your eyes followed the ridges on his face to his neck, plunging down his v neck t-shirt. With a frown you turned hastily, flinging your body involuntarily in the direction of the bath. "I bet they go all the way down," you whispered to yourself in between your sobs and walked away.

Loki: *still stands there* *blinks* *looks at the camera* what...*looks in her direction* *looks back* *does this two more times* what just happened?

The Resting Chambers: Next Day One of Javier's drones followed you from the balcony you were standing in to witness the first light of the nearest star in this frozen land. The snow-clad mountains were a majestic sight in their own stature. Even the smile emanating under the warmth of the star could not deny that. The giggles coming from inside the room broke the sweet hum of sync you were having with the weather, walking back in to find Skandi and Kolga, Nandi's daughters setting up the table with Jotunheim's specialities- snowberries, Kruweed- fresh seaweed from the frozen lake- and Lulu's favourite, spiked abalones. "What are you girls snickering about?" Lulu was already jumping on the table to sniff everything placed for his liking. Once he had inspected every single item, he went over to his bowl of abalones.

"Nothing," Skandi cooed, "just discussing how Loki-" Kolga elbowed her sister to correct herself- "how his Grace, keeps looking at you." Your hands paused for a fraction of a second near your mouth before the snowberry found its way in your mouth. "Look at me how?" "He looks at you as if you might vanish any second if he does not keep his eye on you," Kolga added, sitting down next to you. Her face had gentle tones all over it. Her eyes seemed to sparkle whenever she talked to you. "Are you being punished for something?" It took you some time to realise she was genuinely curious. "What. No. Why would you think that?" "Because his grace keeps you under guard. I thought pets were kept in cages in Midgard." Skandi turned to Kolga with a gasp. "He caged her last night then?!" The camera captured your furrowed brows sitting there confused in between the sisters. You opened your mouth to speak but lost to Kolga. "You mean when he told off Helbindi that she will be sleeping in his quarters." Skandi nodded vigorously. "He could not have kept her in a real cage." "Maybe he chained her to the bed." "Ah. So he could keep an eye on her at night." "Is that what happened, y/n?" You hid your face behind the mug of tea that did not seem to leave your lips while your free hand seemed to check your cheeks for their temperature. "This tea is good," your burned throat appreciated the drink. "He seems quite...what is the word... possessive of her," Skandi commented. You shared a look with the drone- your face devoid of any emotions. Kolga hummed in agreement, popping a snowberry in her mouth. "I thought Kruge would die last night by his hands." Now that seemed to catch your attention. "Kruge who?" "Helbindi's guard. The one who nearly pushed you into the wall last night." "When you went inside," Kolga continued, "his Grace took Kruge's staff and struck him in his limbs and threatened him to never touch you again if he wanted to stay alive." "Kruge should be glad he did not use his powers on him lest he would be a part of the dark pit's icicles by now." Kolga and Skandi stopped talked to watch you lost in deep thought while your hands scratched Lulu's back on their own, making the floof purr quite loud. "Is she making this little creature vibrate?" Skandi asked her sister in a whisper. "It looks like it," her sister whispered back in awe.

You: *whispering at Javier* What? No, it's okay. We can record here. No one can say anything. *sits on the stone seat in the gallery that seems empty to the camera* *adjusts hair* is it recording? Of course. It's always recording. *clears throat* *at normal tone* So, clearly...*inhales* *raises brows* things are barely standing still right now. And it is clearly not helping that Loki is having sudden urges to pick a fight with whoever bullies me. *Javier's drone catches him discreetly signing at you to lower your voice a bit* You: *irritated* I mean does he want me to get bullied more? Bullies are always going to pick on the weak one in the group for fuck's sake! And evidently, I am the weaker sex. *the camera catches a movement behind you, turning to focus on the source* You: and his highness does not seem to realise that it will be too easy for these giants to torture his weaknesses out of me. Does he not see that? *squints at Javier* what? The drone is recording Javier aggressively telling you to cut it out while looking pale as his gaze goes far behind you. You turn to look where his gaze is going. Javier's camera automatically focuses on Kruge standing next to the last pillar, throwing daggers in your direction through his bloody eyes for a moment before disappearing somewhere. You: *turn around with a shade lighter yourself* *the camera is panning over your face now as you look at it* *whispers* Fuck!

Five Minutes Later One of the drones buzzed against the ice that separated the balcony and the bedroom, tapping itself repeatedly on the transparent frost till the door to the room opened. It turned around to record you and Javier rush inside- the latter placing his camera in his bag and packing his stuff. "Okay, relax, relax!" you stressed to the hyperventilating boy. "We need to get out of here," he signed. "Javi, take three deep breaths? Yes? One? Two? Good. Three. Now think about it. As long as we are with Loki, no one will dare harm us. Okay? Not to mention he has allotted us our personal security team." Javier was on the verge of sobbing. "What about when Loki is not around. What will we do then?" "Javi, don't think like that," you nearly fumed at him. "Loki is in the throne room right now. You take the guards with you and go to him and when you find a window let him know what happened, okay?" Javier was still taking deep breaths while sweating through his fur coat. He nodded. "What about you?" "I...have Lulu." You pointed at the floof sleeping with his belly bared and his paws out. "I won't leave the room, don't worry." Once convinced you'll be fine, Javier hurried outside, leaving you in a silence only filled by light snores of your baby. The drone recorded you biting your lip and tying your hair up in a bun. "Okay," you whispered to yourself, "now we wait." It also recorded the sudden change in the shade of one section of the wall opposite to your back. With the focus still on you, the section of the wall appeared to open out, revealing the pitch blackness lit by a pair of red eyes. The next thing you knew, the drone was lying on the floor, its barely working lens recording your muffled screams and boots struggling to find the ground as a pair of blue feet walked past the lens before it went black.

One Hour Later The camera sat on the stone seat, recording the periodic tapping of Javier's foot from outside the frame. Loki still had audience. The Jotuns discussed every aspect of Jotunheim with the king. Loki sat patiently, listening to every word before advising them necessary steps. The majority was satisfied with the King's suggestions. Many were even in awe. There were a few who were dissatisfied no matter what the God mentioned. "Well-" Loki sat straight, addressing the whole court- "this concludes our day then." "Your grace," one giant bowed at the steps, "there are a few more issues that need your kind attention." Loki sighed, his hand resting on the armrest, his fingers running over his lips in thought. Not sure about Loki, but the camera recorded the patient that ran out of Javier. He got up from his seat, immediately catching the God's eye, who was quick to raise his fingers just for the boy to stop taking any further steps towards him. "You have stalled me enough," the God acknowledged, catching the giant off guard. "Helbindi should know it better than anyone that a coup against me would be a futile attempt." Loki did not budge where he sat, just his finger drumming on the arm rest. "And I am in no mood for a mutiny."

The one drone who had been playing with the Jotun kids picked up the damage to a drone in the resting chambers. It buzzed through the halls, trying to pick up your trail, finding corridors and corners to fly through, walking down dark pathways with no windows and steep stairs spiraling deep into the mountains. On its way it found Lulu howling and meowing in a frantic daze, walking down the same path where he found your scent. And it seemed like he found you through the same dark pathway that ultimately reached an opening. There was nothing but ice all around and in every form. A section of the mountain that opened to the outside with a catch. There were cells cut into this ice for prisoners. Shackles of cold metal rested in every cell. Each of them had metals bars to keep the captives in and an opening in the ice to keep any grain of warmth out. And to add to it all, this entire prison cell rested on a frost chunk hanging at the edge of the mountain. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" Your voice and footsteps could be heard echoing through this section. The drone buzzed and landed on the wall to record the Kruge stripping you of your fur coat with a maniacal grin on his face. "Hey! HEY!! Give me back my coat!" Kruge stopped you from going for your coat by his hand coming for your throat. His grip made it hard for you to breathe as you struggled to get out of the hold, your nails trying their best to dig into that stubborn cold skin of his. Lulu ran and growled at the giant, scratching at his ankles till the latter kicked him away. "What do you want?" you barely managed to get out of your mouth. "We want Loki out of Jotunheim," he growled in your face, smacking your back in the ice wall behind you before letting go of your throat. You fell down with a thud and a groan, taking in as much air as your windpipe allowed. "Okay," you wheezed, "okay. You let me talk to Loki and I will convince him to leave Jotunheim. I promise. I pinky promise." You even raised your pinky. But Kruge was already closing the bars on you. Lulu ran and jumped through the bars to stop by your side, sniffing and crying, wanting to make sure you were okay. "No no no no," you crawled to the bars, trying to wrap your fingers around them but failing once your skin felt the vicious cold personally, "please don't do this. You have to stop. Now." "You said you know Loki's weakness," a voice boomed from the shadows where you had been dragged from. A very familiar and ominous voice. The drone turned to capture Helbindi stepping into the ice prison with a stature fit for kings. "His essence is lost. It is a secret no more, you quim." You looked at Lulu in confused defeat. "Why does it feel like he called me a whore?" you whispered. Lulu threw his own curses at the giant. "Listen, sir, Mr Helbindi," you began, "you want the throne, right? And I want to get out of here alive. How about I take Loki with me? You get back your kingly rights, I get my friends back and we go our separate ways. Everybody wins!" Helbindi came down on his knees in front of you. A smile rested on those cracked lips of his. His hand went past the bars- to your surprise- and landed on your cheeks. Your gaze kept shifting between his eyes and his hand while your body tried to move away from his hold. But he was one stubborn bastard. "He must have kept you alive for a reason." Helbindi was talking to himself now. His thumb rubbed against your skin, something that was visibly making you uncomfortable. "Ah...he keeps you to satisfy his nightly needs." You pushed yourself away from Helbindi, only to be forced into the bars by his hold around your skull; his chuckle resonating through the prison. "Do not worry my little whore," he whispered right in your ear while his icy breath ran over your skin, "you will be my pet soon. And unlike Loki-" he licked your cheek with his tongue, driving you mad with disgust- "I prefer violence even in my chambers." Your breaths were shallow. A single tear falling from your eyes as you did you best to maintain your features. "You are making a grave mistake," you whispered through your teeth. Lulu tried to claw at Helbindi too but Kruge was already kicking him away, earning a death stare from you. The giant struck his nail in your throat, driving it deep till there was blood. "The only mistake that was made was by you coming into my land. And you all will pay for it." Dropping you back into the snow, Helbindi got up and walked back into the darkness.

Loki watched the doors open to let Helbindi in, his gait ever so dominating as he walked past the judgmental eyes of every other giant in the court with his own little battalion following him, carrying weapons of all sorts. "A king with no powers has no right to sit on the throne, Laufeyson," Helbindi roared, ground his staff a few feet away from the stairs to the throne, creating a crack in the ground. "And a Jotun with Asgard in his blood has no right to stay alive in Jotunheim." Weapons were drawn at anyone who was not on Helbindi's side. Javier was already on his feet, running by Loki's side with his camera. Loki still had his mouth covered with his hand, as if in a tired trance. "Everybody out," he commanded ever so smoothly to his audience- who was hesitant at first, but left as soon as the God's eyes pierced through every last one of them. Left alone with his brother's radical followers, he sighed out loud, his fingers still drumming. Javier felt a buzz in his pocket, making him take out the little tablet he used to control his cameras. "Your actions with every passing moment make me more sure of your inability to rule over the subjects, brother mine," the God simply commented. The seriousness on Javier's face was turning into a field of fear. "Oh, I am not asking, brother mine," Helbindi snared at Loki, "I am taking what is mine." "And why would I give you anything you want." "Ask your little plaything," Helbindi smirked. The drumming of those pale fingers stopped. Silence eroded in the throne room. And slowly a shallow panting was audible from the God's side. The camera suddenly lost its balance and fell down on the armrest before toppling on the throne behind Loki, his back still in the frame. Light reflected through Javier's eyes, more precisely through his tears, as he moved the tablet towards Loki. "Stop, please, you cannot do this!" your voice echoed through the tablet, and all the lines on Loki's face disappeared. His body got up from the throne, his eyes still stuck on the device, looking at the aftermath of Helbindi's actions. There was no emotion on the God's face while he witnessed everything recorded on the drone. He did not even budge till the recording finished. Once the screen blacked out, he swerved the tablet for Javier to take back. His gaze was apparently still stuck on the black stones on the floor, his jaw threateningly sharp in whatever light coming from the nearest star. "If you want to see her alive again, go back to your ship before the star drops fro-," "You touched her." His voice was just a decibel higher than a whisper; his shoulders stiff. The silver bracelets were visible on his wrists, more so with the light reflecting from them. His pale fingers now turned into fists. "You hurt her." Nothing but the resonating crack of a metal reverberated through the hall and everything went black.

The drone sat over the bars, recording the visible shivering breaths coming out of you while your skin turned pale, your fingers blue and your hairs were already collecting frost over them, despite moving your legs as close as you possibly could to your body. "P-plea-hease," your voice shuddered, "s-s-stop hi-im. T-there is-s-s st-i-ill time." "Your master is quite possibly begging on his knees by now," Kruge cackled, gulping down the mead and pouring more from the barrel next to him. Lulu was trying his best to keep your warm with his little body, wrapping himself around your neck while whimpering for you. Kruge was about to finish another mug when his ears caught a snicker that slowly turned into a weak laughter. The drone recorded you chuckling through the pain of the blight. "What is so comedic," Kruge snarled at you. "You thought I was telling you to stop for Loki's sake?" you laughed a little more, making the Jotun simmer with building rage. "I was telling you to stop your master before it's too late, you sewage rat's tick." The lens panned in on your features, all those helpless tears replaced by a smirk that could put the devil to shame. "You master thinks I am Loki's weakness." Your eyes glistened with a tint of some hidden darkness inside them in contrast to all the white around you. "Because I made him think that, you buffoon." "He is nothing without his essen-" "Count your peaceful breaths, you son of a bitch," you stressed, never batting your eyelids, "because you are not going to die an easy death today." You smiled turned into a chuckle before your eyes turned heavy and you fell down. The drone- in its last few minutes- went dark, but not before recording Lulu's cried, mewls, howls that slowly turned into a blood curdling roar echoing till the end.

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acourtofsnakes · 4 years

Text

Haran - Rogue, Chapter 8 | The Mandalorian x Force Sensitive! Reader (f)

Summary: The Mandalorian tries to get back on with his normal routine without you. So he decided to go visit Peli on the quiet, almost deserted planet of Tatooine. Where he will meet no one of interest or danger. At all.

Warnings: Hmm, not many. Some light swearing and mentions of death briefly.

Word count: Around 7139

AN: I’m not sure if everything I wrote about Tatooine is strictly ‘correct’, so forgive me if not!

As always, credit to whoever owns the gif. I usually find them on Google or Pinterest, so message me if it’s yours ♥︎

Rogue Taglist: @snipskixandbeskar @weirdowithnobeardo @the-bottom-of-the-abyss @jackgrzs @sarahjkl82-blog @boomtownboy

Mando’a translation: Haran – Hell

The Mandalorian watched you walk away.

He watched your figure retreat further and further into the distance, each step taking you closer to Nevarro, and further away from him and the kid. He watched until he could see you no more, then sighed, murmuring to Grogu and returning to the cockpit to leave.

And it hurt.

He knew it would, he wasn’t stupid. He just hadn’t expected it to hurt so very much. Didn’t expect that it would feel like you’d wrenched his heart from beneath his armour and took it with him.

He hadn’t even hugged you. Touch like that was rare for Mandalorians, wasn’t considered… ‘normal.’

But when had your… friendship... ever been ‘normal’? You’d started off as hunter and prey, for Maker’s sake. He’d hunted you down and took you onto his ship with every intention of delivering you to the new Client and being on his merry way.

Only, you were different. You didn’t shy away from him. You didn’t cower or beg for your life. You were cocky, inappropriate and had a silver-tongue and knew how to use it. You got under his skin and drove him insane.

But… he’d laughed more times with you than he had with anyone that wasn’t the kid.

You made him feel… less alone. And he’d hoped he’d done the same for you

Then you’d saved his life.

And he’d realised just how much he had come to adore your presence and your company.

As cliché as it sounded, it was like having a little bit of sunlight in his ship.

Well, no. That might not be the right analogy. You weren’t just sunlight. You weren’t just a flame; you were a blaze.

You burned brighter than anyone he had ever met, determined not to be dragged down by your past. Your anger was a storm, ravaging everything it came near, with all the force of a tempest. He’d borne the brunt of it enough times in the few months he had been together.

But you had a light inside you, a thirst to see the good in the world, the beauty no matter how dark it may have appeared. He admired that about you. There was a word for it in Mando’a. Shereshoy; a lust for life.

The last argument you’d had… He knew from the moment you ran from the market, that you would lash out. He didn’t know how, but he’d seen the shift in your eyes, seen the way that fire had blazed – only to gutter out into consuming darkness.

It had flickered as you had yelled at each other, and when he saw it go black, saw darkness cloud over and suck you into the depths, he’d dived right in after you.

It had been instinct to run to you, catch you in his arms and let you both sink down together. Only he held you from being pulled too deep.

And you’d let him.

The moment you’d let go and curled into his body, was the moment he felt everything change.

It had broken a gate within him. A carefully and purposely crafted wall of adamant in his mind that held back the force of everything he shouldn’t feel.

It was why he’d done what he did the other night.

He’d been on the hunt, tracking the bounty. It was an easy one, so easy he didn’t even really need to think about it. Which of course, left his mind open to wandering.

And it kept coming back to you, over and over again.

What you were doing, if you were okay, if the ship was too hot for you and if he’d set the locks correctly.

He always had the same thoughts whenever he left the kid, but with you there, they had eased. He’d trusted you from that first night you sung Grogu your mother’s lullaby.

So that didn’t plague him.

No, it was your hair that was the main subject tonight. That damn hair that he couldn’t take his eyes off of since the moment you’d let it down a couple of days ago.

The light had caught it just right, turning it to gold and when you ran your hands through it…

He’d been struck with a craving so intense; it took his breath away.

He yearned to move away your hands, replace them with his own.

To shuck off his gloves and truly feel the silky texture of it, to feel anything but the worn leather interior of the material.

He couldn’t have been more relieved when you’d landed on the desert planet. He had though that the Maker had taken pity on him, saving him before he could do something really stupid.

The distraction had remained with him throughout his hunt, sneaking up on him whenever he should be at least trying to concentrate.

By the time he’d caught the bounty and had begun to lug him back to the Crest, his body had begun to itch. Less of a persistent irritation and more of a yearning. At first, he’d thought it was from the heat, but when he’d climbed the ramp to the Crest, he could smell the lingering aroma of the soap you’d used in your shower.

He’d quickly dispatched of the bounty in the carbonite chamber, eager to escape to the small storage compartment he had now taken up residence in.

He hadn’t bothered to take back his sleeping quarters, something in him wanting to give you that small bit of comfort. Besides, he’d slept in worse places.

He’d retreated there after a brief conversation with yourself, trying to clear his mind as he lay on the collection of blankets and sacks that he’d made up for his bed and waited for his body to relax and sleep to claim him. Eventually, it had.

It wasn’t Grogu’s crying that awoke him that night, as it normally would.

No, it was that damn smell.

It had filtered through his helmet, invading his sleep and gently tugged him awake.

He’d sat up and without a thought, followed that scent like a hound.

It had led him to the kitchen and then…

Then he’d seen you.

In that flimsy drape of fabric that could hardly call itself a dress.

There was just… so much of your skin on show. So much of your smooth skin on display, lined with scars here and there but it didn’t matter to him. It told your story, your survival

The Mandalorian’s own body had tightened, heat blazing across his skin and making his armour uncomfortable. He rarely acknowledged the heaviness of it, but standing there, looking at you, had truly made him feel the crushing weight.

And when you’d turned, the water rolling down your neck…

The image of removing his helmet and catching that bead of water on his tongue, of trailing it up your neck and finally tasting your skin that he knew would be as sweet as your scent.. it nearly undid him.

In fact, it did. It broke a restraint in him and set a haze in his mind that cleared only when the beeping of the autopilot had demanded his attention.

He’d sat up in the cockpit for hours afterward, staring at his now gloved hands.

He had touched you. He had removed his gloves in the presence of someone else, trusting in you not to turn around. He’d felt you.

Felt that gorgeous, silky hair on his fingers.

Felt the bumps of your spine beneath your skin.

The noises you’d made, the sighs and the moans, they were branded into his memory, followed him when he finally went back to bed.

They’d echoed in his ears, playing over and over until his trousers had become even more painfully tight and he was forced to fix the problem.

The next day, the pleasure and breathless thrill of what had occurred went stale. It turned into shame, disgust at himself for treating you like that, thinking of you like that in the late hours.

The snide voice in his head had whispered that it was time, time to invoke what he already planned when he was out on his hunt.

And like a cowardly fool, he gave in.

The betrayal and hurt in your eyes when he’d told you had been like a punch to his heart.

He’d been battered in fights and that hurt less.

Hurt less than this pain as he re-joined the atmosphere above Nevarro and moved the ship away.

Was he making a mistake? Should he have kept you with him? OR stayed with you, even just for a little while longer? But what if someone had caught up to you or spotted you and gave you up. There would be no telling who would-

Ping!

A metallic note on the back of his helmet snapped him from his frantic thoughts, echoing in the confines of his helmet. It had come from Grogu’s direction.

He turned around, looking at what it was… and saw Grogu’s ball on the floor.

“Hey, kid, what are you doing?”

An angry gurgle emanated from the little green creature, waving his arms in the air and his face full of disdain.

Mando sighed, “Look, I know you’ll miss her, but we have to do this, okay?”

Grogu only waved his hands again, and suddenly the ball was flying through the air, bouncing off of his visor before rolling along the cockpit again.

“Hey!! Now you decide to use your powers? That’s enough. This has to happen.” He pointed a finger at Grogu.

Which just made the kid burst into tears and scream.

Loudly.

Mando swore under his breath, pulling him out of his crib and plonking him down on his lap. He turned back to the front of the ship, one hand holding the back of the kid’s head, the other piloting the ship, “Hey, hey… look, I’m sorry but… she had to leave. It wasn’t safe for her to stay with us..”

Grogu just wailed more, his little fists thumping into Mando’s belly. He was not happy with his father, and seemed intent on letting him know that.

He sighed, letting Grogu pummel him. After all, his little hands barely made an impact, and it just reminded him painfully of that night in the cargo hold, where you fought him and broke down. He switched the ship to autopilot, tilting his head down to give Grogu his full attention. “Grogu.”

More wailing, the little tyke was determined not to pay attention.

“Cmon, Grogu. Look at me.”

Grogu’s head shook rapidly from side to side, his little body shaking with sobs.

“Not even for cookies?”

A pause. A questionable gurgle replacing the wailing.

Mando couldn’t help the smile on his face behind the helmet, “Ah, see, I knew that would get your attention. If you look at me, I’ll let you have the pack.” It was bad parenting, not to mention bribery and he knew that. But anything to stop Grogu being upset – and to convince himself he’d done the right thing. “Just look at me, okay? And listen..”

Grogu lifted his head up, looking up at his father with glossy, tear filled eyes.

Mando felt his heart break a little, and he gently wiped the tears from Grogu’s cheek with the back of his little finger, “I know you’re mad at me, and I completely understand why. But… there are so many people after her. After us as well.”

Grogu listened intently, little snuffly breaths rising from him now and then as a result of the previous tears.

The Mandalorian reached across to a little box beside him, pulling out a package of the blue space cookies. He unwrapped them as he spoke, “The people that are after us all might start to work together. They might think that... if they can get to one of us, they can get all of us.” He pulled out a cookie, then held it out to the kid. “Everyone knows that I threw away the tracking fob. And that will draw more attention.”

Grogu took the cookie, biting it and his head tilted as he let his father speak, munching away.

Mando leaned back in his seat, head still tilted down to watch, “If they find us… they find her. Any of the bounties I catch could turn, like that guy before with the tail. So.. if she goes to Nevarro… She can blend in and hide. Cara and Greef will monitor anyone coming in. They’ll keep her safe and steer away any authorities or hunters. She’ll be safer there than she will with us… and if we need to, I can draw away any hunters who think we’re all still together.”

Grogu’s ears sagged a little, a softer coo rising from him that flung a few tiny blue crumbs onto his fathers lap.

Mando huffed a slight laugh, shaking his head a little, “Messy.” He brushed a few more crumbs from Grogu’s mouth, “Do you understand though? Why I had to do it?”

The kid nodded, though he still looked sad.

The Mandalorian held him closer, “I know, kid. I wish we didn’t have to do it either.”

The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Just travelling to Tatooine. His ship needed repairing, and the Mandalorian hadn’t met with Peli for a long while.

And… maybe something in him was craving the comfort of… a friend?

Besides, the kid loved her too and he wanted to cheer him up.

He would see if the sparse planet had any extra work for him. He doubted it, the cantinas were rarely ever half full, but it didn’t hurt to try. He needed something to keep his mind occupied and away from thinking of a particular cocky, snarky, gorgeous companion.

When he was close, he set the ship to autopilot, the display on the panel and his internal body clock telling him it was time to sleep.

He scooped up Grogu, who had been playing with his ball, “C’mon, kid. Time for bed. You can come with me tonight.”

The Mandalorian made his way to the little area that had become his bedroom. He looked down at the pile of blankets on the floor, pausing.

Maybe he should return to his bed. The floor was wreaking havoc on his already aching back, and it was cold on the floor.

He sighed, taking way too long to think about it, before returning back up to his sleeping compartment, pressing the pad on the wall to open it.

Fuck.

The entire compartment smelt like you. It hit him as soon as the door slid open, wafting under his helmet and filling his head with your scent. He swallowed back a soft groan, made his body move across the room. He didn’t need this. He needed sleep. He needed to focus.

Mando walked across the room and set Grogu laying down closest to the wall, before sliding in and manoeuvring his clunky body and armour into the bed too.

It was stronger here, the smell of your perfume. If he closed his eyes, maybe he could imagine you were there with him. Tucked up against him, sleeping deeply and evenly.

He sighed, pulling the blankets over Grogu’s body and then his own, images swirling through his mind, the same ones that taunted him every night when he tried to sleep. He tried not to feel them, the thoughts that relentlessly filled his mind. It had made him restless, made his inhibitions low – hence why he’d found you in the kitchen, unable to hold back on the things he wanted to do and say.

Mando said quietly after a while, rubbing Grogu’s ears, “You really liked her, huh?”

Grogu cooed, nodding his head a little before tilting it into his father’s touch.

Mando sighed softly, resting his head on the pillow again and closing his eyes, “Me too, kid… Me too.” He allowed himself to inhale deeply, let that scent envelope him and lull him into sleep.

“Oh, thank the Force!! You’re still alive! Come here you little womp rat!”

Peli’s excited exclamation was broken only by Grogu’s delighted squeal as he tottered over to her, arms outstretched and making grabby hands.

Mando smiled behind his helmet. He knew coming here was the right thing to do. Grogu adored Peli, and hopefully this would cheer him up somewhat. He looked at Peli, the raised eyebrow evident in his voice as he leant against the side of his ship, “Did you expect us not to be?”

Peli scooped Grogu up, holding him close after inspecting his body for injuries or hurts. “Are you blind, boy? Everyone is out looking for you. They know what you did, even out here. The droids picked up chatter from the town. Word is, they increased the bounty on your head and doubled the girls.”

Mando stood up straight quickly, “They’ve doubled her bounty?! That’s… That’s ridiculous. It was already the highest I’ve seen.”

Peli narrowed her eyes, watching his reaction. “So, it’s true then. You kept another bounty. I didn’t know Mandalorian’s liked to collect things so much.” Her voice was a little disapproving, but she motioned for Mando to follow her. “You shouldn’t be taking such stupid risks, Mando. You’ve got a child to look after. Harbouring criminals isn’t the way to do that.”

The words left his mouth like an instinct, “She’s not a criminal.” He followed her though, his boots scuffing up dust on the floor.

Peli looked over her shoulder at him, her own eyebrows raised this time, “Oh? She’s not? So that bounty fell on her accidentally did it? Look, if we heard of her all the way out here, she must have truly done something b-“

“She is not a criminal, Peli.” He tried to rein in the steel in his voice. Peli was just looking out for Grogu, and for him. But something about her tone had struck a nerve, reminded him of the own conclusions he had jumped to, and how badly it had hurt you.

Peli didn’t even bother to turn around as she walked into the hangar, “And how do you know that? She tell you what she’s being hunted for?” She shifted Grogu to her other arm and pointed at the droids that rolled past her on their way to the ship, “Careful with those parts.”

Mando swallowed, hesitating as he looked back at the droids and then back toward Peli, following her to her desk area. “No. She didn’t. But I just know.” He sunk into a chair, picking up something from the desk and fiddling with it.

Peli watched the movement, assessing him and she just hummed as she sat down herself, Grogu on her lap. “Look. What you do, who you meet and decide to put in your band of rogues is none of my concern. Hell, we know nothing about each other. But you have to remember, this child is still wanted by Moff Gideon. You’re still wanted by both sides. You need to be careful.” Her voice was firm, but there was a note of softness there that you had to look to find, but it was there all the same. “I assume she’s in that ship of yours hiding? You can bring her out. I won’t bite her.”

Mando swallowed, his words becoming a little difficult and he had to pause again, “No. She’s not there. I… we parted ways.”

Peli frowned, looking down at Grogu who had turned his head to her, cooing. His ears had flopped a little again, but he didn’t contest the fact. She made a thoughtful noise again, “Parted ways?”

Mando sighed silently, wanting to take the subject away from you, the pain in his chest, “How has business been?”

She blinked, then burst out laughing, “Business? Are you actually pulling a joke on me, Mandalorian? Do you see any business here? Tatootine is just as quiet as it was the last time you were here. Why? Looking for a job?”

Mando shrugged, setting down the object he’d been playing with, “It wouldn’t hurt to get some extra credits.”

Peli tilted her head thoughtfully, “Well, I can’t promise anything. But there have been a few new stragglers coming through the town lately. Some hunters, smugglers and the like. One of them might have something you can do. I wouldn’t rely on it though.”

He nodded, grateful for the chance to go and do something. Even if it was just walking into town, being told no, and heading back again. “Great. I’ll check it out in a bit.”

She wasn’t listening. She’d already diverted all of her attention back to Grogu, cooing at him and pulling faces.

Tatooine was just as dry, dusty and barren as it was the last time the Mandalorian had set foot here. Its inhabitants were scattered throughout the towns, which were dotted few and far between, though there were a handful more inhabitants here in Mos Eisley. It ws one of the larger spaceports, so had a little more traffic.

It was still almost deserted though.

You didn’t often see people or creatures in the streets, as the sun beating down was too much sometimes even for those that called the desert planet home. They also seemed to know when sandstorms were coming – which were often. Maybe there was another on its way. There was a wild wind brewing, stirring the sand.

There weren’t many out today, maybe driven inside by the relentless sun, though a cluster had gathered here, in Chalmun’s Spaceport Cantina.

It was a roughly hewn building on the outside, the same colour as the dusty ground. It was small, but its thick walls provided a natural shade, cool and dim out of the sun.

Mando ducked under the upper threshold as he stepped inside, ignoring the glances and muttering that occurred whenever he walked into a place. Even if he hadn’t been clad in shiny – albeit rather dusty – beskar, he still would have garnered the attention, simply for being a Mandalorian.

He was used it to by now, but it did still make him feel uncomfortable sometimes.

He surveyed the room, then walked to the bar, which provided the main source of light in the centre of the room. The atmosphere seemed…calm, though that could change at the drop of a hat and the bar could erupt into one of it’s famous brawls.

The last time he’d set foot in this particular cantina, he’d helped a young bounty hunter… who’d turned traitor.

He would try to avoid that this time. He only wanted a job. No help.

The Mandalorian tapped the bar to gain the attention of the barman, “Hey. Anyone come through here with bounty pucks?”

The barman paid him no attention, continuing to serve the customer, a pilot by the looks of his jumpsuit.

Mando frowned behind his helmet, “No?” He was hot, a little agitated and he missed you. So his temper wasn’t the greatest.

The barman snapped, “No. Come back tomorrow, maybe there’ll be a line of people waiting to fall at your shiny feet.” He looked at Mando in disgust then walked to the other end of the bar to serve.

Mando sighed, counting to ten his mind. He needed a job. He would just have to keep trying.

And so, he did. Over the next three days, he went back again and again. And every day, he would come home with nothing.

Each night, Peli would tell him over dinner that it was because of the approaching storm. That there would be more people once it had cleared.

The third night, the storm finally rolled in.

Mando was already awake, the lack of distraction meaning his thoughts were spiralling again, so he was conscious when the howling wind roared to life, bringing with it waves and waves of sand.

He spent the night watching the wind move like it was an animal, unleashed from its cage to be free. It didn’t sound angry. It sounded mournful. Like it was tearing through the town looking for something, for someone.

Mando couldn’t help but relate.

The storm stayed for another four days. Endless howling of the wind, the cold chill it brought of a night, so different to the scorching wind of the days.

Luckily, it gave the Mandalorian something to do. He secured his ship when the wind had died down a little, making sure there were no gaping holes or anything that could get damaged should the wind change direction.

As much as he didn’t like droids, he had to admit that Peli’s did a pretty good job.

After that, she had him clearing out any of her gear and belongings that were outside.

Which meant hauling in all the nearby boxes and making sure the droids didn’t roll out and get buffeted and dragged away by the wind.

When that was done, he was to spend his time clearing away the dust and sand that blew in through the openings.

Peli told him she couldn’t work in a messy environment, but the scattered parts, oily rags and various paraphernalia dotted around would have him beg to differ.

Still, it gave him a way to keep his mind busy.

However, the jobs and handy work he did for her didn’t stop him from watching the storm every night, or from checking Peli’s rusty but still operational tablet for updates on the atmospheric pressure.

…

The morning of the fifth day dawned bright and scalding.

The storm was gone, reduced to a few gusts of heavy wind here and there, but nothing like the raging force of the past four days.

The heat was even more oppressive than usual, like the wind had sucked any minuscule ounce of coolness from the air and left it feeling like fire in the lungs.

Peli told him he was stupid, that the town would be deserted. She was even more annoyed when he informed her that he was taking Grogu. He had been penned inside for four days and was starting to act as stir crazy as Mando felt.

Peli yelled at him, even threatened to take apart his ship but he respectfully ignored her and made the trek anyway. Even if every step in the blazing heat made it feel like his armour was melting to his body. He’d popped Grogu into his crib, to spare him from the scorching air.

Why did he decided to come to another desert planet?

Maybe he would go somewhere cold next.

Yeah, that sounded like a good idea. Somewhere where he could take a breath of chilled, icy air. Somewhere he could show Grogu the snow..

~“Snow and ice are stunning. They’re powerful and strong. I’ve only ever been in a proper snowfall once, and I fell in love. The way the flakes float down and.. dance even if there’s the faintest breeze. And then when they land on your skin or your eyelashes like little cold kisses… The sound it makes under your boots when you walk on a fresh fall. And it softens everything, makes it easier on your eyes to see across the landscape… it’s quiet, muffled…”~

Mando’s heart wrenched as he remembered your words, the way your face lit up and your eyes danced as you described the feeling of snow on your skin. He swallowed, shaking his head free of the memory and walking into the cantina, Grogu’s crib floating along with him.

The barman sneered at him, “What, no questions today?”

Mando just shook his head, ordering a bowl of cold broth for the kid and then he retreated to a table in the corner, sinking into his seat.

Maker, he was tired. So, so tired. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper sleep and it was beginning to catch up with him now.

The tiredness, mixed with the physical work of the past few days was getting to him. His back ached and his shoulders were constantly tense with the weight of his armour. He wasn’t a young man anymore, things had started to niggle and irritate more than usual.

The quiet ambiance of the cantina and the soft slurps of Grogu enjoying his broth were beginning to lull the Mandalorian into sleep. His body relaxed into the hard bench seat, his eyes began to close behind the helmet, no matter how hard he fought it.

Maybe he could just close his eyes for a moment… just to rest..

It wasn’t until Grogu’s sharp warning cry echoed through the fog in his brain, that he realised he’d actually fallen asleep. His head shot up from where it had rested on his chest, adrenaline shooting through his body so fast it made him dizzy. His hand had flown to the blaster on his hip by instinct, and he looked around rapidly for the cause of Grogu’s cry.

And then he found it.

Sitting opposite him and the kid, was a male figure, draped in an expensive looking black cloak that was embroidered with golden thread. The hilt of an ancient blade protruded above broad shoulders, sheathed down the figure’s spine. The cloak hid anything on the figures body, but Mando knew it was lined with weapons.

The male figure had an elbow on the table, a long arm propped up with his hand disappearing into the darkness of his hood where he presumably had his chin resting.

He knew that this man was a hunter.

A predator.

He could sense the coiled energy slumbering within the relaxed stance, just knew that the heavy material of his cloak hid an arsenal of weapons.

That and the fact he could see the faint outline of a knife hidden within the man’s sleeve.

The Mandalorian straightened, alertness flooding every single sense, along with the anger at his own sheer stupidity for falling asleep. He reached out, pulling Grogu off of the table and back into his crib in one fluid movement, shielding it between his body and the wall behind him.

He might have chosen a corner table, might be backed into that corner, but at least no one could get the jump on him from behind.

Mando had already marked the exists and potential attack points the first time he’d come here, so he didn’t need to worry about those.

He was in the process of trying to spot any tells on his new acquaintance, when the figure laughed.

A laugh like silk, flowing over the skin. A laugh that was designed to draw you in, to caress you and seduce you.

The voice was the same. Low, with a rich baritone like velvet that slid over the Mandalorian’s bones, “Relax. You don’t need to go on the offence, Mandalorian. Though I know that might be hard for you.” He was grinning under that hood, and Mando could almost imagine a set of fangs to match the voice, itching to sink into flesh.

“Don’t I?” The Mandalorian’s voice was hard, cold. He needed to get out of here… but something was making him curious about who this shadowy figure was, something niggling at the back of his mind like he knew.

The figure shrugged, an easy gesture, “Nope. Trust me, if I wanted you dead, you wouldn’t have woken up from your little nap there. I could have killed you and that Peli woman during the storm and hung your skins out as wind gauges.”

He knew who Peli was? Who was he?

The Mandalorian said nothing. He supposed someone from the town could have spotted him staying at Peli’s. He’d have to leave. He didn’t want her getting hurt because of him.

The man laughed again, set Mando’s teeth on edge, “Honestly, Mando. Are you always wound this tight? No wonder you don’t sleep.” He dropped his hand, resting both forearms on the table and lacing his fingers together. They were clad in fine leather gloves, perfectly snug to his hands. “I won’t kill your little friend either, I promise. I’m here on business.” He paused, “Acceptable business, if you could call it that. Not my usual or favoured type of business, mind you.”

Mando kept his hand on his blaster, kept his other arm held slightly out in case Grogu’s crib was on display. It was only then that he’d noticed the entire cantina had emptied out. It was just the three of them. How long was he asleep?

“What business would that be? I don’t exactly fall into the ‘acceptable business’ category myself.” He couldn’t keep the snideness out of his tone.

The figure leaned into his hands, no ounce of light creeping past the hood. There was nothing there, just heavy darkness shrouding his face. “I need you to find someone for me. I’ve been tasked by someone supposedly important to bring them in, and I heard you’re almost as good as me.”

Mando had a feeling he knew where this was going. “And who am I helping you bring in? I don’t have sidekicks.”

The figure snorted, like Mando’s words amused him, “You think I’d be your sidekick? Please. You’ve been living with your head in that bucket too long. You obviously don’t know who I am.” He might have shaken his head beneath the heavy cloak, “I digress. Here is the person I want you to help me find.” He slid a puck onto the table, “I think you’ll be able to help. I’d be happy to split the reward in half with you. It would be enough for you to take your little one to one of those sanctuary planets.”

He didn’t want to press that puck. He didn’t want to reveal what he already knew. “Sorry. I just remembered. I’m busy.” He made to rise from his chair.

The figure didn’t even move a finger, and suddenly an iron grip wrapped itself around the Mandalorian’s throat. He choked, his hand slipping from his blaster to his neck, trying to prise away whatever was suffocating him, but it wasn’t there. Nothing was touching him.

The man watched him, “Sit down.”

The pressure became tighter, dragged down Mando’s body and forced his legs to relax and for his body to dump back onto the bench. “Now. Activate the puck.”

Mando shook his head, gasping for breath beneath the helmet, his lungs already fit to burst and his eyes tearing up. He had to protect you and the kid.

This man, if he was one, snarled softly, “Unless you want me to crush your windpipe and slit your baby in half, open the damn puck.”

Mando growled, clawing across the table and slamming his fingers onto the puck.

At once, the pressure immediately vanished. The man still sounded calm, casual, “That’s a good boy.”

The sudden rush of air was surprisingly not what had Mando gasping. It was your face, lit up in holo with the now absurdly high bounty flashing above it.

He’d known it’d be you, but it was still like a blow to his heart. The hazy blue mirage of your face, projected into the air stared at him, cutting right through him.

Mando shook his head again, his voice hoarse, “I don’t know where she is. I lost her. I don’t have the rights to go after again.”

The shadowy man leaned forward closer, flicking the puck “I knew you’d say that. I also knew that roughly a week ago, you dropped her off in Nevarro. I know that she’s currently staying under the protection of Marshal Cara Dune and Greef Carga.” He pressed the button to deactivate the puck.

Ice spread through Mando’s belly. How did this freak know where you were? How did he know where you were staying? Had he been following you?

His heart started to increase rapidly in his chest, his brain scrambling for a way out of this conversation. If it were anyone else, he would have ripped them apart and left by now.

But some primal instinct told him if he tried, he wouldn’t be the one walking away.

The man pulled the puck toward him, slipping it deep within his cloak, “You catch on fast. You’re right. You wouldn’t be walking away. There wouldn’t even be enough of you left to paint the walls of this disgusting building. Not even with your precious baby.”

What the fuck? He just…

A silky chuckle emanated from the hooded abyss, “Yes, yes. Don’t dwell on it, Mandalorian. There are bigger things to worry about.” He sat up straighter. “Now, I’m assuming you don’t remember what I am. So, I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. I have been employed by someone who is far too arrogant and overestimates both their intelligence and their influence.” He paused, “No… employed is the wrong word. That would imply that they are my boss, and that is simply beyond ridiculous.” He tapped the table, “Anyway, as I was saying. I have been paid by someone to find your little girlfriend. And I will not stop until I find her. There are no ifs, buts or maybes. I will find the girl. And it’ll be sooner rather than later.”

Mando couldn’t breathe. There was a roaring in his ears.

The man continued on, “My client has asked me to bring her back to them. And I am nothing if not a gentleman of my word, so I have promised that she will be taken to them. On one condition.” He reached behind him, unsheathing his sword and resting it on the table in front of him with a movement so smooth it could have been choreographed. “I will have her returned to me after they are done with her. For she belongs to me, truly. And I will do to her whatever I see fit.”

A deadly fury rose within Mando like a tidal wave at the disgusting possessiveness in this mans words, but it was diminished when he saw the blade.

As long as his arm, a metal so black it sucked the very light from the room. There patterns within the surface, liked it was folded back onto itself again and again, until it was virtually indestructible. The centre of the blade and its hilt were etched in gold with symbols that Mando didn’t know.

But he recognised them.

With a sudden clarity, it came rushing back to him.

As a child, he was told bedtime stories, of a terrifying phantom of death. He rode the night sky, which answered to him. He slipped through the shadows and into people’s minds. He could kill a man from the inside out without touching him, reduce him to a screaming pit of fear, so tortured that he would tear out his own eyes.

He left behind no trace. He killed without mercy, without remorse for he had no soul.

There were rumours that beneath his hood, lay the head of a monster, so vile and cruel that the deepest pits of the galaxy spat him back out because they were too good for someone like him.

There was even talk of him in Mandalorian culture. Warnings.

This being was the one thing that a Mandalorian should never engage in. For he would make even the most skilled hunter or assassin cower. He had slaughtered in the Mandalorian wars, killed thousands on either side and then returned later to suck the souls out of the dead.

There were multiple names for him in Mando’a, the two most prominent being Werda which meant shadows, or more commonly, Haran. Translated, it meant hell, or cosmic annihilation, as he was said to be older than time. Older than the galaxy. He was death.

Haran chuckled softly, “Ah, I thought that might stir up some memories. I admit, I was surprised when I learned that the Mandalorian’s knew who I was, and even warned you about me. As if they believed that would save you. I thought you were all… what’s the phrase? Ori'buyce, kih'kovid. All helmet, no head."

He might throw up. Mando might throw up right here. He couldn’t wrap his head around what was happening. A fucking myth, a legend told to Mandalorians and people across the galaxies, was sitting opposite him.

He was real.

He could speak Mando’a better than some of his fellow Mandalorians.

He wanted you.

Haran was caressing a gloved finger up and down the edge of his blade, “I am going to get her, Mandalorian. She will be mine. She has belonged to me since the moment she was born, our fates entwined like threads of time. I will have her back by my side, and I will teach her everything that she is. I will help expand her past the limits of what she can be. She will be unstoppable. Indestructible.” There was a hunger in his voice, a hunger that struck genuine fear into Mando’s heart.

Mando croaked, the only thing he could manage, “What are you talking about?”

Haran tiled his head again, his movements stilling, “She never told you?” That irresistible voice actually sounded surprised, then he chuckled, “Oh, that’s interesting. She’s obviously tried to forget who she truly is. No matter, I’ll show her soon enough.” He appeared to be thinking about something, then his cloaked head tilted up and Mando knew he was watching him.

If he even had eyes under there.

“You can go and run off to her now. But you won’t be able to save her.” Such simple words, spoken with such a casual knowledge, a man used to being right.

The Mandalorian didn’t even think. He lurched from his seat, numbly pressing the button on his vambrace that had Grogu’s crib following him.

He had to get back to Peli. He had to get back to the Crest. He needed to find you, needed to take you somewhere far away, somewhere where you’d be safe from this monster.

“Wait.”

The man caught Mando’s arm as he made to go past him, gripping it with an iron strength that seemed to reverberate throughout his bones, root him to the spot. He couldn’t move.

“I tell you what. I’m a generous man, so I’m going to give you a head start. I’ll be here for the next seven days. After that, I’ll be making my way to Nevarro. And I will lay waste to anyone that tries to stand in my way. ”

Mando couldn’t speak, his tongue had frozen to the roof of his mouth with that same phantom grip. He could only make a choked noise, a growl that sounded as threatening as he could.

The man laughed again beneath that fucking hood, letting go of the invisible grip and sheathing his blade, “Better hurry… Lori.”

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