#little personal piece to take a break while working on comms :]
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sorrcha · 1 year ago
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ruarc, dragonborn bard studying the college of swords.
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oddballwriter · 1 year ago
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HEYAA. I’ve been so obsessed with ur MK stuff lately it’s insane. Wondering if I could request a little blurb with Steven? 🙏 Maybe artistic reader who uses Steven as a muse of sorts? 🎨 Maybe Steven finds reader’s sketches of him and Reader is like embarrassed 😨 that he may be uncomfortable with it? Add and change up anything you’d like!! 😽 ur my fav writer thank you 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼❤️❤️
Your Drawings Look like Heaven to Me
꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦
Summary: Steven always enjoys your drawings and art, big or small, painting or simple sketch and doodle. But he's a bit surprised when he discovers that you have a habit of drawing a certain muse that you have. 
Warnings: There's nothing that I can actually thing of other than it's mentioned that the reader draws Steven when he's unaware, but I don't think it's that bad. Also 'Y/n' is used once. 
Author’s Snip: This was meant to be just a little blurb but I got the writing equivalent of zoomies. You asked for a cookie and I made you a cake with layers, frosting, and toppings. This is insane how did I do this. I think it's because I've been drinking a monster while writing this. I have paused the video that I was previously watching in the background because I am so focused. I'm not even joking this shit is 1517 words long and that is before I proof and grammar checked it. I think this might be the longest writing I've done thus far. Enjoy your free cake, anon.
Notes: This is written in the lens of a world where it's just Steven, so none of the actual events in the show happen.
I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.
꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦
Steven always knew you drew. You met at your jobs at the museum, at the time, you were working the front desk while he of course worked at the gift shop. The two of you weren't all too familiar with each other since you only saw each other in passing. You knew him as Steven from the gift shop, and he knew you as Y/N from the front desk. You did learn more details through others. Steven was a chatty guy who had an impressive knowledge about Egyptology and mythos. And you were the person at the front desk who did nothing but sit there and draw all day when not granting visitors entry, or in most cases, taking a second to scan a preprinted ticket and check the schedule.
Steven heard talk that you were really talented in your art. You were able to draw what were basically pictures of things you saw or even made up. He hadn't seen your actual art till one day he found you sat where he usually did for lunch, drawing the statue man that he talked at everyday. And wow, were they right about how well you could draw. Though while you talked to each other you laughed "Well of course I'm able to draw him perfectly. He doesn't move.".
That lunch break was a long time ago. You two started dating between then and now. Steven managed to leave the museum for a new one that actually let him be a tour guide. You eventually managed to find work that let you use your skills in art instead of using it to beat the boredom of your job. And you also moved in with Steven in his little flat, in which he cleared out some of this clutter to make a space for you to work and make your own.
You would draw little doodles for Steven to have. Like Gus swimming around. An Egyptian god that you made using his books as a reference. You even drew him a little alligator with a speech bubble saying "Later" on a sticky note. He still has it by the way. He laminated it using clear tape and has it in his wallet as a pick-me-up when he's upset or as a lucky charm of sorts. You always made drawings for him. But never once had he thought that you would make drawings of him. Let alone how many drawing you made of him.
Steven isn't a man who likes to snoop around regularly, feeling a massive sense of ruining someone's privacy. But you said that he could always look through your sketchbooks and art pieces if he wanted, as long as it wasn't a commission that was still being worked on, which he respected. You, like any other artist, had a plethora of sketchbooks of different sizes that served different purposes. There were your personal sketchbooks, outline and testing sketchbooks, practice sketchbooks, a lot of sketchbooks with a lot of different things they were for. It amazed him just how many you had and how you were able to remember which is which.
He knew which ones were ones he gifted you though. Steven was never confident when it came to gifting you supplies. He wasn't an artist himself so he didn't know what was perfect and what was something you would say thank you for out of courtesy. One of the things he used as a safe play were sketchbooks. The bookstore he frequented had a section of art stuff and found that the sketchbooks were not only great quality but also had various designs on their covers. So he'd get you one almost every time he went.
When he looked at them on the shelf next to your desk he realized that he had never actually seen inside of those ones. He was a bit hesitant to grab one since he didn't know if you would want him to. It's not like he could ask you right now. You were out running some important errands and he didn't want to bother you. However, they were on the part of the shelf that you put all your regular personal sketchbooks, which he was allowed to look at so he took a one random from the collection and flicked through the pages.
Out of some coincidence, it was the first sketchbook he got you, which was admittedly one he got you before he learned what pages were good for actual art. The first few pages were doodles that were likely from testing how the paper held up with the actual process of drawing which soon stopped and the rest of the art was actually taped on like they originally belonged to another sketchbook.
Steven thought of that as a clever use for the pages. You would sometimes make art you thought was nice on miscellaneous papers and would simply take the piece with the art out and stick it somewhere else. But he soon notices a theme amongst all the doodles and drawings, which then follow into all of the other sketchbooks he gifted you.
Him.
Most of the drawings in these sketchbooks were of him.
They were all different. Some were him lounging around or taking a nap. Something that would have made him unaware of you creating a drawing of him. There was one that was him asleep laying in bed from what would be your side of the bed. His face was calm, the limpness of his arms and body was captured perfectly, the sheets drawn with the most accurate wrinkles, and the lighting gave the impression of the light of the morning that came in through the curtains. It looked like you simply took a picture of him while he slept but it was clearly a sketch drawn using a pen and pencil.
There was these bust and face portraits that spanned through out the books, of course of him. The first were already so good in detail considering these had to be drawings of him from memory. But they only got more detailed as they went on. You managed to get his amount of stubble right. You had the little baby curls that lived along his hair line. The crease between his eyebrows he had since he always had a slight anxious expression. That tiny little dimple that he had next to his nose that he didn't know existed until you pointed it out one time.
Steven's mind was boggling to him to see such detailed drawings of him that looked so carefully done even when they were simply quick sketches. They were life-like. They were him. They were Steven. To be honest, how could it not? You see his face all the time. So why wouldn't you have him completely memorized. It was just the fact that you had taken time and pages to draw him and him alone.
It was a bit jarring, for the both of you, when you walked through the front door with a hand full of groceries and other things from your errands and he was seen looking at all the drawings of him. You were embarrassed that he finally saw all your drawings of him and worried that he would think it was weird. He thought that he crossed a line and breached your privacy.
You two avoided talking about it till Steven finally did during dinner later that evening.
"You, uh, draw me... a lot." Steven spoke. "Yeah. I do." you blush as you avoided eye contact in case his eyes showed that your fear of him finding your habit with drawing him was strange was correct. "Why do you draw me so much?" he questions. You sighed, "It's sort of a habit I formed." you confess. You proceeded to explain how it started,
"I first drew you as an exercise to get rid of some art block. I usually draw faces of people I know as a means to do that. So I drew you. It was okay. But when I looked at it a couple days later I thought that I could do it again to improve on detailing some more. Then I used you as a study for lighting and colors.".
"Then, sometimes, I would just draw you when I thought you looked pretty or thought of you. And that's sort of what I've been doing." you explain further. "I thought you would find it weird if you saw all the times I drew you and so I just put them in the books you got me and hoped you wouldn't see them." you say in a timid manner.
"I don't think it's strange. I think it's actually quite flattering." Steven clarifies. "I was just surprised that you think of me as something worth drawing. Especially with such detail." he remarks. You breathe a sigh of relief at that.
"If I'm entirely honest, love," Steven spoke up, "Never tell me that you're drawing me from where I am. I'll get nervous and possibly ruin the position that you're drawing me in." he remarks.
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nymphrasis · 12 days ago
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Ok I will try to be organized with artworks I have planned to work on <3. Basically it is this, in order:
Work on 100 Galarian Ponyta adopts ( 2/100 is sketched ).
Inbetween work on ask blog art and art trades ( 3 art trades )
Work on the enormous adopt batch of Eevee / Mew ( Whichever one wins. I think I know who will win base on both poll's votes. But I will wait on the third day mark to recheck )
Of course there will be inbetween other art works to avoid burnout from working on the same thing ( Trust me, I really do need to do other art pieces after a certain progress on the same art, such as base adopts as an example. Because if I just stick to working on the same thing, over and over again, be it the same character or same genre of art, I will get tired out and slowly start to become demotivated for a while ;;" ).
Of course, with these art plans, this does mean that my comms will be closed for a good bit of a while ;w;. I like to try to focus more on the character aspect, in terms of making adopts to sell. Yes they are bases, but they are my bases ( Aka I created them. I don't like using other people works, hence you never see me use another person base ;w; ).
I am excited for the chibi Eevee / Mew fusions because it will be my largest adopt batch yet! They should be easier and a little quicker to make ;w;. Of course, I will not rush. I still like to take the time to think up of ideas for each fusion. Be it simple or complex, I still like to put my heart into the design like every past adopts I've done ;w;. I have no clue on how long it takes. Because, if I could somehow do like say, 20 minutes of sketching per design, that would be a lot buuuutttt... It does not take into consideration of breaks. Eating, showering, bathroom breaks, sleeping, and the occasional needing to pause to avoid hand from cramping ( I don't want to end up with Carpal Tunnel ;-; ). Duly note that it won't be actually 20 minutes. This does not take into consideration of what 'mon each Pokemon will be fused with in the chibi batch. That and I take much more time on sketching a fusion. Sometimes parts of the ideas change >w<. So sometimes I revisit the sketch of the fusion I make and do final changes / additions before I am 100% satisfied with it! So 20 minutes is not realistic but is mostly just used as an example x3
as excited as I am, I do wary of how I make some 'mons look into the Eevee / Mew :s. Guess an example I could give is Diglett. Like there isn't much too it. The only cop-out I could do is add accessories that corresponds with the 'mon. Like possible a miner's hat :thinks:? I don't like putting so little on a base adopt. Hence I try to come up with more ideas of what else to add and change ;w;. Which sometimes does take me a lil longer on the fusion aspect. At the end of the day, I don't want the adopt to feel plain and boring >w<"
One last thing:
Just so I don't feel bored, I won't work in dex order. I'll use both a random number generator, Pokeheroes random eggs hatching, and people to pick for me :D! Just to make it a lil more fun really qwp. Hope I don't get lost and regret it xD. I'll probably use a Poketracker to know which ones I've already done! I have not decided yet if I will do forms, like megas and gigatamax. Also those that are slightly different, like Alcremie [ I will probably do just the different sweets on the head maybe. Still make them unique in their own way, just so it isn't just the same chibi with just different colors with a sweet on their head. I actually hate adopts that just changes colors and not make any big changes to the other xd. I WONT do 64 Alcrevees / Mewremie xD ] or Furfrous. )
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the-sprog · 2 years ago
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The other Robins learn about it one by one.
Dick was visiting the Watchtower for some mission he had intel on and saw the Captain all curled up on the couch (as if to take as little space as possible) embroidering little runes in one of Flash's costume (Captain Cold almost gave him frostbite the last time they fought, and Cap suggested some protection magic. Flash gave him the go to without even letting him finish his sentence).
"Whatcha doing there Cap?" Detectives gotta detective, Dick supposed.
"Well, Flash needed some protection against frostbite so." the Captain gestures with the needle to the hood, "Embroidered magic runes."
They talk about it a bit until-
"Actually, the first thing I fixed was one of Batman's capes. I heard Robin say he has it framed," the Captain admitted, evidently trying to hold back a smile.
And now wasn't that an interesting piece of information?
Jason learns about it by outright asking Bruce.
No, it was not Bruce who gave him the answer. But upon seeing the cape framed he assumed some street kid had done it and was preparing himself to greet a new sibling.
"A work collegue has touched up one of Master Bruce's capes" was what Alfred had to say about the situation.
Jason stares at the piece of cloth, confused and intrigued, thinking about his conversation with the butler.
He wants to meet the person who touched Batman's shit without the knights permission and lived.
The way Tim learns about it, is when one day he catches Damian in the living room just staring at one of his capes and passing his thumb over some stitching.
"Something wrong with your cape?"
Damian clutches it close to his chest, effectively hiding wherever it was that got the kid so spaced out.
"Mind your own business, Drake," he says and stalks off. Damian never lets go of the cape though.
Tim considers breaking into the other's room and checking in case it was anything worrying (who is he trying to convince? Himself? He's curious and noisy, and he can't help but fall back into old habits).
But he resists, opting to trying to catch the item of clothing when it needs washing.
He isn't prepared for what he finds and the following conversation with Dick and Jason.
They need to meet Marvel.
Dick wants his own piece of personalized magic uniform.
Barbara learns about it because there's nothing they can successfully hide from her.
The moment she notices the three brothers scheming she knows it's not good, especially if it's something Jason is willing to involve himself with.
She knows it has something to do with the Watchtower (they think they're sneaky with their codified messages, but she's known them for long enough to understand them almost immediately) and worries they're trying to pull a prank on B while he's working.
So, she does what any sensible person would.
Hacks their comms and phone mics.
Who knew Bruce was so fond of the Leaguers?
She's sure they don't know that.
She needs to rectify that.
And get a photo of that cape.
Steph learns about it because Tim is incapable of keeping shut about how nice it is to see the Demon Brat care about something in such a sweet way.
Robin had been reported as getting seen without his cape for a few nights, which tickled Spoiler's curiosity.
She asked Dick, who also didn't know, but had less qualms about torturing (cuddling) the answers from the source himself.
She went to Jason who was usually the one with dirt on the family, Babs aside, and was also willing to share said dirt, contrary to Babs.
This is how she learns about Bruce's treasured cape. She can only imagine what his initial reaction to it was if he has it framed.
She starts looking up how to crochet. It can't be that hard. She make one blanked to gift Bruce for Chanukah, it's gonna be easy.
She doesn't even ask Tim, in the end. She was too busy with her crochet research. It's him that comes to her after Dick manages to get the answers out of his little brother (found the cape hidden under a pillow when he went to hug him) and him and Tim needed someone to talk about it to, since Jason didn't seem to understand how important this was.
Cass leanr about it because her siblings are terrible at being stealthy.
She should clarify. They're bad at being stealthy when it comes to lighthearted things. Like playing a prank, or hiding a broken base form B, or a surprise birthday party.
They relax, and let their guards down (not completely but... More than a Bat could ever do in the company of others) when it's just them.
She's not good at that.
So she notices.
She thinks it's good that Damian found someone with a shared interest (in a way. It's not the exact same, but the arts is the arts is the arts, y'know?) and she's glad Bruce is getting along with his colleagues in a less serious setting.
She wants to meet the Captain, much like everyone else in the family who hasn't yet.
Duke learns about it by investigating it.
He knows he's new to the family, so he isn't surprised when he notices they all know something he doesn't, and don't seem to keen on sharing.
Maybe they think he knows, maybe they just don't do that, or maybe they forgot about him.
Either way, he has a mistery to solve. There's something glowing on Damian lately, but he's never close enough to the kid to figure out what it is. It's small, usually on his Robin's uniform.
The once caught a glimps of a similar glow in the cave, and another time at the Watchtower on the Flash and Wonder Woman.
It was a similar glow to that of Captain Marvel, the one he exudes constantly. But it held something different from him in each person.
Duke doesn't go asking to Damian directly, he's certain that would be a sure way to getting stabbed in the shoulder (specifically the shoulder, yes. Damian knows he's not allowed to mortally wound them anymore, so the shoulder is his next best bet for maximum hurt and certainty of not killing his prey, and consequentially the most likely target).
Instead, he waits for the day he finds himself in the Watchtower again and starts observing the Flash from a distance.
Enough to know if it's something like a parasite or a side effect of something they're aware of.
"What's that glowing on your suit?"
"Huh?"
"Your suit. There's some little lights coming from some parts of it. What is it?"
"Oh! You're probably talking about Cap's embroidery work! Isn't it so cute? It's like the symbol on my chest!"
"Embroidery?"
"Yeah! And it's magic so it gives me extra protection for some stuff!"
"The Captain embroiders? Captain Marvel? The big red ball of energy? The unstoppable force? Mr. I-cant-sit-still-even-if-my-life-depended-on-it? That Captain Marvel?"
"Yep! He's surprisingly good at it, and only getting better with the amount of work we give him. But he seems to enjoy it and Diana pays him every once in a while, I get him supplies so it's a fair trade."
"Mmh."
"It's freaky when you act like Bats."
Duke just smirks and exists the kitchen, directing his course towards the common room's couch where Captain Marvel sits.
Bonus: Alfred learns about it almost immediately.
Bruce came home with no cape attached to his suit one night, instead having it safely folded in his arms.
It was a bizarre sight.
Batman wouldn't have cared for a ripped cape, they can be swapped for fresh new ones when needed. And the butler can't come up with another reason as to why Bruce wouldn't be wearing it, other than it becoming an hinderance.
Bruce stands in front of him, shifting his weight from leg to leg.
"Father's cape was ripped during the mission." Damian supplies, knowing his about dad's communication issues.
"Mmh."
"Do you need me to dispose of it, then, sir?"
Bruce shakes his head.
And slowly, with the upmost care one can have for a piece clothing, unfolds the fabric and displays the rip in front of Alfred.
Alfred looks at it and smiles.
The tear is pretty extensive, going over almost the entirety of the cape from top to bottom. It is visible but firmly held in place by small bats embroidered on it as well as not too neat stitching underneath them.
It wouldn't hold up in a fight, not for too long at least.
"Marvel."
"Captain Marvel did this?"
"Mmh."
"Well, it's lovely. What shall we do with it, sir?"
Bruce silently points towards the display case that holds all his old, unusable costumes. He kept some for posterity, but others are there for sentimental value alone.
Alfred smiles. "Very well, sir."
Billy learned how to embroider because he needed a way to fix his clothes that also didn't make them look just like he had mashed random fabric together.
He got taught by an old lady who lives near the diner he goes to most days (she has no grandchildren and Billy has been great company).
He got into the habit so now he does it everytime there's something to repair. Little flowers, birds, tigers and (most prominently) lightning bolts start appearing on all his clothes.
When he joins the Justice League he starts trying to figure out how to do little designs of everyone's logo and when the time comes he uses his skill and the hero's respective logo to help fix their clothes and uniforms.
He once stitched back Batman's cape, even though the next day he was saddened by seeing that Bruce was using a new one (the fixed cape was secured inside a glass display).
Flash starts bringing him all the stuff he tears because he loves the little additions. He even buys the thread and needles for the Captain since he's making him use so much of it. Cap's fine with it, it's a good way to spend monitor duty.
Diana once payed him (she insisted because no labor should go unrewarded) to decorate a dress for an upcoming event she was planning to go to.
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no-droids · 4 years ago
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Ask Me Again Tomorrow
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gif credit @pedros-pascal​
Part Sixteen of the Rough Day Series
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 16.3K
Warnings: SMUTTTTT, following/stalking, some fluffy moments but mostly just a lil action and interaction, I don’t think there’s any other warning besides language and the smut (comm sex WITH A TWIST YALLLLL) but if you happen to find something else that warrants a tag, please let me know and I will do so accordingly!
A/N: The response to this story has grown beyond anything I could’ve ever imagined and I genuinely thank you all from the bottom of my heart for the privilege of writing for you.  Hope this one ends up being okay and I’ll get to work on the next chapter soon!
***
Headstart—12:17pm:
The sky is so pretty.  There isn’t much to look at on the surface—rolling hills and plains, grassy but with dry bare spots breaking up the green stretches, but the sky.  It’s an oil painting above you, pastel swishes of yellows and pinks and purples with an enormous ringed planet taking up half the horizon and another sizable moon hanging high.
You should probably be running.  Like, for real sprinting, but you can’t push yourself to go faster than a brisk walk.  It’s so… free out here, more hills springing up every time you get to the top of the next, warm air filling your lungs.  Even though you know realistically that the beginning will likely be the hardest—where you need to focus most on running and putting distance between you instead of hiding—truth be told, you’re not foreseeing making it more than a full day.  You’re going to try, obviously, but in the grand scheme, you wouldn’t be surprised in the least if he finds you tomorrow.  So, instead of wasting all your energy going as fast as you physically can right out of the gate, you just decide to stroll and think for a little bit.
You know what your goal is.  Obviously, to last as long as you can, but more specifically… well, if Din is going to chase after you, then he’s going to try to think like you.  Anticipate your movements, if he can’t already see the tracks you leave plain as day.  Very soon, he’ll be walking this same exact pathing, following the footprints you’re leaving behind, but if you’re ever able to shake him or throw him off course, he doesn’t have a tracking fob.  He doesn’t have any mechanical device that points him in your direction—if you can lose him with the footprints, then he’ll have to rely solely on predicting you. Which means you need to think… exactly the opposite of yourself if you want to outsmart him.
That’s harder than it sounds though, because… is he going to predict you predicting him?  At what point does it stop?  You somehow have trouble seeing this as an advantage the way he said it would be—you almost wish you had someone else chasing you, someone you didn’t know and someone who didn’t know you if only so this paradox could end before it begins.
You’re walking for about ten minutes before spotting a dirt road in the distance.  There’s a person following it in the direction of the sun—you don’t know this planet’s magnetic field but you do know it’s after noon and the sun would set on Arvala-7 in the west, so that’s what you’ll call it for now.  You call out to them as soon as you’re in range, and the stranger turns to you.
“Excuse me!”  It’s a woman, you see it as you get closer.  “I’m so sorry to bother you, but can you tell me where this road leads?”
She removes a sheer yellow shawl covering her dark hair and gives you a friendly smile.  “Hello,” the lady greets, before spinning around and pointing back the way she came.  “Osiruu is a few hours that way.  There’s not much there, but it will take you to G’ila, a transport hub with many opportunities for drifters, or Nariss, the capital.  I’m on my way to Shabeth,” she points in the other direction.  “It’s far—a day’s walk, but it’s a holy place and offers quite the view.  I would be glad for the company, but I understand its lack of practical appeal.”
So this place is safe enough to be inviting strangers along on your travels, noted.  You’re going to have to make the decision right now, then.  Which path should you take?
Something deep inside you tells you that you want to see this holy place, and just from a few sentences, you already like this woman and feel safe with her.  But then all of a sudden, you remember something.
Last known locations tell you a lot about a quarry, Din’s voice drifts back to you, sounding soft and distant from the dark forests of Naboo.  Smart ones go to populated planets, planets like Coruscant, planets that make it nearly impossible to find people.  Brave ones go to dangerous planets, suicidal ones try their luck in the Unknown Regions, idiots continue to go about their business on their homeworld without caring.  But planets like this—like Naboo… those are the pacifists.  The ones that don’t ever put up a fight.
You suppose you should decide what kind of quarry you want to be.  Friendly company and a view is something you normally crave—it’s something your soul speaks to after going without it for so long during your previous life.  You never pictured yourself as the fighting type.  When Din first asked you, you told him you wouldn’t run from him if he was chasing you, and choosing to accompany this kind stranger to her destination is essentially just that.  Sacrificing a chase for a pretty view.
“Does Shabeth have a sizable population?”  You ask her, and she shakes her head.
“It’s the sight of an annual pilgrimage that happens in a few months, but it’s beautiful there and I like to go whenever I can,” she tells you with a soft smile.  “But there’s nothing for miles outside it, I’m afraid.”
Your footprints will lead directly there.  He’ll find you easily.
“It sounds very nice, but I need to find somewhere with a lot of people,” you give her an apologetic smile.  Truly, you think she would’ve made for a nice friend.  “Thank you for your help, though, and good luck with your journey!  I hope we meet again.”
“Do you need any food or supplies?”  She asks you, and you stop short of passing her by.  “I don’t have much with me, but know what it’s like to be a newcomer to Sanctuary II.  I’d be glad to help.”
Good Maker, is this how everybody is here or did you just hit the jackpot with this lady?  She seems like… you, almost.  Her voice is gentle, she looks like she’d give nice hugs.  You’re about to politely turn her down, but then you realize the brilliant opportunity that’s presented itself in her image.
“Actually, this might sound like a really strange question, but…” you tell her, before looking down at her feet.  “Wanna trade shoes with me?”
***
Headstart—6:12pm:
You don’t think it’ll work, but as you walk into a small settlement a few hours later in a unfamiliar and worn pair of sandals, you decide that you’ll need to do this as often as possible.  You can’t come up with anything else that’ll throw him off your physical trail besides constantly switching shoes—is that bad?  Are you just an idiot with no hope?  You’ve had—you check your watch—like, five hours to think of a game plan, and all you’ve come up with is shoes?  You’re screwed.
At least there’s food here.  Plenty.  There’s vendors stationed along the street, multiple people passing by and going about their business.  Osiruu, that nice woman said—not much here, but you think she was wrong.  There’s children giggling and jumping rope on the corner, a shopkeeper sweeping her storefront, a graying man with an empty cup plucking an unfamiliar melody on an unfamiliar instrument—and while your tummy growls and you know you should quickly buy supplies and be on your way, you still stop for just a few minutes to listen.
It’s a lovely tune.  You drop a few credits in his cup after he finishes and find yourself humming it as you look at the plethora of goods being offered by the vendors.  Water, food—you buy enough of everything to sustain you for at least a couple days, not wanting to go hungry but also feeling realistic over optimistic.  The cuisine is foreign and you just point to things that look appetizing since you’re not sure about the name or pronunciation, but after paying and taking a bite into a rather large piece of purple fruit, your eyes nearly cross at how sweet and tasty it is.  Holy Maker, that might just be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.  You ask for two more after you finish the first, tucking one in your backpack next to your blaster and munching on the other as you keep browsing.
Suddenly you see shoes—yes.  Fucking shoes, your salvation.  You take a good look at all your options, of which, there aren’t many.  Generic men's, women's, and children's, all in the same color and design.  It’s good in a way—you see most people walking around in the same type of clothing here and you pray there’s not a way for him to track your gait or the whole thing is a bust, but truthfully, what you’re most worried about is the fact that you’ll create a brand new set of footprints wherever your old ones disappear.  Unless you trade with someone else, you won’t ever have a back pathing, you know that Din will probably be able to easily spot it.
“Three pairs of these, please,” you point to the correct shoes and tell him your size, but then—“Oh wait, actually, can I actually have one of them that’s the next size up?  And another that’s the same but in men's?”
The man behind the counter gives you an odd look but acquiesces, measuring the size of your preferred pair to multiple men’s shoes to find one that looks roughly the same—you doubt he’s ever had a request like this, but you’re also a generous tipper.  His smile is grateful when you tell him to keep the change and then you’re stuffing the new shoes into your backpack and moving onward.
Would there be some kind of map here, you wonder?  One that shows distance so you won’t waste time trying to reach a place you won’t be able to walk to?  That lady said a transport hub and the capital are through this settlement, but she didn’t provide much information beyond that.  You don’t want to be in the middle of nowhere when he finally catches up to you, you’ll need some place to hide.
When you stop to ask an elderly gentleman as he passes by, he freely provides you a basic gist.  There’s a large forest beyond Osiruu—after it will be a road that passes through a few notable places, with a town called Sijua to the west that leads north to G’ila, and Devain to the east that leads northeast to Nariss.  Both are within walking distance, though it may take a couple days to reach your destination.
Alright then.  Through the forest, you suppose.  You probably should’ve asked which way is east, but he’s already leaving and you don’t have the nerve to ask him to stop again.  You have a finger point, that’s all you need.  Making sure to use one of the small restrooms near the square before heading out, you eventually decide to make your way towards the direction he said this forest would be.
***
Headstart—6:58pm:
A bus.
You’re not going to take it, of course, but it’s the perfect solution to the problem you’ve been mulling over.  It’s at the very edge of the small settlement, and you quickly speed up into a half-jog as soon as you hear its engine running.
“Last call for the seven o’clock!”  A large man stationed near the doors yells as you approach.  “Last bus to G’ila until tomorrow!”
The sun is setting and you have to extend your hand out in front of you to not be blinded by it.  “Hello,” you give him a smile, before grabbing one of the handles on the side and stepping up onto the metal platform.
“Ah!”  The man quickly stops you, moving to stand in front of the open doors.  He’s as wide as he is tall, big enough that he blocks the entire exit.  “That’ll be ten credits, miss.”
“Oh,” you say, patting your empty pockets and pulling your eyebrows inwards, trying not to move too much in case the sizable amount of credits you have stashed in your backpack happen to rattle.  “Oh, no.  I think I lost my wallet.”
He sighs.  “Off the bus then please, miss.  Come back tomorrow if you find it.”
You nod, leaning your forearm against the paneling and beginning to take your shoes off.  “Will it be parked in the same place exactly?”
The driver looks curiously at you, clearly confused at both the strange question and your strange actions.  “I’m sorry?  Please—off the bus.”
“One second,” you tell him, now barefoot on the platform and digging into your backpack for the slightly larger sized shoes you bought earlier.  The sound of credits clink against your blaster, but you hope he takes your lead in purposefully ignoring them.  “Does the bus to G’ila park in this spot every single day?”
“Yes,” the man tells you impatiently, eyeing the way you’re stepping into the new pair with a subtle look of distaste.  Everyone is polite here, it seems.  “It will arrive back at seven am sharp with passengers from G’ila, in the same exact place.  Please get off the bus.”
“Thank you, sir,” you tell him with a smile, watching him step to the side to allow you to drop down into the dirt again and continue on your way.
Brilliant, if you do say so your fucking self.  Eliminate the need for a back pathing.  All footprints facing this direction are going to be the first footprints, and all of them facing the opposite way are going to be the last; if Din manages to figure out you didn’t take the bus, then he won’t be able to tell which new set are yours and which belong to the other passengers.  You pray the helmet can’t track gaits, but while you’re still paying enough attention, you make sure to keep your steps just slightly longer and even try placing more weight on the edges of your feet to make it look like you have a slightly higher arch than you actually do.  You’d put a pebble inside of them or something, but you know you’re going to be walking through the night and you don’t want to commit to having your feet hurt more than you already know they’re going to.
Eventually the quaint shops and small houses disappear behind you, and the sun setting over the horizon turns the clouds above turn more dusty green and brown than yellow and pink.  You hope Din opened up the ramp after you left.  You want him to see the sky.
***
Headstart—9:34pm
The forest here is different from Naboo, too.
Maybe it was because you only saw it while you were in crisis-mode, but that forest seemed much scarier and darker than this one.  The vegetation there was thick and overgrowing, but these trees look like they’ve never had leaves on them at all.  No twigs or small branches that sprout from the trunks—the branches are all thick and gnarly, criss-crossing with each other with how close they’ve grown together.  You bet their roots are practically one at this point, stretching for miles and miles but all sharing the same system.
Because there aren’t any leaves, there's nothing to block the moonlight shining clear and crystalline through the twisting maze of branches.  Sanctuary II appears to have a sister moon—Sanctuary I, perhaps?—that’s likely a similar size, because it’s the same one you've seen all day and it’s barely moved a few degrees that you can tell.  It must orbit incredibly close and be tidal-locked with this one then.  Two massive satellites swinging around each other as they circle a ringed gas giant, but it makes a stunning view and reflects more than enough light to see.
The sky is deep blue and maroon and you’ve been walking in a straight line for hours, using the stationary moon overhead as your guide.  The only issue with this plan that you’ve been able to come up with is that there’s no widely traveled path through the trees—even you can see your footprints and the clear trail you’re leaving behind.  You’ve been trying for a while to figure out another clever evasion tactic, but it’s harder than it sounds.  Can’t just change shoes again, that’ll be a dead giveaway.  How do you lose him?
You stop for a second, reaching into your bag to grab some water and stay hydrated.  Looking up once more at the beauty of the swirling colors peeking through the branches above you, you find yourself pausing after returning the bottle to your pack.  There are… an atrocious number of branches up there, and all of them are long and tangled and thick.  Sturdy.
You’ve… never climbed a tree before.
Without thinking much beyond that, you decide to bend your knees and jump, grabbing hold of one of the strong wooden tubes over your head and then swinging your legs up.  Ouch—the bark scrapes against your palms and you have to hold on tight with your thighs while you shimmy yourself upwards, but at least the wood is solid as fuck.  It takes you a minute or two, but you’re eventually able to shuffle yourself around so you’re straddling the thick branch, and then you look out to see the large collection of them criss-crossing in every direction around you.
Oof, this is dangerous.  You know it even before you start.  The gaps leading to the ground are bigger and more numerous than your potential pathing forward, but the only thing that gives you reassurance is how thick the wood is—you’re almost certain the branches aren’t going to break as long as you’re careful.
Okay.  Shoes, these are too big for the kind of dexterity you’re going to need.  You take them off slowly, being extra careful not to drop them, and then exchange them with the better-fitting pair you bought earlier, making a mental note that the sandals and the larger shoes are the two you’ve already worn.  If your pursuer manages to catch on to the multiple footprint changes, your most recent ones should ideally just… disappear right there, shouldn’t they?
You grin, before struggling into a low crouch and looking around your wooden cage for a safe way forwards.
***
Headstart—11:37pm:
Water.
A blessing, and not because you’re thirsty.  You have clean water in your bag and decades of habits formed in the desert to ensure you’re taking breaks and drinking enough—what you need is a way to disguise your footprints once you get back on the ground again.  This was good; scuttling your way along thick and twisting branches for as long as you have was time-consuming and exhausting, but it allowed you to avoid touching the ground for at least a mile or so, which means he’ll have to comb that entire radius to look for your drop.
And it was fun.
You even found yourself giggling as you ducked and scooted, ignoring the bark scraping your skin and your panting breaths, the way your face got sweaty and hot.  You had to do some brave maneuvers at tricky spots—jumping, balancing, hugging—but it almost just felt like an exciting little obstacle course for you and you’re honestly having a fucking blast right now.
Water, though.  Water is an unexpected beauty, even more than you’ve always considered it to be.  Water is an eroder.  Not only powerful enough to smooth down the rough edges of strong elements over time, but it will hide your footprints as soon as you create them and leave no indication that you were ever there.
Eventually you see it—a babbling stream cutting a considerably wide line through the trees.  You creep forward and hang tight to a branch above you to make sure you won’t fall, wiping the sweat on your brow with your other hand as you study the terrain.  The water is… a considerable distance below you, maybe about ten or so feet, and there’s quite a few branches on either side that extend and hang out over it.  You could probably find your way to the other side somehow, but something tells you to avoid the road beyond the forest if you can.  It leads to multiple places, it would be better to follow the stream until you can eventually merge with it later.
That means you’re… fuck.  You’re going to have to jump, aren’t you?
It’s the only way—you can’t leave footprints which means you’re going to need to land in the water.  The trees clear too far from the shoreline, so you can’t shimmy down the trunk of one for a shorter fall.  You’re going to have to climb out on one of those long branches until you’re suspended over the stream, and then you’re going to have to lower yourself as far as you can and then let go.  With your height already accounting for at least half the distance plus the length of your arms as you hang, you should only have to drop two or three feet before reaching water, and then maybe another two feet to the floor under it.  It looks forgiving enough—the moonlight shines and the stream is clear and you can mainly just see sand at the bottom, no sharp rocks or other potential dangers to be found.  This… this is doable.
Okay.  If you pull this off, you’re a badass.  If you don’t break any bones or seriously injure yourself in any way, you deserve some kind of commendation.  This is probably kiddie shit to Din, who keeps literal rockets strapped to his back and jumps out of ships flying thousands of feet above the ground, but this is a challenge for you and you’re feeling just excited enough to be up to it.
You’re eventually able to climb onto the thickest, sturdiest branch you can see that happens to hang over the water, straddling it and beginning to scoot.  Your thighs are killing you at this point but you’re holding deathly tight to the wood, your movements becoming more and more cautious the further away from the trunk you get.
You’re directly above the water now, but you need to go out a little further.  Aim for right in the middle so you don’t accidentally leave any tracks or prints on the shoreline if you need to catch yourself.  The unfamiliar wood in this forest is admittedly sturdy, but the branch begins to subtly sag with your weight as you keep slowly scooting forward, and you’re just about to the correct spot when—
Day 1–12:00am:
“Sweet girl.”
—You nearly fucking fall.
“Maker,” you gasp, suddenly scrambling to catch yourself on the branch before you can plummet.  It creaks and groans under your weight but supports you nonetheless, and when you’re one hundred percent certain it isn’t going to break, you jerk your head down to the communicator and see that it’s midnight, on the dot.
Shit.
Your heart slams against your ribs and your arms shake with adrenaline while you study it for just a moment longer, trying to calm the fuck down.
“Hey,” Din’s voice comes sharply from your wrist, crackling and tinny through the comm, nearly scaring you again.  “Answer me.”
You don’t want to sacrifice your grip right now, but you have no doubt he’ll fly the Crest out to you if you don’t respond.  So you quickly let go to press a button on the front face and then latch onto the branch tight once more, raising your voice because you can’t risk bringing your wrist up to your mouth to speak.  You hope he’ll be able to hear without the microphone picking up the sound of the stream below.  “Uh.  Ahem.  Hello.  Yes?”
“You’re too quiet,” Din’s disembodied voice immediately informs you.  “Or something on your side is too loud.  There’s an earpiece built into the side of the communicator, take it out and use it instead.”
You study the wrist brace without moving, until you finally see what he’s talking about.  It’s a small, wireless piece of machinery hidden on the left side of the electronic display, and you quickly pop it out and stuff it into your ear just in time to hear the sound of hydraulics clanging through the speaker as you clutch the branch again.  You’d know that sound anywhere, it’s the ramp of the hull closing.
“Are you already on the move?”  You ask him incredulously, your thighs starting to go numb with how deathly tight you’ve been squeezing this tree.
“Can’t sleep,” Din murmurs, sounding so much closer and deeper than before.  Does he have his earpiece on under the helmet or something?  Stars, is that why his voice sounds that good?  It’s like it’s coming from inside your own head, bassy and rough.  “Ready or not.”
You huff, your tummy going warm.  Of course he can’t sleep, of course he’s going to look for you as soon as he’s allowed to.  If he waited until morning, you’d probably be slightly offended.  You try to slow your heart rate into something acceptable, but being this far above water and hearing his baritone murmur directly in your ear make it difficult.  “But I’m… sleepy.”
“You’re always sleepy,” he tells you, and though you can’t actually hear him walking, the sound of his footsteps shake through his voice just slightly as he speaks.
“Hang on,” you huff, ducking your head to drag it against your shoulder, keeping the sweat from your eyes without using your hands, “you’re gonna make me stay up all night just because you do?  This isn’t fair—”
“Fair wasn’t part of the rules.”
Well.  Fair.
Stars, you can’t stay here.  You don’t know how long he wants to check-in for, but you’re also not confident with this branch’s ability to hold you for an extended time when you’re this far out from the trunk.  You need to get in that stream one way or another, but now that he’s here, you have an extra problem.  Din is going to hear you no matter what.
“Um.  Can you give me a second?”  You ask him, glancing around to make sure there’s no better way of doing this.  Nope, you realize very quickly—this is the best idea you’ve got, and you don’t really know what that says about the quality of all your other ideas.
“What?”  Din grunts shortly, but you just clear your throat.
“I need to… mute myself.  Give me like… five minutes.”
“What are you talking abou—”
“You of all people cannot be upset about asking for five minutes of quiet,” you return testily, looking down at the distance to the stream once more.  That’s a long way.  You… you can’t swim obviously, but again, the water doesn’t look too deep.  Just a couple feet likely, shouldn’t go past your knees.
It’s fitting that he doesn’t say anything, which you eventually take as disgruntled acceptance, so you quickly press the proper button on your wrist to silence the mic and then take a few deep breaths.  You have a time limit now, you have to do this.
With incredible patience and precision, you eventually slide until you’re clutching the branch upside down like an only slightly quicker and less coordinated sloth, before slowly dropping your legs and hanging over the water.
It’s… admittedly a bit further down than you anticipated, or maybe that’s just you making things worse than they actually are, but you’re committed at this point and there’s no going back.
You close your eyes, count to three, and then you let go.
The sandy floor meets your feet with considerable force and you make a hell of a splash doing it, nearly falling but just barely managing to keep yourself balanced and upright at the last second.  The water is cool and comes up just over your knees, your backpack miraculously didn’t get wet and all your limbs remain shaky but unbroken.
Okay.  Okay, fucking success.  It feels… thrilling, accomplishing a dangerous feat, and you quickly let out a loud whoop before clearing your throat, trying to sound normal as you press a button on the communicator’s face once more.
“Mando?”  You ask, slightly out of breath.  “Sorry about that, I’m back.”
Okay, now which way do you go?  Downstream seems like the easier path after getting in so much unexpected exercise, so that’s the one you go with.  As soon as you lift your foot from the sand bed, you watch your footprint almost immediately disappear through the moonlit water, and you bite your lip at just how well everything turned out for you.
After a moment though, you realize he hasn’t answered you.  You look down at the communicator again to make sure you pressed the right thing.  “Hello?  Shiny?”
“Did you trade shoes with someone?”  Din’s voice suddenly comes through the earpiece, sounding absolutely incredulous.
“Shit,” you tell him, trying not to smile.  “Hoped that was gonna buy me more time.”
“It… might’ve, if you kept walking in the same direction as they were,” he informs you after a moment.  “Your shoes went south, but this other pair got all the way out here just to turn back around again?  Good idea, but the execution needs work.”
Maker, he’s smart.  It was the first attempt at a footprint change so you weren’t thinking much beyond tricking the tracking mechanism in his helmet, you ignored his logic completely.  Essentially, the exact opposite of what he told you to do.  You like to think you’re getting better at it by this point, thinking beyond just the original exchange, and you’re hoping you’ll be able to trick him with at least one of the other fifty times you changed shoes today.  You’ll have to see tomorrow night, if you can make it that long.
Also, the road you were on apparently goes north-south, that’s important information you make sure to take note of.  The man in Osiruu said Devain and Nariss are to the east, and that Sijua and G’ila are westward, right?  Remembering that you thought south was west earlier, you do some quick calculating and immediately come to a stop in the moving water as soon as you figure out your positioning, turning around and walking upstream instead.
You want to go to Nariss.  The capital, and the biggest city in walking distance.  Smart quarry go to populated places, places that make it nearly impossible to find people.
“Alright.  Mando: one, Me: zero,” you finally acknowledge, swinging your backpack around and unzipping it to dig inside for another piece of fruit.  You’ve been hungry for hours but had to use both hands to stay safe and far above the ground, it’s the perfect time to eat.  “How’s the baby?  Behaving himself?”
“He kept trying to follow you after you left,” comes Din’s response, and you stop with just your teeth piercing the flesh, wondering if you heard him right.  You actually open your jaw and pull the fruit away with just a bite mark in it.
“You’re joking.”  No fucking way, not that little demon.
“Wish I was,” he tells you solemnly.  “Made a fuss, tried to open the ramp a few times.  Didn’t cause any trouble after, just… pouted.”
That’s… that’s exactly how he responded the very first time Din left the kid on the ship with you instead of bringing him along.  He threw a fit, tried to ditch you for his dad multiple times, and then ultimately just looked cute and mopey with his limp ears until Din came back.  Do you think it’s just him rebelling against change?  That has to be it, right?
“He better not be giving you any hints about where I am,” you warn his father.  “I’d tell you to put him on but I don’t want the earpiece getting lost forever.”
You hear it.  The softest laugh—barely a breath, coming after years of learning to make it just quiet enough not to be registered by the helmet.  It gets picked up by the communicator in all its understated beauty when normally it’d be silent, and it’s just jarring enough to make you careless.
On your next step, you accidentally lift your foot too high and make a splash, and you already know you fucked up before he can say a single word.
“What’s that sound?”
You immediately stop moving, allowing the cool water to move as silently as possible past your stationary knees.  Shit.  “Uh.  What sound?”
You think he purposefully doesn’t say anything.  Probably because it feels a little like cheating, doesn’t it?  It’s to your disadvantage, having him be able to catch hints from your environment when he’s the one who made check-ins mandatory, but then again… how smart do you think he is?  Something tells you that he might not need to track you at all—what are the chances he stumbles upon this little stream and just naturally assumes you were clever enough to use it to hide your trail?  Did you waste time trying to engineer a vanishing act when it’s not going to matter regardless?
Oh well, too late now.  You quickly decide to change the subject.
“You should try the big purple fruit that one vendor sells when you get into Osiruu, by the way,” you tell him pleasantly, taking a big chomp out of it and then letting out an extended hum of delight that only really fucking good food or sex causes a person to make.  “I’m eating one right now, it’s so good.  Be the best thing you’ve ever tasted.”
“Mm.  Doubt it,”  immediately comes his low response.  Fucking immediately.
“Mando,” you gasp, scandalized and giddy enough that juice dribbles down your chin a bit.
“Are you having fun?”  Din asks, instead of pushing the conversation any further in that direction.  You don’t know if you’re thankful or disappointed with how quickly he decided to abort, but you take a moment to consider his question while swallowing and wiping your mouth.  Not the answer, you know the answer—but why he bothered to ask.  Did he know you were going to enjoy yourself as much as you have?  Your only possible lament is how you’re talking to him through a communicator instead of having him next to you.
“I am,” you say warmly.  “Be… be better if you were here, though.”
“Give me your coordinates,” Din proposes, and his voice is just low and rumbly enough to make you pause.
You’re really, really proud of yourself for only considering it for a few seconds before scoffing.  “Psh.  Nice try.”
“Was worth a shot,” he sighs through the earpiece, and you smile, taking another bite of fruit.
“Ask me again tomorrow,” you offer, grinning at the implication.
“We’ll see,” you hear him return, and though his tone doesn’t really change, you know he’s probably rolling his eyes.  He won’t have to ask for your coordinates because he’ll already be there, but it’s nice to pretend for a while longer.
And then you both walk all through the night, sharing casual banter with each other for hours.  He never once implies he wants to disconnect, even when you hit him with more nonsensical questions—
“What’s your favorite food?”  (“I don’t have one.”)
“Okay, well what about just a food that you like?”  (“I don’t like food that much.”)
“What do you mean?  Everyone loves food.”  (“Not me.”)
“Alright, well um.  What’s your favorite color, then?”  (“I don’t have one, either.”)
“Come on, you must have some kind of color you like.”  (“What’s your favorite color?”)
“…Brown.”  (“Then that’s my favorite, too.”)
—until the sun rises and you both say your goodbyes.
***
Day 1–6:15am:
You resolve to waiting until you see another person to allow your feet to touch dry land, figuring the longer you stay untraceable, the better off you’ll be.  Your toes are wrinkly and your pantlegs and shoes have been drenched for hours, but then you finally spot a few fishermen standing upstream with their backs to you, speaking to each other in the dawning light.  Two look to be full-grown, but there’s a smaller one in the middle, maybe a teenage boy, and you pause for a second, looking at the riverbank next to them.  All their valuables—water, food, bait, extra rods, but also… their shoes.
Quietly, you reach into your backpack and remove the pair of men’s shoes you bought earlier.  The ones closest to you on the shore seem to be the smallest, so you sneak over as silent as possible and rapidly make an exchange, fitting the new ones on your wet feet before allowing yourself to touch dry land and then speed walking away.
The ones you left him are newer and roughly the same size anyways—yikes, maybe slightly smaller now that you’re thinking about it—but at least you have a back pathing.  If that kid decides to take your offering and the shoes fit, Din will follow him, and if he decides to go barefoot instead, he should still follow him, right?  You’re not really aiming to trick him outright, mostly you just want him to waste more and more time.  This likely wouldn’t work if there wasn’t a time limit attached to this hunt, but you’re going to do everything you can to disappear while he’s still far enough behind you.
***
Day 1–7:06am:
You get to Devain remarkably quickly after finding the correct road.  The pit stop is much bigger than Osiruu, big enough to call an actual town instead of just a settlement, but still not large enough to feel concealed.  You want a city.  This place at least has cars and ships moving about and overhead respectively, but you’re looking for somewhere with lines.  Somewhere that feels as cramped and busy as possible.
Still, you find a restroom to use and then decide to grab some more food for your trip, happily spotting your new favorite purple fruit in one of the shop windows.  As you’re reaching out to hand the storekeeper the appropriate amount of credits, Din’s gruff voice comes through the earpiece so suddenly that you jump, nearly dropping them all on the counter.  “Hey.”
“Holy shit, what?”  You gasp, earning a confused look from the lady in front of you.  You quickly shake your head at her and mouth an apology while Din grumbles in vexation.
“You were supposed to stay on foot.”
Ah.  So he got to the bus, then.  Okay.
“Oh,” you answer ambiguously, exchanging the money for your bag of food and giving her a polite smile.  Din stays completely mute while you grab your snack, stuffing the rest of the goods in your backpack and then turning to leave—mute for so long that you have to double check you didn’t accidentally do it yourself.
“…Smart girl,” you finally hear him say.  Quietly muttered under his breath, half proud of you and half frustrated for making his job more difficult.  “Which one of these is yours then?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you announce, before taking a large bite as you leave the establishment and talking with your mouth full.  “You really gotta try the purple fruit, it’s great.”
The communicator abruptly clicks to silence on his end without anything else and you laugh so unexpectedly that a few pieces of it fly out of your mouth.
***
Day 1–1:32pm:
Somewhere miles away from you, Din jerks to a halt in the middle of a forest.
He looks around the dirt floor, walks a few paces and hears the kid coo gently from his cradle.  Behind the visor, the red footprints he’s circling are the last ones around for hundreds of meters, as far as his display can read.
His helmet slowly tilts upwards, and follows the endless maze of thick branches overhead.
With the beskar hiding his face, no one can see the way he slowly breaks into a beautiful grin.
***
Day 1–9:51pm:
Oh.  Oh stars, you’re tired.
You’ve been walking all day without really seeing anything, not having any place to disguise your tracks in the wide open plains.  You could’ve stuck to the road, but you started to feel the exhaustion creep in during the early afternoon and you wanted to be far away from other travelers and potential danger if you needed to rest.  You knew this would be a long journey when you left Devain earlier—over a day’s walk, a group of children told you—you even tried skipping or jogging a bit to see if that would inspire more energy in you, but it didn’t help much.
The large cup of caf you bought while in town was drained hours ago and it didn’t help much either, probably because your exhaustion is more physical and not necessarily mental.  It just felt like a sweet warm drink to sip before you go to sleep, that’s how much the caf helped.  Still, you kept walking, kept moving forward even as you squinted in the setting sun, your feet aching from traveling for this long wearing unfamiliar shoes.  The last time you changed them was hours ago, pulling another bus maneuver but with an air shuttle instead.  Still, you don’t think it’ll be enough.  You don’t even know where Din is but you already feel like you’re losing ground just knowing that he’s the one in pursuit.
You feel it—the hair standing up on your neck, the tingles in your hands, the stirring of your tummy—whatever the incessant gogogo that your instincts happen to scream when you’re in first place but you know the person behind you is quickly closing in.  It’s day fucking one, it’s day one and you feel him in the wind as it brushes through your hair, you can’t even pause to rest because nobody knows better than you that he’s an absolute fucking machine when he wants to be.  The kid may have powers beyond that which can be explained by the laws of nature, but Din is a force all his own.  He drives you forward when everything inside you is telling you to stop.  He keeps you awake and determined when you just desperately need to rest.
But that only goes so far.  You’re bordering on two full days without sleep, and though you’d normally be able to suffer through, the constant movement is just brutal after being confined to a stationary ship for so long.
There’s a lone tree in the distance, you think.  It’s hard to see.  Not because it’s dark—well it is, just a bit darker tonight compared to last, but mostly because your eyelids have grown heavier and more burdensome than the bag around your shoulders.  That looks like a good place to just sit for a second, right?  Maybe eat some more food, try and wake yourself up?  Yeah, that’s a good idea, you’ll head towards the tree and just… sit…
***
Day 2–12:00am:
Completely dead to the galaxy and sitting on your ass with your back against rough bark, the comm clicks and Din’s voice comes through the earpiece.
“Wake up.”
It startles you enough to make you lurch forward and jerk your head around in a panic, looking for any flash of beskar so you can instantly break opposite to it.  You scramble on all fours to look around but you don’t see anything, not even behind the trunk when you crawl, and then you take a deep breath and use the bone of your wrists to rub your eyes vigorously after a moment, knowing your hands are filthy.  “Fuck, how’d you—”
“You’re always sleepy,” Din repeats, and you collapse back into the tree with an exhausted groan, not entertained but not even having the energy to get mad about it.
“I… I gotta sleep,” you tell him, already feeling your body let go of its tension and search for the darkness of unconsciousness once more.  “Shit.  How d’you… mm.  Stay awake all the time…”
“Sleep,” Din encourages, you can still hear him walking.  “You need rest.  I’ll see you soon.”
No—
“No,” you whine like a child, moaning and shoving yourself upright.  Maker, you’re trying to focus, but asking that of yourself is almost impossible right now.  Everything swims—you were dreaming, you think, but you can’t remember and it’s not important other than to emphasize how woozy you are.  Things still feel like a dream, somehow.
You think he can hear your struggling through the comm, because the sound of his footsteps pause.  “Go to sleep.”
“You go to sleep,” you tell him bluntly, giving your head a violent shake to try and wake you up.  You want to slap your own cheek but you don’t want him to hear it.  “I can’t sleep if you don’t.”
“I’ve have at least a couple more days in me before that happens,” Din murmurs, and you bet he knows exactly what the fuck he’s doing to you.  You start to slouch, hearing the voice he uses when he’s curled around your body in the darkness of the hull.  So warm, so gentle.  If you use your imagination, you can feel his fingers drawing slow circles on your back, the vibration of his low voice rumbling against your ear as you lay your head on his chest.  “If I hunt you the way I’d hunt a quarry, I’m going to find you before you wake up.”
“Then I’ll jus’ have to… not let tha’ happen,” you slur.  Even this close to unconsciousness, you try your best to throw in a misdirect.  “Already… paid for the bed an’ everything.”
“Sure you did.  You in another tree?”
You immediately frown even as your eyes drop closed, too tired to fight but still managing to sound upset.  “You makin’ fun of me?”  You ask him with a harumph.  Genuinely, you’re not smart enough to figure it out right now.
“Not hardly,” Din sighs, sounding… you don’t know.  Is that displeasure or not?  It’s not immediately clear.  Does it sound that way because you’re just dumb stupid right now?  Or because Din can’t actually decide how he feels about it?  “Lucky I heard water over the comm last night, I would’ve wasted hours in that forest.”
“Noooo,” you whine in response, trying to push yourself off the tree but tipping sideways in the process, “that’s not fair—”
“Fair wasn’t part of the rules,” he repeats himself again and… nope, you don’t even have the energy to snark something back.  You just grumble your best imitation of him while you do everything you can to heave yourself upright.  It’s pitiful, you lose your balance not even halfway through and just plop on the grass for a second and groan.
“Stop,” Din eventually orders through the earpiece, tired of it.  “What’s sixteen times itself?”
You’re loopy to the point where you don’t even question why he decided to ask you that.  You just furrow your brows for a second and try to think about it, before suddenly realizing you… don’t know, you can’t remember.  Multiplication tables and squares up to twenty are elementary to you, you know them by heart.  Sixteen times sixteen.  One forty-four.  No… no that doesn’t sound right, is that twelv—
You take way too long answering what would’ve been an immediate response two days ago.
“I’ll stop here for tonight,” Din tells you with a resolved sigh.  “I won’t move until you wake up.  Go to sleep.  You’re putting yourself in danger, you can’t even do the basics.”
Later, this moment will come back to you.  That problem isn’t basic, not many adults would be able to tell you very quickly that the answer is two fifty-six.  You don’t even think Din would.  You would, though.  On Naboo, you used rapidly applied trigonometry in your head to find his location, and that was barely two minutes after waking up.  You should know this.  And he knows you.
But for right now, you don’t pay it a single lick of attention.
“You promise?”  You ask quietly, voice incredibly small as your head tilts back towards the sky, already feeling yourself beginning to fall back into the darkness again.
“I promise,” he vows in return, gentle but a promise nonetheless.  He doesn’t have to do this.  You wouldn’t be able to keep going even if he didn’t offer up this temporary truce, but knowing he isn’t currently gaining ground on you makes the idea of sleep so much more welcoming, something you want to seek out instead of fight.
“Will you, um…” your expression furrows.  How do you say this?  You sigh, giving up before even trying to figure it out.  “I’m… not in a bed.  I’m outside.”
Din doesn’t say anything when you pause, and even through the haze wanting to take over, you know it’s going to sound needy.  You want him to stay.  Even in the midst of an adventure, you want him to stay, you want to hear him breathe as you rest, but there’s not really an integrous way to ask.
You don’t need to ask.
“I’ll keep the comm open and wake you when the sun rises,” comes his lulling baritone before you can elaborate anymore, enveloping you in comfort in this dreadfully uncomfortable bed of grass and dirt.  “Sleep, sweet girl.  I’m right here.”
***
Day 2–5:34am:
The sun shines over the hills and you lift your head up to squint your eyes at it, confused as fuck.  Looking down at your wrist to check the time in the warm rays, hands and clothes dirty from laying on the ground that long—you stay groggy and clueless for just a moment longer, before your heart lurches when you remember Din’s promise to you.
You open your mouth to address him but then catch yourself just in time.  Wait.  Don’t panic.  Listen.
Breathing.  Slow and relaxed through the earpiece, a rhythm now branded into your memory from months of nights spent in pitch black.  He’s… asleep.
Din is asleep?  Seriously?
You can count like… twice that this has happened, and one of those was because he got you to touch him just right after closing up a wound on his back, and his body couldn’t handle the strain and passed out.  You’re never awake when he’s asleep—you’re just not, it doesn’t happen.  Din… sleeps like it’s just a choice for him, he doesn’t ever really need it.  Almost like how he used to eat before he started sharing meals with you, he said he doesn’t even like food that much.  You think he just severed all of those things long ago, things that are basic fundamentals of survival and operated like a bounty droid that lost its voice box.  It’s… nice, feeling like you’re somehow giving back some of the things he lost.  Unintentionally encouraging him to find sleep again.  Making sure he eats more, listening to him speak.
You struggle to your feet as quietly as possible, hearing him continue to breathe slow and relaxed through the communicator.  This isn’t purposeful, you don’t think he actually allowed it.  He promised you, and Din doesn’t take shit back.  If he tells you he’ll do something and he doesn’t follow through, it’s either out of his control or a mistake, it’s never been purposeful.  He didn’t mean to fall asleep.
And, in other circumstances, you most definitely would not find some way to take advantage of this.  You’d let him sleep and do other things in the meantime—make some food for you and the kid, find something on the Crest that isn’t spotless and clean until it is, or just… lay there next to him until he woke up.  But… these circumstances are their own.  You have to capitalize now, this is your chance.  You passed out last night around… ten pm, you think it was, and then he promised to stop at midnight.  That means you have to walk at least two hours before he wakes up if you want to prevent any loss of ground—you don’t know where he stopped, he could be a few miles back even.
You have to find Nariss—you have to.  It’s your only option, if you keep trying to run, it’s just going to make it so much easier for him.  Now is the time to hide.  You know it hasn’t been long, it’s barely been two days since you first left the Crest but it feels like you’re already in endgame, already making moves in self-defense instead of actually planning your maneuvers ahead of time.
The capital should be half a day’s walk from here, then.  As long as you get there, you think you’ll be okay.
***
Day 2–8:28am:
Din’s groan suddenly comes through your ear.
You immediately stop, seeing a busy road in the distance and glad you haven’t quite made it there yet, before trying to disguise your voice as drowsy.  “Mm?”
“Shit,” he breathes, and you hear him get up, the sound of beskar moving as he grunts.
“Mpph,” you groan back, squinting your eyes to see if that’ll help sell the act.  “I thought you… Mando, fuck, y’said you’d wake me when the sun came up.”
“I… fell asleep,” he admits, voice rough with it, sounding just as confused as you felt earlier.
“You said you had days in you before that happened,” you murmur, taking a deep breath and stretching your arms up above your head.  Stars, your back hurts, how does he possibly manage to carry a fucking jet pack around all the time?
“Yeah, I…”  He pauses for a moment and you bite your lip, not liking the quiet as soon as you hear it.  “How long have you been up?”
Op.  Not good.  “Wha?”
He’s not falling for it.  “How long?”
How in Maker’s name?  This is impossible.  How can you hope to hide from him when you can’t even manage to hide the smallest fucking truth from him?  Can you salvage this somehow?  “…Like ten minutes.”
“Least a few hours, then,” he sighs, and you get ready to hit him with the same line he used when you complained about his leg-up, opening your mouth as soon as you hear him speak.  “That was smar—”
“Fair wasn’t part of—”
Oh.  Well.  Apparently you didn’t have a reason to feel shitty about deciding to haul ass while he was passed out even though you kind of ended up doing so anyways.  There was no agreement besides that he wouldn’t move until you woke up.  Reason is on your side, but it still feels a bit like you fucked him over.  Is that valid or are you just so used to being nice that putting yourself first feels like a wrong you’ve committed?
“Don’t feel bad,” Din tells you, and you hear a soft coo in the background.  It makes you smile the smallest bit, your shoulders relaxing even as they ache from carrying your pack around.  “You should feel bad about stealing that poor kid’s shoes, though.  He walked home barefoot.”
You smack your forehead.  “It was just….”
“Yeah,” he scoffs when you don’t finish your sentence, and you can’t keep back a giggle.  “Alright, I’m up now.  See you when you get here.”
And then the communicator clicks, and you’re…
Uh.  What the fuck was that?
No.  Nope, you’re not going to get played.  That was a brilliant attempt at fucking with you, but you’re not falling for it this time.  You’ve grown since that night on Canto Bight, you know him, he can’t just say shit to fuck with your head and then smile at your flailing response from under the helmet anymore.  You normally would stew in that last comment until it got to you, made you make a mistake most likely, but the more you think about it, the more certain you are that he has nothing.  He was just trying to see if you’ll abandon your entire plan just by implying he already knows it.  That’s beginner shit, you’re not falling for it.  Din wanted to leave the conversation with the upper-hand since you gained at least an hour of extra ground while he slept.  You’re certain of it.
***
Day 2–12:35pm:
Nariss is big.  Nowhere near the size of Coruscanti sectors of course, where billions of people are packed from surface to exosphere and require oxygen recirculation towers to breathe at the very top, but just slightly bigger than you expected.  It’s bustling and you haven’t even made it through the city gates yet—you’re approaching them and the large number of people waiting in line, seeing buildings stretch out for miles in front of you and grinning.  Yes, this will work nicely.
As you peek over shoulders in the sizable crowd, you see only two or three people allowing people to enter one at a time… is that a biometric scanner?
Oh.  That looks good and it also doesn’t look good at the same time.  If Din’s safety meant nothing to you, you’d have no trouble whatsoever getting in line and waiting to do a retinal scan, but you immediately pause and consider the potential consequences.
Your dumb ass almost weighs the option of clicking the communicator on and asking his opinion.  You’d give away your location in a heartbeat (if he doesn’t know it already) just because you’re worried he’d… what, exactly?  Stand in line for an hour, take his helmet off in front of a crowd of people, have the system ping his scan, and then hang out and wait for New Republic reinforcements to show?  You have to stop worrying about him.  He’s not a baby, he can handle himself and you need to stop considering the possibility of taking a loss just so he doesn’t have to, even if the self-destructive sentiment feels ingrained in your nature to do so.
So you wait in line, moving at a slow pace but at least moving.  While you’re standing there quietly, a man in front of you decides to strike up a conversation.  You don’t come from a place with an excess of people, but the ones in your sector were friendly and did this kind of thing often, so perhaps for that reason, you decide to chat.
“Do you have some place to stay?”  He asks at one point.  So far the conversation has revolved around him—every time he asks about you, you deflect.  He doesn’t need to know.  “Nariss isn’t kind to drifters.”
This catches your attention, though.  This is relevant.  “What does that mean?”
“It’s expensive?”  He scratches his blonde hair, giving you a soft smile.  “Food, housing, all of it is way out of my price-range.  I stay with my uncle and work overnights at the eastern docks.  It’s not much, but it’s enough to keep a roof over our heads.  We used to live in Gibrath, but then we moved to the city because he’s a good architect and they’re always expanding.  It’s nice, of course, but really expensive.”
He’s handsome, you think… in kind of a boyish, charming way.  Blonde hair, sparkly blue eyes.  He doesn’t look much older than you, and maybe in another lifetime you would’ve found him appealing, but… you like darker features, you think.  Someone a little less expressive.  This guy… talks a lot.
“I thought this moon was a safe world for people displaced by the Empire,” you offer, taking a step forward as the entire crowd shifts.
“Sanctuary II is,” he comments.  “The capital is safe, too—what, with all the orangies walking around,” he tilts his head to two jumpsuited guards trying to organize the glob of people so the line can move faster, rolling his eyes as if they’re some kind of joke.  “But not… welcoming, not if you’re looking for a place to settle.  You would’ve been better off in G’ila.”
“Is there anywhere you know that would take me for free?”  You ask.  You have quite a few credits left, but you don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in an inn.  It’ll be the first place Din checks.
“Are you a virgin?”  He returns, and you immediately pull back at the unexpected question, your heart thudding at the possibility of danger.  The man’s sandy eyebrows shoot up at your response and he quickly apologizes—“Heavens, I’m so sorry to ask like that!  It’s just… the only place I know is the Holy Keja Orphanage on the northern outskirts.  Their signs say they only house children and teenagers, but I’ve heard from other girls your age that they’ll accept any woman as long as they’ve stayed pure in the eyes of the Maker.”
“Oh,” you say after a moment, leaning sideways to see just a few people standing in front of him.  Good, this is almost over.  “Um.  Yep.  That’s me.”
He smiles at you once more, giving you a nod.  “When you get to the city, just go straight through.  It’s about a mile outside of the gates, no more than a day’s walk from this side of town.”
Okay, that’s… interesting.  You think about it while you thank him and begin to exchange polite goodbyes, moving up another step until he’s next in line.  That might actually be a good move.  Din could spend a long time in the city without ever finding you.  Smart quarry go to populated places, but… smarter quarry defy the expectations placed upon them, right?  He knows you’re smart, and even though you’re confident his “See you when you get here” was purely psychological fuckery, that also implies… at the very least, that he’s assuming there is a here to get to.  Meaning, he knows you’re not going into the wilderness to evade him.  He’s not going to comb the outskirts when there are so many places to hide within the city gates, with an entire perimeter of New Republic guards stationed around it.  Even if he does, the signs will say only children and teenagers—categories you do not fall into.
The unnamed man is soon ushered forward but you stop him quickly.  “Oh, by the way.  I doubt this will happen, but if a man in a big metal suit with a tiny green baby happen to ask you the same thing, please don’t tell him what you just told me.”
He furrows his eyebrows at you and cocks his head, but smiles and agrees nonetheless.
***
Day 2–5:43pm:
You have an idea.
You’ve been working on it all afternoon, but you were hit with it the second you were looking for another pair of shoes to buy and find a clever way of putting on.
The cheapest ones were ridiculously overpriced, blonde dude was right.  You blinked down at the tag and asked the salesman where the cheapest shoes in this part of town were, and then he just wrinkled his nose at you and shooed you out of the store.  Granted, you slept in dirt and spent two days walking—you bet you reek, but he didn’t have to be like that.
Though, the man’s displeasure with you had an upside.  You were holding a possible pair of pants and a shirt to buy when he threw you out, not yet having checked the atrocious pricetag on them, but it appeared as if he’d rather let you have them for free than rip them from your… admittedly, pretty filthy arms.  Oh well, you weren’t complaining.  Fancy clothes for free, score.
But now you’re here, and you have the best idea.  You don’t need to change shoes, not yet.  Why?  Because you’ve figured out how to turn your incessant detriment into an advantage.
You’re in the middle of downtown, you think, maybe just some random crowded square, and there’s an inn in front of you.  It’s fucking enormous, and you already know it’s gotta be incredibly expensive just looking at the sheer number of stories.  It’s an eyesore, it sticks out.  But that’s okay, because you’re only planning on staying for a night.
It’s also… right next to New Republic headquarters.  Or fuck, at least a station of some sort, because they’re swarming in and out of the constant crowd, passing by the valet doors.
At first you naturally wanted to steer away from the jumpsuits, since you know they’re bad news for Din, but then you remember what he said before you left.  I’m only telling you so that you’ll know your advantage and find a way to exploit it.  I can’t be seen by any officers, or they might arrest me.
It’s to your advantage, he said so himself.  Everything lines up perfectly—the street is bustling, the inn is well protected, it’s nice—it’s everything you’re looking for.
And there’s another upside, see.  An omnipresent, omniscient ghost in the form of a communicator clipped to your wrist right now.  If Din is always going to be able to predict you, he’s always going to know when you’re lying, always be able to read you… then you’ll just have to let him.
Let him know.  Let him know exactly where you are.  Right in the middle of the most populated street you’ve seen thus far, a constant barrage of people walking by and New Republic officers patrolling.  If you were planning on staying in the city, this would probably be your best option to hide.  He could waste days here if you’re smart about it.
The concierge doesn’t appear too pleased with your lack of cleanliness and neither do you, honestly, but at least he allows you to book a suite for the night.  It’s… not as bad as you were originally assuming, credits-wise, but it’s worth more than half your stash and you’re going to have to conserve from this point on.  It shouldn’t be too bad—your destination is a holy orphanage, you’re sure they’ll have some extra food and a bed for you even if it won’t be ideal.  Still, you think you’re going to enjoy some lavish experiences for once in your life before you go.
***
Day 2–11:54pm:
Alright, so this was the best idea ever.  This is the shit.
You’re leaning back against a fluffy stack of pillows, squeaky clean from an absolutely glorious bath and watching the flickering drama on the large holonet display in front of you.  You don’t have any idea what’s going on, as it’s being broadcast in Rodian, but you haven’t been able to change the frequency because it’s so fucking intense—somebody’s sister is their mother, you think?  No, that must be a mistranslation, right?
You’re also in a robe.  Yes, there is a motherfucking robe in here.  And… and slippers, it’s like a dream.  Do people normally wear slippers in bed?  You do.  Hell, maybe you should stay here, screw the credits and the chase.  This mattress is even better than the one on Naboo and you’re basking in the luxury after being outdoors for so long.
The lights are off other than that and you’ve opened the drapes wide, knowing you’re on something like the fifteenth floor and nobody would be able to see you anyways.  You just like being able to turn your head and look out at the sky.  Violent and periwinkle tonight.  You wonder if he’s looking, too.
Luckily, you snap yourself back out of it and glance down at the time on your communicator, quickly pressing a button on the remote to mute the Rodian show and then opening the line the moment the hour changes.
Day 3–12:00am:
“Hiya, Shiny,” you say before anything else, laying back and running a few fingers through your damp hair.  Your eyes close against the flickering light, taking a slow, relaxed breath.  Maker, this feels nice.
“You sound happy,” Din comments.  Astute, you feel happy.  Well… you’d obviously feel happier if he was here.  Your eyes flick over to the open bathroom door, still steamy from your bubble bath earlier, imagining him walking through it completely naked and then climbing over you on the covers.  You can only really picture it from the neck down—no, hang on… you can see his shaggy brown curls, that one spot on his forehead you know, how his facial hair would be dark and frame his mouth.  No face, though.  Missing just one fraction of him from your imagination, feeling incomplete but also somehow… complete in a way.
“I feel better after sleeping last night,” you tell him, purposefully leaving out the softness of the sheets underneath you, the sheer comfort of all this extravagance.  You don’t need it, you’ll never need it, but it feels nice to have for once.
“I do, too,” he replies quietly, and your eyes flutter closed.  You… miss him.  This mattress would feel softer with him next to you.  He’d probably be able to translate this show for you, even though you already know he’d fucking hate it.  You can imagine it—you with your eyes closed, him propped up on an elbow next to you and grumbling vague descriptions of the nonsense happening on screen just to hear your chuckles.  Adventures are great, but maybe they aren’t as great by yourself, you think.
“You should sleep tonight, too,” you encourage, but he scoffs.
“Not a chance,” Din mutters.  “Oh, before I forget, we need to charge the communicators today.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”  You ask him, glancing at all the multiple wireless charging outlets stationed around you.  “I’m in the middle of nowhere.”
He doesn’t even take a fucking second before responding.  “Good one.”
You grin up at the ceiling, warmth flooding you.  You love him.  Literally every single time, he just knows.  Your curiosity is too overwhelming after this happening so often.  Your plan to distract him relies on him being able to read you, but that doesn’t prevent you from wondering how he does it so accurately, time and time again.  “How do you know?”
“You slept outside last night,” he immediately tells you, like that should mean anything to you.
Does he… does he truly know you well enough to know how much your back and shoulders hurt today?  How much you were aching for a shower and clean clothes?  A bed to sleep on that isn’t dirt or metal?  You give into the accurate prediction with shameless honesty, not caring if he knows it’s the truth.
“This bed is soft,” you murmur gently, dragging your hand across the mattress next to you.  “You should be here.  I’d make you feel good.”
Admittedly, your comfort is making you a bit drowsy and you said it in the easiest way possible, but you didn’t necessarily mean it sexually.  Well… you sort of did—you’d make him feel so good in this bed—but what you meant was more… comforting.  He could take a bath, or a shower, and get all the grime off him.  He could feel clean and unburdened, take a break instead of constantly moving around.  The baby could have a whole bed to himself if he wanted, though you know he’d probably want to be on this one instead.  You could all look at the sky together.
Din is quiet for a little bit, before his voice comes back through the earpiece.  “Are you in an inn?”
“No,” you say, a little too quickly.  Perfect, that sounded just right for a lie.  You are lying, you absolutely are in an inn, the only difference is that you want him to catch on that it’s a lie, so… why does he take way too long before responding?
“Hm.”
What the fuck—why… how is it even physically possible?  He read you that deeply from one single word?  You’re not sure if he’s somehow psychic and figured the whole fucking thing out or if he just knows there’s something off, but it’s still enough to blow you away.
“Are you doing this on purpose?”  You blurt without thinking.
“Doing what?”  He grunts, sounding like he’s stepping over something, his breath changing intensity as he walks.
“If I look out this window right now, am I gonna see you standing out there just messing with me?”  You don’t even know what to believe anymore.  How do you beat this?  If you don’t want him to know the truth, he’ll figure it out, and if you do want him to know the truth, he’ll still figure it out.  His perception is unbelievable.
After a moment of silence, he murmurs gently through the comm.  “I thought you said you were in the middle of nowhere.”  It sounds like he’s smiling.
“I…”  your eyes shift around awkwardly, “am…”
Din lets out a deep sigh.  He’s right, that was bad, even for you.  “I found your bed a few hours ago,” he admits.  You close your eyes as you listen to him make his way closer to you, step by step.  “I’m nowhere near the city yet.  You have time to sleep.”
Your expression furrows and you frown.  “Why are you helping me?”
“Why do you want me to think you’re in an inn?”  He tosses back, and you huff.
“Because I’m trying to outsmart you but you make it really fucking difficult,” you grumble, not happy about him catching on so quick.
“You’ve also gained about four hours on me since we started.”  His voice is gruff.  You don’t know if he thinks it’s a good thing or a bad thing.  “You should give yourself more credit.  I thought I would’ve found you by now, never expected you to get all the way to Nariss.  It’s… not good for me.”
The honesty creeping in makes you go soft.  It makes you want to reciprocate, even if it’s dumb and you haven’t thought it all the way through.  “Wanna know a secret?”
“Tell me.”  His voice is a bed all its own, deep and gentle and safe.
You say it before you lose the nerve.  “I might just turn around and walk back.”
His footsteps stop and you hear a small sound in the background, a quiet little baby noise that suddenly makes your heart ache.  You’re comfortable but incredibly aware of how alone you are.  People pass by on the streets below, cars and hoverbikes honk in the distance and you’re by yourself.  For the first time in over a year, like you have been for years, you’re by yourself.
“Sweet girl,” Din sighs, and all of a sudden… you can feel his arms around you with it.  You feel so… known, somehow.  Every sentiment you could’ve possibly given in your last sentence, he relays his understanding back with his.  He makes you feel loved with it.  “Never wants to run.”
You don’t say anything, because you suddenly realize you’re totally fucking whipped, up down and sideways for his metal ass and the little floating grimlin that follows him around, and you would throw away the fifth quarry, adventure, the sky—literally everything if you could be with the both of them right now.
But again.  You don’t have to say anything, he already knows.  “Give me your coordinates.”
Your eyes pop open and you bite your lip.  Oh, stars.  You hate that you do genuinely consider it.  He could be here, and very soon.  With the jet pack, both of them could be here in less than an hour, probably.  He could take a shower.  Watch these stupid shows with you all night without needing to be on the move, help you build a bed of pillows for the kid on top of this one.  You could be with both of them again, even if it’s only for a little while.
“Ask me again tomorrow,” you finally whisper, looking down at the soft white fabric of your robe, the way one of your slippers is falling off your foot as the holonet program continues to play on mute.
Din’s footsteps eventually start up again, and you both relax in silence together.  You, squinting at the screen because your eyes are getting heavy; him, continuing to travel step by step and gain ground on you.  Let him come.  You’ll be long gone by the time he even makes it to the gates.
It’s been about ten minutes of shared, quiet existence before you hear him bite into something and chew, and your face suddenly lights up.
“Are you eating the purple fruit?”  You ask, your slipper falling off with excitement.  You don’t know why, but it’s like… you’re stoked for him.  Just as proud of him for doing normal things as he does when you step out of your own comfort zone.  You like to think you’re both better that way.  Balanced.
“Mm,” Din replies with his mouth full, and you grin down at your bare legs peeking through the robe while he swallows.
“Is it not the best thing you’ve ever tasted?”  Your voice goes a little breathless with it, and you hear his footsteps stop once more.
“Close,” Din murmurs lowly, sending a small shudder through you.  It suddenly feels a bit warm in here, doesn’t it?  This morning was one of the rare times you were awake while he was asleep… it’s almost always the other way around, and just from the implication in his tone, you’re reminded of the thing he likes doing most when you’re resting.  Maybe he’ll let you do it to him, next time around.  The thought gets you hot enough to warrant the other slipper falling to the floor.
“You’re alone, right?”  You whisper, knowing he must’ve pulled the helmet up to take a bite of the fruit.  He must still be following your path through the hillside, then, not yet reaching the road.
“The kid is awake,” Din tells you, sounding like he’s trying to stop everything before anything starts.  His words are short and clear in their meaning, but…
This has a very small chance of success, you already know.  “…Do you want to—”
“No,” he responds quickly, already way ahead of you.  “We can’t.”
Something in his voice… you don’t know, there’s just something there that makes you feel just a little reckless.  Should you push it?  You’re by yourself in this suite, what can go wrong?
“You can’t,” you correct him quietly, shifting around on the bed just a bit and biting your lip.  It’s a thrill—being able to tease him without having him in front of you, drive him crazy knowing you’re just out of his reach.  “But I can do whatever I want, can’t I?”
There’s a pause, a tense and knowing silence suspended between you before he eventually speaks.
“I’d be real careful,” Din mutters low in warning, but what is he gonna do?
“What are you gonna do?”  You whisper to him devilishly.  Quiet and breathy, beginning to snake your hand down.  Stars, your heart is already pounding.  You’d only likely mouth off like this in person just to see how hard he’d fuck you, but this feels extra dangerous for some reason.  He’s stuck, he can’t do anything about it right now, and you know it’s playing with fire.  “You could hang up if you don’t want to hear me.  Or you could find me before I’m finished.  Come make me stop.”
Din doesn’t say anything but he very much does not hang up, nor does he come busting into your room like you imagine he’d like to.  The sheer fact that your door is still closed and locked tells you for sure that he isn’t just hanging out in the hallway, just letting you have your fun.
You start pressing your fingers against your robe at the apex of your thighs, humming at how nice the pressure feels.  You don’t even spread your legs or push the fabric away, you just sigh into it and wiggle your hips a bit, pressing hard against your clit and listening to him breathe.
“Do you want to listen?”  You ask quietly after a moment, and Din still doesn’t respond.  Likely because there’s not a real answer, both yes and no would imply the wrong thing.  “I’ll talk.”
Still, nothing from him.  Dead silence through the comm.  You’re starting to understand.  For two days, you’ve felt like he could read your every thought just by the cadence of your voice.  He’s staying quiet so you can’t even attempt to do the same to him—if he doesn’t talk, you can’t find a weakness and pounce on it, you can’t feel any more confident or reassured about your own ability to read him.
You’ll just have to push a little harder, then.
“Hm.  If only this fancy communicator could…” you pause to look down at your wrist for a second, studying the menu.  You don’t think you’ve ever really looked at it, you never had the time.
Din’s growl is sudden and sharp through the earpiece.  “No, don’t even think—”
“Ah,” you smile, tapping the face and immediately finding the correct screen.  “Take pictures.”
He’s deadly quiet for a moment, and you bite your lip with excitement.  When he does speak, his voice is a pure threat, chilling you to the bone as much as it burns deep in your tummy.  “…You wouldn’t.”
Ignoring him, you suddenly locate a menu option that sounds phenomenal right now.  “Oh shit, does this holocall?  Or is it a video option?”
“Holo,” he says very seriously while you study the lack of complexity of the built-in camera in skepticism, “and the kid is awake, so you can’t—”
“Oh, it’s definitely a video,” you unclip it from your wrist and he curses as you sit up, and then you press a button and wait impatiently for him.  “Pick up.”
Din takes forever before responding, and you hear the continuous beeps as it attempts to connect, before his quiet baritone rumbles in your ear.  “What if I don’t?”
You feel your mouth pull down at the corners, not so much frowning as you are dubious.  He’s going to turn down the opportunity to see you and your surroundings when his whole goal is locating you?  Really?
“You sure?”  You ask softly, raising an eyebrow.  “You’d get to see me, where I am.  What I’m…” your eyes dip down to the loose robe riding your curves, your skin glowing against the white fabric, “…wearing.”
The beeps continue on for a few more seconds, until they finally stop.  You frown down at the black screen of the communicator, not seeing anything at all.  Did he decline the transmission request?  No… there’s a little red light next to the small lens that wasn’t there before.  Why can’t you see him?
“Why can’t I see you?”  You ask.  You want to look at him looking at you, you don’t want to always be stuck on the other side of a one-way mirror.
“I… have it linked to my helmet, but it only has a front-facing camera,” Din tells you after a moment, and he sounds… slightly out of breath.  “Easier to see, the watch is useless now besides the controls.”
Wait, does that mean you’re… being shown on the inner-display of his helmet instead of his wrist?  Right in front of his eyes, as if he were actually here with you?
“Nobody can see me but you?”  You clarify, and when he doesn’t respond, you bite your lip and lean back into the pillows.  You lift the watch up slightly, extending your arm out until you can get the angle as wide as possible.  “Can you see… this?”  You ask softly, before hooking your fingers in the collar of your white robe and slowly pulling it open for him.
“Where are you?”  Din asks instead, and you hear his footsteps through the earpiece, as if he’s walking away from something very quickly.
You don’t answer him, parting the soft fabric until your breasts are completely exposed and you sigh, closing your eyes and snuggling back into the pillows once more.  “I’ll tell you where I am if you keep watching me.”
“Why?”  Din grits in frustration, coming back around to the same dangerous question he had earlier.  “Why would you do that?”
“I don’t know.”  You slowly tilt the camera down until you can spread your legs and the robe falls open with the movement, letting him see your pussy peeking through in the flickering light of the muted screen in front of your bed.  “Can you see that?”
“Yeah,” he says shakily on the end of a breath, and you feel yourself get wet.  Fuck, he sounds so fucking tempted, the sight making his voice come without any of the self-assuredness as it usually has, but… he could also just be saying that.  How do you know he’s telling you the truth?
“What am I doing?”  You test him, lifting your knee just the slightest bit so you really give him something to look at.
“Spreading your legs for a camera,” Din responds without hesitation, voice scraping against your ear, making you shiver and your nipples harden.  Fuck, the way he says it, like it’s wrong and bad even though he’s the only one who can see or hear you do it… it makes you feel even more naughty and emboldened.
You bite your lip and reach your hand down to spread your lips for him, too, hearing his breath immediately catch on the other end.  Already your pussy makes your fingers slick against your soft skin, the sash of your robe still holding the fabric together on your body but also loose enough to allow it to part in the right places and reveal everything you want him to see.
“I am in an inn,” you whisper teasingly, letting your finger drop to brush against your clit and then sighing in soft delight.  Oh stars, that feels nice, it feels so good to treat yourself after being completely nomadic for two days, getting to be clean and soft and comfortable while you feel this pleasure, and Din’s voice growls through your communicator like you’re doing something painful to him.
“Fuck,” his breathing picks up while you begin circling your clit.  “Where?”
“Nariss,” comes your quiet moan, turning your head on the pillow to blink slowly at the camera.  Wanting him to see your eyes as well as your finger slowly dip into where you’re the hottest, caressing the sensitive skin there knowing he’s watching.
“Where in Nariss?”  Din’s voice is as pleading as it is sharp, desperately trying to keep either you or himself on track.
“I don’t know,” you say again.  Truthfully, you don’t—you don’t know the cross streets, you don’t know the part of town, you don’t know much of anything at all besides physical descriptors.  You quickly move the camera to the side as far as you can hold it and let him see you from a different angle with the window as a backdrop.  “But the window is open.  And there are lots of people outside.”
“Can they see you?”  Din immediately challenges.  Of course they can’t, you’re fifteen stories up and the room is darker than it is outside with all the city lights and swirling colors of the sky, but you suppose he doesn’t know that.  You think he just needs to relax—if this is what he’s always like during hunts, you now know exactly why he comes back to you all riled up and tense.
“I don’t know,” you murmur back, starting to rub your clit a little faster, trying to make it feel like him.  It doesn’t—your fingers aren’t large or strong enough to give you those perfect circles; you just feel like you’re meandering yourself towards ecstasy instead of picking you up and hauling your ass there like he does, but it’s okay.  Hearing Din’s rough breathing come through the earpiece, knowing his hands are probably clenched tight into fists, wondering if he’s hard yet… all of it culminates into a power trip unlike any you’ve experienced recently.  It makes you bold, tells you to open your mouth.  “Does it matter?  I’d still let you fuck me against it if you were here.”
“Stop it,” comes his growl, but what is he gonna do?
Your leg lifts a little wider so you can slowly slide your fingers down and push two of them inside yourself, and Din swears as you moan, “Come find me.”
“Give me your coordinates—”
“Are you giving up?”  You offer breathlessly, lifting your eyebrows and your hips up slightly at the question, but you’re… not expecting the extended silence following.  You assumed a growled no would immediately come next, or just another empty threat said with enough force to make you tremble with excitement, but not… nothing.
The response makes you pause just for a second, easing your fingers out and dragging them across your thigh to clean some of the wetness off before extending your arm out towards the communicator.  Din stays quiet while you navigate through the menu with trembling fingers, eventually finding your coordinates and hovering over the unchecked share location box.
You wait with your lip bit, confident he knows what you’re doing and you don’t have to narrate or repeat yourself.  Fuck, you knew you were considering abandoning this entire adventure just to be next to him again, but you had no idea.  No fucking idea that it could ever be a thought in his own mind as well.  You… assumed he likes this, hunting is what he does for a living and he’s the one who conceived of the idea in the first place.  Is he just that aroused by you?  Or is there something more?
“No,” Din eventually murmurs, and you immediately navigate out of the menu so you don’t accidentally press anything catastrophic, before pulling your hand away from the communicator with a resolved hum and settling back into the pillows again.  Making sure to look directly into the lens even if your eyelids are heavy with heat and desire, you slowly lick your fingers and then reach down once more.
His deep, shaky breath is so telling.  Exhausted after all this, but still not hanging up, still doing his hardest to tough it out when he’s only miles away from you and has jets attached to his back.  You don’t want to drag it out but you also do, you want to be kind but something about Din makes you also want to be as formidable as possible.  You’ll never be able to threaten like he does, you’ll never have anyone cower just because you walked into the room, you’ll never be as powerful or strong as he is, but you can still put up a fucking fight against him in your own way.
You whimper softly, your breathing beginning to find a quicker pace as surely as your fingers do.  It begins to spark and build, a red hot flame being kindled by the knowledge that he’s as close as possible without actually being close, right here with you when he always seems so far away.
“Mando,” you whisper, though your expression pulls inwards just slightly because it… in a scenario as sensual and intimate as this, it almost doesn’t sound righ—
“Din,” he whispers back, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, like he almost doesn’t want to but has to anyways, and then you just start to fucking burn.
“D-Din,” you whisper instead, trying to keep your voice as quiet as possible through the rising swell.  He’ll be able to see it, you think.  The way your tummy and chest start to heave, how your body begins to brace for it—and yeah, Maker, he sees it, because his voice suddenly changes.
“Stop,” Din growls roughly, knowing exactly how you cum—knowing exactly what it looks like, the way it sounds in your breathing, what it tastes like, how it feels on the inside.  It’s been so long since you’ve touched bliss without him, months and months since you brought yourself to completion on the floor of the Crest by yourself, and though he’s rarely ever denied you, your own high on newfound control causes it to slip.  He barks your name and tells you to stop once more, but it’s too late.
“I’m gonna cum, Din,” you breathe out—
“Don’t—”
It tears through you, rapid and surging, and he snarls a curse, something loud snapping and thudding and… did he just punch something?  You can’t think, it’s delicious and hard as fuck and everything you needed after two days of near constant movement and thought with little rest, and you bite your lip to keep quiet but a pained whimper still shoves its way out of your tense vocal cords regardless.  It sounds like it hurts because it does hurt; the orgasm shatters your body into pieces and you’re left trembling by yourself on this soft bed, wishing he was with you on a metal one.
You sink into the mattress in the moments following, sluggish and exhausted and just conscious enough to keep the watch facing you.  You bet the camerawork was terrible, shaky at best, but you can’t find it in yourself to care right now.  You just lay there and listen to his harsh breathing while you work to slow your heart rate, reveling in the filthy little show you just gave him and wanting to finish it out properly.
“Come find me,” you breathe out once more, lazing soft and naked for him, blinking dazedly at the watch as you pan it over you.  Your thighs are still twitching and there’s a thin sheen of sweat clinging to you, but you drag a finger through your swollen lips and carefully wipe the wetness across one of your nipples.  “Clean me up.”
“Fuck,” Din suddenly spits through the earpiece, furious.  “You think—y-you think—”
“What?”  You hum, basking in the afterglow and so, so curious.  Truly, you’re dumb as fuck, you have no clue what you’re thinking, but if anybody would be able to tell you, it’s him.
There’s a moment where his breathing stops.  It’s completely silent on the line, before you hear another few heavy footsteps on his end pick up and then halt just as quickly.
“You think you can taunt me?”   He murmurs, dangerous and deadly quiet.  “Show me exactly where you are, disappear and then make me waste forever trying to get there?  You think that’s gonna work?”
Your eyebrow lifts, considering.  He… may or may not have predicted your strategy perfectly, but his insight has stopped surprising you by now.  “Maybe…”
“Maybe you shouldn’t fall asleep tonight.”
Ooh.  That one sends goosebumps down your arms, but you’ve gained four hours on top of a twelve hour headstart.  He can’t scare you with that tone, not when you’re still woozy with pleasure and he isn’t right in front of you.  Instead of wilting beneath the hard threat, you just blink gently at the communicator, finding strength in being the only one to get him this mad when he’s always so composed, this talkative when he barely says a word.  “Maybe I’ll just stay here then?”
“Maybe you wanted me to know you’re in an inn because you already found someplace to hide that isn’t one,” Din reasons very, very adeptly.  Stars, your heart subtly begins to pick up, your legs continuing to tremble as the small red light next to the lens stares you down.  “Can’t be planning to stay with someone you just met because you’d already be there, can’t be going to a hostel because you found the one city on this moon built for commerce and not aid.  Not staying in another inn, you can’t afford it—the view looks high up, that robe is expensive, and you already bought food and at least five pairs of shoes in two days.  I don’t think the place you found is even in Nariss.  You think you can outsmart me, sweet girl?”
The chill down your spine doesn’t reach your eyes, you won’t let it.  You just feel yourself smile, tilting your head at him and licking your lips while your finger brushes one of your nipples, but Din doesn’t accept your silence the way you’ve always accepted his.  He wants an answer from you, right now, and it’s clear in the dark rumble of his voice, the danger slowly brewing beyond what you originally planned for.
“Tell me,” he orders, unamused and leaving no room to disobey.  “How long do you think you can keep running?”
Your eyelashes flutter, suddenly deciding… why not?  What have you got to lose?  Nothing that you didn’t already go into this situation completely expecting to lose anyways.  What’s the worst he can do?  Find you?
You close your eyes, pinching one of your nipples and wondering if you might just go for another one since he’s still here.  “Ask me again tomorrow.”
But then, instead of immediately responding, you just hear Din’s footsteps suddenly pick up, faster than any pace you’ve been able to keep over the past few days.  You don’t think it sounds like a run necessarily, but you know that his legs and strides are far longer than yours and it’s probably pretty much equivalent to a run for you.  You hear the rhythm of your demise speeding up, coming closer and closer, and everything in you both fears it and welcomes it.
“We’ll see,” he tells you, and then the red light vanishes and your earpiece clicks to silence.
***
Day 3—2:23am:
Even though it takes you much longer to do so than it normally would on a bed so large and comfortable, after such an exciting interaction and not being used to flickering light when you try to sleep but wanting to experience the rarity anyways, you’re eventually able to pass out.
But, not even a few minutes into a restless dream, you turn over and accidentally knock your communicator off the wireless charging station on the side table.  It blinks with four percent battery life.
***
To be continued!!
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l-lend · 3 years ago
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Let me hold you (Wrecker Oneshot)
Just some nice comfort stuff with the Batch's best hugger. Happy Wrecker Wednesday
A little bit of angst in this one as a fair warning
Pairing: Wrecker x F!Mechanic!Reader
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You trudged home to your apartment on Ord Mantell. Your gait a mix between shuffling with the occasional step onto curbs. The ship that was in your service bay had just blown its second coupling, which meant more time wrestling with the rusted out beast and another call with a pissed off owner, and a reminder that he could always take his business and credits elsewhere. You would love to tell him where to shove his business, but your rent needed to be paid unless you wanted to give up your repair hanger. Finally, coming to the door and with the swipe of a keycard, the smothering silence of your apartment swallowed you up. You slipped your keys onto the counter, and shuffled into your room seeking your comfort clothes. Your pants hit the floor, followed by your shirt before your hands cracked open a drawer meant for when your boyfriend has his stats in town. Not that he doesn’t like his blacks and armor, but civi clothing drew less attention when you two were out. She smiled to yourself. Civi clothing might help a bit but his large build and larger personality still made him stick out among the crowds. Once you procured your target, you grabbed up the fabric and unfurled it before slipping one of his shirts over your head. Once the material fell to your mid thigh, your spirits lifted a bit. The combined scents of him and the detergent to soothing you. Your glanced over to your bed and as if heeding a siren’s call you crawled into the safety of your sheets.
The chirping of your comm brought you out of your slumber. You groaned as you groped to answer it. “Hello?” “Hey ad’ika,” Your heart beat faster, a smile broke out on your lips. “Hey big guy, how was the mission?” “Wasn’t so bad, I got ta blow up some stuff.” “Yeah?” A quieter voice was barely picked up by the comm causing him to chuckle. “Alright, alright I’ll tell her. Omega says hi.” You huffed a laugh, “Tell her I said hi back.” You rolled onto your back, your smile momentarily faltered, “I’ve missed you.” Even through the comm, you could feel the warmth of his presence, “I miss you too. How was your day?” There was silence for a moment. “Not so good. It was a bit rough….coupling blew again on that pile of scrap.” “Sorry beautiful, I can get Echo and Tech to take a look.” “Wouldn’t mind a second opinion. Maybe the di’kut would listen if a man is working on it.” This earned a laugh from the clone, “Your mand’oa’s getting better.” “Enough to get my point across.” The smile evident in your tone. “Well, how’s about when I get back we settle in with a holo.” You sighed, “I’d love that. You gonna be back on planet soon?” “Uh….about that.. you mind letting me in?” You scrambled up from your cocoon to your door and threw it open. You were greeted with that smile that made your heart clench. “Hey,” he spoke breaking the silence. You launched yourself at the clone, cheek pressed against the chest piece of his armor. Your arms wrapping around his large frame as best as you could. Your emotional dam blocking off how frustrated you were with the day and how happy you were to have your Wrecker back burst. “Wreck…” Your voice broke as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. You felt his arms close around you, gentle circles being felt on your back from his hand. His voice as soft as he can manage. “It’s alright, ad’ika. Just let me hold you for a while. Let’s get inside and you can tell me all about it.”
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helliontherapscallion · 4 years ago
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Headcanons for SBI Sibling!Parrot Hybrid!Reader
(A/N): ope, went a little overboard with this one (also it’s not proofread, so sorry about any mistakes)
You have wings on your back (the feather pattern depends on what parrot floats your boat)
If you’re a Scarlet Macaw, Blue-and-Yellow Macaw, or Chestnut-Fronted Macaw, then you have black lines on your cheeks and heavy black lines around your eyes (think Hawks from bnha but less pointy)
If you are a Hyacinth Macaw, you have yellow markings around your eyes and mouth
If you’re a cockatiel, you have a killer mohawk/hair that is always very pointy and orange circles on your cheeks (how cute!)
I have a feeling that your hair is incredibly soft
Very sensitive wings
I feel like your teeth would be sharp and your nails would normally be fast-growing, long, and sharp
You tilt your head like impossibly far when you’re confused or trying to hear something better
Like your ear would almost be touching your shoulder
The head movements are very jerky and kinda just happen on their own when you hear something so you would have a lot of neck pain : (
You’re allergic to chocolate : (
I feel like people would underestimate you greatly and think you’re nothing except the ditzy comedic relief
Parrots are actually very intelligent
It bums you out to hear people say things like that behind your back when they think you can’t hear, but you try to not let them get to you
You give the best cuddles and are very affectionate with the people you’re close to (you’re also very cautious of strangers)
You’re also very in tune with the emotions of the people around you
You see someone sad? Head nuzzles and wing hugs
You see someone angry? You deescalate the situation the best you can and make sure they’re ok afterwards
You can dilate and contract your pupils rapidly at will
You may or may not stare at people doing it until they notice you staring or until they get creeped out
You fuck hard with any type of seed, nut, or fruit
When you get excited, it’s literally so cute??
Like you do everything parrots do
Little happy pitter patters with your feet, flutter your wings, your pupils contract and dilate rapidly, you make a ton of mob sounds
You’re easily excitable, hyper, and happy most of the time
It makes everyone happy to see you so excited so they would often go out of their way to get you things that make you happy
“Hey (y/n) I have some extra melon seeds if you want em!”
*Pupils contract and dilate rapidly*
You are loud
Like very loud
And very talkative
Like everyone knows where you are at all times
If you’re quiet and they know you’re around, either something is very wrong or they’re about to get pranked
God forbid you start to scream, your scream is loud enough to deafen someone for a brief amount of time and would leave everyone’s ears ringing for days on end
The mere mention of yours and Tommy's names together in one sentence is enough to give Philza a headache (someone give this poor man a couple of advils and a long vacation)
You two are literal demons when you’re together
Very chaotic relationship
You both like to fuck with people by sneaking up behind them
You would make mob sounds and Tommy would jump them before you two made a break for it
You and Tommy almost got killed by Techno a few times, but in your opinion the look on his face was 100% worth it every time
I feel like you would cart him up and down from the towers he builds
He could relate to being stereotyped as the stupid loud one, so he recognizes right away when you’re sad about it and will try to cheer you up
His main go to is the jukebox
Oh my god if he plays his jukebox around you, you go full send with your dancing
*AGGRESSIVE HEADBANGING*
He would laugh at your awful dancing, but he would join you eventually
Cat and Mellohi go hard
Speaking of music, Wilbur uses you as a walking soundboard
He needs a sound sample? You better prepare for spending most of your day recreating the sound
He needs back up vocals? You spend most of your day listening to his voice and other singers so you could replicate it
You don’t want to disappoint him so you try extra hard to appease his picky music composition
You kinda stress yourself out over it sometimes
When he notices (which he will, he’s very perceptive), he immediately calls it a day and has some sibling bonding time
You both bond over liking to eat strange things
Amazon macaws like to lick clay deposits on riverbanks so you like to have some on you at all times to lick when you get stressed
Wilbur carries some in a bag in his pocket and you carry a bag of sand 
Whenever one of you notices the other has a rough day, you give each other your respective stuff
You have to be sneaky with it though, Philza always takes away nonedible stuff from his children if he sees them trying to eat it (he has good intentions tho)
It always looks like a drug deal 
With Techno, I feel like he would find you incredibly annoying at first with how loud you are
He would actually start to hate you when you started to sneak up behind him 
It got to the point to whenever he would hear your voice he would get irrationally mad and have to leave the house for a few hours
He, like everyone outside your family, would think you were useless and incredibly stupid
That was until he passed Tommy’s room one day and overheard you crying and telling Tommy about your insecurities
He would spend the next few days ignoring you bc he felt bad
He would spend those days contemplating on why he treated you like he did
Coming to the realization that you were likely trying to get closer to him and you were just being yourself, making him feel like the biggest piece of shit
He totally had no idea how to confront you about this, so naturally he went to Philza (that man was literally so happy that his children were gonna start to get along)
He would spend the day gathering golden melons because he found out that you’d never tried golden melons before from Philza
When he approached you one day with an apology and some golden melons, you were suspicious at first
He hated you, so why would he get you these things if he didn’t need anything from you?
Quickly finding that his apology is genuine and he felt incredibly bad for treating you like that over the years
You picked up on his guilt pretty quickly and made quick work to reassure him
He would take you on short trips and would soon find that you’re very useful in detecting mobs and deterring creepers with cat noises
He would never admit it, but he loves it when you would scare Tommy or Wilbur, thinking it’s hilarious 
You also found out that carrying a seven and a half foot tall piglin hybrid was incredibly difficult to do, especially when flying
You two managed to get only about ten feet above the ground before your wings gave out under the strain and you fell on him
“(Y/n) has earned the achievement ‘When Pigs Fly’” flashed on everyone’s comm tablets that day
That wasn’t fun trying to explain to Philza
Philza would be ecstatic to have someone to fly with that he didn’t have to carry
He would take you on flights when you had too much energy 
Sometimes racing each other and competing to do tricks midair (which sometimes you both rope your brothers into judging)
Late night flights when you need to get your mind off from something
Watching the sunrise together in silence for once
Bonding over being able to see ultraviolet light when everyone else couldn’t
You always give him the shiny things you come across and he gives you your favorite snacks
He always fusses over your wings, sometimes preening them for you
Helping each other through molts
Matches your excitement sometimes when you’re really happy
You feel bad whenever you hear stories of how difficult you were as a baby
He’s quick to reassure you that raising you was worth it and you turned out to be a great person
But he wouldn’t be lying when he said you were a difficult infant
Your terrible twos stage? His literal hell
Philza swears he can still hear ringing from whenever you would throw tantrums as a toddler, even years after you left your toddler age
He also still has some scars from when you went through your biting phase (teething was awful for you, his poor baby)
But he’s happy he was the one that raised you, he genuinely enjoys your presence
If you’re in a really affectionate mood he is more than willing to let you cuddle up to him while he reads a book or something
WING HUGS WING HUGS WING HUGS WIN-
When he’s had a long day and is stressed out, you immediately pick up on that and do everything in your power to make sure your brothers are quiet and behaved, try to find out what made him so stressed, and sometimes go out of your way to take care of it for him
You try to be the one taking care of him for once as much because he’s taken care of you so well throughout the years
He can tell if you’re overwhelmed or upset just with one glance at your ruffled feathers and your rapidly dilating and contracting pupils
Immediately pulling you out of the situation and letting you talk it out
Whenever he finds you sad about your insecurities, he points out every part of your personality that he loves
That’s before he hunts down the person that made you feel like this (he really lives up to his title of ‘The Angel of Death’)
Overall, you wouldn’t trade your family for the world
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proxyoddo · 3 years ago
Text
The Right Approach
One-shot: Tech x gn!reader
Words: 2K
Summary: Tech hasn't slept for a few days, and you're worried about him. No one has been able to convince him to a bunk, but Hunter thinks you might be able to get through to the goggled trooper.
AN: This week has been kicking my ass, and I've not had much time to focus on Derecho. Part 4 is almost done and will come soon, but I felt bad because I haven't posted in a while. So, have this kinda cute fluff with Tech that I wrote trying to get my mind into writing.
(I am also shite at titling things 😅 )
Warnings: None, only fluff and snuggles.
It had been four days, and Tech had not slept. With the repairs needed for the console in the cockpit, he had been working endlessly to be sure that the Havoc Marauder would be at 100% working capacity before they next took off from Kamino. The rest of the Batch did what they could to help, but much of it was intricate - more than one hand would not help.
Currently you were standing outside the ship, staring up the steps ready to stomp inside and give Tech a piece of your mind. How did he think he would get you all off the ground if he ran headlong into it himself?
You heard a clunk and a curse from inside, coming from Tech. You frowned, and were about to take the first step into the Marauder when a hand firmly grasped your shoulder.
“Y/N,” came Hunter's voice, and you sighed heavily before turning your head to face him. “You know he won’t stop. Especially if you’re just going to just tell him outright ‘get your ass to bed’.”
“Well what the kriff are we supposed to do then?” you asked with a slight hiss, frustration getting the best of you.
Hunter fixed you with a sympathetic gaze, and shrugged sadly. “Eventually he’ll just pass out in there-”
“And break something while he’s at it? Hurt himself?”
“There was a 'but' in that sentence, Y/N,” Hunter said, smiling a little and giving you a push towards the steps. “You might be able to get through to him.”
You looked at him incredulously, causing him to actually chuckle.
“Tech likes having you around. He’d probably listen to you if you approach it the right way. And based on how much you also seem to care about him, I figure you’re stubborn enough to get him to a bunk,” he said, as if he were just talking about the clouds passing through the sky. You could feel heat rising up your cheeks. “And yes, before you ask, I’ve known for a bit. Heightened senses, remember?”
You cursed internally. When you had joined the squad as their combat medic, you had taken an immediate liking to Tech. And with time, it just grew. Certainly he could talk for hours, and sometimes it was difficult to keep up with his excited chatter, but he was an amazing man. Strong, insatiably curious - and even with his oftentimes hard, matter-of-fact tone - incredibly caring. You had flirted with him from time to time, sometimes not even recognizing it yourself until afterwards. But the trooper seemed to be none the wiser to your actions. Never stopped your heart from racing whenever your hands accidentally touched though, or if he gave you one of those rare Tech smiles. That must be how Hunter knew; he could literally hear the thunder of your heart when the two of you were together.
“You really think I can get through to him?” you asked quietly.
“Worth a try,” Hunter said. “Besides, the rest of the squad are also getting antsy. If I have to listen to Crosshair go on about knocking Tech out with Gonky anymore, I might have to hide the droid.”
“He wouldn’t.”
“Crosshair likes to sleep in his bunk,” Hunter replied. “At this point he’d go to whatever lengths, I would imagine.”
You laughed, and nodded to the sergeant. He waved you on before turning away, likely to head back to the others. Turning and looking into the ship, you steeled yourself before going up the steps and stopping outside the cockpit.
“Tech?” you called.
“Yes, Y/N?” came his voice, seemingly bright as if he was actually still getting a regular amount of sleep.
“How… How’s it going in there?”
Another loud clunking sound and dropping equipment had you stepping inside, looking to find Tech on the ground under the console. The plastoid that normally covered his chest and back was gone, propped up against the wall next to the console.
“It’s going fine!” Tech growled, tossing something out of the compartment he was in giving you just enough time to skirt out of the way before it clanged against the wall opposite of him.
“Hmm, sounds it…” you muttered, before squatting down. He continued on whatever he was working with while you thought for a moment. “Hey Tech-”
“Y/N, please, I am attempting to get the comm frequencies on this damnedable thing working in proper order,” he said, and you could see him turn to look at you for a moment with a reflection of his goggles. “While the Marauder still has functional comm capabilities, the extensive damage from our last encounter with the Separatists has weakened the signal strength, which poses a threat to us while in the field which as you can understand-”
“I have a question,” you interrupted. He stuttered to a halt, and there was silence for a few moments before his hands appeared at the lip of the console and he pulled himself out. The words “sleep deprivation” practically screamed at you from the features of his face.
“Yes?” He seemed intent to answer whatever it was that you were going to ask, even if he had been frustrated a moment ago. Maybe Hunter had been right, and you could get through to him.
You swallowed a little, his tired face filling you with resolve. “What happens to someone when they do not sleep for 4 or more days?”
Tech frowned a little, before going into his answer. “Typically after 3 days of no rest, a person’s urge to sleep will get worse and they will begin to experience microsleeps. Perception is also significantly impaired, and reaching 4 days without adequate rest will continue to distort it. In some, the urge to sleep will become unbearable. It can result in sleep deprivation psychosis.”
You nodded along throughout his entire explanation without saying anything. When he finished, the two of you stared at one another for a few moments of silence.
“Oh,” Tech said with quiet understanding.
“C’mon,” you said warmly, standing up and holding a hand out to him.
Tech shook his head, and you briefly considered going to find Gonky. “I understand your concern, and though it is appreciated, I just need to complete one last thing with the comms before I believe they will be properly functional,” he said. Tech began looking around before his eyes fell on his datapad behind you on one of the seats, and pointed to it. “Could you pass that to me?”
You took the datapad in your hand, but didn’t hand it to Tech. He looked at you with confusion as you began to step away.
“If you want the datapad, Tech,” you began, stepping out of the cockpit, “you’re going to need to come and get it.”
You smiled a little when you heard him getting up from the cockpit floor behind you. “Please, Y/N, I need to calibrate it.” You ignored him, continuing to the bunks before crawling up into the one you usually slept in. You sat back on the bunk, back leaning against the wall, holding the datapad up next to your head.
Tech entered the room, looking even more tired as he stared up at you. “I’m unsure what you are attempting to accomplish here other than getting on my nerves.” You just smiled in response, waving the datapad at him. With a big sigh from him, you watched as Tech pulled himself slowly up to the bunk, and then knelt in front of you between your feet.
“Give it,” he said, losing any formality. You shook your head, waving the datapad again.
In any other circumstance, Tech literally crawling into your lap with a determined expression like he currently had, would have left you breathless. But your intent to get him exactly where he was now, reaching for the datapad and face so very close to your own, helped you keep focus. When Tech’s fingers firmly grasped around the datapad, you let go and leaned forward. Your arms wrapped around his torso and your legs around his, pulling him directly into your embrace, his chin hitting your shoulder.
“Y/N?” Tech tentatively asked, a bit breathless against you.
“You need to sleep, Tech,” you whispered against his ear, arms squeezing just a little tighter as he tried to move. You felt his sharp intake of breath and he completely stilled in your arms, tensely holding himself up. “Relax.”
“I… I need to-” he began, but his sentence was broken by a soft groan as one of your hands began to run up and down his back. A soothing motion, fingertips ghosting over his side as your palm ran along his spine. Your other arm moved under his, your hand reaching up to the back of his neck and gently running through the short hair found at the base of his skull.
You leaned your head gently to the side, pressing against his. “Please, Tech,” you pleaded, and you felt him begin to relax in your arms.
“Cyar’ika...” he sighed, and his voice was thick with sleep. His resolve gone due to your ministrations, he finally let his whole body slump against you, and he turned his face into your neck. You could feel his warm breath and cool goggles against your skin and you couldn’t help the small shiver that spread through your body.
“That’s it, Tech,” you cooed, loosening the grip of your legs so he could settle more between them. In doing so he slid down your chest a little, making you glad that at some point he had decided to discard his chest plate. You heard the datapad hit the bunk’s thin mattress as Tech's arms wrapped around you, pressing his face more firmly into your chest with a deep breath.
You felt a gentle warmth spread through you as you both embraced one another. You couldn’t help but smile down at Tech, and you gently reached up to carefully slide the goggles from his face before setting them down on the bunk near the datapad. It was mere moments before you could tell Tech was asleep against you. Moving carefully, you pressed your lips against the top of his head and leaned back again.
“Comms will still be there when you get up,” you said to his sleeping form, before closing your eyes and feeling a bit drowsy yourself.
It was a while later that you woke to the sound of someone entering the Marauder. You had no idea how long you had been asleep, and you opened your eyes slowly, looking about the compartment to find Crosshair standing there. His arms were crossed over his chest, and he was looking at you with a smirk. He just nodded when he saw your attention was on him, and climbed into the bunk below the one you currently occupied with Tech.
Speaking of, the usually goggled clone was still sleeping soundly against you. You smiled before gently running your fingers through his hair, feeling him sigh and snuggle more into your body.
“Hey Cross?” you called out, careful not to be too loud.
A grunt of acknowledgement was the sniper’s response.
“...what does ‘cyar’ika’ mean?” you asked after a moment’s pause. Tech had said it earlier, but you didn’t know what it was.
You were met with silence, and you were beginning to wonder if Crosshair was actually going to answer you. You resigned yourself to mystery when he finally spoke:
“It’s Mando’an. It means ‘darling,’ ‘beloved,’ or ‘sweetheart’.”
You froze. Tech had called you that? A blush creeped up your skin, and you knew if Crosshair had been looking at you he’d see just how red you were in the semi-darkness of the Marauder.
“Th-thanks,” you said back, before looking down at Tech. You didn’t think you had ever seen the trooper look as relaxed as peaceful as you did right now, and you couldn’t help but smile. Leaning down just a little, you hugged him a little tighter.
“Cyar’ika,” you soothed, and smiled more as Tech’s arms squeezed you tighter as well in response.
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just-dreaming-marvel · 4 years ago
Text
Unofficial Fathers
MAIN MASTERLIST
Avengers x Teen!Fem!Reader
Word Count: 5,450ish
Requests: I put two requests together for this one. I hope that it’s okay.
1-What about one with the Avengers and reader (maybe they have super speed???) where the reader is a teenager and super stressed out for whatever reason so the Avengers decide to get them moving by doing something with water (like water guns, balloons, slide, etc) with them. Just like fluff, I think it’d be kinda cute 
2-Can you write an avengers x teen!reader, where she lost function in both of her legs, which makes her really sad and depressed? The others have to help her with everything and she feels bad, so she ends up trying to do things herself, but gets hurt. Maybe steve and tony play a more significant role. Thanks!
Warnings: angst / fluff / paralysis / wishing to have died 
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“Hey Speedy!” Tony called over the comms. “You’re up!”
“Finally!” You exclaimed.
The mission had started almost an hour ago, and the plan had been for you to hang out in the quinjet until you were deemed needed. Which annoyed you. Even though you were barely 17, you had been a part of the Avengers for almost 3 years. Longer than even Peter Parker.
Due to some freak accident during the Battle of New York, you somehow ended up with super speed abilities. That’s how Steve and Tony found you almost 3 years old. The two were in the city for meetings and you were zooming around helping people and playing pranks. You thought it would be fun to do something to those two. But before you could do something, Tony and Steve had you pinned to the wall with part of the Iron Man suit. Apparently, their ‘meeting’ was to actually find you and bring you in.
The whole Team was interested in getting to know you very quickly and get you properly trained. Natasha, Clint, Bucky, and Steve handled your combat training personally, while Tony and Bruce tested your abilities and created gear that would help you.
Steve and Tony, though definitely not a couple, took on the role of your parents. You even had begun calling them as such. Steve was Pa and Tony was Dad. They didn’t always agree on exactly how to handle you. But they loved you and that was a step above your real parents, who you didn’t even know.
“Y/N! I need you to get in the building and get anyone and everyone out!” Steve instructed. “As fast as you can! I think the building is going down!”
“You got it Cap!” You responded.
Using your super speed you rushed out of the quinjet and into the building. You zig-zagged through each floor. The first few were empty, but eventually you ran into some people. You quickly helped them out of the building to continue your search. You were almost done with you sweep when you felt the building tremble. You paused, glancing around.
“Kid!” Tony shouted in the comms. “The building is going down. Where are you?”
“Uh… I don’t think you want to know,” you responded.
“Please tell me you’re not still in the building, Y/N,” Steve said.
“I’m sorry, Pa. I’m almost done with my sweep. Just one last floor.”
“No, Y/N! Get out of there now!”
“Just one more floor!” You sped away to get to the last floor.
“I’m on my way to you, Y/N,” Tony said. “Meet me at the Northwest window.”
“Alright. I’m almost—“ 
You suddenly heard a loud cry. You turned to see a little girl huddled up in the corner as the building’s tremor’s worsened. Rushing to the little girl, you barely missed the ceiling caving down and breaking the floor.
“I’m outside the window, kid!” Tony exclaimed. “You need to get here, now!”
“There’s a kid in here!” You retorted, grabbing the little girl. You sped to the window. “You need to take her.” You held her out to Tony. 
“Not without you!”
“Just take her, Dad! Please!”
He quickly took her from your arms. “Don’t do anything! I’ll be right back!”
He flew off and the floor began to crack worse beneath your feet. You knew, even with your super speed, that you wouldn’t be able to make it out of the building without Tony coming for you. When another section of floor collapsed, you knew you needed to get out of there.
“Dad!” You shouted.
“I’m almost there, honey!” He responded. “Just hang on!”
The floor cracked beneath you, sending you falling. You grasped onto the ledge.
“Dad!” You screamed.
“Almost, there—“
“AHHH!”
The building’s roof collapsed, with the rest of the building following. You were pushed down with the debris, screaming.
“Y/N!!!” A multitude of voices screamed over the comms.
But you didn’t hear anything else, because you landed with a thud, hitting your head and blacking out before the rest of the building landed on you.
~~~
“Tony, come take a rest,” Clint urged. “At least drink something.”
You had been stuck under the building for hours at this point, with Tony working non-stop to try and get to you. 
“I can’t,” Tony responded. “My kid’s down there.”
“Scott’s almost here, he’ll shrink down and see what’s going on.”
“I can’t afford to waste a second.”
“Stark, we don’t know if moving any of this will make it worse for her,” Bucky said. “We could just be killing her faster.”
“You don’t think I know that!” Tony spun around. “But she’s the closest thing I have to a daughter! And I’ve already let her down once today.”
“You didn’t let her down.”
“I’m the one who told her to go into the building,” Steve said, everyone able to feel the self blame in his words. “I did this to her.”
“Stop with the blame game here, guys,” Clint interrupted. “Y/N wouldn’t want that. Now, we need—"
“I’m here! I’m here!” Scott yelled, running up with Hope. “Romanoff and Banner got us hooked up to cameras and we brought extra Pym particles so that we can get her out of there.” He briefly made eye contact with Tony and Steve. “We’re going to get her out of there.”
“We’ve got this,” Hope confirmed.
Shrinking, the two quickly got into the rubble. The others rushed over to the screens so that they could hear and see what was going on. It was dusty, that much was clear. But the couple were quick to follow FRIDAY’s leads on where to go. The AI was trying to to its best to sense were you were by heat signatures.
“Miss Y/N should be just below,” the AI informed the two in the debris.
“There she is,” Steve breathed out, seeing your head on the screen. It was clear that blood had been, or still was, coming from somewhere on your head. “Tell us what’s going on guys. What’s her status?”
“She’s breathing,” Hope confirmed. “She’s scratched up, but it looks like the bleeding as stopped.”
“She’s lost quite a bit of blood,” Scott added. He turned, revealing her bottom half, squished under a large piece of cement. “That’s not good.”
“Shit,” Tony whispered. “No.”
“We need to shrink her before the damage gets worse,” Hope said. “Get on the other side of her, Scott.”
“On it,” Scott replied.
“You ready?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Shrink her in 3, 2, 1.” 
Your body was quickly shrunk. Hope and Scott quickly worked together to secure you to Hope.
“Okay, she’s secure,” Scott said. “We’re on our way up.”
“You’re going to want to get everything ready,” Hope warned. “We aren’t going to want to bring her back to normal size without being ready to work.”
“Helen Cho is waiting back at the compound with her team,” Bruce informed. “Natasha and I have the quinjet ready to stabilize her as much as we can on the way.”
“Steve, Tony, you may want to stay away. It’s worse than the camera’s probably caught.”
“Not a chance.” / “Like hell!”
“Hope is right,” Clint said. “Bruce needs to be able to check her out with out you two hovering.” He looked at Bucky, the two seemingly having a silent conversation. They both took a step towards the two other men. “When they bring her out, we can’t have you two going all papa bears.”
“We’re in the quinjet,” Scott informed.
Clint and Bucky were quick. Bucky went for Steve, fighting with him to slow him down. Clint quickly shot an arrow at Tony’s arc reactor, shutting down the suit and effectively locking Tony in it. While that was happening, the others raced to the quinjet, getting it off the ground before the four men could get there.
Scott normalized himself first before helping Hope with herself and Y/N. Natasha and Bruce were waiting, ready to grab you as soon as they could. You were limp in Bruce’s arms, so incredibly so that it scared even the Hulk to his core. He and Natasha worked quickly and efficiently together to do everything they could before getting to the compound.
Back at the site, the four men had slowed down their fighting.
“How could you do that Clint?” Tony asked, clearly hurt as he was able to get his helmet off. “You have kids. You should understand the need to be with them when they’re injured.”
“I do,” Clint replied. “That’s why we knew we needed to stop  the two of you.”
“Whatever happens, it’s going to be hard,” Bucky said. “And they need to be able to fully evaluate her. It was either this or sedation… We’re sorry. We want to be there for her too."
~~~
It was two hours before Cho had finished running all the tests and an hour after that before Tony and Steve could wait at your bedside. You were all bandaged, bruised, and scrapped, but you were alive. That’s all that really matter. The test results had yet to come back, so the men had to try and be patient. You sucked in a breath, alerting the men to the possibility of you waking up.
“Y/N?” Steve softly called. “You there, doll?”
“Pa?” You rasped, head turning towards the sound of his voice while your eyes crept open.
“Hey.” He smiled.
“Hi, kid,” Tony said. 
You turned to look at him. “Dad.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like I feel a hundred feet and then a building landed on me.”
“We’re not surprised there,” Steve commented.
“Hey, Y/N,” Helen Cho greeted as she walked into the room with her tablet. “How are you doing? Any unusual pain?”
“Well the drugs you’ve given me are trippy,” you replied.
“Drugs?” She repeated concerned, glancing at Tony and Steve.
“Yeah. I can feel my upper half, but my waist and below are completely numb. What did you give me, doc?”
Helen immediately went to work. She tore off the blankets covering your feet and immediately began running her pen up and down them.
“What’s going on?” You asked, trying to sit up.
“Steve, go get Bruce,” Helen ordered. Steve nodded and rushed out.
You looked at Tony. “Dad? What’s going on?”
“I-I— oh my gosh,” Tony stammered, hand covering his mouth. 
“Dad!”
“We didn’t give you any pain meds, Y/N,” Helen stated.
“What?”
“We wanted to see if there was any damage done, so we didn’t want the pain meds getting in the way.”
“So… I—I… I can’t…” You began hyperventilating. “I…”
“Honey, lay down,” Tony urged, gently pushing you onto the bed. “Breathe.”
“I’m here!” Bruce said, hurrying in with Steve. “We need to get her into the scanner and compare it to the other tests we’ve taken.” 
Helen quickly went to the head of your bed, unlocking the wheels. All of this was scaring you.
“Dad?” You looked at Tony, teary eyed, before looking at Steve. “Pa?” They both grasped one of your hands.
“We’re right here,” Steve said, bringing your hand up for a kiss as Helen and Bruce began to wheel you away.
“You both need to stay here, while we run the scans,” Bruce said.
“No! Please!” You pled, crying.
“I’ll be with you, Y/N. Tony and Steve just need to stay here.”
Bruce and Helen pushed you away as you begged and cried out for Steve and Tony. The rest of the Team rushed into the hallway to see what was happening. They witnessed you being pushed down the hall.
“What the hell is going on?” Sam asked, looking into the room where Tony and Steve had been left. Both men looked distraught, and absolutely heartbroken.
“Steve?” Bucky questioned.
“She… She… I…” Steve couldn’t pull his thoughts together.
“Tony?” Natasha questioned. 
The man fell back into a chair, burying his head in his hands. “She couldn’t feel her legs,” Tony whispered. “She couldn’t feel her legs.”
“She thought they had given her pain killers,” Steve continued, whispering as well.
“Steve, sit down,” Bucky said, moving to help his friend. “You look like you could pass out.”
“I might… she couldn’t feel her legs…”
“She’s going to be alright,” Sam said. “Y/N’s a fighter.”
“Yeah, but… she couldn’t feel her legs…”
~~~
After getting you into the scanner, Bruce and Helen actually gave you drugs to help you calm down. You were asleep almost as soon as they were injected. The two doctors worked together to look over each scan and previously done test. Only to reach the same conclusion each time. You were paralyzed. This brought on a multitude of worries, but the biggest one had to do with your abilities. Would you ever be able to use them again? 
After finding out about the diagnosis, it was the first question to leave Tony’s lips. Tony and Steve were standing outside your med-bay room, Helen and Bruce in front of them. The two doctors sighed, glancing at one another.
“No,” Bruce answered. “She wouldn’t be able to use her abilities again.”
What they didn’t know was that you had woken up just in time to hear Tony ask the question and Bruce answer it. Covering your mouth, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to stop from sobbing.
“She’s going to need help with everything, especially right now,” Helen continued for Bruce. “She’s going to need to be looked after. And I—“
“We’ll do it,” Steve replied, firmly. “We’re her family, we’ll take care of her.”
“I know that you two—this whole team, sees her as family. But this is going to be a long, hard road.”
“What are you saying?” Tony asked. “That we send her away? She’s almost 17! Who would be willing to adopt her at that age? Especially when we are her family!” He motioned between himself and Steve. “We are her fathers!”
“I understand, Tony. But you need to be prepared. She’s going to need help with the little everyday things. Bathing, getting changed, going to the bathroom. Somebody’s going to need to help her with it.”
“We will,” Steve repeated, still as firm as before. “Whatever she needs, for as long as she needs it. Whether it’s officially legal or not, she is our daughter and we will help her through it all.”
“I can make her braces,” Tony said. “Just like I did with Rhodes.”
“We actually believe that it would be more valuable if she learns to live with a wheelchair first,” Bruce responded. “Just in case anything were to happen with the braces, that she wouldn’t be completely helpless.”
“I agree with Bruce on this one,” Steve said. “She needs to be able to live in a wheelchair before she tries braces.” 
“We will have her in physical and occupational therapy such, so she doesn’t lose all the muscles in her legs.”
Just then, Wanda rushed passed them, heading for your door. “Wanda?” Steve questioned. “What’s going on?”
“The pain,” Wanda replied. “She’s in so much pain.”
Following Wanda into the room, they witnessed you trying to control your emotions. Though it was clear you were upset. Tony and Steve rushed to either side of you.
“It’s okay, honey,” Tony whispered, wiping tears off your cheeks. “It’s okay.”
“N-no…” you rasped, shaking your head. “It’s… n-not…”
“Did you hear what we were talking about?” Steve asked. You nodded. “I’m so sorry, doll. You shouldn’t have had to find out that way.”
You couldn’t stop the sobs at this point. You had just gotten the worse news you could have imagined. You were paralyzed and know unable to use your abilities. In your mind, you were basically useless. 
Steve quickly got into bed with you, pulling you into his arms. As he cradled you, he tried to get you to calm down. He glanced around worriedly at everyone else in the room, who didn’t know how to help.
~~~
“You need to eat, Y/N,” Tony pressed, trying to hand you a plate again. 
“I’m not hungry,” you replied, voice void of all emotion.
You had fallen asleep in Steve’s arms, where the two of you stayed until morning. Tony brought in breakfast while Steve went to get ready for the day.
“You need to eat,” he said again.
“I said, I’m not hungry,” you repeated.
Tony sighed, seating the plate down. “Do you not like waffles? I can have Happy go get something else. A burger? Fries? Ice cream?”
“I want my legs back.”
“Kid—“
“Don’t try to make me feel better about this. You have no understanding about how I am feeling.”
“I wasn’t trying to. I just—“
“Can you leave me alone? I want to be alone.”
Tony knew that you just needed a moment. So without responding, he got up and left, closing the door behind him. He leaned against the wall next to it, running a hand down his face. The guilt he was feeling was real. If only he had grabbed you and the kid, or if he had just flown faster.
“You’re going there too?” Steve asked, coming up to lean on the wall across from Tony. 
“The guilt is real,” Tony responded.
“Yeah… I shouldn’t have had her go into the building. What was I thinking?”
“I shouldn’t have let her convince me to take the kid… but, I guess, feeling this way won’t do her any good now, will it?”
“No, unfortunately, it won’t.” Steve looked at the closed door. “How is she?”
“She refused to eat… I’m thinking about having Happy get all her favorite foods for lunch.”
“Good idea. Maybe we could even try the wheelchair out and bring her to the common area.”
“I like it.”
“I’ll let everyone know about it.”
“Yeah, I—“
“Excuse me, Boss, Captain,” FRIDAY interrupted. “But Y/N is in need of immediate assistance.”
~~~
After Tony left, you huffed. This was miserable. You didn’t want to be stuck in this bed. And, honestly, the longer you sat there, the more you needed to go to the bathroom. You just didn’t want to ask for help, you didn’t want that to be your life. Studying the distance between your bed and the toilet for a few moments, you decided to get there yourself. Besides, they hadn’t tried to stand you up and get you to walk, maybe this was all one big cruel joke.
Taking a deep breath, you flung your covers off. You pushed yourself towards the edge of the bed, helping your legs to rest over it. Other deep breath in and you pushed yourself off the bed, trying to stand. You immediately fell. Trying to brace yourself, you landed on your hands. One of your wrists cracked, failing to break your fall. In the midst of the struggle, your bladder decided to let loose, causing you to lay in a pool of your own pee. You clutched your wrist close to your chest as your door burst open, revealing two extremely worried men. You looked at them, with tears cascading down your cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” you said. “I just wanted to do something by myself.” They looked at you with complete pity, which you absolutely hated.
“It’s okay,” Steve said, getting on the floor beside you, minding the puddle. He noticed your wrist. “Did you hurt yourself?”
You nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ll go run and get you clothes, sweetheart,” Tony said. “Steve will help you into the shower. It’s all going to be okay.” He rushed out.
“No it won’t,” you whispered as Steve scooped you up into his arms. “It will never be again.”
And Steve thought his heart couldn’t shatter more than it already had. As he lifted you, he could practically feel the weight that this was having on you. You wouldn’t look at him as he took you into the bathroom and set you on the shower floor.
“Can I help you undress?” Steve asked.
You inhaled sharply, closing your eyes. This was your life now. Though you could undress yourself, you would always need help, basically be waited on all the time.
“If you want, I can go grab Natasha,” Steve suggested. “Or Wanda. Or, Pepper might even be in today. You love Pepper.”
“I want to be alone,” you mumbled.
“Y/N, I just want to help. Just let me help.”
“And I just want to be alone.” Tears were still falling, though you couldn’t understand how.
“Y/N—“
“Just leave me alone!” You shouted, pushing yourself into the corner.
“What’s going on in here?” Tony asked, bringing in the clothes with Pepper following.
“Leave me alone!”
“Why don’t you guys wait outside?” Pepper suggested. “I’ll help Y/N.”
Steve sighed, straightened up from his kneeled position and hurrying out of there. Tony looked at you sadly before taking his leave. Pepper shut the door and came to your side.
“What do you want me to do?” She asked softly.
“I want to be left alone,” you responded, frustrated and not willing to look her way.
“That’s not going to happen and you know it, Tony and Steve won’t allow it. Those men out there care about you and are so extremely worried. All they want to do is help.”
“I don’t care.”
She let out a small sigh. “Will you at least let me help? We need to get you out of those clothes and washed up. Especially since that wrist needs to get checked out.”
After a moment, you gave in and looked at her. “Okay.”
Pepper smiled at you briefly. “Okay.”
~~~
Apparently, there was already a hairline fracture in your wrist because of the accident. Your fall off the bed didn’t do anything to help it. You had willingly let Pepper help you clean up, but other than that you were still fighting asking for help.
The Team had tried to lift your spirits at lunch out in the common area, but to no avail. After that, you were taken to your regular room, where a twin bed had been added.
“What’s that?” You asked, you hadn’t spoken since the bathroom. 
“Someone is going to stay in here with you until things start becoming normal again,” Steve replied, pushing the wheelchair further into the room. 
“Normal,” you scoffed.
“Buck and I were thinking we could have a movie night today. Maybe try and watch all of the—“
“I just want to sleep.”
“That’s okay too.”
“I would be here too kid,” Tony added, “but Pep and I are working out somethings with the physical therapist.”
“What’s the point of physical therapy? My legs don’t work.”
“It’s to keep your muscles, so that one day you can get braces.”
You nodded, glancing around until you were staring at your tennis shoes on the floor. They were brand new, Stark designed shoes. They were meant to not wear as fast because of your speeding abilities. Your speeding abilities that you could no longer access.
“Can you do something with those?” You asked, pointing at them. 
Both Tony and Steve looked over. They got a tad deflated after remembering how excited you had been about those shoes.
“Yeah, sure, kid,” Tony responded, grabbing them. “I’ll just put them up in your closet. We can—“
“No,” you interrupted. “I want them gone.”
“Y/N—“
“I don’t need any reminders of what I’m now unable to do.”
“Sweetheart,” Tony got down in front of you, “you can still, or will be able to, do a lot. You got lucky.” He immediately regretted his last sentence, even Steve flinch.
“I got lucky? I. Got. Lucky?”
“Y/N, that’s not what—“
“Get the hell out!”
“Hey, that’s not how you talk to your—“
“My what? Father?! Cause you aren’t, remember? Maybe you should take Helen’s advice and give me away! Might make it easier on everyone!”
“You are my daughter, damn it! Whether it’s official or not, or by blood!”
“Y/N, Tony—“ Steve tried to interrupt. 
“No! I actually will say that you got lucky. You did because you have people willing to help you, willing to support you.”
“Well stop!” You shouted back. “Have you ever thought that I don’t want any of your help?! Maybe I think that you should have just left me down there to die! It would have been better that way! I’m basically useless like this!”
“Enough!” Bucky yelled, barging in with Nat. “Steve, Tony, out.”
With a glare sent their way from Nat, the two men didn’t even argue. You were refusing to look at Bucky and Nat. Half embarrassed that you said those things to the men you considered your dads, and half embarrassed that you were believing the terrible thoughts your mind was taunting you with.
Bucky and Natasha looked at each other, unsure of what exactly to do. You let them help you into bed before they left you alone, leaving with a promise to bring food later. 
In the loneliness of your bedroom, you let your thoughts consume you. How you were now useless as an Avenger without being able to have super speed. How you wished they would have just let you die. How you wish they wouldn’t be so helpful, it was driving you crazy. How you really didn’t have any family, you were all alone.
~~~
To respect your boundaries, Tony and Steve decided to let the others help them. No matter how hard it was. It hurt them to see you struggling through everything and not rush to your side. Not that you would let them help, you weren’t letting anyone without putting up a fight.
Steve and Tony had had many talks since they realized you were wishing that you had just died. Tony had made sure that FRIDAY had surveillance on you 24/7 and the Team, besides Tony and Steve, were switching sleeping in your room every night. 
It wasn’t easy on anyone, especially since you were having nightmares about being stuck down in the debris. Someone would wake you from the dream, only to be quickly shut out. The terrors would leave you trembling, sweating, and in a state of panic. But, with you not willing to let people help, the others were forced to watch you struggle with this.
Physical and occupational therapy was a whole other issue. You were rude to the therapists and unwilling to do anything. As the weeks went by, the Team could see the affect it was happening on your legs and they were concerned. Steve and Tony would watch each session from above, angry at the whole situation.
It had been two months since the whole incident, and you still weren’t showing any signs of changing your attitude any time soon.
“Come on, Y/N,” your therapist sighed. “What I’m asking you to do isn’t all that hard. I’m going to do all the work.”
“No,” you stated, determined.
“Y/N—“
“Why don’t you go help someone who’s more able to do things? Maybe someone who will actually get better. I’m sure they’d love your help."
“I can’t watch this anymore,” Tony said to Steve, watching from above. “She’s hurting herself.”
“You know we can’t force her to do anything, Tony,” Steve replied. “We have to let her do this on her own.”
“No, we don’t.” Tony turned around and headed for the room you were currently in.
“Tony! What are you going to do?”
“Use the hate she is harboring towards what happened, towards us, for her benefit.”
Tony burst into the room, causing you and the therapist to jump. You furrowed your brows, confused at what Tony and Steve could possibly be doing here.
“Hand me your leg, Y/N,” Tony demanded.
“What? No,” you responded.
“Hand me your damn leg!”
“No!”
“Fine!” Tony marched over and picked you up from your wheelchair.
“Put me down!” You tried to push off Tony. “Let me go!”
“Tony!” Steve called. “What are you doing?”
“It’s time for some tough love,” Tony responded. He set you down, not gently, on a therapy table. He grabbed your leg and began doing the exercises.
“Let go of me!” You demanded, trying to reach and pry him away, but failing. 
“No! Don’t you see what you are doing to yourself? What you’re doing to those around you?! You are miserable and you are making others miserable! Yes, what happened to you was absolute shit. Trust me, Steve and I will have that guilt with us for the rest of our lives. But it’s up to you to decide how to come out of this. You ever fight to live, fight to find the new normal, or you let yourself whither away. And I’m not about to let that last one happen.”
“You may think you’re alone in this, but you aren’t,” Tony continued. “Steve and I, the Team, we all want to help you through this. Even if that means sticking with you for life.”
During Tony’s whole thing, you had began crying. He was right, you were making yourself and everyone around you miserable.
“I’m sorry,” you cried out. “I’m so sorry… I just… I just wish…”
“I know, honey, I know,” Tony said, moving to pull you into his chest. You melted into him, crying. He placed a kiss on your head. “I’ve got you… I’ve got you.”
“Don’t leave me, Dad.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Steve came over and grabbed one of your hands, gently kissing it. You gave his hand a squeeze.
“I’m sorry, Pa,” you croaked.
“It’s okay,” Steve replied with a tiny smile. “No need to apologize. Just please don’t say that you would have rather died again. I don’t think I could take it if you did.”
“If I died or said it again?”
“Both.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“Will you guys… uh, will you guys help me with my exercises?”
“Of course, honey,” Tony replied. “But maybe Steve should do the other leg, because I think I wore myself out.”
Steve stood. “I’ll exercise that leg better than you could, Stark,” he commented.
“Oh, you’re on, Rogers.” Tony swiftly stood up.
“Great,” you muttered. “Now this is going to be a thing.”
~~~
Now that you were accepting help, things were beginning to look up again. Not that things weren’t hard, but they were better and you could handle it all better. The Team had decided to celebrate, but wouldn’t tell you how. Wheeling your wheelchair into the common area, you found it pitch black.
“FRIDAY,” you called out to the AI, “can I get some lights?”
“Of course,” the AI responded.
The lights came on and suddenly you were being pelted with water from squirt guns. The Team came out of their hiding spots, laughing, as they continued to fire at you.
“Guys!” You squealed, trying to shield yourself. “Guys! St-stop!”
“Never!” Sam exclaimed as he made his way closer to you.
“Here,” Peter said, lowering himself from the ceiling. “Take this.” He offered you a large gun. “Save yourself.”
You laughed as you began to fight back. Suddenly, you were pulled backwards by both Steve and Tony, who were trying to use you and the chair as protection.
“They’ve turned against us!” Tony exclaimed.
“Help us, Y/N!” Steve added.
You couldn’t stop laughing as you, Tony and Steve worked together to try and defeat the others. The Team couldn’t stop smiling as they watched you act so happy. It was so refreshing. After the common room was all but turned into a pool, the Team decided to change and then meet down in the movie room to relax for the night. When Y/N had arrived down there, Tony and Steve had saved a place between them.
“Can I help you onto the couch?” Steve asked.
You responded with a nod and let Steve pick you up, wrapping your arms around his neck. He carefully guided you through the maze of lodging teammates to the spot him and Tony had chosen on the couch.
“Thanks Pa,” you said as he set you down. You pulled your legs up close to you.
“Not a problem,” he smiled, sitting down beside you.
Tony spread a blanket over you guys. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Of course,” Tony responded, leaving a little kiss on your forehead.
You curled up against Tony as Steve moved your legs to rest over his lap, allowing him to massage them. FRIDAY quickly turned on your favorite movie. You glanced around, taking in everyone around you, and you couldn’t be more grateful. Though your life was going to continue to have its challenges, you were glad you had found this family.
Part 2
791 notes · View notes
delimeful · 3 years ago
Text
you cant go back (3)
warnings: panic, miscommunication, trafficking, non-consensual drug use, suicidal thoughts, food, mentions of torture, cliffhanger, these tags make it sound worse than it is tbh  
-
When Virgil first opened his eyes, jerked out of sleep by sharp instinctual alarm, he’d thought for a moment that he was still dreaming.
It was the same face, after all, even with how frighteningly close it was, even with a vastly different expression painted across it. He’d been confused, almost relieved-- had they gotten away after all?-- and then he’d realized just what the Deathworlder had in their arms.
He’d lunged and come up short, forced to watch as the Human kept their arms locked around Patch even as the creature made unhappy little noises he’d never heard from it before. 
It was so small compared to the Human, easily tucked under an arm and managed regardless of protests. Did they have no respect for the deadly grace of the other creatures on this planet?
They’d circled him from a distance, ignoring his warning twitches and outright hisses as thoroughly as they ignored Patch, and all he could do was watch, locked in place, hoping that Human prey drive wasn’t as high as all the rumors said.
And then the Human had left, taking Patch with them, and Virgil had been left to watch their fading heat signature and pray to Seryl that whatever the Human did would be quick. For both of them.
It wasn’t that easy, of course. The Human wanted something from him, badly.
He thought he had a fair idea of what-- or rather, who-- it was.
After all, he’d seen a near-perfect mirror of them, sitting bound and muzzled in their transfer ship’s holding cell where a Human absolutely shouldn’t be. Leond and her Second had been unnaturally gleeful for rotations before Virgil finally found out about the ‘successful pickup’, namely through stumbling across it by doing the routine security and safety checks that he didn’t trust the rest of these idiots to do themselves.
They’d cut him off before he could get to a comm to tell Janus, cornered him in the tight cell block hall, and offered him a deal: his silence for a cut of the immense earnings they would make from renting out a Human to any and all fighting rings.
He remembered the way the Human’s gaze had flickered between him and the others curiously as he argued, the way they’d struggled to bare their teeth derisively at Leond, even through the bars of their muzzle and the haze of whatever they’d been drugged with. It was one of the last things he’d seen before he’d ‘made a fuss’ big enough that his own crew had tranq’d him and ditched him on-planet to die.
“You’re right,” Leond had said, face smooth in the way that meant smug satisfaction for her species. “We haven’t fulfilled our half of the exchange, have we? We took an alien from that planet, so it’s only fair that we leave one behind.”
His limbs had been defensively raised since the beginning of the argument, but Virgil had fought side by side with these people before. They knew how to guard his blind spots, which meant that they knew his blind spots.
The Human had tried to speak through the muzzle, just before he’d heard the discharge sound of a tranq gun too close to dodge. He thought it might have been an attempted warning.
It hadn’t changed anything. He’d been the only one on that ship who’d opposed the Human’s abduction, and as a reward, he was going to be slowly interrogated to death by one of their clutchmates. The level of cruel irony was like something from one of Jan’s stupid operas.
Virgil felt another shudder of exhaustion. Stars, he hoped Janus would get out of there once he realized what they’d brought back. His best friend knew better than to fuck with Humans, and the crew clearly wasn’t going to listen to any interplanetary ethics lectures, so the best thing he could do was skip town. Better to rebuild than fall with the nest.
He hadn’t slept after the Human had left, flipping to his heat sensor vision and watching all night for their return, unable to relax after one of the most unpleasant awakenings of his life. And if it meant he didn’t dream about what could have happened to Patches, all the better.
The next day had come, and the Human returned, wielding that dull stick and asking more angry questions that Virgil couldn’t understand, let alone respond to.
The thing was, given enough time and exposure, he actually would be able to understand the specifics of what was wanted from him.
Like most long-term interstellar travelers, he had a Lator implant, and the more the Human talked at him, the more linguistic patterns and trends would be picked up and catalogued, making it much easier for him to put the pieces together.
Unfortunately, time wasn’t something he had an excess of.
Janus would have figured out at least the basics by now; in addition to being better with words, he’d gotten a more recent, effective upgrade to the implant’s software. Virgil had turned the offer down for himself, knowing that they needed to save money where they could, and figuring that he didn’t really need it. His job was to defend Janus. His First could handle the talking part of their missions on his own with ease, the chatterbox that he was.
It had seemed obvious at the time. A lot of good that logic was doing him now.
The Human said something at him, flashing his bone-white teeth as he spoke. Humans didn’t have guard plates over their mouths at all, and so every time this one turned to him, he felt as though they were either acting sickeningly overfamiliar or that they might lunge forward and try to bite him at any moment. He’d carefully kept his own plates locked, not willing to expose any teeth and have it mistaken for a challenge.
The Human was waiting expectantly. Virgil took a deep breath and replied, the same as he had every time he could, though he doubted Humans had access to translator implants.
“I am not here to harm anyone. I was abandoned here against my will. I can’t understand what you’re saying,” he recited in Guard-tongue, keeping the sentences brief and repetitive for easy translation pattern recognition.
The Human wasn’t extending him the same courtesy, his own sentences long-winded and full of unfamiliar concepts that kept tripping up the Lator programming. References, probably.
There was one Human word that he’d figured out fairly early on: Brother.
Clutchmate, family, the lookalike that was probably long gone by now.
He was almost glad that he couldn’t speak coherently. As it was, he didn’t have to be the one to break the news.
Almost, because the Human was stubbornly finding new and creative ways to freak him the hell out with each visit.
First, they’d figured out fairly quickly that he was slowly starving.
Virgil had flooded his plates right to pitch on their first meeting, and hadn’t been calm enough to stop the defensive reaction since, which had quickly drained what little hydration stores he’d had left. Between the drying out of his plates and the fact that he’d gotten too worked up and blacked out for a moment during an interrogation, his fading health wasn’t exactly subtle.
He’d panicked, because any enemy knowing his weakness was generally pretty fucking bad, let alone an enemy with personal motive and ability to twist that weakness like a knife in the spine.
The Human had verbally freaked out (a regular occurrence) and vanished for a while, before returning to the barn with an entire array of items (not a regular occurrence). They’d set the items out on flat fiber ‘plates’ and then slid them into range with that stupid stick.
Virgil had stabbed a few of them on principle before realizing that this was food, aided by the Human rolling his eyes pointedly-- a derisive gesture, he’d gathered-- and eating something from a plate of their own.
At that point, Virgil had been willing to risk poison. The way he saw it, he either died, or he ate something, and either way it meant stopping the slow, aching pain eating away at the pit of his stomach.
He’d even been willing to tolerate the Human staring at him, since apparently they didn’t have the manners to not watch a stranger eat. Or that wasn’t a thing on this planet. It didn’t really matter.
After a significant amount of time spent using his auxiliary limbs to delicately maneuver Human produce and meats into inspection range, he settled for what smelled the least concerning, avoiding any that smelled or looked too bright to be safe.
(The scrunched-up look the Human had given him after he’d crunched an egg in his throat had been hard to interpret, though.)
Anything he could safely ingest, he’d eaten. After the Human left, he’d even attempted the indignity of trying to lift the bowl of water in range with wobbly limbs, though he’d almost immediately spilled the majority of it all over himself. It didn’t matter, he could pull any and all hydration from what he’d eaten, though he didn’t dare get used to it.
This wasn’t his first time above the nest, and he hadn’t fooled himself into believing that this shocking show of generosity would last. The Human had only done it to make sure that their hostage wouldn’t keel over.
Starvation and dehydration were more-than-effective methods of hands-off torture, after all, and the Human really only needed to give him enough to keep him alive.
The impending mistreatment shouldn’t have shaken him as much as it did. He had the advantage of the Human’s ignorance on how much Chelcerae ate, and his own resilience, developed from years of scraping by on the barest of rations. He was lucky, really, to be one of the species with a water-storing organ.
Still, he spent the night wondering if it was worth it to keep fighting. There was no escape, so wouldn’t it be better to go out on his own terms, before anything truly horrendous could happen to him?
Probably. The real question was: would he have the fortitude to turn down food all the way to a slow and painful death-via-starvation?
He wasn’t sure, and he continued to be resentful of the fact that he even had to make such a choice all the way up until the next day, when the Human walked in with a plate covered in everything he’d eaten yesterday and slid it over to him, simple as anything.
“What?” the Human snapped after a moment of Virgil watching them for any indication of what to do, and he’d hurriedly flickered his heat sensor eyes in hopes of placating any offense. The Human had grumbled indistinctly, but didn’t attempt to remove the plate or even threaten to do so.
The next day was the same. Though the Human continued to try and interrogate and occasionally intimidate him, the food and drink was provided without stipulation or hesitation. It was… strange.
Virgil refused to read into it. Perhaps Humans just had meals so frequently that skipping a single day would be as barbaric as weeks of starvation for Chelcerae. Maybe once the Human had enough of his noncompliance, they were going to feast on his flesh and didn’t want a stringy meal. It was impossible to know.
The generous feeding schedule was nothing, though, compared to some of the other questionable tendencies the Human had.
They traversed the grounds in and around the barn with little wariness, apparently quite confident in their ability to defend themself on the Deathworld they’d grown up on. They brushed insects and plant matter alike off their person with little care for poisons or bites.
Their body language seemed to consist of every threat display in the wayfarer guidebook, and worse, only a quarter of these threat displays seemed intentional. Virgil was constantly tense, attempting to figure out which were intended to cow him, and how to keep his own body language from worsening the damage. Any signal of terrified compliance, even the obvious tremor of his auxiliary limbs, only seemed to prompt wariness and confusion from the Human.
They’d found his helmet and immediately put it on, which had made his fuzz prickle with hope for a moment, before remembering that the reserve battery of the headset was well and truly dead. No emergency translators for the Human, and no upturns in luck for Virgil.
Maybe it was better. Even if the Human could talk to him, he would seem just as guilty for their brother’s disappearance in their eyes. It wasn’t even an accusation he could reasonably defend against; if things had gone differently, if he’d made smarter choices, maybe he could have gotten the captured Human free.
Janus would have managed it. He’d always been a quicker mind than Virgil.
It’d been three days since the Human had found him, and Virgil had barely managed to parse a handful of imperatives and nouns from someone who was basically just yelling the same things at him over and over.
“You can’t ---- the ---- ---------, you ----- --------! I ---- what I ---- and --- ----- to it!” the Human yelled, essentially proving his point. Virgil resisted the urge to let his chin drop down to his collar in exhausted resignation.
It was difficult to focus past the old pains from the fight with Leond, and the new pains from being strapped upright for days on end. Even if he could bring himself to pay closer attention, it wouldn’t make it easier to parse words he had no context for. Lator technology worked best when both parties were exchanging words, or at the very least, when there was more than one native speaker prattling on at you!
The Human inhaled to continue and then froze, prompting Virgil to slink his shoulders up slightly, something that had worked to show his non-aggression once or twice before. The Human wasn’t focused on him, though, whirling around to face the barn doors with their body rigid.
Because he’d never been good at uncertainty, Virgil flicked his heat-sensor eyes open just as another Human-sized mass reached the doors, moving in a predator’s stalk.
Well, he thought as the door creaked open, I’m screwed.
285 notes · View notes
crumbledcastle28 · 3 years ago
Text
Chapter 13: An Understatement
Warnings: blaster fire and descriptions of battle, mentions of injuries, Mando gets pretty hurt and the reader is a wreck (as usual)
Author’s Note: Enjoy Chapter 13!
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Mando’s POV
All Mando could think about was you.
Did you protect the child? There’s no way you leaked their info to the Empire and betrayed them, right? Were you dead?
Somehow, the third option scared him the most.
As if this could not get any worse, Moff Gideon opened his mouth yet again.
“I have just received word that you seem to have a very valuable asset on your side,” he said, and Mando knew exactly what he was getting at.
He was referring to you.
Mando’s mind raced a million miles a minute. The Empire were after you, and they had to know you had the child with them. You could hold your own, he knew that, but against an entire regime of soldiers?
Mando knew you would rather die than get the child caught, he would do the same thing, but he wanted you alive. That’s all he wanted.
“It’s ironic, really,” Moff continued. “You put your trust in the Empire to get away from the Empire.”
Moff Gideon could insult Mando all he wanted. He could insult his religion, his creed, his past, but something about him referring to you as “the Empire” when you had worked so hard to get away from it rubbed him in all the wrong ways.
You had helped Mando start to put his violent ways aside, but you weren’t here now, and Mando wanted to kill the Moff where he stood.
“It’s time you face the fact that she will return to where she belongs. My side. I hope her betrayal does not hurt your feelings too bad,” Moff said, and Cara scoffed.
Mando’s last button had been pushed.
“She didn’t betray us, Cara,” he said sternly, and Cara rolled her eyes.
“Oh, so you’re on her side? The Empire’s side?,” she responded, and Mando tried to keep his cool.
It wasn’t really working.
“We are on the same side,” Mando snapped back. “It’s time you realized that.”
You would not betray him. If you were any other person in the galaxy, Mando would start to give up now. But you showed him, in the very brief time you were together, that even people with the worst pasts can still have good hearts.
You made him feel like an idiot. Like a joke. He hadn’t genuinely cared for a person since his parents, but then the kid came along, and then you came along. It’s like the galaxy was showing him perfect prizes, but the game was impossible to win.
But the very worst part of it all, was that Mando was willing to try.
What had you done to him?
Your POV
To say this day did not go as planned was an understatement.
One second you are running for your life, the next you are being scooped up by a metal hand. It happened so fast you barely even had time to register you were lifted off the ground and placed onto a speeder bike.
Once you finally did register what had happened, you immediately thought it was the Empire’s doing, so you turned around and aimed your longspear at the driver.
“Please don’t,” the droid responded. “Me being dead would make this much worse for you.”
The nurse droid, you thought to yourself. From Kuiil’s house!
You were in such a haze of mourning and sadness those couple of days, you barely remembered meeting the droid. You even forgot it rode on the ship to this planet!
You relaxed a bit and lowered your longspear, smiling internally at the thought that a piece of Kuiil was still alive, but you didn’t put your guard down.
You hadn’t put your guard down in days, so it’s not like your overall body language changed that much.
You made sure the child was ok, and once your head finally cleared, you realized Mando was trying to reach you again.
“Kuiil, Y/N, somebody come in.”
The droid picked up the comm device before you could get it, and responded in a very monotoned voice.
“Kuiil has been terminated.”
That ought to make Mando feel better, won’t it, you thought to yourself.
You were going to take the comm device out of the droid’s hand, but you froze when you heard Mando’s tone of voice speaking through the comms again.
“What did you do?” he asked, and you swore you could hear the venom dripping from his mouth.
It always surprised you how scary Mando could really be when he tried.
“I am fulfilling my basic function,” the droid responded.
“Which is?” Mando asked.
“To nourish and protect.”
With that statement, the droid sped up the bike, and you held the child in your lap. He looked up at you with confused eyes, and you could tell he was asking why you weren’t going home.
“We are going to save him little guy,” you said with a stroke to his ear. “We will be home before you know it.”
You smiled lightly to yourself, and before you knew it, the speeder bike was roaring through the town and taking out every trooper in sight.
Blaster fire surrounded you and you tried to focus on what was ahead.
Mando was trapped…. But where?
Finally, you squinted your eyes and saw a regiment of soldiers ahead, and you knew Mando and the rest of the team were trapped inside the building.
“There!” you yelled, pointing to Mando’s cage, and the droid turned you and the child around for protection while he continued to fire.
It was slightly disorienting at first, because you honestly didn’t expect that to happen, but you felt better about the child’s safety.
This droid is no dummy, you thought to yourself. Kuiil did a good job.
Your heart pulled slightly at the thought of Kuiil, still laying out in the desert, but he would get his proper burial.
You just had to make sure Mando didn’t get one of those first.
The droid finally slowed down, and you took the opportunity to jump off the speeder bike and dive behind a pillar.
You got the child situated in your arms well enough so he could be protected, and started making your way out of your hiding spot.
You knew you couldn’t fight with the child in your arms, that’s just stupid, but you did reflect blaster shots from the troopers and took as many out as you could.
You had to start making your way to Mando somehow, but out of the corner of your eye, it seemed Mando was coming to you.
Mando charged out into the open with Karga on his tail, and he fired at will. He kicked and punched the troopers who were close enough to him, and you couldn’t help the smile that graced over your face at the sight of him.
You couldn’t see it, but Mando was smiling too.
You stuck close to the buildings surrounding you, slowly making your way around to where Karga was, but the chaos was insane. You could barely see where the shots were coming from, let alone where you were sending them.
You looked around to find some other way, but what you did see was way better.
Mando was running to a huge cannon, and you watched him rip it off the tripod and start firing it at the stormtroopers.
Your hopes were on the rise.
You saw a dark black death trooper place a detonator on the wall of Mando’s former cage, and you panicked when you realized Cara was still in there.
You started to make your way over there when the explosion hit, but you were far enough away so that you didn’t feel any wave from it.
You continued to make your way over to her.
Your senses were going so crazy, that you didn’t even feel Moff Gideon enter the scene.
What you did feel, however, was the pain Mando felt when the Moff fired a shot directly into his helmet.
It hurt like hell, and you heard Mando cry out in pain.
You turned back to where Mando was, and you saw him take aim at Moff with his canon.
This is it, you thought. Moff Gideon is dead.
You wish you hadn’t been trained in the force so well, because the very next thing you felt was the pride in Moff’s chest when he realized how to take Mando out.
Your eyes widened and panic struck you like lighting.
Moff is gonna kill him.
“Mando,” you screamed, but it was too late.
Moff Gideon had already fired at the generator next to Mando, and you had no choice but to dive for cover. You shielded the child with your body, and you were lucky enough to not feel the effects of the explosion.
But Mando felt it all.
When the dust cleared, you saw Cara dragging, his body back inside while Karga and IG-11 followed her in.
You didn’t care about anything in that moment. And if you would have known merely weeks ago that you would run across a battle field with no armour and a child in your arms, you would have smacked yourself silly.
But you did it anyways.
You made it to the door right before it closed, and you stopped in your tracks when you almost ran right into Cara’s gun.
It was pointed right at you.
“Get out,” she said, and you raised the hand not holding the child in surrender.
“Cara please,” you plead. You could see Mando laying on the floor behind her, and your heart was breaking.
He was badly injured. You could feel it.
“You can kick me out as soon as you’d like. I promise. Just let me see him,” you ask.
The tears were starting to cloud your vision and you tried not to let your voice crack. You didn’t want Cara to think you were trying to manipulate her.
But your Mandalorian was dying behind her.
“I promise,” you say, and she finally lowers your blaster.
“Thank you,” you respond, letting a breath out of your mouth as you do it, and you run to kneel beside Mando.
Of all the pain you’ve experienced in your life, you had learned a lot about it. You had learned that you personally deal better with pain when you have something to squeeze in your hand, like a pillow or the arm of a chair. You’ve learned that there are people in the world who enjoy making others feel pain, and no matter how many times you try, you just can’t understand why. You’ve learned that bacta shots work wonders for physical pain, but mental pain is almost impossible to numb.
But worse of all, you’ve learned that watching people you care for in pain is the worst pain in the world.
And this one hurt.
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@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic
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avengerscompound · 4 years ago
Text
Small Gods: Patience - 1
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Patience:  A Black Widow Fanfic
Patience Masterlist | More Small Gods
Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader
Rating: E
Word Count:  1611
Warnings: Language, guns, (smut, angst, and canon typical violence on series)
Synopsis: Every day Natasha prays for more patience to deal with a litany of things from waiting for her target to make a move - to not yelling at Clint for putting empty milk containers back in the fridge.
When her prayers are answered, Natasha finds that having patience is easy, holding on to it is a little harder.
A/N: Reader is a minor god.
IF YOU WISH TO BE TAGGED IN THE REMAINDER OF THIS SERIES, EITHER ADD YOURSELF TO THE TAGLIST OR SEND ME A MESSAGE
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Chapter 1
Natasha stood on the edge of the building watching the chaos break out below her.  The team was supposed to be infiltrating a new underground crime group to figure out where a drop-off was happening.  They’d had men on a street corner no one had managed to clock, and it had just happened to be the one Steve was observing, and they’d spotted him.  That had made the whole crew antsy and then they’d wanted to change locations for the meet.  That had meant a sudden scramble to relocate everyone, so they could keep monitoring the situation.  Tony had nearly been spotted as they did and ended up having to leave the area completely so it looked like another normal New York City Iron Man sighting.  To top that off, Sharon’s comms had just stopped working completely and so no one had any idea what the group was actually saying.  It had been a series of fuck-ups and she knew she would have to get down into the mess soon the way things were going, but she was waiting to see if Clint could salvage it as he bumbled along the street acting stupid so that he could ‘accidentally bumped into his old friends Sharon’ and get some ears back on the scene.
“God, grant me patience,” she sighed.  It was a prayer that had become commonplace for her.  She’d use it when she was on an undercover mission where she had to pretend to be much less intelligent than she was.  She used it when she helped patch up Clint’s cuts after he’d spent a whole day being incredibly agile and dexterous, only to trip over his doormat and land face-first into a cactus he didn’t even know he owned.  She used it when Tony went on one of his rambling stories that she already knew.  She used it when she had to watch Steve jump off yet another stupidly high point for no reason other than he had to be their first.
“I’m not sure, Natalia,” a voice coming from way too closer said.  “I’m not sure that’s what you actually want.”
She spun around, quickly assuming a defensive position.  You stood at the corner of the building, completely relaxed.  You had dark sunglasses on and what looked like a faux leather jacket and large black boots.  You were leaning against the wall slightly and twirling a lollipop in your mouth, and despite the fact that on just about anyone else she’d think they were trying too hard, you seemed effortlessly cool.
“Who are you?”  Natasha snarled.
“Patience,” you said simply.
“Don’t tell me to be patient when you’ve just snuck up on me in the middle of a mission.  Tell me what you want, or I’ll send that piece of candy through the back of your throat.”
You laughed and held up your hands. “Okay, killer,” you teased.  “Relax.  I wasn’t telling you what to do.  I was saying that’s who I am.”
Natasha quirked her eyebrow at you.  “So your name is Patience, and you sit around waiting for people to pray for patience and you pop out thinking it’s a funny joke?  You know how close to death you just came right now?  I’m in the middle of something.  Go away before you get someone hurt.”
Natasha spun back to look down at Sharon who was now talking to Clint.  She saw the quick sleight of hand as they exchanged mic packs.
“Patience isn’t my name,” you laughed.
Natasha rolled her eyes, hoping to cling on to the last remaining patience she had rather than breaking your neck. That would just lead to a lot of paperwork.  “You said it was.”
“No,” you said, straightening up and reaching into your inner jacket pocket.
Natasha pulled her gun and pointed at you.  “Don’t even think about it.”
You pulled your hand out with a business card pinched between your thumb and index finger.  You raised your hands and flicked the card up so it was held between your index and middle finger.  “I said I was patience,” you said, taking a few steps toward her.  Natasha’s fingers twitched on the trigger finger as she tried to read your intention.  “You’ve been praying to me a lot lately.  I thought I’d show up.  But - you’re obviously not ready yet.”  You offered the card to Natasha and she took it without taking her eyes off you.  “Now… count to two hundred, and then go down the fire escape.  Agent Carter will be fine until then, and that will get you there exactly when you need to be.”
“What?”  Natasha asked, now completely confused.
“Just a suggestion,” you answered and casually strode off to the stairwell, leaving Natasha alone on the roof, completely perplexed over what had just happened.  She looked down at the business card.  Embossed in gold on the glossy black card were your name, address, and phone number.  There was no mention of a job or business or even the word patience that you had kept bringing up.
Natasha furrowed her brow and tucked the card into her pocket.  She wasn’t a trusting person by nature, but she had enough experience with magic to know not to completely ignore what you said.  She counted to two hundred as she paid close attention to what was happening in the street.  As she carefully made her way down to the fire escape, there was a commotion and Sharon drew her gun.  People scattered as a large van pulled up and armed men spilled out.
Natasha cursed under her breath as the street broke out in utter chaos.
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“How did you even get there so fast?”  Sharon asked.
Thanks to your warning, Natasha had gotten there at the perfect time to take out most of the gunmen before they’d even shouldered their weapons.  In the end, while the plan hadn’t exactly gone how everyone had wanted it, and they still needed to actually find where they were operating from, they had made a lot of arrests, and thanks to Natasha, lots of innocent lives had been saved from being caught in the crossfire.
“There was this woman…”  Natasha started, not quite sure how to explain your strange appearance and departure from the rooftop.
“Oohhh…” Clint teased.  “Nat got the hots for some hot Chiquita.”
“Gross, Clint,” Natasha snarked.  “Don’t be a letch.”  Clint held up his hands in surrender and Natasha let out a long breath.  “It was weird though.”
“How was it weird?”  Steve said, sitting forward in his chair.  “Anything we need to worry about?”
Natasha shrugged.  “I don’t know - maybe,” she said.  “She said she was patience.”
Clint snorted.  “You definitely need to find her then,” he teased. Natasha swatted him on the back of the head.  “See,” he complained, rubbing his head.
“So her name was Patience?”  Steve said, opening up a drop-down screen above the coffee table.  “FRIDAY, do we have any record of a Patience as a member of any known criminal organizations.”
“Her name wasn’t Patience,” Natasha said, pulling the card out of her pocket and handing it to Steve.  “She said she was patience.”
“What does that mean?”  Steve asked, typing the details into the computer.
Natasha shrugged.  “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Tony chuckled.  “I like the idea of anthropomorphic adjectives walking around.”
“Patience is a noun, Tony,” Bruce scolded.  “And so is Tony.”
“You know what I mean,” Tony said, waving his hands around.  “You can feel patient, you can’t feel Tony.”  He paused for a moment.  “Not unless you asked nicely.”
“Maybe she’s some kind of god,” Clint said.  Everyone turned to him and Natasha raised her eyebrow.  Sometimes Clint would say things that were so simple and so profoundly intelligent that she wasn’t sure if he just blindly stumbled into the answer or he was an actual genius.
“Is that a thing?”  Sam asked.  “Just random gods of emotions?”
Natasha shrugged.  “I have no idea.  It’s a pity Thor isn’t here, we could ask him.  But she did say I’d been praying to her.”
Clint snorted.  “Sounds about right.”
“But Thor’s not a real god, is he?”  Steve said.  “Wasn’t the theory that he’s just an alien that lives a long time and humans just decided he was a god?”
“The dude makes lightning, Cap,” Sam teased.  “Maybe he’s not the only place it comes from, but he can definitely create it and control it.  Why can’t there be the equivalent for something like patience.”
Clint snatched the card from Steve and shoved it into Natasha’s hands.  “I say you call her.”
“You just want Nat to stop smacking you on the back of the head,” Bucky snorted.
“No, I want to see my best friend get laid,” Clint said, folding his arms across his broad chest.  “I bet someone who can command patience would be great at sex.”
“And…?”  Bucky pressed.
“And I don’t want to get clocked on the back of the head anymore,” Clint muttered.
Everyone laughed and Natasha looked down at the card, spinning it around in her hand.
“You look like you’re considering it, Red,” Tony mused.  “What was she like?”
“Cryptic,” Natasha replied.  “Cool.”
“Was she hot?”  Clint asked.
“I think so,” Natasha said.
“So call her,” Sharon shrugged.  “She helped me out.  She can’t be all that bad.”
Natasha nodded.  “At the very least I might get some answers.”
“And who knows, Nat,” Clint said.  “Maybe she’ll be able to teach you a trick or two.”
Natasha bit the inside of her cheek trying not to laugh, and wishing she had a little bit of that patience right now.
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// NEXT
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marauderundercover · 3 years ago
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Taking Chances Ch. 11: Blast from the Past (Siblings)
AO3
Prev
Swinging side by side with her father was an amazing experience. Marinette tried hard to stifle her laughter, figuring Batman wouldn’t appreciate it if word got around that the newest vigilante was a giggler. He swings to the next roof and pauses, Marinette frowning as he listens to something on his comm.
“Alright. All hands on deck. Robin, you’ll stay on the roof with Ladybird.” He instructs, Marinette frowns. Was he really sticking her younger brother on babysitting duty? And why couldn’t she go wherever it is he’s going?
“What’s happening?” She asks, crossing her arms.
“There are several crates of weapons and a few dozen armed men in a warehouse a mile out from here. You and Robin are going to stay on the roof to make sure no one leaves before the police arrive.” He instructs before turning and grappling away. Marinette frowns, but follows behind him. Does he really not think that she can handle herself? And she knows this is going to cause problems with Damian. He already doesn’t like her and now he has to stay with her. She watches as he swoops down into the warehouse and she lands silently on the roof.
“I do not appreciate this.” Robin says, stepping out of the shadows with crossed arms. Although she can’t see his eyes behind his mask, Marinette knows he’s glaring at her. She just rolls her eyes.
“I don’t either. I don’t need someone watching me 24/7. I can take care of myself.” She says, and with a sudden jolt, she realizes this is the first time he’s willingly speaking to her. The first time they’re talking and it’s to argue. Lovely.
“If you had simply stayed away, then I would have been allowed to follow Father. Instead, I am being punished for your insolence.” He adds. Is he going to lecture her the entire time Batman and the others are fighting in the warehouse, she thinks, raising an eyebrow. She starts to snark back, but a shadow moving behind him pulls her attention instead. Narrowing her eyes, she watches as a figure steps out of the shadow, a gun raised at her.
“Well well well. What do we have here?” The man asks, a smirk on his face. Marinette glances at Robin, trying to see if he recognizes the voice. She doesn’t see any recognition, so she immediately catalogues the man as an unknown threat. Chances were that he was involved with the group currently fighting in the warehouse and not an actual Batman level villain. But he still had a gun, so she wouldn’t underestimate him. Robin turns to face the man and he immediately takes the gun off Marinette, pointing it instead at Robin’s head. Marinette narrows her eyes. She may not know him very well, but he was still her little brother. And she wasn’t about to let some stupid goon threaten him. Flicking her wrist, she aims her yoyo at the man’s gun, smirking as she manages to yank it from his grasp. She catches the gun as it flies back with her yoyo, holding it carefully and trying to ignore the internal panic. She’d never held a gun before, never wanted to or had a reason to. And she really didn’t want to hold it now, but she didn’t want the man to know that she was scared of the gun, because that would give him an advantage. She just grins at the dumbfounded look on the man’s face, his shock enough so that Robin was able to knock him down without a fight. He pulls a zip tie out of his utility belt and ties the man’s hands together.
“Well that was disappointing. I was hoping for more of a fight.” Marinette teases, hoping that the tension between her and Robin would break. She watches as his lips purse slightly, not sure what the expression meant.
“I hardly think one buffoon with a gun would be much of a fight for either of us.” He finally says, and her eyes light up. Success!
“But if it was the right foe, they could surely take you down.” A new voice says, and this time Marinette can practically feel the tension rolling off of Robin.
“Slade.” He says, obviously tensing for a fight.
“Damian. I wasn’t aware you were in possession of a Miraculous.” The man, Slade, says, turning towards her. Marinette stiffens, uncomfortable by both his words and the fact that she can’t see the man’s face because of his costume.
“I’m not in possession of anything.” He says, his jaw clenched. Marinette shifts into a defensive position, desperately wishing that she had a comm. Surely the rest of the family had heard this man’s intrusion through Robin. But she wished she could hear them. Whether it was giving information about the man or reassurance that the rest of them would be there soon, she wanted to hear them.
“Tell me, little girl, how did you stumble upon one of the most powerful pieces of magic in the universe? And why haven’t I met you before?” He asks, stepping towards them. Glaring at the man, Marinette steps forward so that she’s standing in line with Robin, unwilling to cower behind her brother.
“I don’t think we run in the same circles. And I assure you, I didn’t stumble across anything. I was chosen to wield this Miraculous.” She says, shoving false confidence in her tone when all she wanted was to grab Robin and run. Slade oozed a sense of wrongness and danger. Not a combination she wanted anywhere near her or her family.
“Mmm. Perhaps not. But we’ll never know, will we. I’m going to have to ask you for that Miraculous now, dear.” He says, her eyes narrow.
“I’m not sure if that’s worked for you in the past, but it’s not going to work today. You’re not the first creep in a mask asking for my Miraculous.” She snarks, hand twitching as she analyzes him and tries to come up with a plan. Without any warning, he lunges towards them, a sword suddenly in his grasp. Marinette jumps back, going on the defense as Robin lunges forward with his own katana. Marinette flits around both of them, throwing her yoyo at Slade every time he got too close to Robin. It was obvious the man was well trained, and it was also obvious that he had little patience for the two.
“You’ve improved, but you’re still not good enough.” He hisses, lunging towards Robin, his sword aimed at the boy’s chest. Marinette lunges towards them, shoving Robin out of the way. She shrieks in pain as Slade slides his sword into her shoulder. She can’t see the man’s face, but she can just imagine his smirk. He puts his other hand on his sword, and she just knows he’s going to twist. She can’t let that happen. So instead, she jerks back, screaming as she pulls herself off the sword. Robin launches himself at Slade once again, furiously slashing at the man. Slade lifts his sword up and Marinette flicks out her yoyo, grunting in pain as she irritates her shoulder. But she’s able to wrap her yoyo around the man’s wrist. Smirking, she tugs roughly, pulling the man off balance enough so that Robin can disarm him. Just as she lets her shoulders relax, Slade yanks his arm, tugging her to him. She yelps in pain as he wraps her into a chokehold. Staring at Robin, she tries not to panic. They’re gonna come for them, right? The rest of her family? Surely they’ve beaten those goons by now. They definitely heard the problem on the roof through Robin’s comm, right?
“Unhand her.” Robin says, shifting his position now that he has two swords.
“I don’t think I will. Not for free, anyway. You want her alive for some reason.” Slade says, tightening his hold. Marinette lets out a choked breath, desperately trying to pull in enough oxygen.
“What do you want?” Robin asks, Marinette tries to shake her head, already guessing what the man wants. She’d rather die than give some psycho the power of Tikki. Not only could he destroy the world, but Paris would also be lost without the Miraculous Cure.
“Her earrings. Let me take them, and I’ll let her live….this time.” He says.
“No….don’t...not..worth it.” Marinette manages to say, just barely able to shake her head. She gags as Slade tightens his grip again, black spots dotting her vision.
“Ladybird-” Robin says, and Marinette is certain she’s hallucinating now. Because he almost sounds pained.
“Don’t.” She begs, fighting to stay conscious. As she watches him, she sees a smirk make its way onto his face. That’s good. Good. Smirking brother means….what does it mean? She’s not sure. All she knows is that suddenly, the pressure on her neck is gone. She falls to her knees, gasping for breath and wincing at the burning in her shoulder. Too much. Too much all at once. A hand on her good shoulder shakes her from her thoughts and she weakly hits at it.
“Ladybird, it’s me.” A voice says. She blinks, opening her eyes, wincing at the pain enveloping her. Looking closer at the figure, she sighs in relief, letting herself slump down. She’s safe. Arms pick her up gently and she smiles softly, tiredness hitting her as the adrenaline finally fades. Curling in closer, she mumbles into Batman’s chest.
“Thanks dad.”
---
Bruce Wayne was pissed. And the only person who could piss him off so much was himself. He’d left Damian and Marinette on the roof alone because he thought they’d be safer. He didn’t think the two would be able to get into any trouble up there. Of course he would be wrong. Of course Slade Wilson would choose tonight to come after Damian. And of course the man just had to know about the Miraculous.
Hearing his daughter’s pained screams over his son’s comm would haunt his nightmares. It’d likely become the unholy symphony over the images of Jason’s broken body and Damian’s limp form. Images that’d haunted him for years and would continue to do so until he dies. When he was young, his nightmares were just of his parents. But he had seen things much worse since becoming a father. And now he’d heard much worse. Shaking his head, he tries hard to hold onto the one bright part of the evening.
Marinette had called him dad.
It was the first time she’d called him anything other than ‘Mr. Wayne’. His heart warmed at the thought, but everything came crashing down again when he remembered. Slade Wilson was gone. He’d managed to get away while his focus was on Marinette’s wellbeing. Which means his daughter was now in even more danger. Damian had informed him of the man’s obsession with the Miraculous. It was something they’d need to talk about, but not tonight. After she passed out in his arms, he brought her back to the manor. Alfred stitched her shoulder, and Bruce brought her to her room. It wasn’t decorated yet, but he’d made sure to pick out a room for her after finding out about her. Even if she didn’t want anything to do with them after this, she’d always have a room here.
Sighing, Bruce sticks his head into Marinette’s room, just to reassure himself that she was there. That she was safe. It was something he did with each of his kids, every time they were injured. Every time he was afraid that he would lose them. The sight in front of him makes him pause and pull out his phone to take a picture. They might be mad at him for it later, but he’d curse himself forever if he let this moment slip away. All of his children were piled in Marinette’s room. The girl herself was on the bed, curled into a ball despite her injured shoulder. At the foot of her bed was Damian, his face peaceful for once. Jason, Dick and Tim were all in a pile on the floor, pillows and blankets scattered both beneath them and on top of them. They were an impossibly tangled pile of limbs, guarding their youngest sister. He smiles softly, eyes finally falling on Cass curled up in an armchair that she must’ve pulled next to Marinette’s bed. Satisfied that all were well, Bruce shuts the door gently, not wanting to risk waking any of them.
His children were together, and safe. For now.
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1-800-gaygentsofshield · 4 years ago
Text
not her choice, part 2 | n.r.
part 2, part 1 here
summary: y/n and natasha will do anything for love, whether they realize it or not
warnings: nsfw themes, angst, brainwashing, violence, kidnapping, y/n and nat making dramatic calls, injury, basically "fuck" in different contexts
word count: 7,354
(sorry this is long I didn't want to split it up into more parts, not proofread as always)
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(ALSO SIDE NOTE LOOK AT HER HANDS MY LESBIANISM IS FUCKING SCREAMING)
"You're pulling your punches." The man in stars, you now know as steve rogers, says as he stands across from you, nose bloody and shield in hand. You raise an eyebrow being your mask, as if asking him "You want me to stop?" After a pause, he nods his head and gets back into a fighting stance. "Please, continue."
Ever since that little..ahem..incident with Natasha, she's been telling you to not hurt her teammates, even though most of them have superpowers you might add, so you've been pulling your punches in fights ever since. You still beat their asses it was just..a lighter beating. You were treading in dangerous waters here, knowing that if Hydra suspects you even in the slightest bit they'll bring you back to the lab and wipe your mind again.
You dodge a swing from Steves shield and quickly knock him off balance, playing more defense than offense at this point. The Avenger quickly regains his traction and charges at you, tackling you to the ground so that the wind gets knocked out of you. You, as best as you can, try to dodge his punches on the ground, genuinely surprised when the asphalt underneath you sinks in with his punch. When his fist sinks into the ground once more, you grab his torso and use your legs to shove him off of you, landing a punch in that all-American boy face of his once you get on top of him. Instead of beating the man bloody like you would usually do, you shove yourself up and move away from him, trying to spot Natasha in all the chaos.
Your search stops when you hear Natasha's voice from behind you, her words being accompanied with a punch. "Hey." The punch isn't enough to hurt you but its enough to grab your attention as you turn around and grab her arm. Your grip is firm but not uncomfortable, letting Nat know that they hadn't brainwashed you yet. "Hey." You reply back, throwing a punch that she easily blocked. "You still with me?" She asks as her hand grabbing your wrist twists it back. "I let the guy with the metal arm beat me up twice, what do you think?" You say as you hit her stomach to make her stumble back.
The hits are hard but not fatal as Natasha moves to kick you in the stomach, you easily grabbing her leg and pulling her down to the ground. You land on top of her and you grin, "You've gotten soft, Romanoff." You tease in a breathy laugh as you see her quirk an eyebrow up. "Don't pretend like I can't kick your ass with my eyes closed, y/l/n." She says as she quickly shifts her weight and pins you down, an amused look on her face. "How come you always end up on your back when I'm with you?" She asks and you roll your eyes, scoffing but also realizing how true she is. Before you can reply there's comm's static in your ears, a Hydra officer barking the command to move out.
"I've got to go." You say as Nat gets off of you, hopping back up and making sure you've got your gun in it's holster. "Where will you be tonight?" Natasha asks as you fix yourself, her statement causing you to shoot her a teasing look under your mask. "You'll find me Romanoff." And with that, you turn and leave, not needing to look back to see the amused look on the red-heads face.
--------
"Couldn't find any more shitty hotels?" Natasha asks as she sees you standing behind a run-down gas station, chewing on some gum that you bought with the change you found on the sidewalk. "They were all booked." You shrugged, lips turning up a bit at the sight of your favorite person. "Mm, come here." Natasha hums as she reaches you, gently pulling you in by your chin to kiss you.
These secret meetings have been happening for a while now, being both beneficial to the two of you and the Avengers.
You immediately told Natasha about Hydra's plan about building the next atomic weapon soon after her head came up from between your thighs, the redhead listening intently as you spill all of Hydra's intel. That's when she told you about them, the Avengers, and how they protect the world from Hydra and otherworldly threats. She said she might introduce you to them sometime, saying that the people there don't see others for their worst mistakes.
At that point in time though, you didn't care what side you were on, as long as Natasha was there you would fight alongside her. That's how it was like for your entire life, not caring about the sides of good or evil, only ever caring about Natasha and keeping her safe.
You wince at her action and she pulls back immediately, a concerned look on her face as she looks for the cause of your pain. It's then when she sees the blossoming bruise on your jaw, right where her fingertips grazed when she pulled you in. "Who did this?" She asked and you shrug, reaching up to touch the purple and red spot. "The guy with the metal arm, it really packs a punch." You reply as you see the worry lines deepen between her brows, causing you to cup her neck and pull her in for a soft kiss. "I'm alright Nat." You whisper, kissing her a few more times before leaning back. "I've gone through worse." You say and she frowns, intertwining her free hand with yours as cars pass by. "Haven't we all." Nat sighs and you nod, running your thumb along the back of her hand.
-------
"Fuck! Tasha!"
You grip the back of the headboard as Natasha brings you to another orgasm, knuckle deep inside of you as she kisses your chest lustfully. "That's it, good girl." The redhead hums as your chest rises and falls, you trying to catch your breath as Natasha's fingers start to gradually slow down. Cum coats your inner thighs and sweat sheens your skin in regards to the many times Natasha has made you cum in the past few hours, finally deciding that you've had enough when she fully pulls her fingers out.
"God you have a lot of stamana." You laugh as your breathing finally calms down, moving your hand to pull her into a deep kiss. "I still have a lot more in me, y'know." Natasha hums as she moves to kiss your jaw, trailing it down your neck as she peppers kisses along the flushed skin. "I know just- just give me a minute." You breaths out as you let your eyes fluttered closed, liking the feeling of Natasha laying between your legs as she praises your skin.
It's not long after when your arousal starts to build again, deciding to take the initiative by gently bringing Nat's lips up to yours. "Natalia." You say breathily, your free hand intertwining with Natasha's hair. "Zachem tebe moy golub'?" She asks, heat pooling in her stomach as she feels you tug at her roots. "Ya tak khochu tebya trakhnut', Tasha." Your tone is filled with lust as you kiss Nat deeper, teeth tugging at lips and tongues meeting one another. "Mm bud' moim gostem." She hums and you grin, flipping Natasha over so she's on her back. You look at her for a second and smile, causing her to give you a curious look. "What are you looking at?" She asks with a small smile and you shrug, "You." You hum before kissing her, your teeth tugging at her bottom lip as your hands move down south.
"My god you're cheesy."
-------
"Nat, wait up." Steve catches up with Natasha as she's walking down the compound hallway, the assassin slowing down her stride as the super-soldier gets in step with her. That little action is enough to tell Steve to continue, taking a moment to contemplate his words before speaking. "So..y/n." He starts off slow to see Natashas reaction, deciding that it was okay when the redhead kept a straight face.
"What about her?" She asks and Steve purses his lips together, thinking for a moment before grabbing Nat by the arm and pulling her into a storage closet. "What the hell, Rogers?" Nat asks as Steve closes the door behind them, his voice going down to a whisper as he speaks.
"I know you've been seeing her, Tasha." He starts off and Nat only furrows her brows, looking up annoyedly at the man. "I don't know what you're talking about." She says and he raises his eyebrow. "You're not being discrete Nat. I've seen you fight before and what you do with her is not it. You've knocked down people twice your size before but let her fight you like it's some sparring session." Steve says and Natasha opens her mouth to interject. "She's trained with me in the Red Room, of course she's going to be on my level-" "And that too. After every encounter we have with them you disappear for the evening, usually not arriving until 3 am with Hydra information given to you by your "inside source."" He finishes and Natasha sighs, knowing that she's been caught.
"Okay fine, you want to know the truth?" She asks in a low voice and he nods his head, waiting for Natasha to give her explanation. "I've been- fuck- I've been meeting with her after missions. She used to be brainwashed by Hydra but she broke out of it, hence the reason she's giving me information on Hydra's plans." She says and he stays quiet, the puzzle pieces clicking together as Natasha continues. "I've missed her, Steve, after all these years so I go to make sure she's okay and..other things." Her sentence trails off as she doesn't want to reveal her sex life to her best friend.
"Other things?" Cap raises his eyebrow and Tasha rolls her eyes. "We..comfort each other in not safe for work ways." She says and Steve looks confused for a moment before his mouth opens in a soft "oh- ohhh." "Just please don't tell the team, Steve. You out of all people should understand what it's like to have someone you..care about..taken by Hydra." Nat says and Steve's face softens, a gentle sigh escaping his lips before a grin breaks across it.
"Is this love, Agent Romanoff?" He asks and she shakes her head, stepping back to grab the door handle. "Love is for children, Rodgers, this is just.." She pauses, trying to find the correct word for the situation that she's in. "Comfort?" He offers and she nods her head, opening the door fully. "Comfort."
------
You watch Natasha with curious eyes as she towel dries her hair, you only being dressed in underwear and a bra as you lay stomach-down on the bed. It had been a particularly hard fight that day, Hydra pushing to take bigger strides in their next big war machines. The Avengers, of course, came in and tried to stop them and they conveniently broke into the base that you were being held at.
You were there being punished for your recent behavior, Hydra officers treating you like an animal as they kicked and hit you. "It needs to be put back into it's place." They practically spat at you like you were some sort of monster, threatening you with knifes to your throat as they criticized every breath you took. The next time they send you into the lab, you know you're going to get brainwashed, waiting for the scale to tip as you sat there helplessly watching. You just found Natasha after years of suffering and you weren't too keen on forgetting her.
A soft hand against your back pulls you back into reality as you see where Natasha's soft gaze is looking at, her fingertips gently tracing the scars along your back. "What are you looking at?" You ask even though it's pretty obvious, Natasha's emerald eyes meeting yours. "Who did this to you?" She asks with furrowed brows and you shrug one shoulder. "You want me to give you a list?" You joke half-heartedly as she moves across the bed, gently straddling your back as you feel her fingertips map out your scars. The feeling makes you hum contently, your eyes fluttering closed as Natasha touches you like the most delicate thing in the world.
Nat has never been the soft type, choosing to show her love through reassuring shoulder pats and quiet comfort instead of gushy romantic acts. That's why it genuinely surprises you when you feel a soft kiss placed on your back, right where a stab wound was a few years ago. "I'm gonna kill every single one of them." She mumbles and you can't help the laugh that escapes your lips, your head turning to look over your shoulder. "I know." You hum, a feeling of déjà vu washing over you.
------
"Kto sdelal eto s toboy?"
Who did this to you?
Natasha's voice is clipped as she holds your chin with her fingers, seeing you try and blink back the tears that threaten to fall. Your nose is bruised and bleeding, the skin under your eyes starting to turn purple and red.
"Anastasiya."
Your voice is barely above a whisper as rage burns in Natasha's eyes. Anastasiya is one of the older girls in the Red Room, almost four years older than you and a good five heads taller. You had beaten her when you were sparring but as soon as no one else was looking she got you cornered, making the other girls her age hold you down as she took out her rage on you.
"Ona bol'she nikogda ne prikosnetsya k tebe, kogda ya zakonchu s ney."
She will never touch you again when I'm done with her.
You know that tone on Natasha, knowing that Anastasiya is going to have more than one bend in her arm when Natasha gets done with her.
"Nat, ne nado. U tebya budut problemy, i ya spravlyus' sam."
Nat, don't. You're going to get in trouble and I can handle myself.
Natasha's face softens a bit as she looks at you, her other hand coming up to rub your shoulder.
"YA znayu, pauchok, no pozvol' mne napomnit' yey."
I know, little spider, but let me give her a reminder.
-------
"But-" You start and she nods her head. "But you can handle yourself, I know." Natasha says, moving up a bit to kiss your shoulder. “No, what I was going to say was that they all died shortly after.” You say and she laughs softly against your skin, mumbling a “good girl” as she goes to kiss your cheek. Her lips conveniently land on the scar she gave you all those years ago, the thin line going along your cheekbone.
"That, you did yourself." You say teasingly but you can see her face drop a bit, her lips peppering over the scarred skin. "I'm sorry." She whispers but you shake your head, turning under her so you can face her. "It's okay Nat, we were young and they forced us to train with knives. Shit happens." You say nonchalantly, hands playing with the hem of her tank top. It's then when you see the scars on Natasha's skin, bullet wounds and cuts littering her skin. She notices your gaze and moves her hand down to hold yours, seeing your brows furrow.
You glance up at Natasha and feel your chest tighten as you see her look down at your intertwined hands, her thumb gently brushing up and down the back of your hand. "Your hands have changed." Natasha states under her breath as she glances up at you briefly, seeing you raise an eyebrow in question. "What do you mean?" You ask and Natasha holds your intertwined hands up.
"See, there's more scars on your knuckles and there's a new cut right here." She says and you nod your head, not really noticing the changes until now. "The last time I saw you, they were so much different." She mumbles and you raise an eyebrow, a slightly amused look on your face. "Since when have you paid so much attention to my hands?" You ask and she shrugs, your heart rate speeding up as you watch Natasha's fingers play with your own.
--------
"YA skazal tebe, chto u tebya budut problemy."
I told you that you'd get in trouble.
You hum as you gently grab Natasha's bruised hands, taking a ripped piece of cloth to clean up her bleeding knuckles.
"Oni sobiralis' rasskazat' o nas instruktoram."
They were going to tell the instructors about us.
Natasha winces as you wrap up her hands, carefully making sure that it isn't too tight as you tend to her injury.
"My mogli by spravit'sya s etim, Nat."
We could have handled it, Nat.
You sigh and Natasha shakes her head, her free hand moving to rest on her knee.
"No oni by nas nakazali."
But they would have punished us.
You nod your head and bite your lip, looking up into those green eyes as you hold her hand gently in your own.
"YA mog by prinyat' eto za nas oboikh."
I could have taken it for the both of us.
Natahsa's eyebrows furrow as she hears your words, her bandaged hand coming up to cup your cheek as the other grabs your free hand.
"Net."
No.
She gently brings your hand up to kiss your knuckles lightly.
"Net, ya ne pozvolyu tebe sdelat' eto dlya menya."
No, I won't let you do that for me.
You slowly move your hand to cup her cheek, Natasha's hand moving to cover your own.
"YA by vzyal na sebya mir za tebya, Natal'ya."
I would take on the world for you, Natalia.
Your words are a whisper but to Natasha, it was like a shout from the rooftops. The redhead slowly moves and kisses your hand that was resting on her cheek, causing a blush to dust your cheeks as she softly smiles at you.
"I ya dlya vas."
And I for you.
------------
Gently guiding her hand to cup your cheek, the both of you smile, you leaning into the warm touch as Natasha relishes the moment.
---------
You awake with a jolt as you hear heavy doors close outside of the motel room, it now being in the dead of night. Slowly moving from Natasha's arms, you go take a look outside, hoping to see that there's nothing. Your hopes are shattered when through the window, you can see the faint outline of a Hydra vehicle and multiple armed men, your heartrate spiking as you see the ones in white coats. "Shit." You hiss out as you start to pull clothes on, all of the rustling causing Natasha to awake. "Y/n?" She asks groggily as she sees you frantically moving around the room, hastily putting a shirt on and trying to find your weapon.
"Y/n what's happening?" She restates herself and is fully awake when you finally make eye contact with her, seeing the worry behind your eyes as you move towards her. "Nat, they're here." You rush out as you hand her some clothes, frantically trying to get the redhead out of here before she could get involved. "Whose here? Hydra?" She questions and you nod your head, feeling the bridge of your nose start to sting as reality comes crashing down on you. "They're here for me- shit- you have to go." You say as you try and pull yourself together.
"What? No, Y/n, I'm not leaving you again." Natasha says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, pulling on some clothes and shoes. "Natalia this isn't fucking debatable, okay? I won't ever forgive myself if they get their hands on you." You say as you glance out the window one more time, mumbling a curse word as you start to see the figures close in. "Why are you acting like I can't handle myself?" Nat asks and you shake your head, opening a window opposite to the parking lot.
"I know you can handle yourself Nat, I've seen you fight hoards of threats and make your way out alive..I just don't want to pull you into this fight with me." You say before crossing the room and standing in front of Nat. "You've been the only thing I've cared about my entire life, please understand why I want you safe." Your voice is softer as you speak to her, her green eyes still prominent in the moonlit room. "What about you?" Nat asks in a whisper, a worried expression set across her face as you give her a watery grin.
"You know I never die, Natalia." You say as she shakes her head. "I'm like a cat and my lives haven't run out just yet." You continue and a laugh breaks past Nat's lips, causing you to smile even as a tear runs down your cheeks. "There it is." You breathe out and she looks at you questioningly. "What is it?" She asks. "I just wanted to see your smile one last time." You reply as you kiss a tear from her cheek, Natasha then moving to gently kiss your lips. The kiss is soft and passionate, you both trying to communicate to each other a message you both aren't ready to say yet.
Sooner than you'd like, the two of you break away, both of you giving the other a watery smile as you sniffle. "I'll come back to you, Nat. I promise." You whisper and she nods her head, gently kissing your temple as your eyes flutter closed. "You better, or else I'll beat your ass." She says and you give a shaky chuckle, hearing the Hydra men starting to kick down apartment doors. "I'm planning on it."
Hydra doesn't take long to storm the motel room, quickly seizing you before you had a chance to react. You were happy to comply with them until you saw them grab Natasha's arm, you immediately tearing from the Hydra agent's grip to tackle his ass. You successfully break his arm but aren't so lucky when you feel a wave of electricity shoot through your body, every muscle tensing up as you fall to the floor. "Fuck." You curse through gritted teeth as you force yourself to get up, looking at Natasha with desperate eyes as she hasn't left yet.
"Go!"
As the words leave your lips, both of you could almost see each other back on that mountainside, the dead bodies of the other girls littered around you as you kill another one for Natasha to escape. It felt like you were a teenager again, seeing Natasha teeter between staying and leaving as she stood at the treeline. A grunt of pain leaves your lips as one of the men shoves you into a desk, the wood breaking underneath you as air rushes out of your lungs. You've only taken down a few men, stabbing one of them in the throat with their own knife. As they start to overwhelm you, you take one last look at Natasha, seeing as she's taking one last glance at you as her hands rest on the window frame. As you lock eyes with her, you say one simple phrase.
"It's okay."
-------
Natasha isn't paying attention at all in the meeting the next day, not getting the image of your worried look out of her mind. “Romanoff, did you hear me?” Tony asks and her eyes glance upwards, the other Avengers looking at her as they await her answer. “Sorry, what?” She asks and Tony sighs, pointing towards a highlighted point in the mountainside. "From the information we've gathered, Bruce surmises that the next Hydra base is here, the building located about thirty feet below the surface." He explains and Natasha nods her head, her attention immediately being drawn when the word Hydra slips past his lips. "I was asking your opinion on how we should enter the compound without getting caught." Tony finishes, waiting for Natasha to give her input as he sees the gears turning in her head.
"It's the compound that they use for their experiments, right?" She asks and Steve nods his head, Nat sighing as she looks at the dot on the map. "Well considering that it's underground they only need security for the entrances and exits, probably have a few patrolling the perimeter..I think our best entry point is here." She says, standing up and pressing a pen to the western side of the mountain. "Of course, we always have the risk of getting caught but it's lower than just walking through the front door." Natasha explains and all of the Avengers nod their head, she's not a trained soldier but she's a damn good spy if they've ever seen one.
------
"Nat, are you alright?" Steve asks after everyone clears out of the conference area, grabbing the assassin's arm before she leaves. "They've got her, Steve." She says and his eyebrows furrow. "Who?" He asks and Natasha sighs, looking up at the super-soldier. "Y/n. They took her last night." She explains and Steve sees the worry on his friend's face. "Do you think she's at the base we're going to?" He asks and Natasha shrugs her shoulders, "I don't know, but if she is there I'm gonna tear up the whole place until I find her." She says and Steve nods, seeing the determination in Nat's eyes. "We'll get her back Natasha." He says and Nat grins a bit, "I know."
-----
It's easy, almost too easy, getting into the Hydra base, Natasha only taking out five guards patrolling the area and guarding the entrance. "This doesn't feel right to me." Steve says as they head towards the entrance, the fresh snow crunching under their boots. "Nothing ever feels right to you, Cap." Hawkeye says as he flys overhead, making sure no Hydra agents get the jump on the pair. Natasha only quirks her head to the side when Steve makes eye contact with her, agreeing with both men as they reach the entrance. Natasha scans the entry card that they swiped off the guard and the door opens, immediately granting them access into the underground base.
-----
"Give her a sedative." One of the doctors commands as you continue to struggle, hitting anything you could reach as they try to strap you onto a stretcher. They've been touring and interrogating you the entire night, bargaining for information instead of brainwashing you.
"We saw that Avenger in the motel, tell us what you know and we won't wipe your memory." They say but you only clench your jaw and stay silent, ripping yourself from their grip each time they try and contain you.
"Don't you fucking touch me!" You grit out as you knock one of the men unconscious, kicking the stretcher away from you as you watch the doctor run to grab a sedative. Your body is covered in blood and bruises, still putting up a fight since you were taken a day ago. Getting shoved up against the wall you cry out in pain, your head getting aggressively slammed against the wall. You don't even realize the doctors came back with a sedative until you feel the prick of the needle in your neck, your vision going blurry as the fight leaves your body.
You don't put up a struggle as they drag you onto the stretcher, strapping your arms and legs down as everything moves in slow motion around you.
You know where they're taking you. You know you're about to get brainwashed.
As they push you down the hallway, you slowly close your eyes and try to burn the image of Natasha's face into your mind, feeling slightly calmer as you think of her wrapping you up in her arms and telling you that everything is going to be okay.
The next time you open your eyes, you're strapped down into the metal chair that they use for brainwashing, feeling like you're a shell of a person as you look down at your restraints. They force a piece of plastic into your mouth as you blankly stare at the doctors in white coats, only one thing on your mind as they prep the machine.
Natasha.
A tear rolls down your cheek quietly as the restraints latch onto you tighter, forcing you to lay back as your breathing starts to get heavier.
It never gets easier, the brainwashing, knowing that you'll only be a puppet to Hydra with no free will.
The metal paddles clamp around your head and your heart rate spikes, hearing the doctors beside you start to say the words you always dreaded to hear.
"Snow."
"Sixteen."
"Red."
With each word, you could feel the control leaving your body, bracing yourself for the pain that's going to come next.
"Ballet."
"Redback."
"Knife."
A scream rips from your throat as pain surges through your body, the machine being activated and making you pull against the restraints. Your vision fades in and out of focus as you continue to scream, every muscle in your body tensing as the brainwashing takes over.
You try your best to fight the pain, your mind trying desperately to hold onto the memory of Natasha as your trigger words reach your ears.
Natasha.
Natasha..
Natasha..?
Natalia?
Natalia..
No, it's Natasha.
Nat?
Natasha.
Natalia.
...
...
who?
Your eyes are blank as the machine finally releases you from its grip, a scientist having a pleased look on his face as he walks up to you. "Just to make sure this doesn't happen again." he says before commanding you to put your head forward, gripping your hair as he presses a cool metal gun to the back of your neck. With a click you could feel something being put into your neck, the new object feeling irritating under your skin. It's a small chip, maybe a quarter wide, and it's now attached to the nape of your neck, the needles embedding into your skin to make sure it stays in place.
"Are you ready to comply, Agent 809?" He asks and you nod your head, suddenly hearing alarms go off that there's been a security breach in the compound. "Say the word, sir, your wish is my command." You say and he grins, grabbing your chin. "Kill the Avengers." He says and you look at him in the eyes. "Main target?" You ask and he thinks for a moment, looking at the Hydra officers before looking back at you. ''The Black Widow."
------
Natasha hears your screams ring through the compound and she feels her blood run cold, Steve grabbing her arm before she could do anything stupid. "Natasha, don't." He says in a harsh whisper and she shakes her head, pulling herself from her grip as she continues to move down the hallway.
She quickly takes down the next few guards that she sees, not using her bullets yet so they don’t cause the rest of the base to be alerted of their presence. That plan doesn’t last long though when a guard gets the upper hand on her, causing her to shoot two bullets into his chest and making him drop. As soon as the shots are fired, alarms go off across the compound, causing Natasha to curse under her breath. “Language.” Steve says and Natasha rolls her eyes, picking up her gun and racing down the hallway to try and find you.
———-
Natasha kicks down a set of double doors and shoots the people inside, scanning the room for any sign of you. They've gone through 95% percent of the compound and haven't found you yet, Natasha getting more and more anxious as time goes on. "I heard her, I swear." She tells Steve each time they clear an area and come up empty.
It isn't until she sees you strapped to the chair that she lets out a breath of relief, you seemingly normal accept for the cuts and bruises. "Y/n, oh god you're okay." She breathes out as she reaches you, seeing the dazed look in your eyes as she undoes your restraints.
"I'm sorry." You whisper out in a last-ditch attempt to warn her before your chip clicks on. "Sorry? You're sorry for what?" Natasha asks but doesn't get a chance to reply before you knock her backwards, tearing out of the remaining restraints as you stand up.
The wind gets knocked out of Natasha and Steve gets into a fighting stance, you not even giving him a glance as you head towards Natasha. Steve quickly intervenes and throws his shield at you, your hand sticking out to grab it before tossing it to the floor. "That's all you've got, Capitan?" You sneer teasingly as you grab a knife from the table, getting a swing on him and clipping him in the cheek.
The super soldier quickly hits back though, kicking you in the stomach and making you stumble back. You quickly grab one of the cords that was attached to a computer and you wrap it around the Avenger's neck, maneuvering yourself so that you're behind him and pulling tight.
Stumbling backwards, he throws himself up against the wall, successfully breaking your grip as you get pinned between the wall and the Avenger. Steve quickly turns and pins you up against the wall by your neck, pulling his fist back to punch you. "Steve!" Natasha hisses out his name harshly and he turns to look at her, temporarily forgetting that you're brainwashed. He groans and tosses you to the floor, seeing the glowing chip on the back of your neck. You quickly get back up and go for Natasha, the redhead dodging your swing and making your fist go through the wall. "Y/n. Stop it." Natasha grits out as she grabs your arm and twists it behind your back, a hiss leaving your lips as you feel your muscles pop.
"Who. the fuck. is y/n?" You spit out as you maneuver yourself around and hit Natasha back, grabbing her throat and tossing her up against the wall. "They want me to kill you, so that's what I'm going to do." You say as you grab a beaker besides you, breaking it to create a shattered edge. You're about to swing the bottle when Steve comes up behind you and hits the back of your neck with his shield (and you swear later on that if he did it any harder your neck would have snapped). A cry of pain leaves your lips as the chip sparks and you stumble forward, your head bowing into Natasha's shoulder as pain surges through your body. Natasha freezes as she sees your shoulder slump, a small whimper of "Natasha." leaving your lips as the chip short circuits. "Y/n?" She asks and she sees your hand come up to grip at the back of your neck, your other hand dropping the shattered beaker. "Nat. The chip." You breathe out as you feel it starting to take hold again, pushing yourself away from her as your mind clouds over again.
"Steve, hit the chip again." Natasha commands and Steve nods his head, watching as your shoulders tense up again as you attack Natasha. She quickly blocks all of your hits and flips you over onto the floor, you quickly gripping onto her arm and pulling her down onto the floor with you.
The chip sparks again and for a second you regain control, scrambling up to the control panel and enabling the emergency demolition program. "What are you doing?" Steve asks and your jaw tenses, shutting all of the Hydra officers inside by locking all the exits except one. "I'm blowing this place up." You mumble, jaw tensing as the chip revs up once again. "I've locked all of them in, if you go to exit c9 that'll be the only one unlocked so you can escape." You say as you lock all of the doors inside of the compound, keeping all of them in place so they can't run.
"What about you?" Natasha asks as she gets up from the floor, looking at the chip flicker on and off. "The chip will take over sooner or later, I'd rather die in this explosion than let them use my body again." You say as you grip the side of the table, everything in your body being split in two with each side fighting to take control. "No you're not, we're getting you out of here." Steve says and it genuinely surprises the both of you, the man in stars grabbing your arm as you slam the button down to activate the explosion.
T-minus: two minutes
"I don't deserve to get out of here." You shake your head as you look at Natasha's neck, now bruised with your handprint as you wince. "I've hurt you, I've hurt her, I've hurt so many people. All of it is on my hands." You say and Natasha shakes her head, grabbing your hand and kissing the back of it gently. "I've left you once, Y/n, I'm not letting you go again." She says and you think for a moment, alarms blaring around you as you see the pleading look on her face. "Alright." You whisper, allowing Natasha to pull you out of the room as Steve follows close behind you.
You run down the hallway as you guide the two other Avengers towards the exit, quickly taking out any Hydra agents that gets in your way.
"There! There it is." You call out as you see exit c9, all three of you running towards it as the speakers count down.
T-minus: thirty seconds
The chip fully kicks back into gear as your eyes widen, your strides slowing down as it feels like someone wraps restraints around your body. "No, no no no. Please not now." You beg to yourself as both Steve and Nat notice, your eyes turning dead as your legs start to carry you away from the exit. "Oh no you don't." Natasha grits out as she tackles you, dragging you towards the exit as you fight against her.
Twenty five..
"Let go of me!" You hiss as you tear from her grip and Steve lingers near the exit, watching the interaction happen as a metal curtain starts to descend over the only open exit. "I'm taking you home, Y/n." Natasha says as she grabs onto your body, Steve moving to keep the door open as he calls the two of you to move.
Nineteen..
"Steve! Go!" Natasha yells out as she drags you towards the exit, blocking each hit you try and swing at her. Steve shakes his head and calls out over the alarms, "I'm not leaving you two!"
Natasha looks at him and shakes her head, being only ten feet from the exit. "Just go! I'm right behind you." She says and Steve reluctantly steps through the exit, the now dented metal sheet continuing to close on the two of you.
fifteen..
fourteen..
"Y/n please, stop fighting me." Natasha begs as you tear out of her grip again, heart-pounding as the alarms fill her head. "Why should I listen to you? You left me. You were everything to me and then you just left me!" You ask harshly as you see the tears in her eyes, Natasha seeing the real you starting to break through. "I didn't want to leave you, Y/n! I'm sorry!" Natasha's voice raises a bit in volume. "I wanted you to come but you were stubborn and stayed behind for me! You stayed behind and when I went back to you..you were already gone." She says and the gears turn in your head. "Then why are you here? Why are you going through so much trouble for me when you have a perfectly good life out there?" You ask, your body still tense as Natasha looks at you with an open mouth. "Because.."
Five..
Four..
"Because.."
Three..
Two..
"Fuck." Natasha doesn't finish her thought as she grabs you and holds you close to her chest, turning you so that your body isn't the closest one to the blast.
One.
The explosion shakes the ground as the two of you get tossed through the air, your body hitting the metal door with a thud. The ground shakes above you as the base comes apart, Steve pulling the metal curtain open and dragging the two of you out into the snow.
Natasha is coughing fiercely as the smoke and dust enters her lungs, gripping onto you for dear life as she feels Steve dragging the two of you out. Your blood stains the snow as Natasha sits up, heart dropping to her stomach as she sees your head loll back limply.
"Shit, Y/n!" She says as she taps on your cheek, blood running down her temple as she checks for signs of life. Your heartbeat is slow and your breathing is labored but you're alive, that final hit allowing the chip to fully break in half on the back of your neck. "It's because I love you, you idiot." Natasha whispers as she gently kisses your temple, Steves's jaw setting as he sees the little interaction.
------
The next time you wake up, you're in a sterile white room, your heart rate spiking as you think you're back in the Hydra lab again. Trying to push yourself up, your hands get stopped by restrains, the same straps tying down your legs. Swallowing thickly, you look around the room, the atmosphere making you feel vulnerable as you try and undo the restraints. A door opens to the right of you and panic seeps into your bones, thinking that it's a doctor coming in to run experiments on you again.
"Hey, it's okay." Natasha's soft voice reaches your ears as she comes over and undoes the restraints, gently freeing your legs and wrists before looking up at you. "I'm sorry, Bruce put them on for precaution." She says with a soft smile, taking a knee beside your bed so she's at eye level with you. You don't say anything as you move to hug her, your head immediately finding residence in the crook of your neck as you take a shaky breath. Your body aches and you're pretty sure you look like shit but you're so fucking happy that Natasha's here.
"Nat." You whisper softly as Natasha's arms quickly wrap around you, being careful to not hurt you as she closes her eyes. "I'm here, moy golub', I'm here." She whispers and you almost break down at that nickname, your arms tightening around her. "You're safe Y/n, you're free." She whispers and your mind can't even process her words, your only thoughts being how nice it feels to be wrapped up in Tasha's arms again.
When you pull away, there are tears in your eyes, Natasha gently wiping them away and kissing your cheeks.
"YA lyublyu tebya."
I love you.
The words slip from your lips before you could even process it, your eyes widening as you see the unreadable look on Natasha's face. "N-Nat, I'm so sorry, I didn't-" Natasha cuts you off with a kiss, gently pressing her lips to hers as she grins.
"ya tozhe tebya lyublyu."
I love you too.
---
"Should we do something about that?" Tony asks as the team looks through the one-way mirror they placed in your room, seeing Natasha climb into your bed and pull you into her chest. Your eyes close as you contently settle yourself into her, Natasha's hand rubbing circles along your back.
"Give them a break Tony, it's not like she's going or hurt anyone." Steve says as Bruce holds up the chip implant, "Yep, no more brainwashing for her." He says as the rest of them look at the two of you, never seeing Natasha this content until now.
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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago
Text
FATWS One Shot #6 - No One Said Anything About a Metal Arm
Word Count: 2011
Warnings: Explosions, Gunshots, The Winter Soldier, Implied Death, Stevie Almost Crying
Setting/Characters: Towards the End of Captain America: The Winter Soldier; Reader, Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Bucky Barnes; Mentions of Alexander Pierce, Arnim Zola
A/N: This one took me a while to write and I’ll tell you why. Rewatching this movie made me want to do a complete rewrite of it. I had so many ideas of where the reader could be and why and what she was doing then and all that. But…I told myself this is a One Shot of her unofficially meeting Bucky for the first time. Which is why it seems incomplete - because it kinda is - it’s just that scene picked from the movie. Am I happy with it? Eh. Am I holding back from writing more parts and just saying “forget this piece, it never happened”? Maybe. But, I can’t. I wish I could. But if I were to rewrite this movie, I’d rewrite the next one. And the next one. And it would take me months to finish these. So…this is what you’re getting.
Also, NO ONE MENTION WHAT’S ABOUT TO HAPPEN IN A COUPLE HOURS! I’M THIS CLOSE TO FREAKING OUT!
Thanks! As always, it’s not beta’d, so please excuse mistakes! Enjoy reading, be kind to yourselves and others, and stay tuned!
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********
Sitting on the edge of the old dam was calming. Peaceful, even. The constant sound of the flowing water, the trees swaying in the slight breeze. It was nice to take a breath after everything that had gone down the past week.
To say you were worried was an understatement. The last time you saw Steve was the evening after you met Sam. He dropped you off at your place, refusing your invitation to stay saying that he should probably check on his apartment since he hadn’t been there in a while.
A lot had changed since then.
Steve was wanted by SHIELD, along with Natasha. Fury was considered dead, but was actually still kicking in the structure beneath your feet with the help of you and Hill. You had tried to go after Steve, but it was too risky. Pierce - who you were almost 100% certain was behind this whole thing - had been keeping a close eye on you since Steve ran away, knowing you’d be behind him. You tried to catch the blonde at the hospital, but you were seconds too late, meeting up with Natasha who told you STRIKE already took him away for questioning.
You had been called by Hill and she told you what had happened. Fury had asked for your help specifically, considering the amount of times you’d had to fake your own death while being undercover. And you’d been dealing with that ever since.
You had wanted to go get the three of them - you learned Sam joined Steve and Natasha, which somehow didn’t surprise you - but Hill refused, saying you needed to stay there just in case.
But Fury was fine, no one was coming, which is how you found yourself swinging your legs above a hundred feet of rushing water.
It didn’t last long. A car pulling up to the side entrance caught your eye and you immediately swung your legs around to rush towards the stairs. It’s not like you haven’t gone longer without seeing Steve before. You’d gone months without seeing him. It was your job. But this was different. Whether it was because for the first time he was the one who left or because he was on the run from the organization you worked for, you didn’t know and didn’t care. All you knew was you needed to see him. Make sure he was okay.
It took you a while to get there, all the stairs and corners and twist and turns. You got there just as Fury ended his explanation, hearing him tell the trio, “can’t kill you if you’re already dead. Besides…I wasn’t sure who to trust.”
Your footsteps were echoing and you were sure Steve heard you but when you entered the room, his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widening. “Honey?”
“Oh thank fucking God.” You breathed out, jogging over to squeeze him tightly. 
“Y/N…” He murmured in your hair, hugging you tightly back. “What happened? Why are you here?”
Pulling back, you jerked your thumb over your shoulder to the director. “I’m saving his ass.” Your finger then jabbed into his firm chest, your lips falling into a frown. “And worrying about yours. Are you okay?”
“I am. Natasha got shot, but she’ll live.”
You looked over at Natasha, who nodded in confirmation, before looking back into those azure eyes of Steve’s. “What happened? Pierce is keeping a tight lid on everything. I was gonna come find you, but I couldn’t because he was watching me. It’s a miracle I got away from them to help Nicky boy. I haven’t gone out since. But, honest, I was gonna-”
“Honey, honey. You’re rambling again.” Steve chuckled, hand resting on the back of your head, fingers tangling in your hair. “It’s okay. I’m glad you’ve been safe here. Pierce is behind this whole thing-”
“Yeah, I figured that-”
“-It’s HYDRA, Y/N.”
You froze. “What? HYDRA? Whaddya mean?”
Steve nodded. “HYDRA’s what’s been infiltrating SHIELD. It’s a long story, but Zola continued it when he was hired for-”
“Operation Paperclip. Yeah, I remember learning about that.” You ran a hand over your face. “Okay…” You hummed, looking at the three of them. “Let’s…talk about it more in a little bit. I know we gotta act soon, but Natasha and Fury need to heal a little bit longer and you should get some rest. You look tired.”
Everyone seemed to agree with your statement, starting to disperse from the room. You started walking out, too, when Steve grabbed your bicep and pulled you aside, down the hall a ways away. You opened your mouth, only for him to pull you into his chest.
“I’m really glad you’re okay.”
You nodded, lightly scratching his back, your arms around his slim waist. “I’m glad you are too.” You could feel how tense he was, which was understandable considering what he’d gone through the past couple days. But there was something else. Something in the grip he had on your shirt. The way his heart was hammering against your chest. His erratic breathing and his ducked head. You pulled away to catch his jaw between your fingers, eyes scanning the anguish in his own. “Bubba? What’s wrong?”
It took a moment for him to answer, his eyes growing sadder with every second that passed. “It was Bucky.”
“What?” You felt like the air was knocked out of you. “What do you mean?”
“The Winter Soldier. The assassin who shot Fury. The one who tried killing us on the bridge. It was Bucky. It is Bucky. I saw him, Y/N. I saw his face. It’s him. He survived. When they experimented on him, it must’ve…God, I’m so…I didn’t even notice…I didn’t even check…I left him…” he shook his head, which fell to your shoulder. “Stupid. I’m so stupid.”
“No, no.” You shook your head quickly, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you twisted to kiss the hinge of his tense jaw. “It wasn’t your fault, Steve.” You mumbled softly, lips brushing over the shell of his ear. “It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. He fell thousands of feet, Stevie. You wouldn’t have found him even if you did.”
HIs grip on your hips tightened. “But I didn’t even try.” His voice broke on that last word. “And how could I not notice something going on with him? There were two years between being experimented on and falling. How-?” Voice catching in his throat, he stopped talking to stop himself from crying. You knew he hated crying.
“You can’t do anything about past Bucky.” You reminded him gently. “But you can help him now.”
“He didn’t even remember me.”
“Then make him.”
********************
To say you were pissed was an understatement. “I’ve been doing undercover stuff for years! This is a piece of cake!”
Steve shook his head. “You’ll be more helpful with Hill. You know more about Project Insight than me, Sam, and Natasha.”
“Bullshit, Steven! You just don’t want-”
“Honey, please.”
You clenched your jaw, glaring at him as he gave you those fucking puppy eyes, his dumb pink lips stuck in a pout. Letting out a rather aggressive puff of air, you looked away. “Fine. But I hate you.”
He beamed and nodded. “I can live with that.”
“Okay.” You glanced at the others. “You all ready?”
“Let’s get these sons of bitches.” Sam stated, making the final adjustments to the wings.
Natasha gave a smirk. “As long as you are.”
Turning back to Steve, you raised an eyebrow, waiting for the captain’s orders. He nodded. “Let’s head out.”
****************
“There’s a problem on the flight deck.” Hill informed you, looking at the alert. 
“Alright. I’ll-”
“Stay with Hill!”
You rolled your eyes at Steve’s voice through the comms. “Sorry, Cap. You’re breaking up.”
“I know I’m not, Y/N! I’m serious! Stay there!”
But you were already moving towards the flight deck. “I’m not gonna sit on my ass here, Rogers! Hill’s got it covered! I’m just gonna go check it out!”
“Honey-!”
“Bubba!”
The line went quiet and for a moment you thought you lost connection. “Please stay safe.”
You let out a sigh at his quiet pleads, nodding even though he couldn’t see you. “That goes for you, too, Steve.”
By the time you got out there, most of the jets were in flames, pilots and crew members scattered around the deck. You scanned the wreckage, trying to find the source-
A gunshot made your head whip to the side. Found it. Or, more accurately, him.
He was standing on top of one of the jets, gun pointed down at the pilot that was sitting in it. Before he could slip in the cockpit, though, you took out your gun and fired at him. Even though you knew who he was, when he looked at you it made your blood run cold. It was confirmation - not that you didn’t trust Steve - but still. Seeing is believing. yet seeing the same eyes you’d seen sparkling up at you from pictures now staring you down, void of any emotion? It was hard to believe it was the same person.
“Oh shit. Bubs?”
“What?! What’s wrong?! Are you okay?!”
You took a couple steps back as the Winter Soldier, no. Bucky - Steve’s Bucky - strode towards you. “Uh…nothing, nothing. I just I, uh, found your Bucky.”
“Y/N, get outta there now! I told you to stay with Hill!”
“Fuck!” You dove out of the way as the assassin started shooting at you. “Now’s not the time for reprimanding, Steven!”
You tuned out his cursings so as to not get distracted when you became engaged in a hand-to-hand fight with the fucking Winter Soldier.
“Hi.” You grunted, ducking under his arm and throwing a kick at him, faking it at the last second. Except, he’d already grabbed your ankle. But you did kick him with your other foot. But…he didn’t really move and it made you fall back, so…fail. You let out a grimace when the wind was knocked out of you, but you couldn’t lay there for long as he moved to slam his foot down. You rolled out of the way, swinging your legs up to hit him in the back of the knee. “Nice to finally meet you.”
He growled as Sam exclaimed, “are you seriously chatting with him?”
“It’s mostly one sided - dammit!” The both of you had gotten on your feet again, and you tried hooking your left knee around his left shoulder to tug him down, but he had slammed you against a jet, your leg stretched in a very uncomfortable position as your free foot stood on your toes. He had his metal arm - which no one had informed you about and you were kinda salty about it - against your throat, his other hand coming up in a fist.
Bouncing on your toes a bit, you finally lifted your free leg up to knee him in the side of his face, making you wince slightly at the stretch and the burn in your left thigh, which was the only thing besides his metallic limb holding you up against the jet.
He stumbled to the side, throwing you by the leg on his shoulder. You went sprawling against the pavement, a hiss leaving your lips at the serious roadburn you no doubt just got. Sitting up quickly, not wanting him to get the upper hand, you let out a breath seeing him swiftly moving into the cockpit of the jet he just had you pinned against.
“Guys…he’s…heading your way…just a…heads up. Also…thank you. It was nice…to fucking know…about the metal arm…beforehand. I’m just gonna…rest here for a minute…”
“You’re not hurt too bad, are you?”
“No, Cap. No, just…gonna be aching for a while. Ugh…” Begrudgingly, you got up to your feet. “I think I’m gonna…go back and chill with Maria.”
“Told you so.”
“Shut up, finish your job, and don’t die, Rogers! And next time, please, for the love of God, mention the metal arm!”
****************
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blue-mood-blue · 4 years ago
Text
They tell him that his name is Benzaiten Steel.
They tell him that he’s been shot.
Officially, publicly, his condition is unknown - they haven’t released any details yet, pending the investigation. As he understands it, the investigation amounts to his mother and brother pointing to each other in accusation, both of them held in separate interview rooms of the HCPD while Ben lays in his hospital bed. They were hoping he could give them answers, Ben realizes when the doctor and the officer both hover around his door uncertainly before turning to go.
But Ben doesn’t remember anything. He can’t tell them if his brother in law enforcement went corrupt or if his mentally ill mother finally slipped too far. If it was an argument, or an accident, or which of his incredibly small family is more likely to lie. He wouldn’t have been able to tell them his name if they hadn’t told him first, because Ben hardly remembers anything at all.
It’s the head injury, the nurse tells him at two in the morning while she gives him more pain medication. Not from the blast, which had caught him in the shoulder and was more than enough damage to a body on its own, according to her. He must have hit his head on something on the way down, gave himself a nasty bump and some swelling. Nothing to worry about too much, she added quickly after getting a good glance at Ben’s expression. Just... just the memories might not come back. Hard to tell with these things.
Ben chews over the possibility after she leaves, slipping in and out of sleep. He should want to know, right? He should be searching for those memories, and the way he fit between them. He should be looking for himself... looking for the truth.
There are two people in his family. One of them shot him. He can’t imagine a truth there that wouldn’t tear him in two anyway.
Ben takes a moment to pity whoever it was he used to be - must’ve had a sad life, in the middle of that mess. Couldn’t possibly have been happy, in that little apartment in Oldtown, no one to call or contact besides the people led away in handcuffs. Such a small, tiring existence... didn’t he feel stifled, trapped? He does now. He thinks about going back to that, and he can’t breathe.
Ben looks at the window instead. He can make out some stars, but only a few - it’s hard to see much around the light pollution and the dome. He doesn’t remember, but logic tells him he hasn’t lived the kind of life that’s ever taken him off of Mars; he’s never seen any of those stars, or the planets around them, or their moons - not really. He thinks he might like to, and it’s almost a surprise when the thought comes to him; it’s as if his mind has been cleared of some dome hemming him in, holding him in place, and now there’s room to want. Ben feels untethered, adrift... free. Free in a way he knows, somehow, he’s never been before.
It’s a heady feeling. For the first time since waking, Ben smiles. He could be free. He could reach up to those stars and never come back down.
Benzaiten Steel might not remember anything about himself, but he learns that he’s a good actor. When the officer comes back with more questions, Ben tells them he’s afraid for his life, more afraid because he doesn’t know who or what to fear. “Be honest,” he asks, voice shaking with something (not fear, but the officer doesn’t know that). “Do you think this could happen again? Am I really safe?”
Benzaiten Steel is declared dead, and Ben boards a ship.
~~~
He still calls himself Ben; everything else, he cuts away and leaves behind as deadweight. He’s Ben Nothing, Ben Nobody, and he runs between the stars like there’s something chasing him. He finds work where he can, and he finds that the most lucrative work is the illegal kind. He finds that he’s good at it, charming people with a smile or disarming them with a few tears, and then liberating them from whatever they have in their pocket, or safe, or bank account.
Ben is happy. Ben is competent, secure, well-liked in the circles he moves through. Ben is as free as he ever wanted to be, in this life or any other. And if he feels like something unnamed is breathing down his neck some days, well, he is a thief, isn’t he? There’s always someone after him, law enforcement on several planets at least. If he avoids Mars and anywhere too close to that little, red planet, it’s his own business. There’s not much on Mars, anyway; only the Cerberus Province and the connections he could make there, and it’s a small sacrifice to make for all of the things he gets to see.
Ben isn’t lonely. He just feels a little adrift sometimes.
And it’s years before anything catches him.
He has a jewel that toppled a dynasty with the conflict it caused hidden in his pocket, and he slips into a dark, mostly empty theater to wait out the afternoon and the authorities. He already has a spot waiting for him on a ship traveling several planets away, but it won’t take off for hours. He has plenty of time.
Ben pulls out his comms to waste some hours, ignoring the movie playing on the screen; a kids’ movie, probably with the hope that whole families would make the effort of taking a trip to the theater to spend time together. It was a bad gamble, with the only person there other than Ben asleep in a chair in the corner. Ben snorts; kind of a stupid thought, that anyone would bother when they could stream whatever old movies they wanted directly to their home.
He’s in the middle of a game when he looks up at the screen. There’s a woman fighting a dragon, and he isn’t sure what caught his attention until it happens again.
“Andromeda!” someone on the screen yells.
Ben’s head hurts.
Andromeda! a younger Benzaiten yells. He can feel the warm sun beating down on him, the familiar sounds of shouting down a street somewhere too far away to worry about. His voice, thin and reedy and so young, makes its best attempt at a growl. You will never escape me!
“You will never escape me!”
His head throbs, and he could cry with how much it hurts.
I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight, because good must always succeed! Someone with his face answers back, swinging a sword made of paper towel rolls and too much duct tape, and then breaks from the script: And I’m faster than you anyway, Benten, so I can escape whenever I want to.
For a moment, he rests on the divide between Ben and Benzaiten. If he tries, he could pull back - but he also knows he could no more let go of that voice than tear his own heart out.
Juno. A knowledge from the long-dormant pieces of him whispers an answer he doesn’t ask for, as it drags the whole of his messy, painful history with it. That’s Juno. Your twin. Your family.
Benzaiten is still crying, hurt radiating from his head and his chest, and there’s no one around to care so he doesn’t stop. He watches the stupid movie three times, then boards a ship and tries to hide the evidence with makeup and a bright smile. He’s two planets away by the time he thinks about going back, all the way back, and by the time he’s three planets away he’s decided that it would be a ridiculous idea.
It’s been years. Fuck, it’s been so many years. Does Juno live in the same place? What if he’s married now; out of the two of them, he was always the one looking for someone to hold onto him. Would he even want to see Ben?
The answer should be yes, but Ben’s not an idiot, he knows reality is more complicated. Juno buried him, and mourned for him, and maybe even started to heal - and Ben had run. Run without looking back, leaving a death certificate and open wounds behind him.
Is Sarah still alive?
The question stops him cold, staring through the window and the pieces of galaxy he’s passing. If Sarah is alive, he would have to see her, too. That’s a promise he made himself a long time ago - that he wouldn’t choose between them. He was the one who held the family together. He’d always been that.
The Benzaiten in his head, the person he isn’t sure he is yet - anymore - tells him she loves you.
Ben, here and now, tells him she shot you.
Both of those things are true. And when Ben pulls away from the window, he tells himself that’s what he’s afraid of, that someone he loved hurt him and could do it again, that he might let them in the foolish, stupid need to find out if the love was still there somewhere under all of the hurt. To know trying hard enough could mean getting better.
If there’s another fear, if he can feel the gravity of Mars pulling him back and down and heavy, he doesn’t let himself think it. And he’s gotten pretty good at deception, so he might even believe it.
~~~
Ben dances more, when he remembers dancing. Nothing feels as free as the movement, as his total control over it. Not even the stars.
How much of his running was escape, and how much was just running?
~~~
He still calls himself Ben.
He has his reasons. “Benzaiten” is too memorable, and sharing a face and a last name with a sibling seems like a really good way to get that sibling into trouble. There’s a reputation in place already with the name he used. There are days when he doesn’t feel like he fits in Benzaiten’s life. He finds plenty of reasons.
He doesn’t visit. He thinks about it, comes close - as close as a planet and one ticket fare away, once - but Ben can’t bring himself to step foot in Hyperion City. Hyperion belongs to Juno, somehow. He was the one who stayed (I do not intend to run - I will stay and fight), and going home feels like... trespassing. Ben knows Juno wouldn’t say that. It doesn’t stop him from thinking it.
Hyperion City has a newspaper, though, and a subscription service that seems a little optimistic in its range. Maybe not all that optimistic, since Ben regularly takes advantage of it - between jobs, and only on his personal comms. Most of it has nothing to do with him, but he skips and skims through the digitized pages anyway, looking for whatever hints of a life he can find. Juno is a private investigator now, which doesn’t surprise Ben. There’s an engagement announcement and no following marriage announcement, which does.
(Sarah is guilty, and dead, and he doesn’t know how he feels about that. He doesn’t linger on the thought.)
Sometimes, when he feels brave, he imagines what it could be like. So what’s this about a gala at that new art gallery? You know, the one that lasted a whole night before it got blown up?
Juno’s laughter from the other side of the comms connection, maybe a little too young. Uh huh, I heard. The HCPD put it all over the news, along with how they saved the day. Or didn’t you hear that part?
They can say whatever they want, I know a Juno Steel case when I see one. Now, Ben adjusts on the bed, miles and miles away, glancing at the window to see if he can get a peek back the way he came, tell me everything.
Maybe the next time you come to see me, Juno says, and just like that the thought disintegrates. He can never put too many words in Juno’s mouth; there are just too many things he doesn’t know.
Ben gets lucky one day and sees a whole half a picture of Juno, looking out on a crowd. He’s not the focus - he’s standing next to some politician in the middle of a speech, a Ramses O’Flaherty who makes a lot of promises that sound like the “too good to be true, but wouldn’t it be nice” kind - but Ben will take what he can get. He can’t decide if Juno has more or less scars than he would have expected, given his line of work. He wonders how they all got there. Juno is standing on the stage with the politician; he must buy some of those promises to put himself so clearly in the man’s corner.
There’s a kind of worry in his gut about it, but Ben tries to take it as a good sign. The Juno he knew had a hard time trusting people; it would be nice if he’d found someone to believe in. It would be nice if that trust is well-placed.
Ben has to leave his comms behind for a job, taking a burner along instead, so he gets the results of the election at the same time he gets the announcement of O’Flaherty’s death and the conspiracy over Newtown. It doesn’t have to mean anything - just another politician who wasn’t what he seemed to be, or didn’t manage to hang on long enough to make good on his promises. That’s all it is.
He still looks for Juno in the stories he reads. He can’t seem to find him, anymore.
~~~
For the first time since they were nineteen, Benzaiten sees Juno across the room.
For a moment, he feels like he’s seen a ghost. A ridiculous thought, from the dead twin.
Juno Steel is so far away from Hyperion City, talking to Zolotovna in a resplendent dress as if he’s lived the kind of life that makes him belong, immediately and implicitly, among the disgustingly rich. Ben, who is there for a reason, he knows he’s there for a reason but fuck if he can remember why, tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring. He’s failing at that, he knows.
But Juno is here. Juno is here in the room with him, so different than he remembers, with so many more scars. With one less eye. Ben wants to ask when that happened, wants to demand that story, just as much as he wants to fade into the crowd and run.
He feels untethered; he feels like, if he runs, he’ll never find his way back again. Just this once, Ben lets himself understand that the tug of gravity pulling him back was never a leash around his neck as much as it was a rope around his middle - giving him a way back home. Juno had always been his anchor, keeping him from drifting too far.
There’s no going back, now. There’s no going home, no home to go back to.
Juno’s glance turns in his direction, and Ben is about to duck out of the way - an amateur move, guaranteed to catch his sibling’s eye, but he thinks he can be forgiven for being a little bit off his game - when Ben realizes he’s not who Juno is looking for. A man slips by him, tall and confident and familiar in a way that tells Ben exactly why he should be familiar. Juno can’t seem to help the way his face changes when he spots the man.
So the thief grabbed at Juno’s heart and pulled him away from Hyperion. That’s why Juno is here. It’s... infuriating, because there’s no way a common con deserves Juno Steel. Because it was never a thought in Ben’s head that Juno could be convinced to leave Hyperion, and he never thought to ask. (I do not intend to run. Running was Ben’s job.)
Ben is ready to do something stupid. He’s halfway across the ballroom, walking directly towards his brother well and aware that the impact will cause an explosion of a scene, when he sees Juno tilt his head.
There’s a comms in his ear.
Ben has been a thief long enough to recognize the habits of another thief - especially a new one.
He doesn’t remember what he came to this event for, but there’s nothing, mark or prize or job, that Benzaiten wants more than to understand the stranger in the dress who almost has his face. If he breaks something with an impulsive decision, he thinks as he continues to cross the room, well - wouldn’t be the first time.
He’ll let himself be selfish. That’s what Ben does.
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