#oh!! also this is a good time to quickly explain how the helmets work in rise - since i've only ever drawn them completely morphed | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

crispyjenkins · 4 months ago

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@malcontent-crow

#i love the direction this is going!#i woke up to this treat and now i have to go to work and think about it all day #i an CHEWING on my PHONE#i wasnt expecting mand'alor Obi-Wan but i gotta say he would certainly do the job!#truly chosen by the people to lead#i love the idea that everybody knows about the rebellion that he has caused before he does #also the idea that Qui-Gon and Satine are just stumbling along in his wake and seeing in real time the kind of movement he is inspiring#how Qui-Gon is thinking in terms of the Young for his wartime experience but Obi-Wan is thinking much bigger picture#how does Qui-Gon take the rumor of being a Mand'alor of old reincarnate? which rumor does he hear first?#how many times does he need to hear people say it before it stops sounding like a silly thing these mandos are saying#and it actually gains some traction in his mind? #if the council doesnt think it was a vision does the idea that hes been possessed by some ghost that can no longer stand to see#the direction Mandalore was going in? how frantically is Madam Nu digging through the archives to see if there is any precedent for this#and if Obi-Wan isnt using his saber how is he fighting? has he resorted to guns or did he find a beskad somewhere??#if they are remarking that he is helmet-less does that mean he is wearing armor otherwise? #and i feel like jango would know about this new faction and this upcoming leader and really sits back and says something like#“looks like you have it under control. why do you think you need me?” and justify it to himself that he isnt Mand'alor anymore#he would be still all bitter and unwilling to bend or even consider healing at this point#so hes thinking in terms of what his time as Mand'alor ended up like#and how his last actions as Mand'alor resulted in the deaths of his (entire?) comoany of True Mandalorians #and how quickly does this make Obi-Wan change gears? does he accept that he's the inspiration behind this rebellion#and accept the role of Mand'alor as others are trying to give him?#or does he step back and think maybe he just needs to do something like kill Pre Vizsla to get them moving on the right track without him?

@fearieshadow

#I am screaming#I love this#once the council realizes that mandalorians are calling on obi-wan to be mand’alor#I wonder how they respond#especially since this is already a bizarre situation#and very likely the force around obi wan is probably doing some crazy stuff#how is satine taking this?#she’s definitely not ruling over mandalor after this#the people wouldn’t accept her with another option available besides her and death watch#it’s inevitable that obi wan ends up adopted as mand’alor especially considering mandalorian culture#the question is who succeeds?

hope work was good!! here's more to think about 🧡 (/evil intent)

first! yeah, Obi is wearing his stollen/won-through-combat DW armour (the state of its paint is actually important in how he identifies exactly where in the timeline he is, but i'll explain that in the actual fic), and doesn't use his 'saber so all the Mandalorians aren't clocking him as one of the Jedi the New Mandos hired or whatever; most assume he's already Mando'ad. he still has his 'saber, but it's one he outgrew while on Melida/Daan, so it's even worse now that he's 38 and a high general, so he doesn't use it for that reason as well as to keep his identity a secret. but he's not very well going to leave it behind, so a few of the Mandos he's helped on the way have seen it hidden on his belt or in his things; most assume he killed one of the New Mandalorian's Jedi, but then the idea of reincarnation starts gaining traction and they start to wonder if the 'saber actually belongs to him.

second! oh boy would Qui not be taking that idea well. except for the Chosen One Prophecy of Nonsense, he's very much a Living Force Jedi, and at this point in time hasn't done his whole Force Ghost research or whatever. Maybe in this timeline, it's this that pushes him to look into it in the first place? maybe he only learns the Chosen One Prophecy of Nonsense later in life? so at first, he's sort of rolling his eyes at all these Mandos saying his padawan is a reincarnated warlord, no matter which Mand'alor they think he's incarnating. Then the Tarre Vizsla theory starts picking up more and more and suddenly Qui-Gon isn't so sure. Tarre had been a Jedi, and left the Order to become Mand'alor, maybe Tarre had Fallen, had become a Sith? Sith were known for being obsessed with immortality, were the only example of Force Ghosts in the first place. Oh Stars, has his padawan Fallen? become an unwilling or willing puppet of a Sith ghost? Qui remembers the first thing Satine said to him after Obi-Wan dropped her off, that Obi-Wan had been acting possessed.

when he expresses his concern to the Council, they're skeptical at best. Qui-Gon is somewhat known for his flights of fancy, and is working on the same amount of information that the council is, which is to say: next to none. they tell him to cool his heels, especially since they don't think Qui-Gon has the best idea of what to actually look for in a Fallen Jedi, and has unresolved Xanatos trauma. Qui-Gon gets all bristly about that, because he's fine, and knows his padawan better than anyone. maybe the council had brought Tholme in for this holocall so they'd have a Shadow's perspective on this whole Sith-thing, and Tholme just fuckin. snorts so hard at that it probably hurts and is like "the fuckin healers know your padawan better than you do. We know you're trying, and making good progress, but all things considered, you're not there yet. A Shadow will have a better idea of if he's Fallen or possessed by a Sith artefact or other, and one of his friends would have a better idea if he's acting completely out of character."

"Sound like suggesting you and your padawan go to Mandalore, you do."

"Well, I wouldn't say no."

For now, the council holds off, considering how fraught the system is at the moment, and even undercover, they aren't sure if they should be risking two more Jedi, especially one as reckless as Quinlan would be to try and find Obi-Wan. Madam Nu does indeed bury herself in the Archives, looking into Sith ghosts and possession techniques, but also to see any info they have on Tarre Vizsla and if he might have Fallen or been a Sith. it sounds downright unlikely to her, but the council also just. has no idea what to make of Obi-Wan, so any theory is worth exploring.

Satine is. she is not taking this all well. she'd been trying for so long to sway Obi-Wan to her side, and genuinely thought she could convince him her way was right, but then he suddenly changed, and their "debates" have become Obi-Wan dissecting and tearing down every one of her arguments, when he even takes the time to engage. they'd had maybe two weeks together before Obi-Wan dropped her off with Qui-Gon, and during that time, she'd been forced to realise Obi-Wan was only humouring her before. oh, he's still kind to a fault, giving her more than her share of food, keeping watch so she can sleep, protecting her with a sincere fervency. but now she feels like a child around him, like she can't do anything but try and keep up with him, like he's suddenly been given a purpose outside of her and she. doesn't know how to deal with that.

worse, he's actually killing some of his opponents, where he'd never done that before, even when it had cost them physically, leaving them with injuries or without a clean escape. he isn't killing everyone, or indiscriminately, and he always seems to mourn the ones he does kill, but this shift in his fighting style, too, had felt like it changed at the flip of a switch. before, he'd used shoddy hand-to-hand and hand blasters set to stun. now, he uses rifles and a staff he'd fashioned from a bit of piping (you'll take polearm-wielding obi-wan from my cold dead hands), and also a static dagger Satine had given him early in their acquaintance, that she'd intended him to use for utility (i'll give more backstory for this in the fic, i have some ideas). the dagger is what he'd used to kill the DW patrol they'd been fighting when he first landed back in time. he'd been a good fighter, before, but had still had that ungainly teenage clumsiness, especially with weapons he wasn't used to using (he'd pretended he wasn't as good with blasters as he was, both in shame around Satine, but also because it was connected to Melida/Daan and he wanted to think about literally anything else); now, he's years ahead in skill, and unafraid of confrontation. he avoids it where he can, of course, but only because it's safer for Satine, and Satine clocks this change, knows he's suddenly confident in his martial prowess in a way he just wasn't before.

stumbling along chasing Obi-Wan down with Qui-Gon, Satine feels her control of the system slipping, she sees it happening. she digs her heels in, of course, tries to talk this rebellion out of happening at all, but all it does is make people resent her and her people even more, and eventually Qui-Gon has to tell her to stop, because they are very much at the mercy of people being willing to shelter them, and she's pissing off just about everyone she talks to. it's a bit of a wakeup call for her, and she just sort of. wilts. becomes depressed rather than righteously angry, and wonders if undermining her had always been Obi-Wan's intention. she hopes not. she misses him.

MEANWHILE. meanwhile Jango has basically called himself dar'manda, has said he's no good for Mandalore nor does he want to be good for Mandalore, hasn't he given enough? and Obi-Wan knows he can't make that call for him, for anyone.

Rozatta shows him what little has escaped the Mandalore sector about the rebellion, that won't call themselves True Mandalorians anymore, but are as close as they've come since Jaster Mereel's death a decade before. so much info is kept on lockdown, but Obi-Wan can read between the lines, can track his own progress through Mandalorian space and realise it had followed him like a wave, and. well. hadn't he already decided he was saving Mandalore? hadn't he already dedicated himself to this cause since the moment he woke in the past?

for just a moment, he considers if he can join the rebellion and make someone else that something that they can all follow. can make someone else the face and head of the rebellion. Obi-Wan needs to stay alive to take down the Sith and hopefully prevent the galactic war from ever starting, it would be pretty stupid of him to make himself the face of this insurrection—

but the Mand'alor is chosen by the people. Isn't it in the name? Soul Ruler?

so here's Obi-Wan. sixteen and thirty-eight, stranded on Outland Station with his plan to save Mandalore in shambles, and he takes the time to think about it. what does Mandalore want? and they seem to want their Little Mand'alor, he can feel it in the Force, in the Manda, in the Ka'ra (and all three do feel distinctly different from each other, but i'll get to that in-fic heuheuheu). who is he to deny them that?

he thanks Roz by name though she'd never told him it, steals a different, faster ship, and goes back to Mandalore without Jango but with a Mand'alor all the same, if the people will have him.

and the people will have him.

Qui-Gon had at some point realised Obi-Wan had left the system, which makes even less sense than anything he's done so far. Not only does he not think Obi-Wan would ever leave him behind in danger, but it also just. doesn't track, with everything he'd been doing for Mandalore so far? makes Qui concerned about those Sithly machinations but he's trying to convince himself that he's just trigger-happy about darksider stuff. but what else is he supposed to think?

hyperspace travel is dictated by exactly what you need for the plot, so i say two weeks round trip for obi-wan to get back to Mandalore. the rebellion is only just on its first legs, but Pre is cracking down on insurgence with more and more violent methods, which is only radicalising his dissenters. parts of Jaster's old council and the few close to Jango that weren't on Galidraan (Kal Skirta, Walon Vau, Silas, etc. Will probably not do Mij in any major capacity since I am trying to make this different from Dha Kar'ta, and Myles is definitely dead. will need to make a butt ton of women Mandos hmm) start to form like some actual leadership and oooh now i'm thinking about the tension~ of all these folks that followed Jango worrying about how young the people's new chosen leader is, 'cause fuck they love Jango, and he did keep the Haat'ade going ten years after Jaster's death, but they also know intimately how it ended.

then Obi-Wan tracks them down using a mix of traditional skills and listening to the Manda, and maybe some Ka'ra ghosts if i'm feeling particularly funky, and the group of Mandos I'll be calling the Old Guard have to contend with this little general that looks sixteen, but acts so much older. and Obi-Wan has to contend seeing the faces of many of the trainers of the clones, some he would have given thanks to be the one to take their heads from their shoulders, but they haven't actually committed those sins yet.

and hoooooo boy you know Qui's gonna have some issues when it gets out that Obi-Wan is both back in the system, and also leading the rebellion. he must be having Xanatos flashbacks out the whazoo, but also the Force is feckin singing about it, it wraps around Obi-Wan in truly bizarre but oh so comforting ways, it ebbs and flows with him like he's some sort of gravitational anomaly in the tides of the Force, and he's just so Light that Qui-Gon just. can't believe he's Fallen. but what else is he supposed to think?

the council are rightly horrified, but so so confused by how the Force has been acting lately, especially around Obi-Wan and his future, and they're thinking of kicking Sifo-Dyas off the council purely because he sits in the corner giggling whenever Obi-Wan is brought up.

as for adoption............. i think it'd be funny if he's adopted by a Ka'ra ghost, especially if their clan has died out by now. WHEEZE it'd be SO FUNNY if he's adopted by the ghost of Cassus Fett. like fuckin imagine.

*white-knuckled and grinding teeth* do not start a time travel fic where obi-wan lands near the beginning of his mandalore mission. do not think about him landing mid-battle with a death watch patrol he struggled with by virtue of being sixteen and run ragged, do not think about him freezing mid-attack and being flooded with future memories and satine freaking out and the death watch commando gets a few hits in but then obi-wan unfreezes and fucking obliterates the commandos. do not think about how disturbed satine is, how obi-wan can suddenly move in his stollen death watch armour like he was born in it, how he looks down at his saber like an old friend he no longer gets along with, how he barely looks at satine when he says they’re going back to mandalore to keldabe. crispy im serious dont think about him single-handedly raiding death watch's main holdout in the keldabe ruins and stealing all the info pre vizsla had about galidraan and using it to track down jango and forcing/convincing him to come back to mandalore to end the clan wars crispy im serious you don’t have time to write this stop thinking ab

#i do actually already have a ''obi-wan is reincarnated tarre vizsla'' idea #this isn't that obviously #also will clarify this is not obitine in any way shape or form #past or present #i think they were canonically in love and don't mind what it did for the story but i don't ship it and won't write it #ask me how i feel about women characters getting killed to further men's storylines sometime #also some mando'a help for anyone that feels qualified for it: if troch is ''certainly'' how do i make it ''certain''#i don't understand inflections or what they mean on the mandocreator site so this answer could be staring me in the face #also what ships would y'all might be interested in? not that this story NEEDS a ship but i do like writing romance #and depending on how i handle how OBI handles the memories i could make either of his age groups work #quinobi and jastobi are the ones that come to mind for this au but many many others could work #hmmm mayhaps something poly??#smth with silas would be MUY interesting #cj answers #czigonas and cuzosu-blog i have ideas for the jaster offshoot of this idea i'll respond to y'all as soon as i can!#this one has just taken over my brain massively #for those curious they ARE separate ideas - the jaster lives offshoot will be under the tag 'not as dead as i could be au'#malcontent crow #fearieshadow

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ryehouses · 2 years ago

Note

It's probably too soon to ask this, but I'd love to see any Mandalorian's point of view of the most recent chapter. If that's not doable, I'd also love to see any Jedi's point of view of Din's lightsaber practice/duel if that's possible!

boy howdy! i got several requests in a similar vein; i do have some mando povs of the summit, but as the summit is still ongoing, i'm gonna save them for later.

as compensation, here's a bunch of mando povs following the whole riduur thing in ast 27!

(standard warning for mandalorians being awful to each other applies.)

in which the mandalorians play telephone.

“What?” said Koska Reeves, lifting her eyebrows. Why is Djarin being so weird about this? She wondered. It’s not like Fett’s fun to be around, or anything. But Djarin was looking so grim, his armor smeared with fresh ash, helmet tilting down like he disapproved.

She felt a little bad for Djarin, honestly. He was so serious, and if he was spending all of his time getting shot at on Fett’s behalf, he probably hadn’t had much reason to laugh lately.

And with what Bo’s got planned, he’s not gonna have much to laugh about for a while, either, she thought.

She took pity on Djarin. Maybe he just needed a joke. That always improved Koska’s mood, after a tough fight.

So she lightened her tone and said, teasing, “Is he your riduur or something?”

Djarin stared at her. “Yes,” he said.

Koska usually had pretty good control of her expression, but she felt her eyes go wide. “...Oh.”

- - -

Axe Woves loved his wife. He really did. She was everything he could want in a partner; loyal, funny, steady, protective. It didn’t matter how crazy the rest of the galaxy got, because Axe knew that Koska had his back.

Or Lady Bo’s, he thought. If Koska wasn’t at Axe’s side, she was at their lady’s, and Axe could get on with his work knowing that at least Lady Bo-Katan was well-guarded. Koska was ruusaanyc, a stone in a sandstorm. Her steady nature was one of the reasons that Axe had married her.

So when Koska, trailing along behind Djarin, the cultist Lady Bo-Katan seemed to think was essential to their mission to reclaim Mandalore, grabbed Axe by the elbow and dragged him back when Axe went to follow Lady Bo-Katan, Axe listened, because he knew that Koska would only leave their lady alone with a Child of the Watch if she had a good reason.

“Koska,” he said, concerned. His wife was pale. Her eyes were a little wild. “What’s wrong?”

“They’re married,” she hissed.

Axe stared at her. “...Who’s married?”

Ka’ra bal ka’ra, not Tristan and the Saxon boy, I hope, Axe thought. Tristan Wren was a sensible man and a good friend, not one prone to making rash decisions or tumbling around with strategic allies, but the Saxon boy had been enamored of him ever since he’d stepped aboard. That’ll be a nightmare to explain to his mother, she had an alliance with Clan Farr arranged for him –

“Djarin,” said Koska.

Axe blinked. “Djarin got married? To who? Another cultist?” That wouldn’t be good, but if Lady Bo-Katan was going to undermine the man already –

“Worse,” Koska said. Her voice had a manic edge to it that had Axe looking down the long white hall for a blaster or an enemy. “He married Boba Fett.”

Axe blinked again, Koska’s words taking a second or two to register, and then when they did register, Axe paled. “... I see,” he said, very carefully. “Has Lady Bo-Katan been told?”

Koska shook her head.

“Then we need to tell her,” Axe said, decisively. “And we need to tell her soon, before word gets out, ka’ra bal ka’ra, if word gets out – ”

“Right,” said Koska. “Right. We’ll just have to keep it quiet. It’s – it’s only Djarin, right? Nobody even really knows him. How hard can keeping that secret be?”

- - -

“HE MARRIED BOBA FETT?”

Axe, standing a little behind Koska, dropped his head into his hands. Koska winced. On the other side of Bo, Mira Antilles, Tristan Wren and Enna Kast were all staring at Bo, dumbstruck.

“He did,” said Koska, thinking quickly. She glared at the three warriors behind Bo, threatening them into silence with as much authority as she could muster. “And this information does not leave this bridge, alright?”

The warriors behind Bo were all veterans of joha’kaan, and nodded.

Koska let out a breath, relieved. Now all she had to do was calm Bo down, and they’d all be good to go. Everything would be fine. They could – they could still salvage this.

“Hey?” Axe muttered, lifting his head out of his hands. “Where’s the Saxon kid?”

- - -

Pike Saxon, eldest of Lysistra Saxon’s seven sons, was used to getting holotexts from his younger brothers. He had six of them, after all, and now that little Torr wasn’t so little all seven brothers were scattered across the galaxy to make names for themselves.

Well, names and credit, but Pike was after glory more. His clan’s standing had fallen. Even when his uncle had been the Viceroy of Mandalore, Clan Saxon hadn’t been well-liked, and now even though Uncle Gar’s branch of the family tree had been cut away, the rest of them were still outcasts.

Not for long, though, Pike thought. He was on Nar Shaddaa hunting Pyke Syndicate enforcers. It was dangerous, but the irony – Pike hunting the Pykes – made Pyke laugh. The credits weren’t bad either.

Pike was sitting in a grimy cantina, sipping spotchka and watching a pair of Pykes exchange a sack of credits for a crate of spice, when his commlink buzzed.

Pike frowned.

Really? he thought, exasperated. Only his family had his frequency. Giving it out had been a mistake. All six of his brothers sent him messages day and night, regardless of how many times Pike told them to stop.

Surreptitiously, not wanting to draw more attention to himself than he already had, Pike turned his wrist over so he could see the message scrawling across his commlink’s tiny screen.

I swear on all my ancestors, he thought, finishing his drink. If Grayling sends me one more stupid joke –

Pike paused. The message was from his youngest brother, Torryg. The kid was an – honored guest, his mother had phrased it – of Bo-Katan Kryze’s. That didn’t mean that Torr wouldn't send Pike dick jokes, but he usually waited until he knew Pike wasn’t working before breaking out whatever new bit of profanity he’d learned from Kryze’s people.

One eye still on the Pykes at the bar, Pike swiped over on the message, interested to see what Torryg wanted.

PIKE, the message read, in bold Aurebesh letters. YOU AREN’T GOING TO BELIEVE WHAT JUST HAPPENED.

- - -

“ – BOBA FETT,” Bo-Katan Kryze continued, at battlefield volume. “HE MARRIED BOBA FETT, OF ALL THE KARKING PEOPLE IN THE GALAXY – ”

Korkie sighed and pushed his plate away. He had been hoping to have an ordinary family meal, but it seemed like even that was too much to ask for these days.

- - -

“Boba Fett? Really?” Cyri Ordo leaned back against the bar, studying her partner with interest. “I know that name. He was a bounty hunter, right? A few years ago?”

Her partner Haddock, one of Lysistra Saxon’s many sons, snorted. He was a few years older than Cyri and had seen more of the galaxy, which sometimes made him obnoxiously convinced that he’d seen and knew everything there was to see and know.

Cyri was doing her best to disabuse him of that notion, but it was a work in progress.

“Boba Fett was the bounty hunter,” Haddock said. “You weren’t out of the clan yet, but he was everywhere. He’s brought down some of the biggest bounties in the galaxy! Gilramos Libkath, Wat Tambor, Han Solo – ”

“I thought he was dead, though,” Cyri cut in, before Haddock could get really carried away.

Haddock paused. “I did too,” he admitted. “Can’t be, though. Not if he’s married now. Right?”

- - -

“Who’s married?” Adhira asked, fussing with the smooth leather bands adorning her lekku. They were a gift from her father and contrasted nicely with her skin, which was a rich, deep green. Adhira hadn’t worn the bands with her armor yet, but if they clashed she supposed that armor could always be painted. “Not Torryg?”

Adhira Farr had only met Torryg Saxon twice, but both times she’d liked him. Liked him enough to entertain her mother’s ideas of marrying him, anyway. Torryg didn’t have much of a name for himself yet, but he was a Saxon – Adhira knew that he’d win plenty of glory, once he was older. Clan Saxon and Clan Farr would make good allies.

Bakti Farr sighed. Teenagers, she thought. But she still reached out with graceful hands and helped her daughter arrange her new lekku-bands. “Pay more attention, sareeni. You are your father’s heir – you need to start paying attention to politics.”

Adhira wrinkled her nose. “Politics are boring,” she said.

Bakti rolled her eyes. “That’s not true,” she said, her lekku twitching disapprovingly. “Neither for the mando’ade nor for the Ryl.”

Her daughter sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. She stopped fretting so obviously over her appearance. “Who’s married?”

“Better,” Bakti approved. “Boba Fett, apparently. And some mysterious warrior that Lady Kryze has been keeping close at hand.”

“Boba Fett… I know that name,” Adhira said. “Don’t I?”

“You do pay attention in your lessons,” Bakti said, tweaking one of Adhira’s lekku. Adhira laughed. “I was starting to wonder. Yes, you have heard of Boba Fett. He’s the supposed son of Jango Fett – the old mand’alor Mereel’s son, back when we had such a thing.”

“The mand’alor’s son?” Adhira said, eyebrows rising. Bakti was proud of her – the girl did have a keen sense of clan politics, when she could be convinced to pay attention. “That’s got to make Lady Bo-Katan mad, the son of an enemy marrying one of her people.”

Bakti agreed. “Which is why,” she said, tweaking Adhira’s lekku again, “you should comm young Torryg and see if he’s got any more details, hmm? I heard the news from his mother, but Torryg is with Lady Bo-Katan.”

Adhira grinned. “I’ll see what I can do.”

- - -

“ – SHOULD HAVE JUST STAYED IN WHATEVER SAND PIT HE CRAWLED OUT OF, IF HE THINKS HE CAN INTERFERE WITH MY PLANS LIKE THIS – “

Mira Antilles had not been afraid of anything since she had first seen the hole in the stars where Alderaan had once been. She wasn’t afraid now. She had seen much worse than her friend’s occasional eruptions of temper.

… But when Vera Beroya, head of a clan Bo-Katan was trying to sway to her side ahead of the upcoming summit, commed to discuss the possible benefits of such an alliance, Mira seized the opportunity and slipped off of the bridge, leaving Bo to work through her anger alone.

A tactical retreat, Mira reasoned, wasn't a sign of fear. Just good sense, especially in this case.

- - -

“So he isn’t dead,” Mereel Skirata said, propping himself up on his elbows. Clan Skirata’s home on Daro wasn’t quite the same as their sprawling morut on Mandalore had been, but Daro was nice enough. Forested, temperate, full of all sorts of interesting animals to hunt. The Empire had abandoned it years ago and the locals hadn't bothered coming back. Clan Skirata was mostly left alone, out here. “I’d wondered.”

Ordo grunted. He very rarely thought about Boba Fett at all. “I don’t see why you care,” he said. “It’s not like Boba Fett’s ever done anything for us.”

Mereel had always been the friendlier of the two of them, though, and in his old age he’d gotten absurdly sentimental. Kal’buir’s influence, Ordo thought. It’s not like the Prime had had any sentiment in him.

“He’s one of the brothers,” Mereel said, mildly.

Ordo grunted again. Technically Boba Fett was, but Ordo's definition of brotherhood was narrow, for a clone. “Never seemed to want to be,” he observed.

“The last time you saw Boba Fett, he was ten,” Mereel pointed out. “Remember how awful your kids were at ten? Proper strill cubs, the whole pack of them.”

Ordo blinked. Considered. Reviewed forty-year-old memories of standoffish young Boba Fett, who'd never wanted anything to do with any of the other clones, with the eyes of a father and an uncle and – ka’ra bal ka’ra, a grandfather, soon – who had seen dozens of children, most with Fett blood, come up from child to adult.

Then Ordo winced.

“Okay,” he said. “That’s fair.”

- - -

“While I’m surprised that Fett, of all people, would marry a Mandalorian,” Ursa Wren said, studying a wavering blue hologram of her son, “what I’m more concerned with is who he has married. Who among us would take a mongrel like Fett?”

Tristan grimaced. “You’re not going to like it,” he said.

Ursa raised an eyebrow. That can’t be good, she thought. Tristan was a steady young man. He’d had to be, to survive under Gar Saxon. If Tristan was concerned –

Did Fett marry into one of the Great Clans? She wondered. There were only two Kryzes left. Bo would never sully her bloodline that way and while Korkie, the nephew, had inherited an unfortunately peaceful temperament from his mother, he was loyal to his aunt, and wouldn’t do anything to undermine her status.

The Vizslas are gone, Ursa thought. There are few enough Ordos. An Awaud, maybe, from the branch that followed old Mereel, but I didn’t think they had any warriors of marrying age left among them.

“He married the mand’alor,” Tristan said.

Ursa’s thoughts ground to a screeching halt. “The who?”

- - -

“No one really knows anything about him,” Kip reported, folding his arms across his chest.

Fenn Rau rubbed his forehead. This was not how he thought that his day was going to go when it had started. It wasn’t an unwelcome development – the son of Jango Fett deciding to reinsert himself among the Mandalorians was not, and would never be, unwelcome, not to those who remembered Jango and Jaster – but it was admittedly a strange one.

Fenn had never approached the boy. Well, man, now. There’d been some talk, years and years ago, about tracking Boba down, when word had reached the Protectors that Jango Fett had died. It had seemed like the least they could do. Jaster Mereel had been one of theirs, after all.

But the Clone Wars had erupted right after Jango’s death and no one had been able to find Boba when they’d gone looking, and then by the time the boy was making a name for himself there were too few warriors left to go looking, and as far as Fenn knew, Boba Fett had never sought out what was left of his father’s people.

“He must be something, this Mandalorian,” Fenn said thoughtfully. “To bring Boba Fett back into the sphere of Mandalore – are you sure no one knows anything about him?”

Kip shrugged. “Wrasse only said that the Mandalorian was some kind of bounty hunter,” he said. None of Fenn Rau’s people had been invited to Kryze’s light cruiser ahead of her summit; Fenn knew that she was attempting to flatter, threaten and bribe half a dozen clan heads to her cause, but she hadn’t reached out to Fenn yet to try the same. All his information came through the scraps Kip was able to pick up; Kippan Awaud was well-liked, even among the old Death Watch crowd, and had friends in every clan.

“And that he must be a skilled warrior,” Kip added. “Wrasse’s little brother said that the Mandalorian was the one who defeated Moff Gideon, not Kryze.”

Fenn Rau raised his eyebrows. “Now that is interesting,” he murmured. “A nameless warrior defeated Gideon and won the loyalty of Boba Fett?”

Kryze must be having tookas, Fenn thought, almost amused. She had counted on the son of Jango Fett keeping his buc’ye out of the summit. His claim, after all, was nearly as strong as hers. If Fett was canny enough to snatch one of her allies out from under her nose –

Kip just shrugged again. “I can try to find out more,” he said.

“Yes, do,” said Fenn. “This – this changes things.”

- - -

“This changes nothing,” said the armorer, sitting cross-legged in front of a dark forge. She was not sure that this new covert was to her liking, and she had no intention of going to the trouble of lighting the forge if she didn’t intend to stay.

“Doesn’t it?” Wyrran growled.

“No,” said the armorer. “Din Djarin has broken no law.”

Wyrran snorted. “Clan Fett is our enemy,” he said.

The armorer looked at him, coolly amused. “Does he know that?” she asked. “I have not spoken to him of Boba Fett. Nor have I spoken to him of any false Creed or false Way.”

“Fett will have told him,” Wyrran said, bitterly. He was often bitter, these days. He had taken the loss of the covert on Nevarro hard. The armorer supposed that she had taken it hard too, but the dead were settled now. She had performed the rights, and Din Djarin, she’d heard, had had his vengeance on Moff Gideon.

As I thought he would, she thought. Djarin had always been exceptional. It should not surprise Wyrran that Boba Fett, dangerous though he was, had caught Din Djarin’s attention.

“Djarin knows the risks,” the armorer said. “All of us take the same risk, when we venture beyond the safety of the tribe.”

The risk of outsiders. Of coming across whatever fragments of Mandalore – weak Mandalore, broken Mandalore – still remained. The risks of losing a helmet in battle, or confronting the so-called “True” Mandalorians’ false Way.

“He is well-trained,” the armorer continued. “And well-raised. He knows the Creed and the Way.”

“Fett doesn’t,” Wyrran growled.

“That is hardly Djarin’s fault,” the armorer said, tone still mild. “I care little about what Fett does or doesn’t do. What matters is what Djarin does or does not do.”

“And if he decides to throw all of this away?” challenged Wyrran.

The armorer sighed. She studied her cold forge. Her hammer rested against the dark, cool metal.

“Then we will do what we must,” she said. She met Wyrran’s gaze. “This is the Way.”

Wyrran eyed her, but finally inclined his head. “This is the Way,” he echoed.

It might have been the quiet and the dark of the unlit forge, but the words did not bring the comfort that they used to.

The armorer ignored that too. "Come, old friend," she said. "Let us sit vigil. We will see Djarin soon enough."

And then, she thought, we will see what he has become.

- - -

“ – BOBA FETT, WHO THINKS HE CAN INTERFERE LIKE THIS? AS IF THAT WALKING TEST TUBE HAS ANYTHING TO OFFER A REAL MANDALORIAN, EVEN A CHILD OF THE WATCH – “

“Tris,” said Torryg, staring fixedly out at the starfield beyond the Gra’tua’s bridge, in case accidentally making eye contact with Lady Kryze got her started yelling at Torryg instead. “Will you kill me? Please?”

Tristan Wren sighed, and did not kill Torryg.

- - -

The force of the sneeze caught Boba Fett entirely by surprise. He hadn’t even felt it coming on. One minute he was sitting at the bar with Fennec and Noora, inhaling a bowl of Espan fried noodles and discussing how many bodies they’d need to ensure the palace’s security, if Gorga and his mercs came back, and the next his bowl of noodles was upended all over the bar and Boba was blinking stars out of his eyes, dazed.

“Smoo te ya,” Noora said.

Fennec just looked amused. “Too much joloko pepper in the sauce?”

“No,” said Boba, blinking. His nose itched tremendously. He looked at the noodles now splattered everywhere, sauce dripping, and sighed.

He’d been enjoying those.

Noora reached under the bar, fished out a rag, and tossed it at Boba’s head. He thought about reaching up to catch it, but Noora hadn’t laughed since the raid. He let it catch him in the face. The cloth was damp and smelled faintly of spilled tihaar, and one corner had been singed by blasterfire.

Boba didn't mind. When it dropped back down to the bar, Noora was smiling. It wasn’t a full-on laugh, but it was good enough. Better than Boba'd seen in days, from her. Satisfied, Boba took the rag and started to mop up his overturned lunch.

Fennec knew what he was doing and rolled her eyes. Soft, she signed, in rough Tusken. Boba ignored her.

“Must be all this dust in the air,” Boba said. Gorga’s mercs hadn’t been particularly skilled, but they’d done a level job at wrecking Boba’s palace. His nose itched again and he suppressed a second sneeze with a glower.

“That,” Noora agreed, still smiling. “Or somebody’s talking about you. That’s what my mother used to say, you know.”

Most of the people who’d be talking about Boba right now probably wanted him dead. Boba snorted. “Let’s hope not,” he said. “That’s the last thing I need right now.”

- - -

Far away, on the other side of the galaxy, Luke Skywalker opened his eyes and cocked his head, confused.

“Uh oh,” said Han, dropping his feet down off of Luke’s desk like he hadn’t been sprawled out sleeping just a few minutes ago. If Luke pointed that out, Han’d accuse him of spying, even though it didn’t take a spy’s work to figure out that Han would always prop his feet up on other people’s furniture. “Disturbance in the Force, kid?”

Luke rolled his eyes. Han had been attending some of the younglings’ classes, lately. Ben did better when he knew Han was around. Honestly, it wasn’t a bad idea, Han attending the classes. If he paid more attention to them, he might even learn something about the Jedi.

But all Han had learned, really, was a few words and phrases that he’d trot out wherever Luke and the other Jedi were talking about the Force.

“No,” Luke said, humoring his friend. He didn’t mind that Han had napped while Luke had meditated. Han needed it. “Not a disturbance. More like…”

The Force was always close at hand, these days. Luke couldn’t remember a time without it. A time when he hadn’t been able to hear it, to close his eyes and sink into it like an embrace. He’d fallen into the Force in seconds, this time, and it had almost been –

“More like someone told the Force a really good joke,” Luke settled on. That was what it had felt like. A flicker of warmth. The Force curling in on itself, delighted. “There’s – someone out there is having a good laugh.”

Han raised a skeptical eyebrow. “The Force has a sense of humor?”

Luke grinned. “That,” he said. He knew how it sounded. Han had a pretty good tolerance for what he called “Force stuff,” especially now that Ben could talk and had no qualms about telling his father what he dreamed or heard during mediation. But there was no reason to strain his credulity – Han’s carefully-constructed understanding of the way the galaxy worked – any further. “Or I’m just hearing things.”

- - -

The graveyard that had once been Mandalore was still and silent. The surface of the planet was thick with ash and dust, scalded rock. The same sunlight scoured over the graves of Clan Kryze that scoured over the graves of Jaster Mereel, of Tor Vizsla, of the Ordos and the Awauds and the Skiratas and the Bralors, Vaus and Raus, Wrens and Wravens.

There was no one left on Mandalore to hear the news sweeping through what remained of Mandalore’s people. The whispers, the plans, the guesswork, the surprise. There was no one left on Mandalore to care.

But in the skies overhead, all of the ka’ra bal ka’ra were shining brightly.

#ast asks #ast tag #ast 'verse pov tag #y'all i have too many goddamn ocs

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absolutepokemontrash · 3 years ago

Text

MC is Half Demon and They’re- Oh Crap They’re Barbatos’ Kid!

This is the second part of that one request I answered for Dia and Barb’s possible kids. Sorry this took so long! Writer’s block, y’know? Anyhoo~ enjoy, everyone!

This story didn’t start on the first day of the exchange program, it started five days before in Barbatos’ room at three in the morning with the poor butler waking up in a cold sweat.

Oh dear, it appeared the exchange program would be up in a bit of a tizzy. He had… a child? Oh my… Barbatos hoped the young master wouldn’t be too miffed about the student not being a totally normal human.

On the day of the exchange program, Barbatos insisted he had to be present for the event, he carefully pushed a cushioned sofa in the drop zone before opening the portal. The child fell right out of the sky and landed perfectly on the couch, they were already wearing a helmet and looked quite shocked by the cushioned fall.

Well, it was a big shock to the assembled crowd, but the child gave everyone a lopsided smile and removed their helmet.

“So, I assume I’m here for the exchange program?”

Dadbatos

Well, this child was incredibly… what was the word the kids were using? chill? They were quite chill considering the situation, and was surprisingly prepared for the sudden drop into hell.

“Oh, I had a dream that this was going to happen, and I dream about the future n’stuff. I thought I’d come prepared.” “Ah, that’s very sensible.”

Diavolo recovered quickly from his shock and was positively delighted to meet this little munchkin. He insisted that they had to stay with their dad.

MC was polite, if not a bit overly calm about a lot of things. They didn’t run off to start trouble, and they didn’t seem very impressed by the Devildom itself. It was sort of like this child had a very low maximum level of excitement. Barbatos was glad his child wasn’t some little hellraiser.

He was never a child himself, so he’s a bit clueless about what children actually enjoy. Here child, have a… have an old torture weapon. Don’t use it on anyone who doesn’t deserve it :)

(I’m kidding, Barbatos is too responsible to give one of his instruments of torture to a child. That’s for when they’re older.)

“MC,” Barbatos knocked on his child’s door. “Have you done your homework?”

MC answered the door with a grin on their face. “Yep, done this week’s and next week’s. I’m getting a head start on the potions project due next week.”

Barbatos almost breathed a small sigh of relief. Thank the stars his child was responsible, it already took a big chunk of his energy to make sure Diavolo didn’t get distracted from his paperwork. Though, his stress levels did rise a tad when he got a glimpse at the mess in MC’s room.

“Are you going to clean that?”

“Nah,” MC shrugged. “It’s whatever. I know where everything is and nothing’s a fall risk. See you at dinner, father.”

And with that, MC shut the door. Well… no child was perfect.

As much as MC’s lack of cleanliness bothers Barbatos, he knows his kid isn’t being maliciously lazy, just for the love of the Demon King please stop leaving cups on the coffee tables without a coaster!

Oh yeah, Luke has a big sib. Sorry- little sib, because Luke isn’t some chihuahua child, he’s a totally mature grown-up Angel.

Barbatos is the type of father who will let his child go off and have whatever kind of fun they want as long as they don’t slack on their important duties.

Barbs also has a goddamn torture dungeon so we here at Stupid Headcanons inc. do NOT recommend trying to eat MC. Doing so may result in you wishing you were dead.

Don’t fuck with the butler.

Lucifer

…out of literally everyone in the room, the last person Lucifer expected to have a secret scandal baby… had a scandal baby. Damn.

At least the human wouldn’t have to live with him and his brothers. The last thing Lucifer wanted was for Barbatos to be even more aware of the chaos that went down in that house every single day.

MC and Lucifer have a healthy level of respect for one another, but Lucifer just can’t shake the feeling that this kid is messing with him somehow.

Just, little things… MC offering him fruit and loudly assuring him that it was just blackberries and nothing poisonous, asking if the RAD uniform suits his tastes, proclaiming that the dirt was high quality-

SOMEONE TOLD MC ABOUT LUCIFER’S FIRST VISIT TO THE DEVILDOM!

MC wasn’t exactly visibly goading him, they said everything with an innocent smile on their face.

When MC starts getting nosy with the attic, he’s not terribly sure how to deal with it. He was going up against a child that could at least partially tell the future. After the first time Lucifer told them to scram, they never went back to the steps… at least not when Lucifer was there to guard it…

After everything goes down, Lucifer is glad that MC wasn’t hurt or anything. He’d come to like the child and it’d be awful to lose the only person who could get his more hyperactive brothers to calm down.

Mammon

Mammon wasn’t present for the meeting, but when he was informed later, the news was met with an eloquent: “the fuck? Huh, wild.”

He isn’t too interested in MC at first. At least until the little runt saved him from getting busted for skipping class. Mammon was just eating his lunch in the courtyard when MC passed by and calmly told him that if he skipped class he should not hang out in the west staircase because Lucifer was going to walk down those steps during third period.

At first Mammon tried to brush off the warning, but ended up listening to the kid anyway, and what do ya know! He didn’t get caught by Lucifer!

That’s when it clicked that MC could see the future, right? Right?! Ya know what Mammon could use that for?! Right?!

Gambling! Scams! Schemes! General shennaniganery!

MC wasn’t terribly enthused about the entire situation, so they may have messed with Mammon a little. Just a bit.

It’s not like Mammon ever listened when MC told him to cut his losses and leave the casino anyway 🙄

Leviathan

First reaction? Thank the anime gods that there wouldn’t be another normie living in the house with him…

Reaction upon hearing that the MC was Barb’s kid? Really? Barbatos? Wow… well, to be fair Levi totally understood why someone would be attracted to Barbatos, I mean, Levi’s watched plenty of anime involving butlers, but Barbatos actually having a living breathing child? Damn.

But still, Levi wasn’t going to hang out with some normie brat. He had better and nerdier things to devote his time to.

Whenever MC visited, Levi was up in his room. But once MC decided to poke their head in the door while Levi was in the middle of gamer raging.

They calmly sat Levi down and explained to him that he could be upset about whatever happened in his game, but lashing out wasn’t going to fix anything or make him better at the actual game.

…damn it… they were right.

Slowly but surely Levi and MC built up a friendship, and the brothers rejoiced at the lack of rage related Lotan summons.

Satan

Out of everything Satan could have possibly expected from the second exchange student, this was not one of them.

Satan began to wonder exactly how MC’s powers worked, he didn’t exactly have any concrete data to compare them to because Barbatos was so mysterious

Hm, how very interesting. Satan decided that it was up to him to satiate his own curiosity and began to study MC. To be honest, MC wasn’t being terribly interesting.

They were a pretty normal kid all things considered. MC went to class, made friends, did their work, very very normal. Well, except for the fact that they seemed to dodge practically every unfortunate thing that could have happened to them.

They’d stop at the perfect time to avoid something accidentally being spilled on them, they always had pencils ready, and they always seemed to know exactly when a teacher was coming… mad sus.

Satan eventually confronted MC about this, and they just shrugged and explained that they tend to dream about what was most likely to happen the next day and would adjust their actions accordingly.

It may have been anticlimactic, but MC did inform Satan that there would be a cat in the courtyard in fifteen minutes.

HE NEEDED TO GO!

Asmodeus

Asmo had genuinely been looking forward to the new exchange program, he was excited to have a new face around the house to shake things up! He loves his dear brothers but spending thousands of years with them makes their shenanigans become a bit… well, a bit boring.

But my oh my, the new face was being obscured by that tacky bicycle helmet… the new face looked an awful lot like Barbatos…

Once Asmo registered what was going on, he was positively enchanted with the little half human. They were just so cute! They looked like a baby Barbatos with those adorably chubby cheeks!

Oh Barbatos~ he just had to let Asmo babysit!

When Asmo managed to sweep MC away for a fun day with shifty uncle Solomon, he was reminded of all the shenanigans that he, Barbatos, and Solomon used to get up to.

*sigh, Barbie was always so busy… no time for a fun night of torture, chaos, and revelry

Anyhoodles~ MC was always such a relaxed little thing. They let Asmo vent whenever any awful tragedies occur, like when Asmo finds a sweater that isn’t in his size… *sniffle*

Beelzebub

A child of Barbatos? The best cook in the three realms Barbatos?! …hey kid want to hang out with cool uncle Beel?

Beel tried everything in his power to get MC to make him food. I mean, the genetic disposition for making good food has to have been passed down from father to child!

When MC finally made Beel food, he was ecstatic!

…Until the food touched Beel’s tongue and he realized it wasn’t good, it was just… okay. Average. Passable.

Aw man… but the kid looked so excited to have made something for Beel…

Beel really hammed up his reaction to make MC feel better. Beel was like “Wow. So good. Amazing.” “Thanks Beel.”

Very sweet child, they don’t mind being used in place as a dumbell.

Belphegor

Damn, and here Belphie was, thinking Barbatos has standards. Apparently not!

When MC went and walked up the attic steps, Belphie was almost bouncing on his toes in anticipation. This human had been a pain in the rear to call up, so he was excited to finally get a good look at them. And lo and behold, a half demon child of Lord Diavolo’s butler.

MC grinned and greeted Belphie first, using his name and asking why the Avatar of Sloth was stuck up in the attic of his own home when he was supposed to be in the human world. Belphie was flabbergasted and didn’t exactly know how to respond.

He came up with a new plan quickly. Belphie didn’t exactly know how this kid’s powers worked, so he’d continue with trying to trick them into opening the attic door. Allowing Belphie to end their miserable little life and thus ruining the exchange program.

The child continued to visit Belphie up in the attic, relaying the events of what was going on, and Belphie continued to play the part of prisoner. Until one day in particular…

MC appeared in front of the door, looking a tad more unkempt than normal, they weren’t smiling their usual carefree smile either. Their eyes bore holes into Belphegor’s skull as they flared at him.

“How long have you been planning on killing me?”

MC had seen the future where they died at Belphie’s hand, and they sure as hell were not going to let him out of the attic after that. Though, they did tell Belphie about Lilith’s true fate before they left, and assured Belphie they had no reason to lie to him about something he wasn’t directly involved in.

So, Belphie did get let out of the attic eventually, and even though MC smiled and welcomed him back all the same, there would always a barrier between the two. Broken trust wasn’t easy to mend, after all.

#I just like to think that the kid just carries weapons with them in their bag #But they never use the weapons for what they’re SUPPOSED to be used for #Like- MC: Oh yea this is meant for pulling out teeth but it’s big and heavy enough that I can just clobber someone with it #obey me #obey me!#obey me! shall we date?#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #Obey me Headcanons #Obey me! Headcanons #Obey me Barbatos #Obey me Lucifer #Obey me Mammon #Obey me Leviathan #Obey me Satan #Obey me Asmodeus #Obey me Beelzebub #Obey me Belphegor

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whiteqnn · 4 years ago

Text

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Fem! Reader

Summary: Sean invites one of his good friends - Y/N - to play with him and the group. She has a lot of fun with them, but at the same time is too oblivious, too nice, and too pure to notice that one particular Among Us player has taken a liking to her the moment he heard her voice...

Notes: Hello everyone! This is the very first time I’m publishing something bigger in here, I’m honestly still figuring out how Tumblr works, even though I’ve had this account for quite some time now 😅. That being said, please don’t expect anything super impressive. I tried my best though just so you know. 🥺

A/N- It didn’t turn out as I expected, but I really hope at least some of you find it enjoyable :(

Y/C/N - your channel name

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

PURE [1]

“Did you guys find anybody?” Felix asked, as the number of players still showed just 7 of them. They could just start now, but the game would be way more fun with a full lobby.

“Yeah, Lily’s joining. I just texted her the code, so she should be here at any moment.” Sykkuno replied after receiving a text message from the said girl. “Oh, and Corpse also said he’d be joining soon.”

“Great. Anyone else?”

“I think Jack was also bringing someone, right?” Dave asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I have one coming, she’ll join us in a few” the asked man replied at the same moment Lily’s character appeared in the lobby.

“Who you’re bringing Jack?”

“Y/N” he said, causing Felix to gasp in shock and yell into his mic:

“How the fuck did you manage to convince her? I’ve been bugging her about this game for the past week and she always had some excuse!”

“What can I say, my charm is irresistible” Jack replied nonchalantly, causing everyone in the lobby to laugh at his fake deep voice.

The number of participants changed to 9, as a little black astronaut with horns on his helmet appeared in the lobby.

“Corpse, you’re here!” Rae’s character ran up to the man, circling him excitedly.

“Hey man!”

“What’s up, Corpse?”

“Hello everyone” his deep voice sounded out “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

“All good man, we’re still waiting for one person.” Felix reassured him “Sean, why is she not here yet? Are you sure you’ve sent her the right code?”

“Of course I am!” he all but shouted at Felix “And about that, she just texted me to give her a few more minutes and that we should start without her.”

“We can just wait, right?” Lily offered, earning a few hums of approval from the others.

“I think it might take a little longer than a few minutes, she has some problems with her microphone.”

“Who are you guys talking about?” Corpse asked, completely unaware of who Jack was referring to.

“Wait, Jack, you mean Y/N from Y/C/N?” Sykkuno asked suddenly, only then realizing why this name sounded familiar

“Yeah, the one and only” Jack replied, a smile evident in his voice.

“Oh my god, I love her videos!” Rae exclaimed at that “She’s so funny and sweet!”

“Yeah! Her new video is so freaking cute, I wish she’d upload more often.” Poki agreed.

“Right?” Jack said, clearly very proud of his friend. “But don’t let that sweet demeanor fool you guys cause she’s one of the best players I’ve encountered in this game.”

“That’s true, she’s a secret big brain genius” Toast confirmed, making Pewdiepie gasp once again.

“wHAT??YOU TWO PLAYED WITH HER?!” Felix’s offended voice boomed through everyone’s headphones “HOW DARE YOU. HOW COULD YOU NOT INVITE ME?!”

“That’s for not inviting me to your latest Cringe episode!” Jack was quick to respond, making others in the lobby laugh at their mini fight.

“Oh, so that’s where I recognized her from!” Sykkuno nearly shouted when he finally put two and two together. “I can’t wait to meet her, she seems like a really nice person.”

“She is! When she got impostor for the first time she refused to kill me” Toast explained, earning himself a couple of Aww’s from his friends. “So we just ran around the emergency button until I called the meeting and voted her off.”

“Yeah, only to be her first victim in the next game.” Jack all but giggled, clearly very amused at the memory of Y/N going into a full berserk mode. No one except for him and Toast knew how good she really was at this game...

“She’s basically the wolf in sheep’s skin” Felix concluded with a chuckle “Very soft wolf, however.”

“She’s like the complete opposite of Corpse, both in voice and personality” Jack suddenly said, making Felix laugh wholeheartedly at something only two of them understood at the moment.

“I don’t know how should I take that” Corpse admitted with a chuckle. He remained silent for most of the conversation since he didn’t really know who the guys were talking about. But he would lie if he said he wasn’t intrigued by this girl at least in the slightest. Although he heard about her channel, he hasn’t seen any of her videos, so he didn’t really know what to expect. But hearing what gamers like Sean and Felix said about her, he knew he’s not gonna be disappointed once the girl joins them in the game.

“Imagine Corpse and Y/N talking.” Felix said suddenly with a seemingly very amused voice.

“Imagine Corpse and Y/N both being Impostors” Toast said, which resulted in many of them shouting over each other at how crazy that would be.

“Alright, now that you mention this I start fearing the moment two of them meet” Jack confessed with loud laughter following the sentence. Corpse chuckled deeply under his breath, at the same time glancing at the questions his audience was asking him in his stream. He could hardly read any, as there were quite a lot of people asking, so all he saw was just a bunch of comments moving at the speed of light in his chat. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he was slightly nervous, seeing the growing number of people watching his stream. It was still a rather new thing to him, and he feared he'd say something inappropriate, or just make a complete idiot out of himself.

"At least no one can see me..." he mumbled under his breath after muting his microphone.

"Oh! Y/N just texted me! She's joining the call right now!"

"Fuck yeah!" Felix shouted excitedly "Just so you know Jack, I won't forget that you two played without me."

"Uh-oh. Is that a threat? Are you threatening me now?"

"It's a warning" Felix replied, receiving a series of gasps from other players. "If I get impostor, you're the first one on my list."

"Okay, everyone heard that! You know who to vote off when I'm dead!"

"It's so cool to play with someone new, I wonder if she's as good as you guys depict her" Sykkuno spoke up, but before anyone could answer his question, a new character popped up in the lobby.

***

"Hi everyone! I’m sorry I left you just like that, but this stream would be completely useless without me being able to answer your questions. Fortunately it wasn’t anything serious, I just had to readjust my mic and go through the settings to find what was wrong. Took some time, but here I am now!” Y/N chirped into her microphone, smiling apologetically at her webcam. At the moments like this, she really appreciated how supportive her audience was. No one was hating on her when she had to get off the stream for a couple of minutes, and everyone was just so understanding that it made her heart melt. Perhaps her audience wasn’t very big, but it felt almost like a second family to her.

“Anyway, as you already know from my twitter, today I’ll be playing Among Us with my friends and their friends! I can’t wait if I’m being honest, last time I played this game was so much fun, and there was only a few of us.” she admitted with a genuine smile on her face. “Let’s just text Sean now so we can get into the lobby...”

Y/N: Ready to play with you guys ^^

Jackaboy: Great! You got that mic fixed already?

Y/N: Yes, everything is fine. I’m sorry you had to wait so long.

Jackaboy: It’s all good kiddo, no worries. I’ll call you and send you the code in a sec.

Y/N: Perfect, thank you Sean :)

Jackaboy: Btw, everyone can’t wait to meet you ;-)Y/N stared at the screen for a moment, only now, seconds before joining the group, realizing how nervous she felt. From Sean’s tweets she saw earlier, she figured that the lobby was right now full of many famous streamers, those she wouldn’t even compare herself to. It’s not that she thought of herself very low, but... being among such youtube celebrities like them made her panic a little bit. She didn’t want to look like a complete fool amongst them.

Playing or recording with Sean and Felix was something else because she knew those guys for years (and yet still sometimes found herself thinking how lucky she got to be able to call them her friends). She felt good in their company, not worrying about choosing the right words. But amongst the rest of the players, she knew only Toast and talked with Rae maybe once in her life...

What if the rest won’t like her?

Y/N cleared her throat, realizing that she was still staring at her phone like hypnotized and her audience was already asking her what’s going on. She quickly typed in the code Sean had texted her and readjusted her headphones, before joining the discord chat.

“THERE SHE IS” screamed Sean, making her grin from ear to ear, hearing how excited he was “Little wonderchild!”

“I think you meant little TRAITOR” Felix corrected him with a scoff. A silence settled in the lobby as everyone was waiting for Y/N to speak up.

“Um... hello everyone..” she said softly, almost inaudibly, a sudden wave of shyness taking over her. “I’m Y/N”

“Oh, you were right about that Corpse thing!” replied another, also very soft and very sweet voice, and Y/N saw the image of someone named Lily pop up. “It’s like the exact opposite!”

“See? Told ya. Everyone, meet Y/N/N, the little angel from Y/C/N.”

“Hey Y/N!”

“Hi there!”

“Hey, what’s up?”

“H-Hi, so great to meet you, Y/N!” a very friendly sounding voice said, and a little lime astronaut with the name Sykkuno above it started running around her. “Can’t wait to play with you!”

“That’s so nice, thank you” she replied with a wide smile on her face, moving around his character as well. “I can’t wait to play with you too, actually with all you guys. It’s so great to be here with you.”

“Jack I swear she’s the cutest little thing I’ve ever heard. Where the hell did you find her?!” Poki all but yelled at the man, making Y/N giggle to herself and in-process loosen up a little bit. They all seemed like someone she’d happily be friends with.

“Or rather, where do you get one?” someone else commented, making them all burst into laughter, Y/N included.

“Guys, what did I say about that sweet demeanor...” Jack said after calming down from his fit “Don’t put your guard down just because she sounds like that!”

“Wait- what did you tell them about me?” Y/N asked confused, the tone of her voice making him laugh even more “Jack!”

“Don’t worry, only the good stuff” a very deep, low voice spoke up, leaving her taken aback for a moment. Her eyes widened slightly and she glanced at the name of that person, reading out CORPSE. Now that’s something she didn’t expect...

“Corpse, mind your manners! You didn’t even introduce yourself!”

“Oh, shit- yeah, sorry. Um, I’m Corpse, it’s very nice to meet you Y/N” he replied right after, making her lip corners curl up into a smile.

“Nice to meet you too Corpse, you have a really pleasant voice.” she spoke sweetly, completely unaware of the chaos that was taking place in her stream chat. She didn’t even think of it the way her audience did, she just simply spoke up her mind, and being an incredibly nice person - turned it into a compliment.

“Oh- wow. I mean, thank you so much. I love your voice too, it’s really sweet” he replied, nervously chuckling at the end, before muting his mic. It was, however, enough for Felix and Sean to start teasing him, as the two immediately screamed:

“SIIIMP!!!”

“It’s the voice Felix, I told you he’d fall into her trap!”

“Wait- he was just being nice, guys! Stop making fun of him” Y/N immediately defended the man, trying to speak up over the hysterical laughter of the other players.

“Oh my god, but what if they both get impostors and they both pull the voice cards on us?!” Rae managed to yell through all the noise, making Y/N even more confused.

“Wait, what? What do you mean? I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry Y/N, that’s how I feel all the time around them.” Sykkuno seemed to be the only one who heard her question, as the rest continued their gabbing without giving her as much as a glance.

“Alright, let’s start the game maybe. I might have a few old scores to settle” Toast cleared his throat theatrically, his astronaut coming face to face with Y/N’s.

“Oh, you mean me? I thought I already apologized!” she replied frantically. “You gave me no choice Toast, I didn’t even want to kill you in the first place...”

“BUT YOU DID. IN THE VERY FIRST ROUND”

“I’m sorry!”

“Alright, enough! Toast, just don’t kill her right away, okay? Let her run around the map, fearing for her life for a moment.” Y/N gasped upon hearing Jack’s words, clearly sensing the smirk behind his voice.

“Wha- Jack?! Since when are you against me?!”

“Don’t worry Y/N, I won’t let them hurt you. You haven’t played with us yet, I’ll protect you.”

“Oh, thank you so much Sykkuno! I’ll protect you too!”

“Great. Another one simping...” was Felix’s last words, before the game began.

Y/N sighed in relief upon seeing the word crewmate forming on her screen, but at the same time feared Toast’s inevitable revenge. She thought they'd already buried the hatchet, but it seemed that he was desperate to make her pay for the last time they played together.

“Aw, Sykkuno was serious” she mumbled with a smile, when his lime astronaut started circling her white one, so she would follow him. “Okay, let’s do some tasks.”

They both made their way towards the medbay, Sykkuno patiently waiting nearby as she did the scan, then Y/N waiting for him to do the same. The moment his little character stepped towards her, a meeting was called by none other than Felix.

“What happened?” Rae asked.

“I called the meeting because I’m afraid of Jack” he responded, causing everyone to laugh. “Seriously though! Dude’s been following me around the whole time.”

“I was just making sure nobody kills you.”

“Yeah don’t go all Sykkuno on me!” Felix screamed, making the call erupt into even more laughter.

“Alright, are we skipping?”

“Yeah.”

“Guys, my life is in danger!” Felix wouldn’t give up. “Come on, show some support! Y/N? You played with him, you know his techniques!”

“Sorry Felix” Y/N giggled, clicking the skip button.

When the next round began, Sykkuno was quick to join Y/N on her way towards admin, where they both found Poki doing the upload. They did the card swipe and left her there, when the lights suddenly went off.

“Uh-oh. Let’s head the opposite direction, Sykkuno” the girl murmured, dancing around his character and heading towards Comms instead of going to Electrical. It was the easiest way to die, after all.

Once they entered the room and waited for someone to fix the lights, Y/N could see another figure appear in the same location. She couldn’t recognize whose character it was, but upon seeing the horns on the helmet she smiled to herself.

“Hey there, Corpse” she said, walking up to the black astronaut, who was standing still in the same place as if he was just watching her and Sykkuno run around Comms instead of doing their tasks.

They stood like that for a couple of seconds until Corpse turned around and ran away, and that’s when the first body was reported.

“Oh no, Jack!”

“Poor guy. He’s gonna haunt us now.”

“Where’s the body?”

“Navigation” replied Rae, who was the one to find Sean’s green astronauts’ body “Didn’t see anyone around, but I’m pretty sure someone just vented right in front of my eyes...”

“Any suspicions?” Toast asked.

“Um, not really sure, it was the exact same moment the lights went off. I was doing tasks with Jack and then he just died. I only saw the vent close, nothing or no one else.”

“Okay, where are you guys right now?”

“I’m in admin with Dave, we only passed Poki when we got there.” Lily’s voice sounded out, quickly being joined by Poki’s explanation.

“Yeah, I was finishing the upload when you guys came in, Y/N and Sykkuno saw it”

“Did you see her?” Toast asked, addressing his question towards the white and lime astronauts.

“Yes, we were doing the card swipe before going to Comms. Corpse joined us for a moment and then left.”

“Yeah, I was on my way to fix the lights when I stumbled upon them in Comms, the body was reported the exact moment I left.”

“Can someone confirm this? I mean, did someone see you besides the two of them?” Toast continued his questioning.

“I think I only saw Felix in Medbay.”

“Hmm, so no one really knows where you were this whole time. You could easily lure Jack into Navigation and kill him there. Is that what you did, Corpse?”

“Woah, that’s some serious accusation” Corpse replied in his usual, low and calm voice. “Where were you Toast? You seem the only one who still doesn’t have an alibi”

“Neither does Felix.” Y/N spoke innocently, and the mentioned man quickly started his explanation.

“Okay, I was with Jack at the beginning but he clearly can’t confirm this since someone snapped his fucking neck. We’ve split up in O2 after doing our tasks and then he must’ve gone with Rae. I just wandered around the map, escaping from the death.”

“Hmm, so not only were you one of the last people to see him alive, but you also admit to not doing your tasks” Y/N said, trying her best to keep her voice steady and stop herself from laughing. She was sure Sykkuno was doing the same thing, they both refused to do any tasks after the lights went off, after all.

“Yeah, but does that already makes me an Imposter? I’m just scared for my life, that’s all.”

“Y/N has some good logic, but I’m not really sure it’s Pewds. I mean, I saw him in Medbay and he really seemed to be just jogging around.” Corpse said, his voice almost immediately doing its magic, as people more or less willingly agreed to skip this round as well.

“I think it’s Felix. I mean, I haven’t played with him yet, but I have this feeling that he’s just acting.” Y/N said to her chat after muting herself. She went towards Weapons to do another task, seeing Sykkuno’s little character follow her once again, but the doors were suddenly locked and his lime astronaut remained in Cafeteria. “Oh no, Sykkuno” she sighed with a pout on her face, deciding against waiting for him and risking getting her neck snapped. She finished her task in Weapons and moved towards another location, when suddenly Corpse appeared in front of her, coming right out of nowhere.

“Oh- Corpse, you scared me to death” Y/N breathed a laugh, watching as his character stood still for a couple of seconds, before circling around her white astronaut. Y/N nodded her head with a smile, even though he couldn’t see her, and followed him in Shields, where they found Poki’s dead body.

“The body is in Shields” Y/N replied right after reporting the body, only to gasp in shock when she realized more than one person was killed. Red crosses decorated not only Poki’s name but were also visible next to Dave and Lily.

“What the hell?!” Felix all but yelled into his mic, obviously shocked just like everyone else who was still alive.

“Now that’s... a lot of bodies” Sykkuno mumbled under his breath.

“Alright, who’s in Shields? Y/N, you said you found the body there, which one?”

“Poki’s, Corpse was there with me” her reply was followed by his short and low hum.

“Sykkuno, where are you? I didn’t see you anywhere since the last round.” Felix asked, clearly accusing the lime astronaut of being a murderer.

“I was... doing the wires in electrical, Toast was there for a moment as well.”

“Yeah but I was only searching for the body, so I saw you maybe for a second” Toast replied, building even more suspicions around Sykkuno.

“But- guys, you know I wouldn’t kill two people in one round, let alone four of them.”

“No one says you did that, I only mentioned that you were nowhere to be seen. You could’ve been sabotaging the map for the other Impostor” Felix said nonchalantly.

“Guys, I-”

“It’s him! It must be him!” Rae shouted through her mic.

“Sykkuno is 100% innocent, I can vouch for him” Y/N’s voice sounded out in everyone’s headphones “We were together since the start of the game and he didn’t kill me, even though he had quite a number of chances to do so.”

“Weren’t you with Corpse this time?” Felix asked suspiciously.

“I was! But at the beginning, I was with Sykkuno, until someone locked him in Cafeteria. That’s when we split up.”

“And you haven’t seen him ever since?”

“Well, no, but-”

“Then I can assure you it was only a matter of time before he’d stab you in the back” Toast concluded, making Sykkuno gasp in confusion.

“Wha- No, I would never do that! Y/N is our guest, I was just making sure she was okay!”

“Sykkuno, simping won’t save your life right now”

“Wha- I- Guys!” he tried to stutter out some logical explanation “Y/N, don’t believe them!”

“I don’t, I know you’re innocent! C’mon guys, he wouldn’t do it!”

“Yeah yeah, let’s kick him out. Corpse, who are you voting?” Toast asked, and Y/N could see the I voted sign next to his character.

“I kinda feel like Felix tries to shift the blame onto Sykkuno. He didn’t even tell his location, and was already throwing accusations on someone else.” Corpse replied after a moment, making the smile widen on Y/N’s face. Someone was finally on her side!

“That’s because he can’t even explain himself!” Felix exclaimed, voting as well.

“Besides, I’m pretty sure if it wasn’t for whoever locked that door, Y/N would be dead as well!”

“No, I told you I-!”

“Guys, we have ten seconds to vote. Rae?”

“I think it’s him as well. He was acting suspiciously since we started this round. I vote Sykkuno”

“But..!”

“No, Sykkuno...” Y/N whispered with a pout on her lips, when she saw the number of people who voted for her lime friend.

Sykkuno was ejected.

“Alright, I’m pretty sure it’s Felix. I saw Rae multiple times and she didn’t kill me, Toast also doesn’t act very Impostor like, but maybe that’s just one of his strategies... Corpse is with me again, I don’t think that’s him, I mean, he followed me around last round, but still didn’t do anything, and even vouched for me and Sykkuno when we were both clearly chilling in comms. It can’t be him... right?”

Dead body reported.

“I just saw Corpse kill Toast, then vent!” Rae’s voice blared through Y/N’s headphones, as she looked in shock at the red cross next to Toast’s name. If not him, then..?

“What?” the accused man asked calmly “That’s a self-report, she’s trying to frame me. You guys can’t possibly believe her.”

“I believe her. I saw you enter the Electrical with Toast, then he’s suddenly dead” Felix said.

“That’s because she vented in there and killed him.”

“No! I swear, Y/N/N you have to believe me!” she directed her words towards the girl who remained silent during their discussion, processing her accusations over and over in her head. “I was fixing the wires, Toast was doing another task, and then boom! I see Corpse snapping his neck!”

“How could you see that if the lights were off?” Y/N suddenly asked, making Rae cut her own sentence off “No one went to fix them, they were off the entire round.”

Silence.

“It’s Rae, it must be her” Corpse couldn’t help but laugh wholeheartedly at how small was the mistake which completely blew Rae’s cover. “We’re voting Rae, right Y/N?”

“No! Guys, I mean, let me explain, I-!”

Rae was ejected.

“Now that was something I didn’t expect. I would’ve never thought it was her, I even suspected that Sykkuno might really have been the other Impostor, but now... It’s just me, Corpse, and Felix. I’m clear, clearly, so it must be one of them. And since Corpse protected me for the past few rounds, there’s no other option than...”

Her eyes suddenly widened when the realization hit her, and she quickly turned around to speed towards the emergency button. Fortunately, no one was around to stop her from calling the meeting.

“Felix.” Y/N started, trying to contain her excitement and sound seriously “Where were you when Sean was killed?”

Neither Corpse of Felix said a word, as it was probably the last question they expected her to ask. Felix cleared his throat, however, and finally replied:

“Y/N, that was literally the beginning of a game. How am I supposed to remember what I did then?”

“Well” she said nonchalantly “I, for example, clearly remember the things you said even when we were in the lobby.”

“What are you implying?”

“Wasn’t it you, who told everyone that Sean was your number one if you get Impostor?” she asked with a wicked smile on her face. Felix was dumbfounded, he obviously didn’t expect her to pull that card on him, hell, he didn’t even know how she knew about it since she wasn’t even in the call at the time.

“FELIX” Corpse suddenly broke the silence, simultaneously breaking the said man from his train of thoughts.

“Okay, first of all- YOU WEREN’T EVEN IN THE CALL WHEN I SAID THAT” he yelled through his mic, making both Y/N and Corpse laugh, as it only confirmed their suspicions.

“See? You only proved my point.”

“Oh, fuck’s sake- I was just joking okay?!” he tried to defend himself, but hearing how he couldn’t even contain his own laughter anymore, it was clear he already accepted the defeat. “It wasn’t serious, god damn it!”

“You know what to do, Y/N” Corpse’s voice asked through her headphones, and surely, she knew exactly what to do.

“C’mon Y/N, that’s not fair! At least let me explain myself!”

“Bye Felix” she said in an overly dramatic tone before Corpse voted as well.

Soon enough, the sign VICTORY could be seen on her screen, which made her squeak and joy. This game was really fun, even though she was so scared of being killed first.

“I knew it! I knew you would figure out it’s him! That son of a bitch who murdered me!” Jack basically yelled out, clearly very happy about the result.

“Y/N, seriously now, how did you know I’ve said that?” Felix asked without even hiding his surprised tone.

“Let’s just say I might’ve stolen some of your viewers, Felix” she admitted, winking at her webcam, a new wave of comments landing on her chat. “Thanks guys!”

“Okay, that is rude and not fair!”

“It helped me win, so I’ve got nothing else to say” Y/N grinned from ear to ear, before muting herself for a moment to finally answer some of the questions from her chat, while the rest took a quick break to eat something or go to the bathroom.

She was halfway through telling the story of how she met Sean when she noticed she got a message from a private discord chat.

CORPSE: That was really impressive :)

Y/N smiled to herself upon seeing his text and quickly typed out the answer.

Y/N: Thanks!! I wouldn’t have done that without you though, you stood up for me and Sykkuno and all

Y/N: Also, thanks for protecting me from being murdered ^^

CORPSE: No problem, I knew you were innocent right away.

CORPSE: Anyway, good game, Sean was right saying that you’re one of the best players

She couldn’t help the blush that arose on her cheeks, it was very sweet of him to say that, even though she didn’t actually do much except for exposing Felix.

Y/N: I wasn’t an Impostor though, so you didn’t really see much :)

She watched the three dots beside his name, that signaled he was still texting. The chat was completely forgotten, but people seemed to quickly notice that small, shy smile on her lips, and the pink tint decoring her cheeks.

CORPSE: Okay, now I’m intrigued...

Y/N: Maybe we’ll both be Impostors one day ^^

CORPSE: Can’t wait for that to happen.

Soon enough, they returned to the lobby to begin another game. Y/N glanced at her chat for a second, and the moment she returned her eyes to the game, her jaw basically dropped.

IMPOSTOR was written in bold letters in the middle of the red screen, right above her name.

Corpse’s little character was standing beside her.

#corpse husband #corpse husband imagines #corpse x reader #corpse husband x reader #corpse imagines #youtubers x reader #fanfiction #writing #imagine

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wazzappp · 7 months ago

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A FEAST. A BANQUET BEFITTING A LORD. HOLY S H I T. who do I have to fight to get you more 4 day weekends dude I'll do it. I'll fucking do it. I wont hesitate betch.

/--Chris would probably dismember them both and cremate them in an oil drum. Heck, he could probably skip the cremation step and just leave their corpses in the house. No one would find them for years./

The whole Chris introduction is GREAT. Yeah no theres a healthy fear for the man who punches boulders into submission thats fair thats very fair. But also ROBBIE. HE. YOU CANT. YOU WONT GO DOWN IF YOU GET SHOT YOU KNOW THAT RIGHT??? the boy being oblivious is. my fucking favorite thing. And you write it SO well theres so many great little 'wink wink' moments in this it has me CHEWING MY FINGERNAILS OFF AAGGHHHHH. Deadpool breaks the fourth wall but you play tennis with it dude and that is SO impressive.

/Mr. Redfield seemed like he wanted to appear harmless. He generally arrived in a nondescript rental car, biceps straining the sleeves of his polo shirt, bearing some comics or Cholula hot sauce or something else he thought would endear him to them./

CHOLULA MY BELOVED peak hot sauce I fight and die on this hill >:] Ah yes, ridiculously ripped Chris is quite the important plot point. Dude is just built different. Built Ford Tough. Absolute UNIT of a man.

Robbie going into a full dissertation mentally about how bikes work and comparing them to cars was so fucking funny to me. Like yes my dude this is the most important thing to be thinking about at this very moment good job.

/“It’s big,” he remarked.

“The seat’s not hard to adjust.”

Crap. Mr. Redfield must think Robbie was complaining./

OH HE JUST LIKE ME. HE JUST LIKE ME FRFR.

/Robbie was already sprinting around the Tacoma, between the endless shrubs, down the rocky slope after Gabe, who was hurtling toward the ocean at ten, fifteen, twenty miles an hour—toward the ocean and the rough cliffs that led down to it./

Press X to doubt about the speed dude but also PANIK. Yeah no I could see how that would freak him tf out; no idea what your little brothers newfound capabilities limits are (I feel like I fucked up that grammar a little but whatever) and he just goes NYOOOOOOM.

/“Whoa, little dude, safety first,” Mr. Redfield called, waving the boxed helmet in one hand as he overtook Robbie without obvious effort. Maybe he was some kind of bioweapon./

FIRST OF ALL: DONT FUCKING TEMPT ME, IVE THOUGHT ABOUT IT. SECOND OF ALL: AHA. AHAHAHAHA. HAHAHAHAAAAA. pot calling the kettle black moment. THIRD OF ALL: llololol lmfao being made of fungus cant fix your poor cardiorespiratory health dude. Hop on a bike and get on that shit <33

/Robbie grasped desperately for some way to explain his panic besides, every time you show me something new you can do I get scared you’re possessed again./

OK O W YEAH THATS PRETTY. OW. FUCK. OK.

/“If you cracked your head open I’d be so sad I might die.” Then Gabe slumped and let Redfield tighten the chinstrap according to the diagrams./

If he cracked his head open it would probably fix itself in about a week but theres no need for him to know that yet :] also FJDKSLF:JKDSLJFKLDS THATS ONE WAY TO CONVINCE HIM LOL

Oh my GOD. The whole bit about Jack teaching him how to ride, Eveline treating him like a toy. AGH. Its so so very cool that he can ride a bike now but the CIRCUMSTANCES. REQUIRING 'DECONTAMINATION' HOOGHHHS. AAAAAAAAA. FUCK. Oh boy Robbies separation anxiety is about to be put through the fucking ringer isn't it. Congrats, he can now very quickly and easily leave not just your area of sight but your area of HEARING. The 'are you fucking kidding me' was well earned Chris XD

/Why was he acting shocked. He’d read their file. Foster kids couldn’t haul bikes from home to home. “Who was gonna teach me?”

“Me,” Redfield muttered. “Now. Apparently.”/

Don't make me emotional about them oh my god. oh my GOD. I gotta. Bonding session bike riding drawing time. Fuck. Come on Chris talk about teaching Claire how to ride a bike. Discussing your younger sibling with him would make leaps and bounds in your relationship. Hnnnggjdkflsa get cared for idiot. Get CARED FOR.

/“Is it a requirement?” Robbie checked.

“No, not like firearms training,” Redfield said, confirming one of Robbie’s previous suspicions and raising more questions at the same time. “But I figure you want to keep up with him.”/

Yayyyyyyyy being groomed into a weapon momenttttt just slightly more humanely I guess. At least he has Chris instead of Krauser lol.

Anyway, I need to turn your writing into soup so I can drown myself in it thank you

Ghost Rider/RE7 AU fanfic: Skills

Follows directly from this fic. Set in @wazzappp's Ghost Rider/RE7 fusion AU, during the period that Robbie and Gabe are living in an isolated BSAA-provided safe-house, watched by intelligence agents and also by Chris Redfield.

At least until the thing with Mia, Ethan Winters and Chris Redfield seemed to be friends, and Ethan seems to have looked up to Chris. I don't see this happening with Robbie. Not to say anything bad about Chris -- I'm not familiar enough with his character -- but his wiki page has his full career and this man has spent twenty years professionally shooting things. I just don't see Robbie getting that cozy with him, not without a long adjustment period.

Anyway, here Chris is being friendly. He's got a soft spot for orphans.

Mr. Redfield (like hell was Robbie going to call the private military contractor on whose word they had been extrajudicially deported to a Spanish-speaking country under false Mexican passports, and who had probably trained the guys who trained the guys who disappeared people for the cartels down south, “Chris”) showed up a couple times a month to supervise Robbie practicing with his illegal BSAA-issued firearms and make nice with Gabe. Gabe liked Chris. Robbie had to let them think he liked Chris, because if Chris ever decided that Robbie and Gabe were more trouble than they were worth, presumably as witnesses against Cutting-Edge Health Connections or whoever it actually was that had snatched Gabe up for his life-saving experimental “therapy,” then Chris would probably dismember them both and cremate them in an oil drum. Heck, he could probably skip the cremation step and just leave their corpses in the house. No one would find them for years.

Career-choice aside, Mr. Redfield seemed like he wanted to appear harmless. He generally arrived in a nondescript rental car, biceps straining the sleeves of his polo shirt, bearing some comics or Cholula hot sauce or something else he thought would endear him to them. Today, he trundled down the miles-long gravel drive to the house in a Toyota Tacoma. Robbie didn’t know they sold those in Spain. As he approached, Robbie spotted something mechanical and spindly in the truck bed, which resolved itself into a pair of bicycles.

“Got something for you two,” Mr. Redfield announced, getting out and lowering the tailgate. He vaulted into the bed, and motioned for Robbie to grab the bicycles as he handed them down. Robbie had to take a moment to identify a secure place to grip them; bicycles were about 80% moving parts. Robbie steadied them both awkwardly by the handles to keep them from toppling over, and Mr. Redfield jumped down with a large brightly printed box under each arm. “Casco para Bici de Montaña” and “Casco Juvenil para Bici,” the glossy boxes read. The price stickers were still in place; the helmets had each cost over fifty euros.

Mr. Redfield waved for Gabe to come over, and Gabe ran up and grabbed his helmet with both hands—“Is that for me? Do I have to give it back? Does Robbie get one?”—while Mr. Redfield used his foot to depress a metal brace near the bottom of the frames that allowed each bike to stand upright so Robbie could let go of them.

“They’re a little old-fashioned and I had to guess on the sizes,” Mr. Redfield apologized, gesturing to the bikes. “I figure they should be good enough to have some fun on, though.”

Robbie couldn’t guess what about these bikes was old-fashioned; the paint and seats had a few scrapes and there were stickers plastered to the frame of the smaller bike, but they both had actual shocks with springs and pistons and everything. Each handle had its own cluster of levers and cables. Robbie wasn’t stupid, he knew a bike was basically a big pair of gyroscopes that steadied you as they rotated and he could deduce that the levers and gears and chain served the same purpose as a manual transmission for whatever fraction of a horsepower a human’s legs produced, but understanding how one worked and actually operating one were very different. These weren’t the small one-speed bikes his peers back home might meander along the city sidewalks or pull wheelies on; these looked like the kind grinning sweaty white people rode down mountains on TV commercials for allergy medication. The saddle on the larger bike was taller than Robbie’s hip. If he tried to sit on it, neither of his feet would touch the ground. “It’s big,” he remarked.

“The seat’s not hard to adjust.”

Crap. Mr. Redfield must think Robbie was complaining. Robbie had no opinions about bicycles—no, maybe he did. Bikes were quiet, inexpensive to operate, difficult to conceal tracking devices on, simple to repair, and while they couldn’t compete with cars on the freeway, they were the next best thing for long-distance travel. And they didn’t require ID or registration. If the BSAA had meant to trap Robbie and Gabe in this off-grid house, maybe Mr. Redfield was offering them a plausibly deniable escape. Or maybe he was just irresponsible. That left only the major problem. “Gabe doesn’t know how to ride a bike.”

Mr. Redfield made as though to punch Robbie in the shoulder, and Robbie flinched before he could stop himself. Redfield completed the punch slower, lightly, the same way he insisted on manually adjusting Robbie’s posture when he supervised firearms practice, like he was doing Robbie some kind of favor by pushing his tactile boundaries. “Well, lucky he’s got you for a big bro, huh?”

“Uh, about that,” Robbie started, then froze when he heard a crumbly hiss of tires on sand, and a scream moving rapidly downhill. “¡Ay! Gabe!”

“Thought you said he didn’t know—” Mr. Redfield started, but Robbie was already sprinting around the Tacoma, between the endless shrubs, down the rocky slope after Gabe, who was hurtling toward the ocean at ten, fifteen, twenty miles an hour—toward the ocean and the rough cliffs that led down to it.

“Gabe! Stop!” Robbie stumbled on a loose rock and gasped for air. “Gabe!”

“Whoa, little dude, safety first,” Mr. Redfield called, waving the boxed helmet in one hand as he overtook Robbie without obvious effort. Maybe he was some kind of bioweapon. “Come on back here, let’s get this fitted.”

Gabe arrested his headlong course toward certain death by some kind of miracle, and turned his bike around a mere five hundred yards from the cliff. (It looked closer from Robbie’s perspective.) He stood up on the pedals to put his weight into climbing back up the hill, just like he’d had full use of his legs his entire life, before swinging down off the bike and walking the rest of the way, panting. Robbie wheezed and braced his hands on his knees when they reached each-other.

“Cliff,” Robbie managed. “Gabe. Don’t go down the cliff.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Gabe protested. “That’d be stupid.”

“I know, I know you’re not stupid. But.” Robbie grasped desperately for some way to explain his panic besides, every time you show me something new you can do I get scared you’re possessed again. “This ground is a bad surface for braking. You could skid and lose control at high speeds.”

“I want to try on my helmet,” Gabe said, passing his bike to Robbie as he jogged up to where Mr. Redfield was opening the box. Robbie watched closely as Redfield set the helmet on Gabe and stuck little strips of foam to the inner rim wherever Gabe said it chafed him. Gabe kept trying to loosen the chinstrap until Robbie admonished, “If you cracked your head open I’d be so sad I might die.” Then Gabe slumped and let Redfield tighten the chinstrap according to the diagrams. Redfield was following the English language instructions, but Robbie noticed that he’d had to turn to the middle of the guide pamphlet to find them. The front pages were all in Spanish.

“Thought he didn’t know how,” Mr. Redfield remarked, not bothering to lower his voice despite Gabe being right there.

“Uh,” Robbie said. He still knew almost nothing of what Gabe’s life had been like while the Connections had had him, but he doubted it had included many outdoor activities. Gabe was looking away, picking at a sticker on his bike’s handlebars. “He was...away...for a while.”

“Daddy Baker taught me,” Gabe explained. His voice was quiet. “He taught Evie first. Then me. She really liked it, she made me ride for her after she got too old.”

Robbie swallowed. “You, uh. Are you happy to have your own bike now?”

“Yeah.” Gabe was still absorbed peeling off the previous owner’s stickers, but Robbie watched Mr. Redfield watching his brother with a blank, analytical expression. “Evie was really sad she couldn’t play with her real body anymore. She was nicer when I let her play with me.”

Did Gabe mean play together or play with, like a toy? Hopefully Mr. Redfield would assume Gabe meant the first one, because the second option might have left traces that might require more aggressive decontamination. “I’m really proud of you for learning how to do this,” Robbie said, trying to change the subject. “But you gotta tell me before you go out riding, okay? And stay where I can see you. I don’t want you getting lost again.”

“I wasn’t lost, I was turned around,” Gabe protested.

Mr. Redfield laughed. “Great comeback. Okay, dude. To keep from getting turned around, you just look for your major landmarks. Right here, that’s the water, that’s always gonna be South. You climb up the nearest hill, and you look for either a downhill slope, a river, or the sea itself, and you can figure it out from there.”

“See?” Gabe said, raising one eyebrow at Robbie.

Are you fucking kidding me. Robbie glared helplessly at Mr. Redfield. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. Now you two can do some sight-seeing. Or,” he said, winking, “zip into town for groceries in an emergency.” What was that wink for. Was Redfield trying to warn and prepare Robbie for something, or just playing Friendly Paramilitary Babysitter? “Don’t act too excited, now.”

“Right, thanks,” Robbie said. “I, uh. I rode a motorcycle once. Bike can’t be that different?”

Redfield frowned. “You never rode a bike?”

Why was he acting shocked. He’d read their file. Foster kids couldn’t haul bikes from home to home. “Who was gonna teach me?”

“Me,” Redfield muttered. “Now. Apparently.”

“Is it a requirement?” Robbie checked.

“No, not like firearms training,” Redfield said, confirming one of Robbie’s previous suspicions and raising more questions at the same time. “But I figure you want to keep up with him.”

“Yeah.” Ahead of them, Gabe mounted his new bike again and squiggled back and forth up the hill toward the driveway. “Thanks.”

#SNARLING BITING SCRATCHING RAAAGGHHHGHHGHGH #im really normal about this dude #I do not think you understand how incredibly happy i am that you like this au. it is a debilitating amount of joy <3 #ghost rider re7 au #robbie reyes #gabe reyes #i just got way too into this over the past two weeks. procrastinating other stuff #<- wanna... procrastinate more O_O #hahahahahaaha jk jk jk jk..... unlesssss *-*#fic rec #im serious. Read it. i am no longer asking 🔫

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whirlybirbs · 4 years ago

Text

( this chapter’s gif by @august-walker from this beautiful set ! )

✪ — VACANT MIRRORS ; B.B. | 4/?

summary: you formulate a plan, meet steve rogers, and bucky goes on a date.

pairing: bucky barnes / f!reader

tags: set before & during tfatws, friends to lovers, therapy positive, trauma healing techniques, ptsd mentions, the normalization of anxiety disorders, and a good ol’ slow burn

word count: 6.8k, mother of pearl

a/n: this ended up being mostly a filler with a lot of romantic growth - i had to break this chapter up from the unce unce unce clubbing that coming up, so please enjoy!

( PREVIOUSLY | AO3 | MASTERLIST | NEXT )

MOSCOW, 1975.

In all the years that James Buchanan Barnes has had a heartbeat, he’d come to know the sounds of grief well.

War taught him a lot of things — that they were all just little boys playing with guns, and that no matter how many times you thought you’d be ready for the vomit-inducing pungency of violence, you never were. In the end, you’d do anything to save yourself; you’d crawl through the thick of death and debris a million times over if only to cling to the shredded tatters of your own humanity.

You would kill someone else’s son for the sake of your own mother.

War was disease that devoured every part of you — it was gunpowder snuff and carved flesh. That sickness — inky and desperate — had sunk deep into this heart during the war, and it crescendoed to the sounds of mothers clutching dead sons. The sounds that followed death were like a hollow opera. Waning and wailing.

In the raucous wake left by warborn grief, Bucky drowned everytime.

To the Winter Soldier, the operatic quality to the sounds of grief were as insignificant as a child’s rhyme.

He did not drown. No, he waded through the waves, comfortable in the cold and unphased by the stinging cut of loss. That was not something he could comprehend. After all, there were orders and there were targets, and everything in between was absolute.

He was the disease that devoured all.

He’s holding a gun to Andrei Kuznetzov’s head in a dining room with ornate trim — with silverware as delicate as scalpels that tinker against fine china. The carpets are red, the curtains are red, there’s blood on the table cloth. The guests continue to eat. Kuznetzov’s wife is screaming, red nails dug so deep into the dining chair’s arms it’s carving out the fabric. War dogs, like him, keep her rooted in her seat, and her tears find polished boots. She’s begging and bartering but the man with Kuznetzov’s life in his hands is not listening. He is eating his veal, bloodied meat dancing between his lips. He takes a sip of wine as his medal emblazoned chest glimmers in the light of crystalline chandaliers.

The spoils of war.

His smile is stained red.

There is no deal to be made.

The Winter Soldier pulls the trigger.

NOW.

His eyes are open.

Panic is the first emotion he feels, and it seizes him up quickly in its grasp. He doesn’t know this view, he doesn’t know where he is, not again, not again, not again —

Then:

“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Did you know you snore?”

The relief that the sound of your voice brings is immediate, and just like that he remembers. He’s laying on the bed. You’re sat up across from him at that small desk in the corner. He reaches as he rubs his face to thumb the edge of the pillowcase. He exhales tightly.

He’s fine. His name is James Buchanan Barnes. He is not longer the Winter Soldier. He’s in his Brooklyn apartment. He is fine.

When’s the last fucking time he’s slept in a bed?

He sits up, scratching his neck as he does. You lean back, half rotated in the desk. Before you is a mess of papers and his laptop — and on top of the keyboard sits his notebook. It’s open to the page where all he’d been able to figure out about Innessa was scrawled in his chicken scratch.

Bucky swings his legs over the edge of the bed and immediately his back complains.

“How long was I out?” he asks, voice hoarse with sleep. He moves to part the curtains. The room blooms with warm morning light.

You offer an apologetic smile into the vanilla sunshine. “Three hours. I wanted you to get some shut eye. You were starting to look a little overwhelmed last night—”

“You click too fast,” he waves, standing and immediately rolling his neck to the side. You watch as the man, before as peaceful as a sleeping pup, now regains his usual thinning veiled level of threat. Bucky is dangerous — it shows in the way he holds himself. He cracks his neck, rolls his shoulders, and groans. He exhales again, posture sagging a bit, “I couldn’t keep up.”

You’re standing now, socks padding against the hardwood as you eye his cowlick with a budding bloom of affection. With his notebook between your index and middle finger, you offer it out. You cling to your empty coffee cup in the other.

“I didn’t peek,” you say warmly, “Pinky promise.”

His laugh is more like a hot puff of air. Bucky manages a look that feels like an emotional dethaw.

“Thank you.”

You lead the way to the kitchen, stretching your own back as you go. You’d been up all night — this is your third trip out here for yet another cup of coffee. The pot has been on for too long, though, and you know the coffee sitting there is beyond bitter. You’re moving to dump it down the sink when Bucky grumbles.

“Don’t.”

“You want it?”

“No,” he mutters, reaching for a mug, “But I don’t want to waste it.”

“Wow,” you chirp, “The Great Depression just jumped out.”

“Yeah,” he snorts, yanking open the fridge to search for something to eat, “It does that.”

“Well, grandpa,” you hand him the steaming cup and set out to make another pot, “You’re also living on Depression Era rations — might I suggest some Dolly’s? Because I’m starving and I’ve been up all night and I think that means I get to decide where we get breakfast.”

Bucky’s look is soft — but you don’t see it. You’re too busy scooping sugar into your cup, too busy nudging him aside to grab the milk. He’s rooted there in the kitchen, watching you move about. You’re comfortable. There isn’t a trace of anxiousness in you, not in this moment, and he tries to remember what it looks like.

Your eyes find his and he clears his throat.

“Earth to Sergeant Barnes?”

“Don’t start,” he groans, albeit playfully, “It’s too early.”

“Oh, what? Too early for me to grill you on why you didn’t tell me that little laptop in there was on loan from the FBI? To one Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes of the 107th?”

His face falls.

“Don’t worry,” you raise a hand quickly, leaning against the counter as you sip your coffee, “I figured that out before I did anything massively illegal.”

Bucky rubs his face as he takes a sip of his coffee — the bitterness is enough to slap him awake. He winces, swallows it back, and remembers the taste of instant coffee made in helmets on the line in Bastogne. He can smell snow, and the acrid sting of mortar smoke. Suddenly, he’s craving a cigarette.

That hasn’t happened in a while.

Bucky clears his throat. “Did you find anything?”

You frown slightly, lips pulled as you hide your inward disappointment — you push off from the counter and shake your head as you brush past him. Like a loyal dog, Bucky follows. Into the bedroom you go, and Bucky’s again surprised he managed to get any sleep at all in that bed. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone else there, or the genuine exhaustion that had finally choked him out after hours of trying to understand what the hell you were even doing on there.

You plop into the desk chair and snatch up a piece of paper littered with notes.

“I couldn’t do much of my usual snooping,” you explain gently as you gesture to the chromebook, “This thing might have been given to you in good faith, but they’re watching you pretty closely. So, I worked a little magic and ended up running a virtual machine. Gave me enough wiggle room to avoid the malware and keystroke trackers. Even still, I wanted to be careful, so I just did a little looking.”

“Looking?”

“I can’t dig deeper on Innessa, I know where to dig, but I can’t,” you frown, “Not on this laptop, and definitely not on my personal machines. I’ve got the GRC breathing down my neck, and the files I need to poke are very much off-limits.”

“So, what? We’re shit out of luck?”

“No, not entirely,” you stand up and motion to the paper in your hands; your tone is tight, “I know a few people who can help, but getting to them is going to be the hardest part.”

Bucky takes the paper, squinting at the writing as you settle on the edge of the bed next to him. You take a sip of your coffee and watch as his blue eyes dart across the notes; you point to the name scrawled across the top.

“There’s a club in lower Manhattan, but you’ve gotta know the right people to get in,” you mumble, scratching your cheek as a creeping sense of embarrassment bubbles up behind your words, “It’s in the basement of an old computer repair shop. It’s like a blackhat networking event, but with strippers.”

Bucky squints at the paper and reads the name. “The Glass Cannon?”

“Yeah,” you huff, crossing your arms tightly as you stand, “That’s the one.”

Bucky looks up from the paper, attention now rooted on the pacing you’ve begun to do across the room. Back and forth. You’re holding your coffee like a lifeline, gaze far away. That anxiousless way you’d been holding yourself before is gone. Now, he can see the tensing in your shoulders, in your fingers. You’re suddenly nervous.

Bucky stands. His voice is gentle.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” you snap almost immediately, “Just, y’know. Worried. I spent a lot of time there when I was younger. Did stupid shit. And now I’m about to waltz in after six years like I haven’t put that part of my life behind me.”

“We don’t have to do this,” he says immediately, moving to stand closer and halt your pacing. The invasion of your space forces you to look at him. His fingers glimmering in the morning light. You follow the line of his figure up to his eyes. The emotion there makes your heart clench. You can’t pin it down, and it’s gone in an instant.

“It’s the only way we’re going to find Innessa.”

“You don’t need to put yourself in situations like this for me,” he says, stressing the for me part in both expression and tone. The depreciation makes you wince and you’re fast to shake your head.

“That’s what friends do, Bucky,” you stand your ground, but you know there’s more to your reasoning than that, “Plus, she’s a bad guy. And I know you said I technically wasn’t the sidekick, but—”

“You’re not the sidekick—”

“I know,” you huff, nudging him gently with your arm, “But, I wanna help. Do some good.”

“You do enough good,” he mutters, “You’re a good person.”

Your words fail you at that — and your mouth parts but nothing comes out. Bucky watches with an expression as solid as rock as you blink and look away. His hand, the one of flesh and bone, finds your wrist as you tighten your grip on your mug.

The touch, though far too tender for you to handle, feels like fire.

Like a slap in the face, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky is.

You slap that thought back, trading volleys, and remain quiet.

His tone is stern. “I mean it.”

“Well,” you finally muster, tone dipping sardonically into a cruel peel of humor, “Just wait until you see me in my natural habitat. Maybe the tequila shots will make you second guess that.”

“I didn’t know we were going out drinking,” he chirps as he raises an eyebrow, “Am I going to need to get you a leash?”

“We’re gonna have to try and blend in as best we can. People are going to know me — if they try to pin me with the GRC or the feds, we aren’t going to get anything on Innessa. They probably won’t even let me in the building if they suspect something’s up, after all not everything that goes down in Glass Cannon is kosher.”

“This is already sounding like a bad idea,” Bucky mumbles as he crosses his arms, “I’m stating that for the record, by the way.”

“Well, I think standing around and working ourselves up about this is even worse of an idea,” you chirp back, moving towards the door to muscle on your shoes, “So I say we feed ourselves and don’t worry about this until Thursday night.”

“Thursday.”

You nod.

All of a sudden, Bucky’s eyes go wide.

“Today is Sunday.”

You freeze, hand on the doorframe. You shoot him a wide-eyed look at the sudden flare of panic that’s shot up through him. “Yea, Bucky, today is Sunday.”

“Shit.”

“What?” you nearly cry as he disappears into the bedroom once more. You hear his closet open, then a clatter as he grabs something like keys — you nearly run directly into his chest when he strides back into the kitchen. He’s shouldered on his usual leather jacket, and in his hands is another.

He’s got keys in his hand.

“C’mon.”

He shoves the jacket into your arms and you frown.

“What the hell?” you cry, doubling back to snag your phone and bag as Bucky moves to the door, “What is this?”

“Put it on,” he says, holding open the door for you as you follow him into the apartment hallway.

You raise a brow and stand there as he locks the door.

“Why?”

“Because,” Bucky mumbles, rubbing his face as he widens his strides to the stairwell across the hall; before you know it, you’re desperately trying to keep up as he bounces down the steps — light on his feet like the boxer he is — towards the lower level of the apartment complex, “We’re late.”

You groan, trying to shrug on the jacket that smells like Bucky as you follow — a smell you’d come to know as clean laundry and sandalwood. Must be something for his hair. He never wore cologne, that much was apparent. The jacket is big on you, especially on the shoulders. You were swimming in it, trying not to trip as he held the door open to the garage.

Suddenly, the air is cooler. Immediately you wonder how much his rent is if he had access to a ground level garage. Call it NYC instinct.

“Bucky,” you nearly whine, throwing your head back, “Where are we going?”

Before you get a reply, you run straight into his back. Bucky grunts, moving to grab both of your hands and push you to the front of him.

Sitting in the spot is a motorcycle.

It’s a jet black Harley.

Bucky is handing you the helmet on the back seat as your mouth moves in disbelief. “No way— no, I’m not getting on that thing. I’d rather sell my kidneys. Stop, stop — ow, Bucky — you haven’t even said where we’re going!”

He’s muscling the helmet onto your head and through the flash of the visor you can see a real smile, the sort born out of his never-ending amusement towards your fickle sense of humor. His fingers are nimble against your chin. He takes the time to strap it on, adjust it, and give it a gentle tug. Bucky taps the matte black helmet twice, then flicks the visor down.

“We’re going upstate.”

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

It takes two hours to get to Elmwood Senior Living.

You spent the first forty-five minutes clinging to Bucky’s waist with your eyes closed — no fault of Bucky’s, really. It was different from riding in a car by miles, and you had your own qualms with driving. You couldn’t be in the passenger’s seat anymore. Not after the accident with Jaimie, when Mom disappeared. Being out of control made you itch; and it’s not until the fifty-minute mark that you ease up on the panic and remember who the man is that’s driving the bike.

You trust Bucky. You trust him with your life.

Once it’s open road, winding up towards the Northern part of the state, it gets easier.

Bucky can feel your grip around his waist loosen just a bit — and it’s enough reassurance that he stops looking back in the mirror every fifteen seconds. It’s enough permission to open up on the throttle, and the bike roars alive. Your immediate reaction is a gobsmacked yelp, the sort that’s pulled from a jolt of shock, but then comes the laugh.

Bucky’s own quiet chuckle rumbles against your chest. You hold on tighter, but this time with open palms against the thrum of his ribs.

Halfway through the trip, he pulls into a McDonald’s.

You drop your ass onto the parking lot’s curb as he leans against the bike and houses a burger. You laugh, eyeing him candidly as you take a large bite from your own lunch. Bucky is a mess with it — cursing quietly when he ends up getting ketchup on his jacket.

“Shit.”

“Jesus, Bucky,” you mutter, “Did you even taste that thing?”

“Barely,” he clears his throat and starts picking at his fries, “These things taste different now. First time I ever had McDonald’s was right before bootcamp.”

“How much was it? Five cents?” you snort, leaning back and dropping a fry into your mouth.

Bucky watches with a half-smirk. “Fifteen, but nice try.”

He spends the next five minutes on his hand with a wet nap, trying hard to get the grease out of the delicate plates along his palm. You watch, as you knock back the rest of your soda, as his eyes crinkle tightly in frustration. His mouth is pulled tightly into a fine line. For the second time today, you’re reminded of how handsome Bucky Barnes is — and how fucking stubborn he is, too.

“Want help?”

“No,” he mutters, trying to get a spot between his thumb and index finger, “I got it.”

“I have smaller fingers,” you sing-song, gathering up his trash and your trash and crossing the parking lot to the bin; upon returning, you waggle them in his face, “Good for hard to reach places.”

Bucky absolutely hates that can feel his blush hit the tips of his ears at the comment.

He’s glad you’re too preoccupied with his hand to notice. You’re watching, like you always do, with respectful awe. To you, this part of him is a bit like a treasure — you find it beautiful and intriguing and incredible. It’s clear in the way you watch the mechanisms turn and tighten that you aren’t frightened by it.

It unsettles Bucky every time.

Finally, once he’s finished under your watchful eyes, he leans to muscle that helmet back over your head. You groan, squinting tightly.

“C’mon,” he knocks your helmet with his knuckles, “We’re almost there.”

The rest of the ride is wide open space, farm land and mountainous peaks looming far ahead. It’s warm, and the sun is hot on your back. The wind is howling around you and it sends your jacket collar flapping against your neck. Your chin rests neatly on Bucky’s shoulder, trying to get a view of the road ahead.

Elmwood Senior Living is tucked into the back of a suburb.

The two of you weave through a neighborhood or two, dancing under the shade of age old maple trees. They cast long, scattered shadows across the pavement as kids play on their lawns. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. Over the hill, church bells ring. Sunday service has ended.

Bucky rolls into the parking lot, past the large sign with swirling lettering. Suddenly, things make more sense. Suddenly, you’re struck with a sinking feeling of grief. Nostalgia. Mourning. But, happiness.

There are folks sitting outside, basking in the sun, tethered to walkers.

Bucky’s wrists crank back weathered knuckles, and slowly the bike rumbles into an open spot. Extending his legs, Bucky balances the bike with ease. You take that as your cue to swing yourself off the back clumsily, hopping a bit. Bucky leans, kicks the stand down, and with significantly more grace than you, swings his leg over.

You’re shrugging his jacket off when he speaks.

“He’s going to be different than how you imagine him.”

You exhale slowly, draping the jacket over the bike’s seat. You peel the helmet off.

“I’ve sort of pieced that together.”

You can see the slight discomfort hanging in his posture. You reach and touch Bucky’s arm.

“Come on,” you nod to the entrance, covered by a shady overhang where someone is helping a family member out of their car, “We don’t wanna be late, huh?”

His eyes soften. Bucky nods.

You walk side-by-side into the lobby of Elmwood Senior Living and it’s like time slows down. It halts in a warm, sunshine colored still — full of chatter, full of humanity, full of wisdom. The room is framed by big windows, by plants, by a man in a U.S. Navy ball cap. He’s stationed by the door, watching the comings and goings. The main desk, where a young woman watches, sits in the corner. You follow Bucky with a content little look. He notices.

He stands a little closer at the main desk. The girl, who looks like she’s incredibly out of place with her blue hair and piercings, is younger than you thought. Highschool, maybe. She offers Bucky an excited smile.

“Took you long enough,” she chirps, moving to sort through a bin to her side with key fobs.

Your brows raise. You spy calculus homework on the desk.

Bucky snorts. “I’m here, aren’t I?”

He notices the same problem set you so, and purposely leans over the desk. Suddenly, you’re seeing flashes of a more boyish version of Bucky — one that reminds you of a man with siblings. Bucky taps the paper, jutting a chin to the girl as she tries to swat his attention away.

“How’d you do on that test?”

“I got a 96,” she chirps pridefully, laughing, “Thanks for the help, nerd.”

You’re watching the entire exchange with a smile, backing up a bit to toss a curious glance over your shoulder. There’s a dining room through open doors — and looks like lunch is just wrapping up. Folks are moving around, back to their rooms or upstairs where you can hear the beginnings of a seated aerobics class begin.

Bucky nudges you with his hand.

“Thanks, Sarah,” he says and waves the key she’d handed over.

The girl with the blue hair scoffs. “Say hi to grandpa for me, Bucket.”

You laugh out loud as Bucky quickly flips her off. She’s quick to do the same.

You follow him around the corner, grinning ear to ear. He spares you a sheepish look, then rolls his eyes.

“What was that?”

“She’s a good kid,” he offers, eyeing the key with the grey little fob attached, “Reminds me of my sister.”

Your face softens. “Sister?”

“Her name was Sarah, too,” he says quietly, boots landing softly on the blue carpet. He’s navigating the residential wing like he’s done it a million times. There are rooms with flowers outside, with holiday garb, with little photos and keepsakes. Each room holds a lifetime of personality — the sound of Jeopardy lulls along in the background.

You hum. Bucky sighs.

He meanders down a long hallway where a different door is — this one heavy and locked by the little keypad. Bucky raises the key fob to the device and the door buzzes.

This side of Elmwood is quieter.

Down the hall, Timmy Dorsey and Sinatra play quietly over someone’s record player.

There aren’t as many folks in the hall in this wing, but doors are open and nurses flit about. Around the corner, there’s a loud conversation going on about lunch — and you watch as Bucky weaves towards the nursing station. It’s a room overlooking the common area with windows. Inside are three women.

One of them immediately jumps when she sees Bucky.

“Oh, good! I was meaning to talk to you—”

“Everything alright?”

“About the same,” she breathes as she stands, moving to grab at a Bucky’s arm with a sense of motherliness that makes you smile, “But, meals have been a bit difficult lately.”

“No kidding,” he mutters, rubbing his chin, “He just doesn’t wanna eat?”

“He thinks Peggy is coming home,” the woman whispers with a pained smile as she begins to lead you both down the hall, “He thinks your grandmother made dinner for him.”

“Right,” Bucky nods, “Doesn’t wanna ruin his appetite.”

“Exactly.”

You take note of the conversation, muddling through your own confusion. You’re quiet, though. This isn’t really your conversation to have. Bucky seems to be relaxed more — even humming slightly to a song that plays across the hall from the room the nurse is knocking on.

“Mr. Carter?” she calls gently, “Your grandson is here to see you, and his…”

She looks expectantly at you. You bawk.

“Friend.”

“Right,” she smiles and pushes open the door.

It’s like a little slice of home.

Sofas, chairs, photos on the walls. There’s a record player in the corner, a television, a coffee table stacked with books on the second world war. There’s a dresser covered in baubles and warm light coming in from the window overlooking the street. It reminds you of your grandparents’ sitting room — everything looks so lived in, so comfortable, so alive.

And then, below the light of the window, is a hospital bed.

In it is Steve Rogers.

Not the one you know — no, this one has lived a full life. This Steve Rogers has fallen in love, owned a home, settled down. This Steve Rogers has years of wisdom settled into his face, years of well-fought fights in his joints. His blonde hair has gone shock white, but his smile is all the same.

“Bucky.”

The way Steve says his name is like the man beside you holds the world.

To Bucky, he can hear a new weakness. A new exhaustion.

“Hi, punk.”

The nurse offers a little wave to you as Bucky ventures into the room, stripping his jacket off and moving to scope out the minifridge in the small kitchenette beside the bathroom. She leaves the door open, and you smile to her softly. Bucky rummages, poking his head up.

“You want a drink, Steve?” he asks, tone almost like he’s feeling out the lucidity of the man across the room, “There’s some of that lemonade I brought last week in here.”

“Sounds good,” he says slowly, “Please.”

You feel out of place — not unwelcome, but… it’s clear that Bucky has come and gone from here a thousand times now. He knows to get the glasses out, to get a straw, to turn down the record player on his way over. Doris Day’s voice lowers to a soft croon. You watch with heavy eyes.

“I brought someone, Steve,” Bucky says, “She’s a big fan.”

“Oh?” Steve asks with a slow look to the corner where you’re standing, “That musta broke your heart.”

Bucky snorts as he moves to swing the hospital bed’s tray over Steve’s lap. He places the lemonade down, then the other glass on the nightstand. He’s quick to move the armchair closer to the nightstand, and gestures for you to come over. Bucky’s hands guide you by the shoulders as he plops you into the chair.

“She’s one of the good ones,” Bucky says, “Reminds me of you.”

“No kidding,” Steve says slowly, offering a hand that shakes, “Steve Rogers. It’s a pleasure.”

You exchange your name with a shy look, shaking that hand with reverence and gentility. “It’s an honor, Mr. Rogers.”

“Please,” he mumbles, moving to slowly take a sip of his lemonade, “Steve is fine.”

Bucky moves to take up a post on the opposite side of Steve, in the sun. “You’re losin’ weight, y’know.”

That earns him a wave of the hand.

Bucky leans back and sips his lemonade. He waggles a finger and you watch the two begin to go back and forth.

“No, no,” he swallows, “No, you don’t get t’ shrug me off—”

“M’fine, Buck,” a sigh, “Really.”

“Mhm,” he narrows his eyes, “You’re startin’ to look like the Steve I knew before the serum.”

You lean back, hiding a quiet smirk behind your hand.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up an’ pester me,” he says with a tired look, “The only peace I get around here is when Peggy comes home.”

Your eyes jump to Bucky. He’s watching you.

“Peggy?” you ask gently, “Is that your wife?”

A proud smile washes over his face. “Still knocks me for a loop, too.”

“Steve,” Bucky’s voice is gentle, “Peggy won’t be coming around for a while. Remember?”

There’s a look that flashes across Steve’s face, then. A mixture of sadness, of confusion, of panic. It’s clouded with a furrow of his brow, hidden by a tilt of the head. He looks at Bucky, mouth pulled in a fine line.

When he finally speaks, his voice is sad.

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“S’alright,” Bucky taps his head, maintaining an air of nonchalance, “That’s why you got me.”

“And why you’ve got her, no doubt,” he turns to you with a winning smile and offers his hand again, “Steve Rogers. Nice to meet you.”

You take it, you shake it, and you introduce yourself once more. Your smile is patient and understanding. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Steve.”

Bucky breathes a sigh of relief. Steve smiles, tossing Bucky a look that borders on mischievous.

He sips his lemonade and clears his throat. “How is Sam?”

“You ask every time,” Bucky mutters, “And every time I have the same answer.”

“Sam?” you ask slowly.

“Wilson,” Bucky finishes, “Bird man.”

“You mean Falcon,” you correct, shooting him a stern look, “The Falcon. Are you ghosting The Falcon?”

“I don’t know what that even means, so maybe,” Bucky leans back and crosses his legs, “I’ve been busy.”

You roll your eyes. Steve saw. He smiles.

“I’m gettin’ why he keeps you around.”

Your face is smacked with a look of pure joy.

“C’mon on now,” Bucky cries, nearly indignantly, “No flirting—”

“M’ not flirting—”

“I know that look, Steve—”

Steve is laughing.

Bucky has a stern look in his eye. “You always do this—”

“I’m not doin’ a damn thing—”

“And you better keep it that way, old man,” Bucky shirks, voice splintering into a laugh in a way that you’ve never heard before, “I swear, this is how it always goes.”

“Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, huh, Buck?” you ask gently, leaning your cheek into your hand.

Steve laughs loudly at that.

Bucky spares you a smile — the sort that’s drenched in good humor and sunlight. It makes your lungs flutter, and you ignore the buzz in your fingers at the sight. You hide your laugh into your cup of lemonade, resigning to be a quiet counterpart in the conversation.

The two of them go on to chat about small things, then chat about old things. From the Commandos, to HYDRA, to amends, to therapy, to Peggy, to the itch the starch of their old dress uniforms used to bring. It takes a bit, a few redirections on the way, but it’s clear by the end why Steve Rogers is in Elmwood’s memory unit.

It makes your heart ache.

And if a super soldier is bed-ridden…

The two of you say goodbye around three in the afternoon after Bucky helps Steve shave.

The walk back to the bike is quiet.

Bucky speaks first.

“He’s dying.”

You chew your lip, eyes on the pavement. You match his slow stride, bumping your elbow with his as you walk. It’s still warm, and the clouds hang high in the sky. When you look up, Bucky’s watching you. You sigh.

“I’m sorry,” you finally muster, “I am.”

“Don’t be,” he says, grabbing the jacket from the seat and holding it up, “He’s lived a long life.”

You let Bucky hold out the arm for you, and you press your hand through the sleeve. He helps the other side on, and you zip it up to your chin. When you turn around to face him, there are tears in your eyes.

They snuck up on you. You hadn’t realized it until Bucky’s face fell, until the first one fell along the weathered leather of the jacket. You blink, raising your brows as you swipe them away, and offer an apologetic look.

“I’m happy,” you say, “Y’know. He has you. But, he’s a man out of time. Even now. That makes me sad.”

Bucky’s quiet for a while. He’s leaned up against the bike as you turn and watch Elmwood from the back of the parking lot. There’s a big part of you that feels heavy with guilt — and though Steve was in good spirits when you left, you can’t help but ache to provide him with more company. It’s clear that seeing Bucky means a lot to him, and that in turn it means a lot to the man beside you.

“Come on,” Bucky says then, “Let’s go home.”

You nod, let him muscle that helmet onto your head one more time, and hold on a little tighter back to the city.

◦ ◦ ◦ ◦

You don’t see Bucky until Tuesday.

In all honesty, it feels weird to not hear from him for two days. At the very least, you expected some sort of phone call — but you remind yourself that you’ve been okay alone for a long time. There’s no need to throw all your work on being comfortable by yourself out the window for Bucky Barnes.

It’s tempting, though. God, it’s really tempting.

You hate the ache in your chest when you finally see him lumbering towards the cafe counter before your appointments. You hate this new feeling — so you shove it down and ignore the way his fingers brush yours when he hands you your latte.

He is ignoring it, too. He’s been ignoring it.

No use in thinking about it though.

“You got plans later?” you ask him in the elevator after your appointment, tilting your head, “Apparently there’s a Lord of the Rings marathon tonight on FX.”

Bucky stiffens — and immediately he can feel the hot sting of anxious regret flood his cheeks. He clears his throat, tucks his hands in his pockets, and toes the ground. You watch with a confused look. Then he speaks tightly.

“...I’ve got a date.”

You could have caught flies the way your jaw fell open.

“Oh. Oh!”

You blink, readjust your expression, and swallow down a sharp stab of rejection.

Bucky clears his throat. “It’s… I wasn’t going to but, Dr. Raynor—”

“No, no,” you wave your hands and shake your head and try to seem genuine, “No, I’m happy for you. Is this one of those Christian Minglers?”

Bucky groans. “Shut up.”

“Okay,” you say, “Okay! Just, uh, be careful. Y’know? And call if you need anything.”

The elevator doors open, and Bucky walks side by side with you through the well-lit lobby. He holds the door open for you, and you pass through with a pained look at the ground. He lingers, though, rubbing the back of his neck as you wait for him to say what’s on his mind.

“Thursday,” he says, “I’ll stop by.”

“Yea,” you say, waving your hand, “Whenever.”

But, that doesn’t end up happening.

No, Bucky Barnes shows up at your apartment doorstep at 10pm.

He’s clutching takeout and a six pack of beer and wearing a horrified expression that screams of guilt and exhaustion. No, Bucky buzzes the door to your apartment and basically croaks that he’s here — he’s asking if the marathon is still on while you buzz him up.

“Third floor,” you say into the buzzer with a smile, “Come on in, old man.”

When you open the door, you have to laugh — because his hair is a mess and there’s still a trace of lipstick on the corner of his mouth. Whereas jealousy threatens to flare, his incredibly regretful expression tamps it down. You cock a hip, eye him up and down, and jut your chin out.

“Get laid?”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard you’re surprised he didn’t break something.

He pushes past you, moving to drop the beer on the counter and place the takeout gently down by the basket of fruit.

“I’m here for the cat,” he grumbles, “Not your witty commentary, sweetheart.”

You’re moving quietly to the sink and gathering a paper towel with a smirk as Bucky looks around, admiring the decor and aliveness of your apartment. When you turn around, he’s already pried a beer from the pack and popped the top off with his vibranium palm.

He winces when you reach up to swipe the coral lipstick from the corner of his mouth.

Then Bucky settles, letting you clean off the mess.

“Mhm,” you hum, “Right. Was it at least fun?”

“She had fun,” he mutters into his first sip, “It was a lotta tongue for my first night out in nearly a century, though.”

You wince. He nods with a sardonic smile that tells you everything about how the date went down — and you’re relieved. “So, I take it you're not calling her in the morning?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “Nope. No, and I’ve decided no more dates. That was enough for me.”

You wince and pluck a beer from the pack. Wordlessly, Bucky gestures for you to hand it over. In one smooth motion, he twists the cap off with his hand.

“That bad?” you ask, eyeing him critically.

“I decided halfway through,” he says as he moves to take the takeout from its bag, “I’d rather be watching Lord of the Rings with you.”

That stops you into silence. It’s like someone’s taken your own words and gagged you with them — and you’re left floundering for breath you never even realize you lost. You know he means it. You know it because he won’t look at you, because that sort of confession isn’t easy for people like you two. So you take those words and you glue them in a lonely locket and keep them close to your heart.

Poke’s entrance saves you a mouthful of broken words — he comes in, trots up to Bucky, and hollers.

Bucky laughs.

“Nice to meet you, too,” he mutters, eyeing the cat that’s eagerly rubbing himself along Bucky’s leg.

You wipe your face, sip your beer, and move to the pantry across from the kitchen island. You come back out with a bag of salmon treats — the good ones — and offer Bucky the bag. He takes it, eyes still on the calico, and crinkles it a little.

You lean against the counter and watch Bucky kneel.

“If you keep it up long enough he might even let you hold him.”

He lights up at that.

You laugh.

You move to grab plates and forks and knives and groan when you open up the first box to see Pad Thai — you make a mental note to properly thank Bucky for this. You meager dinner of reheated pasta really hadn’t hit the spot. This will, though. You can tell from the smell alone.

By your knees, Poke chirps.

“He’s cute.”

“I never took you for a cat guy.”

Bucky snorts.

You make a plate and flick his head as you walk by. “You’re missing the start of The Two Towers.”

“I’m going to be confused, aren’t I?” he asks as he stands and begins making himself a plate. He watches as you settle onto the couch and sip your beer, “I was too busy being turned into a cyborg to read the books.”

You laugh out loud. It shocks you.

“Was that a joke? Did Bucky Barnes just make a joke?”

He’s smirking. He rounds the counter with his food and settles next to you. Poke is following him, eager to curl up next to his new friend.

“I can be funny.”

“Funny lookin’.”

He elbows you on purpose. You snort into your beer.

There’s a comfortable moment of quiet between you, and you clear your throat.

“Thanks.”

“Yeah,” he says slowly, “No problem.”

More quiet, and he’s still watching you. Then, he asks what’s been on his mind for the last three days.

“You got a plan for Thursday?”

“I’ve got anxiety, Buck,” you exhale, swigging your beer and turning the television up, “I always have a plan.”

#vacant mirrors #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #winter soldier imagine #tfatws imagine #marvel imagine #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes/reader #bucky/reader

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the-atlas-sister · 3 years ago

Text

The First Date (Damian Wayne X Reader)

So in this, you are the daughter of Green Arrow, Oliver Queen (NOT THE ARROW VERSION!! THE ANIMATED AND COMIC VERSION), and Black Canary, Dinah Lance. Also in this Dinah is dead and you have taken on the role of Black Canary

"Done!" Abby (moi!!!) exclaimed, tying the hair tie in my hair. "Aw, you look so good!" She backed up, admiring her work.

I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror, smiling slightly. "I mean, I usually look beautiful but now I look even more beautiful," I joked.

"I know," Abby said, making me chuckle.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. "What time is it?" I asked.

"Six on the dot," Abby said, looking impressed. "Wow."

"It is Damian," I shrugged before my eyes widened. "I'm going on a date with Damian Wayne."

"Chill," y/b/f said, noticing my panic. "You asked him out, remember?"

"But-"

"Hey Damian," y/b/f said from the living room.

I looked at Abby, a panicked expression on my face. "You're okay," she whispered before leading me out of the bathroom.

Damian looked at me before mumbling something in Arabic. I was rusty when it came to other languages but I thought I caught "Beautiful..." which was enough to make my entire face turn red.

"Hey," I said, putting on a confident face. "You look good." My eyes scanned him. He wore a pair of nice black jeans and a matching skin-tight turtle-neck.

"You look..." His eyes scanned me.

"Gorgeous? Beautiful? Sexy?" I guessed, smirking at Damian blushed.

"Yes," Damian said, making me blush.

"Okay... well," Abby said, pushing me forward. "You two have fun," she said as I slipped on my shoes. "But not too much fun." She eyeballed Damian in a very best friend way. "And have her back by 10."

"And be safe!" Myloh added.

"Bye guys," I said, quickly ushering Damian out the door before closing it. "Sorry."

"I had a similar conversation with my brothers before I left," Damian said before cringing slightly. "Although it was a bit more-"

"I don't want to know," I said, shaking my head. "So, what do you have planned, Mr. Wayne?" I asked, walking down the apartment hallway.

"That's a surprise," Damian said with a stoic face.

"Not a huge fan of surprises," I said as we reached the elevator.

"You'll like this one," Damian stated matter-of-factly, pressing the button to the last level.

"Is that a fact?" I challenged as the elevator lowered.

"Yes," Damian stated, making me tilt my head. "I did some research and I'm sure you'll enjoy this."

"I don't know if that was meant to be sweet but it came off as creepy," I chuckled, leaning on the elevator wall.

"I just meant- I asked Abby what you're interested in," Damian explained, slowly going pink.

"What'd she say?" I asked, both worried and curious.

"She explained your love of movies, books, the stars, and food," Damian stated as the doors slid open.

"So, which did you choose?" I questioned, walking backward out of the elevator.

"Still a surprise," Damian smirked, following me.

"Mhm, game on Mr. Wayne," I said, turning around and walking out the apartment building's front doors. My eyes widened a bit as I saw Damian's motorcycle parked in front of the building. "Seriously?" I asked, looking at him as he stood next to me.

"Complaining?" he asked, looking at me sideways.

"Not as long as I get to drive," I chuckled, approaching the motorcycle.

"No," Damian said, standing next to me. He grabbed one of the helmets before handing me the second one.

"I know how," I frowned.

"No," Damian repeated before blinking. "Strange, that felt familiar." He then shook his head before getting on the bike. "Come on," he said looking at me. I rolled my eyes but climbed on the bike behind him. "Hold on," he said before putting on his helmet.

"You sure you don't want to drive as a way to get me to hold on to you?" I teased, resting my head on Damian's shoulder. Damian tensed up, making me chuckle. "I was kidding," I reassured him, putting on the helmet and grabbing his shoulders.

Damian cleared his throat. "I-I respect you, but for your own safety, I suggest you put your arms around my waist."

I blushed, wrapping my arms around his waist. Damian started the bike and drove out of his parking spot. My grip tightened as Damian sped up and we reached the highway. I grinned under the helmet as the adrenaline rushed through me due to the speed.

***

"You have to take me on your motorcycle more often," I said, letting out a breathy laugh and taking off my helmet.

"It's not really mine," Damian corrected, taking off his helmet and getting off the bike.

"But with Promythous-" I furrowed my brows, placing the helmet on the bike's seat.

"That was Robin's bike," Damian explained, leading me to the secret destination. He had parked a block away from the surprise place, just to keep the secrecy. "Damian Wayne does not have a motorcycle."

"Who's-" I continued, getting into pace next to Damian.

"My brother's," he shrugged with a small smug smile.

"You stole your brother's motorcycle?" I asked, laughing slightly.

"He told me, women love men with motorcycles," Damian said. "So I took that as an invitation for me to 'borrow' his." He smirked to himself at the thought. "Also, my other brother said I should. I'm not one to listen to him but, I did enjoy the idea of stealing Jason's bike." I smiled at his mini-rant. He seemed to notice. "I'm sorry for oversharing," he said, his face returning to it's neutral state.

"No, it's fine," I reassured him as we turned a corner. "It's nice hearing you talk more."

Damian blinked, obviously surprised by my answer. "What... would you like to talk about?" he asked slowly.

"You," I said. "I don't know much about you."

"O-oh," Damian stuttered, which was a rare sound. "I grew up with the League of Assassins."

"The group your father trained with?" I asked, interested to learn more. "Lead by Ra AlGugl?"

"My grandfather," Damian confirmed. "When my father was training, he met my mother. She- she tricked him into having... intercourse with her. That's how I was created. My father left before I was born and I was raised by my grandfather and mother. I was trained from birth to be the master assassin. I was supposed to be the best. There was no room for error."

"That doesn't sound like a fun childhood," I said.

"I suppose not," Damian hummed. "I loved my grandfather very much, or more admired him. He told me we would destroy the world and rebuild it in our own image." He scanned our surroundings, almost as if he was imagining how he could make each detail superior.

"That's still partly your mindset isn't it?" I asked, making Damian's gaze turn to me. "You see the world and people and just imagine how you can make them better." Damian blinked. "You even yourself believe you're better than everyone. You think you'll be a better Batman, a better hero."

"I don't-"

"I'm not critiquing, just observing," I stated. I blushed under Damian's intense stare. "I-I interrupted, I'm sorry. What about your mother?"

"She's dead," Damian said.

"Oh," I said.

"She wasn't a mother anyway," Damian continued. "Last I saw her she tried to create an adult 'perfect' clone of me and killed him."

"And I thought my dad was hardcore," I mumbled. "How did she...?"

"Helicopter crashed after trying to kill me, my father, and Grayson," Damian said almost casually.

My eyes widened. "You didn't deserve it," I said as we turned yet another corner. Damian turned to me. "You deserved a loving childhood. Not one with a group of assassins and Batman."

Damian's eyes softened. "I did get, what you call, a loving childhood with my father," he said. "He would set up movie nights. And my brothers are... overly loving, at least Grayson."

"He's Nightwing, right?" I asked, grinning a bit. Damian nodded. "I've met him. He has a bit of an older brother feel. And I'm sure he understands how hard it is to grow up with someone like Bruce."

"He has made it very clear he does," Damian scoffed. "As had Todd." I gave him a questioning look. "Red Hood."

"Oh, never met him," I mumbled.

We walked in comfortable silence for a minute.

"Here," Damian said, stopping in front of a small and quaint ice cream shop.

"Ice cream?" I asked, giving him a lopsided grin. "On Friday."

"You said you and your mother used to always had ice cream on Fridays," Damian said shyly.

I let out a small laugh. "You- this is really sweet," I said, a bit surprised. I remembered when I told him that detail about my childhood.

***Flashback***

"Tell me more about your mother," Damian said after a while of silence. "I assume she's where you got your power?"

"Yeah," I said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. "She was- awesome. She was the first Black Canary. Trained in thousands of martial art styles."

"You're telling me things I already know," Damian stated, making me look at him.

"She was a pretty cool mom," I chuckled, crossing my legs on the bed. "She couldn't cook though. That was something she wasn't taught. She'd always make time for us to have an ice cream night. Every Friday." I smiled at the memory. "Sometimes she'd come back from patrol at midnight then wake me up, just so we could still eat ice cream."

"Do you still do it?" Damian questioned, turning to face me fully. "With your father?"

"Not usually," I stated, trying not to sound bitter. "He's usually busy with the Justice League and his company."

"How did she die?" Damian asked softly, making me go stiff.

"I was thirteen," I recited. "She and my dad went to face Prometheus. It was just in the early stages of my training-at least for the Canary cry, so I wasn't allowed to go. I- I remember my dad calling the house. He told me he'd be home soon, but something happened to Mom. Apparently, Prometheus slit her throat. She didn't want anyone to find out her identity so she insisted that only Martian Manhunter or Batman operated on her."

"But it was too late," Damian assumed. I nodded.

"Dad and I hardly even spoke after that," I sighed. "It hit us both- hard, but after a year, we got through it. He's still protective though."

"What about your powers?"

"I don't use them," I stated. "My mom died before we got far in training."

"Why don't you continue?" Damian asked. "I assume the league would be open to help or your friends."

"I can't," I sighed. "My vocal cords are too old."

"That sounds like an excuse," Damian stated. "I was unaware you were a quitter, Queen."

***End of flashback***

"I just figured you'd enjoy it," Damian shrugged, turning his head to the side to hide his smile.

"I do," I chuckled. "Although this is very cliche."

"I have seen as such in many of the movies Grayson forced me to watch," Damian admitted.

"Thank you, Damian," I smiled before rushing towards the outside counter, Damian following. "Hello!" I said to the person at the counter.

"Hello," the person said. She was a pretty girl, seemingly teen age with flawless makeup. She looked like she belonged at Dutch Brothers.

"I would like two scoops of y/f/i.c (your favirote ice cream) in a cup, please," I said before turning to Damian.

"Awesome," the girl said. "And you?"

Damian glanced at me. "None for me," he answered.

"You're not going to get anything?" I asked.

"I've never had ice cream," Damian admitted.

"Never?" I asked in shock.

"No," Damian said, his face showing me he didn't understand the problem. I scanned his face before turning to the girl.

"He'll have one scoop of almond in a cup," I stated.

"Alright," the girl smiled. "Be right with you."

"I said I didn't want any," Damian said, looking at me.

"You've never had it and you can't just sit there watching me eat," I protested. "Plus, I think you'll like it."

"Why is that?" Damian challenged.

"I'm an observer of people and you seem like an almond guy," I summarized.

"Explain your thinking Miss Queen," Damian said.

"Well, almond is more of a traditional Arabic ice cream flavor (please correct me if I'm wrong, I got this off the internet), and knowing you, you prefer salty and savory over sweet," I explained before leaning back and spreading my hands like I was presenting an amazing discovery.

"We shall see," Damian just said.

"Here," the girl chimed in, interrupting our discussion. She handed us our ice cream.

"Thank you," I said. I placed my ice cream on the counter before pulling out my wallet, but Damian had already paid. "I was going to pay," I said as he handed me my ice cream.

"It's proper etiquette for the man to pay," Damian said, leading me away from the ice cream shop.

"But it's not required," I chuckled. "Besides, we're both the children of billionaires." Damian didn't answer as he led me to a small park beside the shop. "I'll just pay next time."

"Next time?" Damian asked, stopping in front of a blanket with a projector on it.

"Yeah," I smirked. "If I haven't scared you away."

"Not at all," Damian said, sitting on the blanket. He motioned for me to sit down and I obliged.

"Try the ice cream," I said excitedly. Damian glanced at the tan-colored ice cream before taking a scoop and eating it. I stared at him, waiting for some type of reaction. His eyes widened before he took another scoop. "I told you!" I smirked.

"Coincidence," Damian scoffed but took more bites.

"Mhm," I hummed, leaning back on my free hand. I looked around, noticing a screen across from the projector. "You set this up?"

"Pennyworth did," Damian corrected. "Although I choose the film."

"Oh really?" I asked. "What'd you choose?"

"y/f/a/m (your favirote animated movie)," Damian stated. My face lit up. "Abby told me it was your favorite. Although I don't understand how or why a film made for children would be your favorite."

"You've never seen it have you?" I asked. Damian shook his head. "Then you'll figure out that it's not really a children's film. And you'll discover the superior soundtrack."

#damian #damian wayne #damian x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #batman #first date #robin #dc #green arrow #black canary #dinah lance #oliver queen #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #author #alfred pennyworth

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neon-junkie · 3 years ago

Text

Multitasking

Summary: Tech's job is to repair the ship. Your job is to test his focus by riding his cock.

Pairing: Tech x Reader

Reader Description: Reader is gender-neutral. This fic does not include any descriptions of their appearance.

Word count: 4.1k

Tags: Established relationship, Oral (giving), Smut, Cuming inside, Praise kink, sub!Tech, dom!Reader, Making out, Fluff.

Notes: Happy Tech Tuesdays!! I just had to write something for this specific shot in last weeks episode teehee

Being stranded on an unknown planet is one thing, but being stranded on an unknown planet with a broken down ship? Now, that's entirely another thing - a thing that the Bad Batch has been unfortunate enough to come across. Luck, nor hope, has ever been on their side, nothing ever goes to plan, but today's plan is simple: You and Tech are to stay on the ship and work on repairs, whilst everybody else heads out and searches for food, supplies, the will to live, and so on. And that's exactly where you are right now. Tech is currently suited up, helmet on, laying down on his back, working on the underside of the ships control panel. Most of your jobs are complete, and Tech urged you to have a break like the caring sweetheart that he is. You two have kept your relationship hidden from just about everybody, including the Batch, as you fear that it might cause a rift within the group. Although, you're almost certain they know. You've seen the glances Hunter and Crosshair make to each other when you and Tech are nattering away, and you've overheard Omega ask Wrecker and Echo multiple times if they're certain that you two aren't actually an item. The Batch knows, but the Batch doesn't officially know, and you both plan on keeping it that way. Alone time is a rarity. You'll be lucky to receive a kiss whenever you bring Tech a cup of caf whilst he's alone in the cockpit, or feel his hand in yours whenever you two are buddied up during a mission. You're both touch starved an unimaginable amount, and now that you two have some privacy, you want to make the most of it. Only, Tech being Tech, he needs to work. Tech wants to spend this time with you, just as much as you want to spend it with him, but the Marauder is in dire need of repairs, and only Tech has the ability to fix this ship. So, whilst on your break, you make Tech another cup of caf and bring it over, informing him of your presence as you settle down beside him. He thanks you, but his eyes remain glued to the underside of the cockpits control panel. Dare you say it - he looks inviting. Yes, he's busy working on the ship, and that's exactly why you're fighting the urge to hop on his lap right now. There's something enticing about Tech when he's literally buried in his work. Your mind has blanked out almost every single time he's attempted to explain something to you; you never understand what he's actually on about, but you always ask him to further explain, as the glisten in his eyes always makes you smile. But this? This is something else. You've seen Tech work on the ship so many times, but never in this position. He's lying on his back, hands and eyes fixated on the wires dangling above him, but the way his legs are casually spread is just so... oh. "Tech?" you question as you place a hand on his thigh, gently kneading at the fabric wrapped around him. "I know," Tech sighs. You're about to question what he apparently knows, but his sorrowful eyes meet yours, and he continues with "I want to spend this quiet time with you too." "Awhh," you sigh, giving Tech's thigh another squeeze. "I was actually going to tell you that your caf is there, and to be careful not to knock it over," you laugh, pointing to the cup beside him. Tech rolls his eyes, but from the way they're squinting, you know he's smiling beneath his helmet. He turns his attention back to his work, and you express your agreement with his comment. "But I also wish I was spending this time with you," you reply, and purr your words at the end, hoping that Tech knows what you're implying. "Stars," Tech sighs. "It's been some time, hasn't it?" "Tell me the specifics, Tech," you smile, and Tech's eyes happily meet yours. He's often silenced by his vods for 'blabbering' on about 'unimportant' details, but to you, his ability to remember so much makes your heart flutter. "Eighteen days, to be precise," Tech states as he continues working. "It's been eighteen days since we've had some time alone together, and four days since we've kissed." "I held your hand yesterday," you say with a laugh. "Yes, and I'm almost certain that Hunter saw that," Tech sighs. He stretches his hand out and makes a small grabbing motion, and you fill his palm with one of his tools. Tech shifts up onto his elbows as he looks at the tool that you've handed him, and he can't help but laugh. "I was motioning for you to place your hand in mine," he says as he places the tool down, and shuffles his way from underneath the control panel, sitting on the floor beside you. You laugh along with him, one hand still on his thigh, the other settling in his gloved palm. Tech gives you a comforting squeeze as he flicks his helmets' visor up, revealing his wide eyes, protected by his goggles. He speaks so much through his eyes alone, and you know him to a point where you two can speak without words, and right now, Tech's asking for more. Your hand slips from Tech's grasp so you can remove his helmet. His helmet remains in your grasp as you shuffle closer, and with a smug expression, you ask "do you want to change our four day count back to zero?" Tech nods his head as he softly laughs at your flirtatious remark. He shifts his goggles from his eyes, resting them on his forehead so they won't get in the way as he leans in and kisses you. Tech's kisses are always so soft and gentle, affectionate with a sprinkle of needy. One of his hands finds the back of your neck, simply holding you there as he makes up for all the lost time. Shuffling even closer to Tech, you debate asking a specific question, fearing rejection; you know that Tech wants the same, but he's busy with work, and work is always his top priority. You understand, and you understand that you two would have a lot of explaining to do if the rest of the Batch returned to find an unfixed ship, so you always allow him to prioritize his work. But Tech's kisses grow hungry, deeper and sloppier, and the whimper that he makes when you pull away confirms that he's just as eager as you are. "Do you want to reset our eighteen day count also?" you softly question against his lips, and your tone of voice makes him shudder. "I want to," he sighs, and gives you another kiss before continuing. "But I have work to do, although I estimate that it won't take me long to complete. Then, I'm all yours." "And what if the others return before then?" you pout. "They set off two hours ago. It's highly unlikely that they'd return in such a short time," Tech states. Smart, as always, but the Batch are unpredictable, and you worry that today might be one of those days. You ponder your thoughts, lazily kissing Tech as you weigh out your options. All of your work is done, and Tech doesn't have long to go, but you need him right now. He has the ability to work in an array of situations - under pressure, stressed, overwhelmed, and so on - but what about aroused? Yes, you've teased him on the odd occasion when he's been working, but that's as far as you've gone. Is it time to take things further? "Tech?" you sigh as you pull away. "Mhm?" Tech responds, half-lidded eyes meeting yours. "You still have work to do, but I don't. So, maybe I could start us off whilst you continue working?" you suggest, batting your lashes as you speak, even though you know Tech will say yes. To your surprise, Tech thinks about it, and quickly points out a negative to your idea. "I'm sure you're aware on how distracting your presence is, and... engaging with me sexually will distract me tenfold," Tech objects, moving his hands as he talks. "I've seen you work whilst distracted before. I won't be any different," you shrug. "I understand what you're referring to, but your presence can't be compared to the heat of the battlefield. They are two completely different types of distractions." "What I'm saying is..." you begin, and straddle Tech's lap as you talk, placing his helmet down on the floor beside him. One hand gently cups Tech's chin, tilting it to the side, leaving his neck open for you to begin kissing along. "You're a good worker, Tech, and you've worked through just about everything. So, you'll be fine with my presence, I'm certain of it." You can physically feel Tech shuddering in your grasp, turning into putty whilst you kiss along his neck, speaking against his skin. He lets out a groan when you nip at a sensitive spot behind his ear, and his hands find your hips, squeezing and kneading them. "What do you think?" you question, and wait patiently for Tech's answer. Tech stays silent for a while, minus his quiet mewls and moans. He's putting a lot of thought into this, possibly too much, but he eventually comes to a decision. "Alright," he gently nods. "You're welcome to engage with me whilst I work, but if you are too distracting, and I am unable to work with you around, then I will ask you to stop." "Of course, love," you reply as your kisses move up to his cheek. "I only want what's best for you." "You're what's best for me," Tech sharply exhales, and from the way his eyes turn wide, you know he wasn't meant to let that slip. "I mean... Uh, I shall return to my work, and you're welcome to... do whatever you'd like to do." Tech fumbles for his goggles, pulling them down from his forehead. You sneak in another kiss before his helmet is placed on, and just as Tech's about to lie down, he points something out. "I'd suggest that you shut and lock the door." You scramble up from his lap, shutting the cockpits' door, just to be safe. As you're about to lock it, Tech informs you of a different code to use, and explains why when you turn around and raise your brow at him. "It's a private code that I installed recently, just to be safe." "Safe from what?" you question. "Well, after the inhibitor chip situation, I wanted to install a code that only I know, so if something were to go wrong, say the Empire takes control of us and reinstalls the chip, then sends said person down to attack us, then we'd be safe from them in the ship." You're left speechless as Tech explains his bizarre, paranoid scenario. He notices your bewildered expression, and adds "hypothetically speaking, of course." As if that somehow makes things any better. "You and your paranoia, Tech," you sigh as you punch in the new code. "If it weren't for my paranoia, then we wouldn't now have this safely locked door, preventing the others from walking in on us, if they are to return early," Tech points out, motioning with his hands as he talks, before lying down and shuffling under the cockpits control panel. You roll your eyes whilst smiling, your heart fluttering over yet another reason why you've fallen for Tech. He goes back to work, leaving you to your mischief. Just like before, Tech has his legs partially spread, feet firmly on the floor with his knees slightly raised. As you settle beside him, your hand comes to rest on his thigh, fingers fiddling with the straps of his utility belt. You unhook the straps from his thighs, moving them up to his waist, giving you access to his codpiece. You know far too well how to remove his armour, and you find the hook that unlatches his codpiece, removing it entirely in one swift motion. Tech's already semi-hard, his cock straining against the tight fabric of his blacks. You palm over his erection, eyes peeking up to watch his reaction, and there is none, minus a soft sight. It's clear that he's attempting to focus on his work, and you're torn between wanting to be a massive distraction, and wanting to let him get on with his work. Sadly, repairing the ship is important, but you're certain that you can test his focus another time. For now, you're happy with slowly and lazily getting both of you off, waiting for Tech to finish so both of you can quicken the pace. Shuffling down onto your front, you free his cock from beneath his blacks, pumping it loosely whilst you find a comfortable position. Tech lets out another sigh when you swipe your tongue over the tip of his cock, swirling it around a few times, and then sinking down onto his length. You know by now exactly what makes Tech stir, and like the minx that you are, you go for those specific areas. Tech lets out a groan as you glide your tongue down the underside of his shaft, your hand lightly squeezing his tip. You spend a while between his thighs, earning weak moans, muffled through his helmet. One of his legs begins to lightly bounce, something his body subconsciously does when he's in deep though, and as of recent, something he also does when he's attempting to focus whilst distracted. With one hand around Tech's cock, you manage to slip your pants off, kicking off your boots in the process. You find the perfect balance between satisfying your partner, and preparing yourself, and although the position is slightly uncomfortable, the sound that Tech makes when he notices you prepping yourself makes it worth your while. "Copaani gaan?" you overhear Tech speak in his mother tongue. His eyes lock onto yours as he raises his head slightly, propping himself up on elbows, and Tech watches as you tilt your head in confusion. "Need a hand?" he repeats, and you mumble an 'oh' at his translation. "Shouldn't you be working on the ship?" you question. As Tech starts speaking, you slip his cock back into your mouth, completely malfunctioning his brain. "It's- I... the work- uh..." Tech stutters, and groans as he blurts out "mesh'la." A gloved hand rests on the back of your head as Tech lies back down, eyes scrunching shut, moaning softly for you. "So beautiful," he mumbles, and lets out a choked sob when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat. "What were you saying about the ship?" you innocently ask as you pull off his cock. "It's almost fixed," Tech groans, followed by a heavy sigh. "Finish your work, Tech," you order, and your tone of voice makes Tech shudder. "Elek, cyar'ika," Tech whimpers. "Anything for you." The hand on the back of your head is removed, and Tech turns as much focus as he can to his work. You decide that you're prepped enough, as is Tech, and begin shuffling into position, straddling Tech's lap. His eyes flick away for a moment, watching through his slowly steaming-up goggles as you sink down onto his length, letting out a soft sigh once you're fully seated. Despite not being able to see Tech's face, you know he's struggling to hold himself together, especially from the noise he makes when you begin slowly rising and falling on his cock, taking your time with every thrust. "Your work, Tech," you comment as you lock eyes. "Y-yes, right..." Tech's words trail off as he attempts to finish up, moving wires and tightening bolts, putting together the final parts of the ships control panel. You keep your pace slow and steady, not wanting to move Tech's body too much as he works, plus the sensation of slowly fucking yourself on your partners cock is oh-so-satisfying. And from the sounds that Tech is attempting not to make, you know that he's feeling the same way. You two spend some time like that, Tech finalizing the ship as you slowly get each other off, tensing your muscles every so often to tighten your grip on Tech's cock. Wanting to see how Tech will react, you catch him by surprise by slamming down on his cock; Tech lets out a choked moan, the air from his lungs being pushed out, and he almost drops the bolt tightener that he's holding. He perks his head up, groans at the sight of you, and then lets it fall back again. His hands pause mid-air, uncertain if he should attempt to work, or enjoy a brief break. "Tech?" you purr, and his eyes lock onto yours through the tint of his goggles. "Carry on working, love, you're almost finished." "Cyar'ika, you're making this unbelievably difficult," Tech whimpers. Tech isn't always one for praise, unless you're reminding him of how intelligent he is, but maybe he'll accept a few compliments whilst he's literally beneath you? "You're such a good worker, Tech, you can continue with a minor distraction," you praise. Tech's eyes momentarily flick away, as if to question if he really can work in these conditions. You know he's accepted your compliment the second his hands move up, returning to the control panel. "See?" you smile. "Pretend I'm not here. Pretend I'm not riding your cock right now," you tease, and your smile grows when Tech lets out a deep sigh. "I'll get you for this," he threatens in his own, soft, Tech-like way. "I can't wait," you purr, and pick up the pace, positioning your hands on his armoured chest to give your body extra support. Your eyes fall shut just as Tech returns to his work, putting your focus into riding him. Your pace isn't perfect, but it's enough to get you off, and from the sounds you're hearing from your partner, it's enough to get him off too. You're so engulfed in pleasure that you almost don't hear Tech suddenly states "I'm done." For some reason, you instantly assume he's done with you, motioning for you to stop. "Huh?!" you yelp as your eyes snap open. "I'm done with my work," Tech states, unaware of your confusion, and you let out a heavy sigh of relief. He lightly taps your thigh, signalling for you to raise your hips, and with the tip of his cock barely inside you, both of you shuffle so that Tech is no longer pinned beneath the control panel. You slam back down onto his cock just as he props himself up on his elbows, almost collapsing down again from the sensation. Tech curses under his breath, and with shaky arms, he manages to reach up and remove his helmet, placing it down beside him. His cheeks are redder than ever, almost as bright as when you two shared your first kiss, and from the light layer of sweat over his face, you assume that he'll be needing a shower later, and no doubt, you'll join him. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" you cheekily smile, and Tech has the audacity to roll his eyes at you. "You're unbelievable," Tech groans as he shifts his legs, placing his feet firmly on the floor, hips slightly raised - the perfect position to begin thrusting up into you. Tech meets your hips halfway, finding the perfect rhythm within no time. He's no longer holding back, moaning and groaning freely, and treating you to the occasional whimper. Tech's hands are snugly sitting around your hips, and his eyes are struggling to stay open, eventually scrunching shut, his mouth remaining parted as he puts all of his focus into fucking you. Your hands grip onto his chest once more, thick plastoid armour pressed against your palms, steadying your weight whilst both of you chase your orgasms. You know Tech is close when he begins stuttering, his mind becoming hazy, but Tech manages to whimper "I'm close." "Inside," you quietly state, and all Tech manages to do is nod. You beat him to it, tightening around his length as your orgasm hits. The sensation of you squeezing his cock has Tech sputtering, mewling beneath you whilst he pulls you down onto his hips and holds you there, his cock twitching heavily as he fills you up. You rock your hips back and forth gently, just enough to milk him, and Tech's grip on your hips tightens as he begins panting; his eyes slowly open, pupils blown, gawking at the sight of you. "T-too much," Tech eventually stutters, so you ease up, coming to a halt. Both of you spend a moment to gather yourselves and catch your breaths. Tech's hands move from your hips so he can prop his goggles up on his forehead, wiping his face with his palms, attempting to snap himself out of his post-orgasm haze. "Good?" you simply question, smiling when Tech nods in agreement. "Yes," he sighs, "so good. I think you'll agree that we both needed that," Tech comments as he pulls his goggles back on, and props himself up on his elbows, looking up at you, still sat on his lap with his cock slowly softening inside you. Tech takes a hold of your hips again, keeping you firmly on his lap as he sits upright. His soft eyes remain glued to yours, and a sweet smile appears on his lips when you playfully rub your nose against his. Tech wraps his hands around your waist, holding you in his lap, enjoying the sensation of your bodies being pressed together. Neither of you speak, but you don't need words to express the connection that you're feeling right now. You cup his jawline, holding his head steady whilst you enjoy some slow, sensual kisses. The taste of sweat is light on Tech's lips, but it's not enough for you to pull you away from him; if anything, you're enticed by how he tastes, parting your lips slightly so your tongue can glide across his. An unknowing amount of time passes as you two remain tied together, catching up on those lost moments; the nights where you can't be in each other's arms, the kisses you've missed due to lack of privacy, the gentle touches that are always kept private. As you move apart, you motion for Tech to tilt his head to the side, revealing your favourite place to kiss. Your hands slide over his shoulders, fiddling with the ends of his short hair, and you plant kiss after kiss on his faint scar, hidden beneath his short, buzzed hair. Tech smiles as you kiss over that area, and once you're done, he presses his forehead against yours. Finally, one of you speaks up. "Would you like to join me in the refresher?" Tech offers. "Of course," you smile, and place a kiss on his nose before shuffling off his lap. Once both of you are dressed, and Tech has tidied his equipment away, you go to make your way through the ship. As you open the locked cockpit door, you're both met with an extremely grumpy looking Hunter. He's sat with his arms crossed, tired eyes, and the only thing he asks is "are you two finally done?" "T-the ship is repaired, if that is what you're asking," Tech replies, struggling to maintain eye contact. "C'mon, you know I'm not on about that," he sighs. "You're lucky that the others wanted to stay outside and enjoy the sun!" Both of you stand there awkwardly, gawking around the ship, looking at everything but Hunter. He lets out a long, defeated sigh before saying "both of you, go and clean up, please. And leave the cockpit door open, it stinks in there." With that, Hunter rises from his chair, and makes his way off the Marauder, leaving the ships' door open to let fresh air flow through the ship. At the same time, Tech and you lock eyes, sharing an awkward expression. To your surprise, Tech states "that went rather well." "You're joking, right?" "It's been a long time coming," he shrugs. "Anyway, are you still joining me in the refresher?" You let out a laugh, but shake your head in agreement. "Lead the way!"

#swwriting #multitasking #tech x reader #the bad batch #clone trooper tech x reader #smut #nsft #gender neutral reader #gn!reader #star wars #tbb fanfic #reader insert #tbbwriting

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gale-gentlepenguin · 3 years ago

Text

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 37

Shout out to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as Ramblingwren

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

(The latest chapter will be up on there once this reaches over 300 notes on tumblr)

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Simularé looked out over the city from the top of the school. Using her replicated powers, she took the form of Volpina so they'd be able to alter the illusion quickly should something pop out and accidentally reveal the true form of the school. Thankfully the sentimonster didn’t need to do much in order to maintain the illusion; Paris was a surprisingly quiet city.

As far as they could tell, no one in the city outside of the school had any idea what was going on. And that worked out perfectly for them.

“So, this is where Lila has you stationed,” a voice called out, resulting in the faux fox turning around. The figure behind them was a woman clad in dark blue, with blue skin and a feathery fan. She looked confident and the sentimonster instinctively felt that this individual was very much aware of what it was.

Mayura had quickly deduced it was the sentimonster as it was in Lila’s previous akuma form, Volpina. With Lila now Masquerade, it was unlikely she would choose to take such a form. She would likely want to stay in her new form to show it off.

“Do not be alarmed, Simularé, it is your creator. Mayura,” Mayura spoke again.

The shapeshifter leveled a sharp glare at the woman. What made her so certain of that?

“How do I know that is true?” Simularé questioned.

The villainess took a moment to examine the sentimonster. Mayura had to admit that this sentimonster was her finest work to date. The amount of emotion harnessed from Lila to create it made it far more unique, much less of a mindless creature than her previous creations. Amoks were created much like akuma were, locking on to intense emotions before sending off. But unlike akuma, amok can be shaped and tailored with enough focus. Simularé was a special case, as it was made from the conclave of emotions that Lila was experiencing during her breakdown. It had been quite difficult to focus on one specific feeling but Mayura had pushed through. Simularé was sculpted to be Lila’s ideal ally, but it was also so much more than a simple asset. This Amok embodied Lila’s core personality. Her cleverness, her cunning, her mistrust of others, her playfulness, her pride and so much more. To put it simply, this Sentimonster was Lila’s spirit given a new form.

“Trust me Simularé, you would be best not to ask that,” Mayura warned.

The sentimonster felt as if it was being talked down to and clearly did not approve of anyone talking to them in such a tone, save for its master. It charged at the peacock villainess, ready to make contact, But, before it could get close, Mayura stuck out her hand and pinched her fingers together, causing the sentimonster to feel as if some force was pulling its essence out. The pain it felt was indescribable! It felt as if its very being was being ripped out. Mayura was in range to sense the Amok and could easily remove it without difficulty, much like Hawkmoth could with an akuma. Though Mayura had a feeling that letting the Sentimonster know that keeping her out of range of the item was the key to its survival would not be wise. It was best in this moment to display power.

“Stop! Please!” Simularé begged. “I … I believe you! I will do whatever you ask, just please stop the pain!”

The villainess smiled, it seemed there was even more to this Sentimonster than Mayura had anticipated. It had a powerful sense of self preservation, something controlled sentimonsters didn’t seem to have. She took note of that.

“Good. Now, you are going to explain to me your master’s end goal and where Ladybug and Chat Noir are in the building.”

Simularé felt the grip that Mayura had on its essence and held back its burning resentment towards the blue bird villainess. She would behave. For now.

“Okay… I will tell you everything.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Duck!” Ladyice called out as she had Ice Noir lower their bodies to avoid oncoming ice projectiles.

“Surprising that she's only attacking us with ice. She's Stormy weather. You'd think she would be attacking with more, maybe some rain or like a vol....” Ice Noir commented.

“Don't talk about that! Do not give her any ideas!”

The two had skated out of the room and made their way through the now icy hallway while Stormy Weather gave chase.

“I was just saying it seems weird how...mediocre her attacks are.

“It’s like we saw before, the akuma servants are like robots, they can’t react quickly so changing up her powers is likely just as much of a problem. She's probably not as dangerous as we initially thought.”

“So maybe we should face this problem head on now that we aren’t cornered?”

Ice Noir changed direction and began skating towards the umbrella-wielding akuma.

Stormy Weather noticed the approaching cat and raised her umbrella, creating a mighty gale to blow him back and ending him flying past Ladyice to the end of the hallway.

“She can use her other powers… can confirm,” Ice noir commented as he got off the wall, still dazed.

Ladyice skated up to the dazed cat and helped stabilize him. Despite seeming like a wasted effort, the cat’s brash antics actually inspired Ladyice with a way to take her out.

“I just figured out how we can stop her, think you can give her one last charge for me?”

“Why Bugaboo, asking me to rush headfirst into danger? How heartless.” He feigned hurt.

Ladybug rolled her eyes.

“Silly Kitty. Just be ready to hang in there when she blasts you with wind. Don’t get blown back this time.”

“Got it.”

Ice Noir quickly skated across the ice as he drew his weapon. He was ready for her this time.

“Hey breezy weezy! The weather today was supposed to be sunny with a 20% chance of raining Cats and Dogs!” Ice Noir called out, clearly happy with his lame joke.

Stormy Weather saw the cat approaching once again and prepared to send another wind blast at him.

But the cat was prepared this time around and extended his staff to anchor himself to the walls on either side.

“Nice try!” Ice Noir snarked. “But a small little puff of wind won't blow me back again.”

The storm akuma decided instead of creating just another wind blast, she was going to step it up with a cyclone attack! A powerful tornado tunnel would surely blast the cat down for good.

“We were wrong! She can amp up the power too!” Ice Noir exclaimed as he held onto his staff with all his might while his body was being blown back by the massive winds. “This was not well thought out!”

He focused on digging his claws into his staff and doing his best to remain in the wind tunnel. The powerful winds blew into his face and he could see Stormy Weather slowly approaching.

“I don’t think I can hold on much longer, Ladyice!”

He felt his grip slipping. Any second now, he was going to get blown back.

“Don’t worry, Kitty. I got this.”

Stormy Weather didn’t get a chance to react when she felt something tackle her full force and rush her into the wall on the opposite end of the hallway.

The wind died down and Ice Noir was able to land on his skates. He released his grip on his staff and fixed his windblown hair to resemble its original state before quickly skating down the hall to help his partner.

“Nice job, Ladyice.”

The red-clad heroine stood up from her grapple with the storm akuma.

“Actually…”

Ice Noir looked up to see that his partner had shifted power ups. Her skates and ice skater aesthetic were replaced with a suit that had red spacesuit-like plating, a jetpack with retractable wings with red and light blue colors that matches her helmet.

She had changed into her space form, Cosmobug.

“Space power up! Because you can fly through the wind! Genius!”

Cosmobug smiled.

“Well, Stormy Weather is dazed but probably not for long.”

The two heroes noticed her about to grab her umbrella, but Chat Noir’s cat-like reflexes helped him snatch it first.

“Oh no you don’t!”

Ice Noir broke the umbrella over his knee.

“I don’t think she will be as mobile without her powers.”

Stormy Weather tried to stand but slipped on the icy floor she had created.

“Let’s just make our way to the boss,” Cosmobug said. She used the jet on her back to swoop up Ice Noir and fly slowly down the icy hall.

“Just like you to sweep me off my feet. But don’t think I will be a smitten kitten like usual.”

“Oh? Is that so?” The bug heroine raised an eyebrow. “It’s hard to imagine that you haven’t been dreaming about this scenario.”

“It helps that you aren’t riding a horse with the wind blowing in your hair,” Chat Noir joked back, catching Ladybug’s teasing.

Cosmobug quickly moved them to a part of the hall where there was no ice. Both undid their potion transformations, reverting back to their usual hero forms.

“Not keeping the jetpack?” Chat Noir asked. “It is really cool.”

“The room halls are pretty limited, and there's not much mobility, otherwise I might have,” Ladybug confessed.

The two heroes took a moment to catch their breaths and figure out their surroundings.

“We should thank Stormy Weather.”

The cat looked at his partner skeptically, remembering how a few minutes ago, the wind had nearly sent him flying through a brick wall.

“What makes you say that?”

“Lila probably had Stormy Weather out and about to flush out other people in the school and make sure the area was difficult to traverse. She likely sent out a bunch of other akuma to do the same, which means her forces are scattered and we have a better shot of dealing with her with fewer obstacles.”

Chat Noir nodded. He would not have deduced such a thing from one encounter with a weather akuma.

“Good to know, so the plan is to locate her and save the day.”

“No need to figure out where she is, I already have a good idea where she should be.”

Chat Noir noticed Ladybug had already started moving. He quickly followed behind, though he didn’t need an explanation this time. He already knew where Ladybug was heading — to his homeroom class, but he couldn’t say that without revealing what he knew.

_____________________________________________________________

‘This was a ridiculous decision.’

That was the thought running through Chloé’s mind as she ran for her life from a large group of Reflekta clones.

The two or three she had run into early were easy to avoid, but now it seemed like a horde of those tacky clones. And all of the ice that surrounded certain hallways made it impossible to traverse. She was limited in her running space and she was running out. But what made it all worse was that now those Reflekta copies had adjusted to running.

“HOW CAN YOU RUN IN THOSE HEELS!?” Chloé screamed as she ran down the hall.

She just had to try and be a hero. Why was she even doing this? The assistant probably got turned into one of those gross clones or got masked like those other students. She could have just sat back and just waited for Ladybug and Chat noir to find her or let them handle it.

“You can’t run forever” The crowd of clones sang in Rather impressive and creepy harmony.

Chloé took a turn down the hall and went into the door of the nearest room.

She closed the door and locked it before smelling the musty wet air.

“What the… EWW!” She spat in disgust as she realized she had locked herself in a janitor’s closet.

“Why did it have to be in such a gross smelly room?” she moaned.

Unfortunately, her comments caught the attention of the crowd chasing her.

She heard banging on the door.

“You can’t hide, we will find.”

Chloe put her back to the door to keep them out and felt herself slide down it in despair.

Was this how it was going to end? Getting turned into one of those fashion nightmares after hiding out in such a rank smelling closet? She didn’t even save… wait. She did save someone. She saved that old man. It hadn't been glamorous, but she did manage to save at least one person.

“I guess I did do something good after all. May not have been exceptional… but it was something.” Chloé smiled for a brief moment.

She took a moment to look at the positives, Ladybug and Chat Noir would likely come in and save the day, plus there were those other two heroes. Perhaps that would be enough. But she had to admit, finding solace in that was getting harder to do when the smell of the closet was destroying her nostrils. Just then, she remembered she had some nice perfume in her bag that she could spray to alleviate the smell.

“Well, at least I won’t smell awful when they capture me.”

She put her hand in her bag and felt around for her perfume. As she searched, she felt an unfamiliar object in her designer handbag. She pulled it out.

“What is this?”

She noticed a note on top of it. It was a bit dark to read so she pulled out her phone and turned on her flashlight.

“Return to Ladybug after mission?”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Could this be what she thought it was? How was it possible? She didn’t have time to question it.

She opened the box and out came a floating bee creature, who Chloé recognized right away. It was real.

“Pollen!” Chloé exclaimed with cheer.

“It has been a while, my queen.” the bee kwami said.

Chloé would have loved to revel in this moment more but she knew that door was going to burst open any minute. She needed to be the bee heroine.

“As much as I would love to talk more, we need to hurry. We have some akuma clones that need bashing.”

“Right away, my queen!”

Chloe put the bee miraculous in her hair.

“Pollen, Buzz on!”

_____________________________________________________________

“It is a good thing there are so many copies,” Ryuuko stated as she leaped over a few Reflekta copies.

Viperion swerved and dodged the replicas of his sister’s akumatized form while avoiding getting caught in the bubbles that froze them and floated them up in the air.

Deadzone had been doing a lot of friendly fire thanks to its single minded obsession.

“After this, I really hope I never have to see my sister take this form again,” Viperion commented.

“Right, Adrien mentioned that you were Juleka’s brother. Older brother, right?”

“Older twin brother. But yes.”

“Really? You seem older.”

“I am a grade ahead of her, but we are the same age,” he explained.

“Could have sworn you were at least a year or two older.”

“A lot of people think the same thing. Even my mom forgets, sometimes. Rose, my sister’s girlfriend, says I radiate ‘big brother energy’ or something.”

“You learn something new.”

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“Sadly no. I was an only child.”

“Too bad, I think you would have made a great older sister,” Viperion encouraged

“A snake charmer, are we?”

“Well I am the snake, and I am not charming myself, so I think the more correct term would be dragon charmer.”

“Change that to fun killer because you killed my fun right there.”

Before Viperion could retort, they had made their way down to the end of the hall and noticed that it was frozen off.

“Dead end,” they say at the same time.

“No, Deadzone.”

The two turn to see the deadly akuma amalgamation pointing its blaster at them.

The two heroes looked at the deadly akuma.

“Any ideas?” Ryuuko questioned.

“Just one.”

Viperion moved his hand to his bracelet.

“Second chance!” Viperion activated his power.

“Now we have some options.” Viperion explained.

The akuma fired a bubble blast at Ryuuko, and she was frozen.

“Second chance!”

Things reset to how they were a few seconds before. Viperion grabbed Ryuuko and pulled her out of the way of the oncoming bubble blast.

“Thanks. For a minute there, I thought that thing had me.”

“It did, but I used my power to stop that. we still have to get out of here.”

“Look out!”

Ryuuko got hit with another bubble as they got up, protecting him from an attack.

“This might take a few attempts…”

_____________________________________________________________

Hawkmoth paced inside his lair.

Mayura was out there, his son was out there… and things were not going the way he planned. Masquerade seems to be building a base for herself and was more concerned with that than getting the miraculous. Adrien is MIA, and Mayura isn’t responding.

“I might need to step in. But there is a lot of risk in this. Far too many variables that I can't account for”

Hawkmoth never liked leaving his lair. It had too many risks to it. After Heroes' Day, he had nearly been exposed. And after that fiasco in Shanghai he didn’t want to risk getting taken out by his own akuma. He had already taken plenty of risks that had blown up in his face. Would this be another one of those times he would need to risk his miraculous?

“But it could also be just what is needed to beat Ladybug and Chat Noir once and for all.”

With an akuma this powerful, the two would likely have to use their special powers multiple times. If he can just locate them and wait for them to do so, he could potentially gain the advantage. Maybe Mayura was on to something with her actions.

Hawkmoth walked to the window.

“There will be a right time. I just need to wait for it.”

He felt an itch in the back of his neck. He wasn’t sure what it was but he could tell one thing, something big was going to go down, and he needed to figure out the right call soon or it could cost him dearly.

_____________________________________________________________

“…And that’s her plan.” Simularé finished. “As for Ladybug and Chat Noir… I am unsure. I lost track of them before I was given a new assignment. But they are in the building and they have not tried to leave.”

Mayura smiled at the information. While it was quite unfortunate that she didn’t have the exact location of the two heroes, it was good to know that they were still in the building, and Lila’s plan was certainly something interesting.

“Indeed, that is quite a clever plan. Ensuring everyone in the school couldn’t escape was pretty smart. You likely had a few escapes anyway, with how clumsy some of the akuma were. You are fortunate that neither one was Ladybug or Chat Noir. Still, though, it isn’t your master’s fault for that. They are basically mindless puppets. But then again, it seems that there might be zero escapes since there seems to be no new reports on the subject of a school takeover.”

Simularé let the peacock villainess muse, analyzing her movements as if trying to figure out any advantage it could handle.

“So, the next step now that all communications are cut is to send out a message that Ladybug and Chat Noir have already been defeated, so as to cause massive despair in order to create even more minions. Sounds a bit derivative, don’t you think?” Mayura mused.

Simularé said nothing. It held its tongue. Deep down, it knew that starting any dispute with this peacock was not wise. Especially given that crazy power she had over their being.

“Still, it is quite a plan. And with all those extra akuma recruited and Ladybug and Chat noir cut off from their guardian, they wouldn’t be able to get any sort of back up. They wouldn’t be able to put up much of a fight before all of Paris is under Masquerade’s thumb. I approve of the plan.”

“I am glad you do,” Simularé stated with a forced smile.

Their conversation was cut short when an akuma appeared. Seeing one it did not recognize, the artist akuma prepared to fight. But thankfully the shapeshifting sentimonster stepped in.

“Stand down Evillustrator, this one is not our enemy,” Simularé ordered.

Evillustrator eased and walked over.

“Masquerade has ordered that we start reinforcing the building. She wants this place to be like a fortress,” he parroted.

Mayura looked at the artist.

A fortress? Yes, Simularé mentioned that Masquerade wanted to reinforce the school so that she could ensure Ladybug and ChatNoir would have less chance of escape.

Simularé nodded at the akuma servant.

“Alright, so she wants us to drop the illusion, then?”

“She wants the place to be like a fortress.”

“Go ahead and start,” Simularé motioned. She figured that her master likely didn’t care about the illusion much as she was prepared for stage two. But she would maintain it for a bit.

The akuma moved to the end of the roof and begins working to reinforce the walls

Mayura began moving to the door of the roof to get back down into the school.

“Tell your boss I will be heading to her, and she best be welcoming,” Mayura ordered.

“As you command,” Simularé replied, hiding a large amount of anger and resentment towards the blue bird.

As soon as the blue peacock is out of sight.

Simularé contacts its master.

“Simularé, what is going on? Did Evilustrator reach you?”

“Yes. He is working to make this place a fortress. You want me to maintain the illusion, right?”

“I am about to go public shortly. After I make the announcement. Drop the illusion and make sure this place is a full-on fortress. After that is done, report back to me.

“Yes master. By the way, I had an idea.”

“Oh?”

Simularé smiled sinisterly. She was going to show Peacock why she was sorely mistaken.

“I will report the details to you shortly.”

_____________________________________________________________

“Everything is set up,” Robostus noted.

“Excellent. Let’s do it now.”

The Reflekta camera crew was all set, and Gamer had set it up so the moment they went live, every screen in Paris would show Masquerade.

Masquerade got off her call with Simularé. Something seemed a bit off with her sentimonster but she was intrigued that she had a plan.

“We are live in 5….4…3….2…” the gamer stated before pressing the go live button.

Masquerade smiled.

“Good afternoon, citizens of Paris. You may not know who I am, but don’t worry! You will be very familiar with me very soon. I am Masquerade, and I have decided to make Paris my personal kingdom.”

She paused to let that sink in.

“Now you are likely very alarmed by this declaration and that is normal. It will only be a matter of time before I spread my influence to everyone in Paris.”

She paused to let her words hang in the air before continuing.

“Do not be afraid, I am no monster. I plan on being a fair leader. All I ask is for your undying admiration and absolute loyalty. After that, you are free to live your lives as you normally would. Do not resist and you will have no problems. However, if you do… well, I can’t guarantee your safety.”

Masquerade took a calm breath before finishing.

“This last message goes out to the heroes of Paris, Ladybug and Chat Noir. I know you are here, I know you believe you will stop me, and I know you have allies here. But you will fall to me. Your days of superheroing have come to an end, your miraculous will be taken from you, and I will expose you as the failures you are,” Masquerade finished with venom.

She ended the transmission.

“Now make sure that it is being looped,” she ordered.

“Already is,” Gamer confirmed. “And panic is starting to rise.”

Masquerade smiled. Her plan was already working.

It may have seemed like a simple ego boost, but that speech of hers was a crucial part of her plan. Her charm bracelet could hyper focus on anyone that was akumatized in the past and have their biggest insecurities exposed. But that one by one process took far too long, if the hope of the entire populace of Paris was already demoralized. Then all she needed to do was send out her masks and let them take hold. And all she needed to do was go out there and send the masks.

She could already feel massive amounts of negative emotion from outside of the school. As soon as she headed out of the school, she could easily go and get more akuma soldiers. She could feel her bracelet trembling with all the potential additions.

She was prepared to leave, activating one of the charms to give her black angel wings, but something she remembered caused her to stop.

“Simularé I am moving to phase two of my plan. Get down here.”

It only took a few seconds for the sentimonster to jump from the roof and knock on the window.

One for the Reflekta copies opened the large window to let in what appeared to be Dark Cupid, before it shifted into the phantasm form that was its base.

“Right on cue. So, what is this plan you wanted to suggest?” Masquerade inquired. “And be sure it is not a waste of my time.”

“What if I told you I could get you a Miraculous?”

The sentimonster could feel that Masquerade was very pleased with that idea.

_____________________________________________________________

37 attempts.

It took thirty-seven resets before Viperion figured out what they needed to do.

“Ryuuko, follow my directions exactly,” Viperion instructed. “I know how to win.”

He quickly pulled her towards him to make sure she dodged the first bubble.

The akuma was surprised by the avoidance.

Viperion smiled.

“Your next line is, ‘How did you know I was going to blast at her?'” Viperion stated confidently.

“How did you know I was going to blast at her?” Deadzone parroted in shock before realizing they had said exactly what Viperion had said they would say.

The dragon heroine looked at the determined expression of the snake. She could see experience and certainty in his posture. All her years of fencing taught Kagami the art of reading body language, and the hero in front of her was someone that exuded an aura of confidence. She knew she could trust him.

“Alright, Sassy Snake, I will let you take the reins.” Ryuuko responded.

“Jump to the left in 2 seconds and start running.”

Ryuuko followed the instructions and sure enough avoided yet another bubble attack from Deadzone.

“Head to their left and bounce off the locker at the end.”

Ryuuko dashed past the akuma and jumped as Viperion instructed, perfectly avoiding the barrage of blasts sent her way. Viperion had perfectly mirrored her motion as he explained the next steps.

“Now somersault twice and draw your sword.”

Ryuuko somersaulted as Viperion leaped over her and the dragon turned to draw her sword, now on the other side of the hall.

“Now as soon as it fires a bubble at you, activate your wind! No matter what! I believe in you Ryuuko.”

The last words seemed a bit strange to the fencer. What did he mean by that?

“Will you shut up!?” Deadzone shouted before sending a bubble at Viperion.

“For my final glimpse into the future, you will say, ‘Not so tough now are ya?'”

The bubble contacted Viperion.

“Viperion!” Ryuuko cried out.

The bubble enveloped the snake and floated to the ceiling, taking his frozen form along with it.

“No…” Ryuuko muttered. She looked down in sorrow.

I failed to protect him. He ended up protecting me. He had been backing me up to make sure I wouldn’t do anything reckless.

Ryuuko felt her mind flashback to a few days ago which now seemed almost like it happened a year ago. They had made such a good team back then and now… they get a chance to be heroes again and she couldn’t cover him like he did her.

“Ha, not so tough now are ya?” Deadzone stated with confidence.

Ryuuko’s ears perked up at the statement. That was the line Viperion predicted they would say. That means… Viperion knew this would happen! Which meant his previous statement was to show he planned this. She knew what to do.

Deadzone turned its attention to Ryuuko.

“Don’t worry, you will join him shortly.”

Deadzone fired another bubble right at her, but this time Ryuuko wasn’t moving. She was at the perfect distance to do what she needed to do.

Ryuuko smiled.

“Wind dragon!”

The dragon-themed heroine turned into a cloud and blew the bubble right back at the akuma.

“What!”

The bubble encapsulated the akuma, causing it to freeze in place and then float to the ceiling.

Ryuuko returned to her original form and smiled, seeing how they had finally incapacitated the akuma.

“We did it, Viperion. We took them down. I'm sorry it cost you so much… I won't let you down!”

She raised her blade, upon realizing that her partner was indeed trapped in a bubble.

“Wait a minute…”

Ryuuko walked underneath Viperion’s bubble. She wasn’t entirely sure if this would work, since akuma magic was weird and often unpredictable, but it would make a lot of sense if it did.

“It is a bubble, so this should work right?” Ryuuko questioned as she used the tip of her sword to touch the bubble. She pushed it forward a bit causing the bubble to pop.

Her partner dropped to the floor.

“Ugh… my head.”

“You’re okay!”

Ryuuko hugged her friend, but then realized her sudden action and quickly jumped back up. A bit flustered, she could swear Marinette was rubbing off on her.

“I am glad you are alright, friend. You had me concerned — slightly,” Ryuuko corrected herself.

Viperion was surprised by the quick motions but managed to steady himself.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course. But make it quick, we will need to get a move on.”

“Okay… Who am I?”

Ryuuko froze at the question. She could see the confusion on his face. He was completely serious.

“Oh… that is not good at all.”

_____________________________________________________________

Masquerade is on phase two of her plan and Simularé is starting to make waves.

Who will get to the akuma first, Mayura or our heroes.

What will happen to Viperion now that his memory is gone?

Will Queen bee be the right choice?

Reblog and Comment . Your support is invaluable in keeping this fic alive. And I love hearing your thoughts on it

#ml #ml fic #miraculous ladybug #ml fanfiction #ladrien #miraculous fanfiction #drama #ladybug #chat noir #slight ladynoir #fan akuma #masquerade akuma #ml au

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makeste · 3 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 320: Deku vs. Class 1-A

Previously on BnHA: Flashback!Kacchan was all “fuck Deku and fuck his stupid goodbye letters, I need to speak to somebody in charge.” Endeavor was all “hello, I am Somebody In Charge.” Kacchan was all “listen up asshole, you need to let us go out and collect our wayward nerd because you stupidly left him alone with All Might and that’s a fast track to disaster right there.” Endeavor was all, “[self-incriminating silence].” Rat Principal was all, “okay sure, have fun kids.” Back in the present, class 1-A was all “hi Deku” and Deku was all “I’M FINE!!!!!” and Kacchan was all “THAT’S WHAT I THOUGHT YOU’D SAY YOU DUMB FUCKING NERD” and so the kids all got ready to fight, because OF COURSE they’re gonna fight. Sorry guys, but yeah it’s happening.

Today on BnHA: Kacchan is all “what’s up Deku you look like a possessed Rorschach test, so anyway how are the new quirks coming along.” Deku is all “they’re coming along like THIS” and uses Smokescreen to try and get away. Kacchan is all “PHASE ONE COMMENCE”, and Kouda, Sero, Jirou, and Ojiro leap into the fray to shower Deku with heaps of love and violence, because this is a shounen manga and kicking someone’s ass while simultaneously proclaiming your undying admiration for them is just how it’s done in these parts. The KoudaSeroOJirou squad then passes the baton to Satou, Momo, Tokoyami, Kaminari, and Shouji, who are all “fuck this mask” and do a bunch of stuff to tear Deku’s mask off because they’re the real heroes. Shouto is all “LOOK AT THE LITTLE CRYBABY, THAT’S RIGHT, GO AHEAD AND FUCKING CRY and by the way let us share your burden please,” and once again I swear this is all very deeply moving and touching within the actual context. The chapter ends with Tsuyu being all “look at me. I’m the cliffhanger now,” and damn.

lol what

I don’t think anyone was expecting that. I mean, not that I’ve got anything against Tsuyu or anything. anyways it’s a very nice cover and I love the colors and I hope this means Tsuyu’s gonna do something badass

also, “Deku vs Class A” -- pretty much the expected title, but it’s still got me hyped nonetheless fuck yeah let’s go

IIDA ANGST

Iida Tenya really said “fuck the uniform code, we’re leaving the helmet at home today.” sorry kids, prim and proper C-3PO Comic Relief Iida has left the building. can I interest you in some Serious Iida

meanwhile Kacchan is all “sup Deku, I heard you got a few more quirks, and might I just add that you look like the Snyder Cut of Detective Pikachu”

“you look like a tarred and feathered squid” okay easy there Kacchan. I mean it’s all true of course, but still

“thank you all for coming” OH EXCUSE ME SON, WERE YOU PLANNING ON GOING SOMEWHERE. LET’S JUST SEE HOW THAT PLAYS OUT

yep and there’s Smokescreen, right on cue

okay Horikoshi, I leave it in your hands. hopefully you can come up with some more interesting combos than my dumbass predictions lol

LOL THIS ISN’T A COMBO AT ALL

“explosions solve everything” -- Horikoshi Kouhei, 2021. something something shockwave, something something handwave ta-da no more smoke. lol okay then

oh, ouch

he would know, wouldn’t he. nice application of one of your many hard-earned life lessons, Kacchan

by the way you guys, just as an experiment, I’m going to try to anticipate some of the discourse this week in the hopes of preemptively addressing it and thus saving myself some time later on lol. so here’s our first test run!

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “oh my god what a fucking hypocrite can you believe this fucking guy”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: it’s precisely because Kacchan has been in this exact situation himself that he’s able to recognize his past self in Deku now and call him out on it. just because it took him sixteen years to get it through his head that he can’t accomplish every single thing completely by himself doesn’t mean Deku has to go down that same path. so yeah, maybe it is a bit hypocritical, but if you insist that the only people qualified to call out stupid shit are people who have never done a single stupid thing in their own lives, then what you’re basically saying is that absolutely no one on earth is qualified lol. so yeah, I’d have to disagree

and one last unrelated note, I’m willing to bet the whole “you didn’t even say a word before you ran off” thing is possibly the first thing Kacchan’s said in this whole encounter that actually does stem from genuine hurt rather than his tough-love-harsh-truths strategy. I’M TAKING NOTES HERE HORIKOSHI. at this rate it’ll take twice as many chapters as DvK2 for them to hash out all the stuff between them, geez

anyway so I gotta say, so far Deku vs. Class A is looking an awful lot like a DvK3 wearing a hat, trenchcoat, and sunglasses lol

OH SHIT I TAKE IT BACK??

FUCK YEAH, YOU GO KOUDA. and I guess he ditched his mask as well! excellent

so far the strategy here seems to be “Kacchan says all the mean tough love shit while the rest of 1-A balances it out with warmth and kindness”, which actually works pretty well imo. Deku is one of those people that doesn’t usually need a Kacchan Translator anyway, but just in case, this is very efficient

mm but of course Deku is slingshotting himself away with Blackwhip. all right then, who’s up next!

FUCK YEAH

okay but seriously you guys, what is going on with Sero’s face in these last couple of chapters though, it’s really starting to unnerve me. is he trying to emulate Kacchan’s whole asymmetrical facial expressions thing?

in fact let me just quickly hit pause here because,

ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “SERO IS TOGA??!”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: no

oh snap looks like Jirou’s getting in on the action too!

poor Jirou probably spent days racking her brain trying to think of something she could bond with Deku over. is Horikoshi doing these in reverse order of the kids who have had the most interaction with him? that would explain why poor Kouda didn’t get a flashback lol

omg. well that answers that

so by my count, Satou and Hagakure are the only ones remaining in this first tier of kids who Still Appreciate Midoriya even though they’ve barely ever spoken two words to him in their lives lol. so they’ll probably be next, and then we’ll get to the next tier of kids who are pretty good friends with him but not quite besties. and then we’ll move on to the IidaRokiRaka trio, and then lastly, to the boy who is in a tier all his own

BUT FIRST, A WORD FROM OUR SPONSOR

and by “sponsor” I mean the Dekuangst. just in case that wasn’t clear. indeed, many thanks to the Dekuangst for making this all possible

(ETA: okay so this whole “take me away” line seemed pretty weird to me, and sure enough it’s yet another one of those cases where only the verb is specified, and the object is left to the reader’s interpretation. so even though the translation says “take me away”, I’m pretty sure that what Deku’s actually saying is “take you away” -- as in, his loved ones will be taken away by AFO.

and that is literally the way he phrases it, though -- the verb used is “奪う” (ubau), meaning “to snatch away; to dispossess; to steal.” which, god, that hurts my whole goddamn heart though, because for him to say it like that?? not “AFO will kill you”, but “AFO will take you away from me.” he can’t have nice things anymore because of AFO. he can’t be around the people he loves because AFO will hurt them. he can’t have happiness because AFO will take it away from him. anyway so where the fuck is AFO right now, motherfucker I just want to talk.)

by the way can Ojiro just extend his tail to whatever fucking length he wants or what because it’s like twelve feet long in this panel lol

WOOO FUCK YEAH TOKOYAMI

YOU LOVE TO SEE IT!! BUT WHERE’S YOUR FLASHBACK? YOU’VE HAD A BUNCH OF INTERACTIONS WITH HIM, THAT’S NOT FAIR

okay so now Satou’s stepping in which is back to my anticipated order, so maybe Toko will finish his little moment afterward

dskfjfkk

“REMEMBER THAT TIME DEKU BORROWED SATOU’S FOOD COLORING” Horikoshi says, sweating. “AND REMEMBER THAT TIME HE, UM, SMILED IN HAGAKURE’S GENERAL DIRECTION”

actually I am curious about what Hagakure’s part will be because, you know, the whole traitor thing lol

(ETA: funny how we just skipped right over it huh. can we get a traitor reveal countdown started here? definitely getting close to that time.)

whoa lol wtf

MOMO??? THIS HAS MOMO WRITTEN ALL OVER IT DAMMIT

-- SWEET MOTHER OF FUCK

“SORRY MIDORIYA-SAN, I LEFT MY FUCKING CHILL AT HOME IN THE LOCKER NEXT TO IIDA’S HELMET” holy shit lmao

and here I thought she’d get a flashback to her time on the Baku Rescue Squad or something. but nope, no flashbacks from Momo, only terrifying sci-fi torture devices

poor Dark Shadow is such a trooper omg

“why am I the only one who has to make prolonged contact with his smelly disgusting self” taking one for the team there DS

FUCK YEAH KAMINARI NO JUTSU

THE PRICKLY BASTARD WHISPERER STRIKES AGAIN!! don’t suppose you brought any clean clothes you could sneakily force him into huh Kami

okay here we go, so now Shouji and Tokoyami are joining forces

um excuse me this is fucking awesome

wonder how he’ll break free? don’t think he’ll reveal Fa Jin until the end of the chapter, so maybe Air Force or something? idk

TOKO GETS AN EXTENDED MOMENT BECAUSE HE IS A TIER TWO PATREON REWARD LEVEL FRIEND YAY

WHY IS MOMO MAKING THIS FACE LOL YOUR THING WAS WAY WORSE

and Shouji just casually hitting him with what is easily the best comment from anyone yet. too bad Deku’s just gonna ignore it. you deserve better Shouji

KAMINARI OMFG

it only just occurred to me that Kami is currently trapped inside Dark Shadow right along with him lmao omg. realest one in the entirety of BnHA, right here. we will never forget your sacrifice

aaaaaaand Deku’s yeeting himself

do you really hate the thought of taking a bath that much my dude

oh shit the mask!!

-- oh shit the feels

o(TヘTo)

fuck. and I mean, we knew he was crying, that was a done deal. but still, to see him in this much pain is just...

and the acknowledgement that he knows they’re worried about him, but that it doesn’t change his mind one bit. this, right here, is why they have to be a bit harsh with him, you guys. because they’re up against the full, unbridled stubbornness of Midoriya fucking Izuku, and if they don’t match that stubbornness with an equal stubbornness of their own, they basically don’t stand a chance

(ETA: quick note that there is apparently another mistranslation here -- rather than saying that his friends are oblivious to the danger, what Deku is actually saying is that none of his friends have activated his Danger Sense once throughout this entire fight. which I had been wondering about, and it turns out Horikoshi actually confirmed it. so basically none of the kids bears any ill intent toward him, and there’s literal proof right there.

incidentally, as @class1akids pointed out, this also casts an interesting light on this chapter in terms of who hasn’t fought Deku yet. not to play the Hagakure Traitor Music for the billionth time you guys, but I’M JUST SAYING lol.)

anyway, but the good news is that they all seem to understand that. and the even better news is that we have reached the tier 3 friends!!

“OR ELSE” lol, great to see Shouto wielding his friendship just as aggressively as Deku once did towards him. I do love a good role reversal

p.s., ANTICIPATED DISCOURSE: “why is Shouto being so cruel to Deku can’t he see how hard this is on him”

PREEMPTIVE REBUTTAL: this is a callback to the classic “even heroes cry when they have to” Shouto line from chapter 137. Shouto is clearly following Kacchan’s lead here and going for the more ruthless approach, knowing that the gentle approach isn’t getting through to him (if anything it’s only making him more stubborn as we saw on the previous page). basically it’s his way of pointing out that even heroes are still only human, and so is Deku last time he checked

ah okay, and there Tsuyu is at last

okay real talk, I get why Tsuyu is included in the tier 3 friends, because she was one of the first people to team up with Deku going all the way back to USJ. but that said, this probably would have had more impact if their most recent interaction hadn’t been like 150 chapters ago

but anyway though it’s still a good speech. maybe not quite a cliffhanger-level speech, but a good speech nonetheless. in a way though, I’m glad to see that Horikoshi seemingly didn’t give a fuck whether he ended this on an actual cliffhanger or not for once

and that “headed toward the climax” part has me excited too, ngl. because if we really are getting to the so-called climax this soon, that makes me even more certain that there is indeed a DvK3 in the forecast. so I presume that next week (or I guess two weeks from now) will be the tier 3s along with the remaining tier 2s like Kirishima and Aoyama

and then after that, well... [orange and green banners being hoisted] [sound of screeching airhorns and vuvuzelas in the distance] [sound of All Might approaching in his car which I didn’t notice until I looked back at this page a second time whoops] THE PROPHECY WILL NOT BE DENIED

#bnha 320 #midoriya izuku #bakugou katsuki #asui tsuyu #tokoyami fumikage #kaminari denki #todoroki shouto #class 1-a #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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treesnutsandleaveswrites · 3 years ago

Text

Aftermath

Pairing: The Bad Batch x Reader (Polyam)

Summary: It’s been a year or so since you left the Batch (caught up with the series timeline, some SPOILERS) Warning: Mentions of death, shooting, yelling, angst, fluff, mentions of slavery, minor TBB SPOILERS

Word Count: 2048

A/N: D-5 is supposed to be a rendition of D-O, which i know isn’t really canon haha

pt xii, pt xiv

XXXXXXX

You rushed through the forest quickly, speaking into your com device.

“I’m making my way to you! Be ready!” You instructed.

“Give me a sec.”

“You have 3 feet to be ready, I’m nearly there!”

“I-”

You burst through the foliage of the forest and grabbed the blaster from your teammate’s waist before shooting the enemies chasing you. You huffed and glared back at them.

“You told me you were good at this!”

“Look, I don’t do short distances!” He tried to explain.

“You’re a damn sniper, snipers do any distance with a clear shot!” You turned to the ship to another teammate, “Everyone on board?”

“Locked and loaded. This might be our last batch for a while…”

“I know.” You sighed, “Get on, we’re leaving.”

“When the Empire said they were gonna make things better, I expected Caetum to be up and running smoothly.”

“The Empire is all the same as the others who tried to keep ‘order’.” You muttered while taking off your helmet, “Let’s just get out of here.”

“This really was your home planet?” A teammate queried.

You nodded, holding onto something as the ship took off. Once you were steady in open space, you moved to the storage part of the ship where there were multiple people huddled together.

“Is everyone alright?” You hung a small lantern to illuminate their faces more.

“Thank you…” An elderly woman said and you smiled, holding her hands in yours as you crouched down.

“I wish I could’ve saved more…”

“You have done so much for us… your name already lingers…”

“The Great Lodestar.” A man spoke up, “I heard from one of the troopers that other planets were talking about you…”

“I… have freed others, but it’s still not enough.”

“It takes time.” The woman assured, “Go and rest.”

You took a moment before leaving the storage room and making your way towards the cockpit.

“We’ve set a course for the Ocsalev System. Ready when you are, Lodestar.”

You nodded, “Make the jump.”

*******

Hunter jumped slightly from a dream in one of the chairs in front of the computers. It was always a constant dream about you… his cyare. He was sure the other boys had such dreams too. It took nearly a month for Wrecker to stop screaming your name in his sleep…

“Hunter? You okay?” Omega’s voice caught his attention as she made her way towards him from the gunner’s mount.

He nodded with a gentle smile before sitting straight up. She furrowed her brows for a moment before humming and opening the cockpit door, which urged Hunter to enter also.

“We’re almost at the coordinates Cid gave us. Odd, she never sets us up on missions where we need help from other mercenaries.” Tech remarked.

“We’re not mercenaries.” Hunter muttered but Omega giggled.

“I think you have to face it, Hunter, we are.”

He sighed before sitting in his seat as Wrecker walked in.

“We almost there yet?”

“Just approaching, it’s best you sit. No need for another head injury.” Echo joked.

“We don’t have to worry about no inhibitor chip anymore!”

“But we do have to worry about how much bacta and ice packs we use on you.” Tech rolled his eyes while easing the ship into the planet’s atmosphere, “Gentlemen, and madam, welcome to the Ocsalev System.”

They landed the Havoc Marauder at a simple docking bay before making their way into the city.

“Stay close, kid.” Hunter ordered as he led the group through the busy streets.

It was fairly crowded with people going in and out of buildings or rushing through the streets. Omega admired the commotion and looked around, but the boys made sure to urge her through the crowds. To her, this city was very different from Ord Mantell, having a lack of technology and more of a natural kick to it. Houses were built around trees and into the side of the mountain, which made Omega want to explore more.

“The device says to go in here to find this so-called ‘Kapu’.”

The batch nodded before making their way into the small shop, seeing it crowded with many different weapons and droid parts. There was an alien at the head of the shop, which boggled Omega.

“What is he? He has so many arms.”

“A besalisk…” Echo explained quietly, “The female ones have up to eight arms.”

They approached the counter as the besalisk worked on a small device, using its multiple arms to hold parts and tools. Hunter cleared his throat.

“We’re looking for Kapu. We were sent by Cid.”

The besalisk nodded while looking up at them, “Clones? Huh, never thought Cid would give clones a chance!” He laughed, “Yeah, I’m Kapu. Come with me and we’ll meet the person who’ll be joining you on your mission.” He urged them with his multiple arms while walking through the back door of the shop. There was a small transport waiting with an Ewok driver. The ewok started yelling in its native language toward Kapu.

“I told you they’d get here when they get here! And here they are! Now come on! Let’s go!” Kapu got into the passenger's seat while the Batch piled up in the back, “Better hold on to something, he’s blind in one eye.”

The batch looked at each other nervously before the transport speeded off out of the city. They arrived at the base of the mountain and followed Kapu towards the small house built into it.

“She just came back from a mission, so let’s hope she’s in a good mood.” He knocked on the door, “I’m coming in, kid!”

He swung the door open, hitting a small droid.

“Aw gee, D-5, what were you doing there?!” Kapu groaned, picking the droid up.

The batch looked around the small house. It was hardly full with anything but basic living necessities. Omega immediately noticed the armor sitting on the table, admiring the visor of the helmet. She picked it up and looked at it closely.

“Wow, this helmet is really similar to yours, Echo! But it has some modifications similar to Tech’s, like the mouth guard, and a sniper’s glass like Crosshairs.”

Kapu placed the droid down and called out again, “Girl, where are you?!”

“I’m here, hold on!” You groaned, “I literally just got back, can’t I have some time?”

“No, boys from Cid are here.”

“Cid? Since when did you start taking jobs from Cid again?”

“Just get out here!” Kapu scolded, sitting down to look at D-5.

You walked through the back door and looked at him, “Did you break my droid again?!”

“He was in the way. These are Cid’s boys.”

You looked up and your breath caught in your throat from the sight in front of you. Hunter was there with Echo and Tech behind him, who were as shocked as you. Wrecker was busy looking at the helmet with Omega, but then Echo hit the side of his head.

“Ow! I thought you said you didn’t want any more head inj-” Wrecker got up and looked at you.

“Kapu, take the kid out back, she’ll help you fix D-5…”

Omega looked to Hunter, who nodded. She followed Kapu out and you closed the door gently behind them before turning back to the batch. You then moved closer to where Hunter was still standing with his brothers.

“I… I know this looks bad…” You stuttered, tears coming to your eyes, “I-I couldn’t let you-”

Hunter had engulfed you into a tight hug and sighed into your shoulder. You were rendered speechless, but returned the hug once you processed what was happening.

“Oh, cyare…” He whispered, pulling away slightly and placing his forehead against yours, “My love…”

After he let you go, Echo hugged you tight. Then Tech. Finally, Wrecker… who kneeled down in front of you and hugged you while digging his face into your stomach.

“We thought we lost you, ad’ika.”

“I’m so sorry…” You whispered, “I should’ve left something to explain, but I didn’t want the Kaminoans to do anything to any of you…”

“It was about the inhibitor chips… wasn’t it?” Echo asked.

You looked at him for a moment before nodding, “Yes…”

“Omega told us about them.” Hunter explained as you all settled down to talk, “Order 66… that’s what they were put in for…”

“To betray the Republic.”

“No. To kill the Jedi.” Echo explained.

“The Jedi?”

“Palpatine said the Jedi betrayed the Republic… tried to assassinate him.”

You shook your head, “No. No-”

“Rex explained it to us a bit further.”

“Rex? Rex is alright?”

“Yeah… we still had the chips in because they didn’t work for us during Order 66.”

“But Rex said we needed to take them out. They were still dangerous. We learned that through Wrecker and his multiple head injuries.” Tech stated.

You took a moment before looking back to them, “Cross… on Caetum, I heard the troopers talking about their new clone commander: Crosshair…”

“Yeah, his chip was working for him, then the Kaminoans improved it’s signal and now he’s with the Empire.”

“Wait, did you say Caetum?” Wrecker asked, “You went to stop the Separatists?”

You sighed, “I needed some time to get some credits and settle… but the Empire got there before I did and nothing really improved. I just got back from one of my last missions there, liberating people so they aren’t enslaved again… But there’s still so many that need help.”

“You’ve been busy, then?” Echo smiled which caused you to smile.

“I guess… but the last mission was a mess and I can’t go back anymore. The Empire is… more controlling than the Republic. They almost caught us last time.”

“‘Us’? You have a new team?”

“No, just some other mercenaries in it for money. Nothing exclusive.”

They all nodded and Wrecker spoke up, “Then maybe you could come back with us! Be a Batcher again!”

“Let’s not get too rash, Wrecker. We still need to get this job done.”

You nodded, “We’ll talk more after. Let’s go see what we’re in for.”

Wrecker cheered and you all walked out of the house. You saw Omega and Kapu sitting against your speeder while D-5 was rolling around.

“We fixed him up.” Kapu smiled.

“Thanks, his balance module was a bit out of place, maybe that was why he got hit by the door.”

“The kid did most of the work, actually.”

You nodded and looked at her, “Omega, right?”

“Yep. And… you’re ‘cyare’ according to Hunter.”

You laughed, “To him, Wrecker, Tech, and Echo… but you can call me Lodestar.”

“Good, ‘cause that would have been weird if I had to start calling you ‘darling’ or something like that.”

You shrugged, “I wouldn’t mind.”

You both laughed before turning to Kapu with the boys as he explained the job.

*******

You fastened the last bit of your armor before picking up your helmet and heading back to your speeder. Omega was sitting in the back while helping Tech with something. Kapu lent two speeder bikes for Wrecker and Hunter to use so you all wouldn’t be packed in the speeder. You walked over to Hunter as he flipped his knife and grinned as he looked you over in slight shock.

“Weird seeing me in armor, huh?”

He smirked, “I think it’s about time, Lodestar.”

You shoved him playfully before he caught you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

“I’m surprised you all have warmed up to seeing me again. I was actually expecting to be yelled at by you or Echo.”

“We’ve been through a lot recently, yelling won’t make anything better...”

“If Crosshair were here, we’d go at it for sure.”

He nodded with a small hum, which made you cup his face, “Omega told me you had to leave him behind on Kamino… It’s okay, we’ll get him back.”

He nodded, leaning in to give you a kiss, but Kapu called.

“You better get going! Almost sundown!”

You turned to acknowledge him before turning back to Hunter, “We’ll have some time after the mission… I promise.”

You got into the speeder as Wrecker and Hunter started up their bikes.

“See you in the morning!” Kapu called, urging D-5 inside.

You put your helmet on before driving off.

XXXXXXX

Taglist: @darkangel4121 @lightning-wolffe @alucas528 @rintheemolion @shadowfoxey @butch-medusae @gabile18

#the bad batch #the bad batch x reader #bad batch #bad batch x reader #tbb polyam series #treesnutsandleaves writes #hunter #hunter x reader #crosshair #crosshair x reader #tech #tech x reader #echo #echo x reader #wrecker #wrecker x reader

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the-scandalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Tempered Glass: Chapter 7

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating: M (will become explicit) Word Count: 5.5k Warnings: slow burn, canon-typical violence, cursing, pining, Din in suspenders, fluff Summary: Din takes a job with his old crew, and you and the kid wait for him on Arvala-7. Notes: Sorry this took me forever!

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Image from The Art of Star Wars: The Mandalorian

After you left the atmosphere of Tatooine and jumped into hyperspace, Din swiveled his chair around to face you in the copilot’s seat.

“I should take a job. Everything we made went to Peli, and I don’t like being low on credits. There’s a crew I used to run with...I can reach out to them...” he hesitated then added, “but you and the kid can’t come with me.”

“What do you mean I can’t come with you?”

He sighed, shoulders dropping. “I mean, I don’t trust them enough for you and the kid to come.”

“If you don’t trust them, wouldn’t it be better to have backup?”

“I just—,” he looked away, “I don’t want them to know either of you exist.”

“If you don’t trust them, should you be taking a job with them?”

“We don’t have a lot of options.”

“I could get work somewhere. We could go somewhere safe enough for a few weeks. There are some places where I have contacts, and non-bounty hunting work is usually less conspicuous.”

“I don’t think we should stay anywhere that long right now.”

“But—”

“I’ll feel better if you and the kid are safe together.”

“I—”

When he bowed his head in a silent appeal, your determination crumbled.

“Ugh, fine.”

He sighed in relief, reaching out to rest his hand on your knee briefly. His touch was reassuring.

“But, just so you know, this is only going to work once, so don’t think that my staying back with the kid is going to be a regular thing.”

He removed his hand and turned back around to face the viewport.

“I am taking your silence as tacit agreement,” you said to the back of his helmet.

He chose to ignore that, fiddling with the controls instead.

***

Now that you’d both admitted you wanted to stay together, abandoning the pretense of strategy and convenience all together, things were a little off between you and Din. Neither of you were used to being vulnerable, so conversations were slightly stunted again. You found yourself being overly polite, and Din was doing the same.

That first night back on the Crest, he offered you his bunk.

“I’m not taking your bed. You need it to take off your helmet.”

Besides the unshakable lingering chill of the hull, sleeping there wasn’t that bad. You usually slept with every sweater you owned on and that kept you warm enough.

“Use it when I’m not. You shouldn't have to sleep on the floor.”

“Sure, thanks,” you agreed, knowing you’d never take him up on that. You didn’t want to be on a different sleep schedule than he and the kid.

You did try to nap with the kid in Din’s bunk the next day because there wasn’t all that much to do in hyperspace. As soon as you lay down, though, you knew it was a mistake. First of all, it was crazy uncomfortable (somehow not better than the literal floor and the close walls made it slightly claustrophobic), and second—and far more importantly—it smelled overwhelmingly like Din. It smelled like his pine-y soap and beskar and blaster residue and leather and whatever else made up his infuriatingly good scent. It conjured images of crackling fires and golden skin and warm embraces and taut muscles.

Shit.

There was no chance you were going to be able to fall sleep when all you could think about was him.

The kid, on the other hand, was snoozing contentedly beside you. When you’d fully given up on napping, you edged your way out the bunk carefully, doing your best not to wake him.

Din was sitting in the hull on a long crate against the wall, cleaning his blaster, the pieces spread out next to him. Usually, when you were in the hull at the same time, you’d find a place across from him. Instead, you purposefully sat next to him, drawing your knees up to your chest and leaning against the wall.

You decided you were going to push through this awkward phase and make things not weird right there, right then. And you were going to do that the best way you knew how.

He tilted his helmet toward you momentarily then refocused on the blaster in his hand.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yes,” he said, running a rag along the barrel.

“How does one develop a catchphrase? Does it happen organically or is there an iterative brainstorming process?”

Din paused, sighing dramatically, set his blaster and the rag down next to him, and pushed himself back until he was also leaning against the metal wall. His helmet clunked slightly as he relaxed it back. “This is the way is not a catchphrase. It’s a tenet of the Creed.”

“And ‘I can bring you in warm or I can bring you in cold’ is also a tenet of the Creed?”

He lolled his helmet to the side, looking down at you. “Okay, fine, that one isn’t,” he conceded.

“So you admit it—you have at least one catchphrase that you regularly use on bounties.” You smirked up at him.

Without missing a beat, Din fixed you with that unreadable visor and quipped: “I’ve been told I have a sexy voice. I’m just giving the people what they want.”

Your jaw dropped, a shocked laugh echoing through the hull. You had planned on teasing him and had not expected him to turn it around on you so smoothly.

“Uh... I was sort of hoping we’d stick to our unspoken agreement to not bring up the stupid things I said when I was drunk.” You looked down at your hands, suddenly unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, definitely not.”

You looked back up. “Alright, well then in the name of fairness, we’re going to have to get you really drunk the next time the opportunity presents itself, so we can see what embarrassing things you say.”

He paused for a moment, considering, then said, “Does that mean you’ll carry me home?”

You cracked a smile, nodding vigorously. “Of course. That would only be fair.”

A warm laugh rasped through the modulator. You crossed your ankles in front of you, letting your knee rest against the cold beskar on this thigh.

“I feel skeptical of that promise.” He dropped a gloved hand to your knee.

“Okay, okay I can’t promise to carry you home, but I can promise to tie your shoe if needed.”

“My boots don’t have laces.” He lifted a foot off the ground to show you.

You shrugged playfully: “Well, that’s not my fault.”

“This doesn’t sound like a very good deal for me. I tied your shoe and carried you home.”

“To be fair, both were against my will.”

“But necessary.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Okay, okay, I can’t carry you, and I can’t tie your shoe... so I’ll...,” you bit your lip as you fished around for something else to offer, “...hold your hand? And not let anyone tickle you.”

He huffed and rubbed his thumb over your knee: “I’m not ticklish.”

You pursed your lips. “Right, sure, of course not. My mistake.”

He harrumphed. “Can I ask you something now?”

“I’ll allow it,” you intoned seriously.

“Where are you actually from?”

“Naboo. Most of my back story was true—I just left out the one major detail.”

“Your favorite color?” he deadpanned.

You laughed. “Yes, exactly. What about you? Where are you from?”

“Aq Vetina.”

You waited, hoping he’d elaborate.

“When my parents died there, I was rescued by the Mandalorians and raised in the Fighting Corps.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, placing your hand over his and squeezing gently. “That sounds like a tough life for a child.”

“It was all I knew,” he explained, shifting slightly.

“Still, that can’t have been easy. It makes sense that you couldn’t leave the kid.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, solemnly. There was a tension in his shoulders that hadn’t been there moments ago.

“Less serious question,” you replied, changing the subject to something lighter.

“Okay.” He relaxed a little.

“Why don’t you ever use a straw to drink with your helmet on?”

“These are the things you think about?” he laughed. His laugh was usually a quiet, muffled sound through the modulator, but it was getting easier to pick up on it. “There’s a seal on the helmet, otherwise the filters wouldn’t work,” he tapped the release on the side of his head. “So a straw isn’t a possibility, unfortunately.”

“Mmm,” you responded, “that is disappointing.”

He gripped your thigh lightly, turning toward you. “I, uh, heard back about the job... while you were asleep. It’s a go.”

“Ah... great. I was kind of hoping you wouldn’t hear back.”

“I know. It will be fine.”

“Okay... So, any ideas for where the kid and I should stay?”

To your surprise, Din explained that he had a trusted friend on Arvala-7. When you agreed to the plan, he disappeared to the cockpit to set the nav—a two-day trip.

***

That same evening, you discovered a new favorite activity on the Crest. Before bed, the kid was being particularly fussy, so you pulled out your data pad and downloaded the first children’s book you could find. It worked liked a charm.

From then on, it became a daily routine: you’d read to him until his eyelids drooped before his nap and before bedtime. Regardless of his mood, listening to you read seemed to soothe him. You’d pull him into your lap and settle onto your stack of blankets against the wall. He’d watch your face, enraptured, as you relayed story after story to him. His favorite—the story that elicited the most chirps and grabby motions and ear wiggles—centered on a family of frogs. You revisited that one at least once a day, sometimes more if he was grouchy.

You weren’t sure how to feel about his hyperfixation on that particular story given his appetite for frogs.

At this rate, your digital library was going to be largely children’s books. You didn’t mind.

You noticed that Din would find something to do in the hull while you read. The first couple times, he sat and cleaned one of his many weapons or sewed a hole in his flight suit. Very quickly, he stopped bothering with an ostensible task and would just sit and listen.

When you were still 15 hours out from Arvala-7, Din was seated on his usual crate in the hull, the one next to the weapons cabinet, as you finished the final page of a particularly thrilling story about a snail. The kid was snoring softly in your arms, so you clicked off your datapad, and got up to settle him in his hammock for his mid-day nap.

“You’re good with him.” Din was leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees.

“I guess,” you shrugged, snapping the door to Din’s bunk shut and turning back to him. “I just think about what I liked as a kid. I loved when my parents would read to me.”

He nodded, helmet trained on the floor between his boots.

“I’m sorry—” you started, realizing how that must have sounded to Din.

He looked up and cut you off. “Don’t be. It’s nice for him to have some normal kid experiences.”

“You know what he’d really love?”

“What?”

“If you read to him.”

He dipped his helmet slightly in acknowledgement, rolling his shoulders back at the same time like he was uncomfortable agreeing with that.

Several hours later, you pulled Din down next to you in your normal pre-bedtime story time spot. He had the kid in his arms. You switched on your datapad and toggled through the catalog of books you’d downloaded, all of which had colorful covers and silly, whimsical titles, until you found the frog book.

“Here,” you offered, passing it over to him.

You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes, listening to Din’s serious, even voice narrate the heartwarming hijinks of a family of frogs. The kid cooed and babbled along.

To your (and the kid’s) utter delight, Din’s rendition slowly evolved into a full-on dramatic reading, complete with sound effects and slightly different voices for each character, as he leaned into whatever prompted the most enthusiastic responses from the kid. You kept your eyes closed and said nothing, worried that if you drew attention to this new development, he’d get self-conscious and stop. You couldn’t help from smiling a little though.

When the story came to its conclusion, you opened your eyes. Din was scrolling through the library of options, browsing for the next book. “What do you think? Which one next?” You looked at him, but he wasn’t asking you. The kid let out a string of gibberish, pointing with a teeny finger. Din read out the titles of several options, selecting the one that triggered the most animated trill.

As Din began the story, he shifted until his body was flush with yours. The places where his beskar made contact with you were cold, even through the fabric of your clothes, but you didn’t mind.

By the time Din finished the second book, the kid was displaying the telltale signs—drooping ears and unfocused eyes—that bedtime had arrived.

Din handed you the datapad and stood to tuck the kid into bed.

As he shut the door to his bunk, you said, “I think you just put me out of a job.”

He scoffed, but you could tell he was pleased.

***

As you got more comfortable around each other, Din took to walking around without his armor—beside his helmet—on. Most of the time, he’d even leave his gloves off. He wore either a flight suit that zipped up the middle or a black shirt and pants...with suspenders. The first few times, it was jarring to see him like that, without his armor. He looked wrong. It was like seeing a turtle without its shell... but if turtles were sexy.

The first time he emerged from his bunk with the suspenders hanging loosely by his sides, you stopped dead, mouth hanging open. He tilted his helmet sharply at you: “What?”

“You sometimes wear suspenders under your armor?”

“...Yes?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you and the goofy grin that spread across your face.

“What?” he prompted again, shoulders pulling up toward his neck.

“I just really wasn’t expecting that,” you laughed.

“What were you expecting?” The playful note in his voice left you flustered. He took a step closer, much more relaxed now that he was the one doing the teasing. He was getting too good at flipping things on you.

Instead of answering—because you were not about to address the fact that you had absolutely thought about what he wore under his armor—you strode up to him and pulled the suspenders over his shoulders. He stood uncomfortably still, arms hanging awkwardly by his sides.

“What are you doing?” He looked down at his shirt then back up at you.

“I just want to get the full picture.” You looked him up and down.

“Thought about this a lot, have you?” He quirked his helmet down at you suggestively. It was only the second time you’d gotten that particular flavor of head tilt, and you...didn’t hate it. It made your neck feel hot. You disregarded the intense desire to grab him by the suspenders and jerk him toward you.

Instead, you narrowed your eyes at him, enjoying this new bold flirtation. Without looking away from his visor, you hooked a finger through one of the suspenders and pulled it out a couple inches, letting it snap back against him.

“Ow.” He stated it so matter-of-factly that it obviously hadn’t hurt, but for dramatic effect, he rubbed the spot on his chest where it hit him.

“You’ll survive,” you assured him, patting his shoulder and brushing past him to climb the ladder to the cockpit. When you sat down in the pilot’s seat and kicked your feet up to rest on the console, you still had a smile on your face.

***

A few hours later, you were seated in the copilot seat with the child held tightly in your lap as the Razor Crest descended through the atmosphere of Arvala-7. On the way, Din shared how he’d met this friend—he had helped Din when he was originally tracking down the child months ago.

However, when you asked what his friend’s name was, Din said he didn’t know. Honestly, you weren’t even that surprised. Just exasperated.

Din told you the details of when he tracked down the child, including the assassin droid he'd crossed paths with. He explained how he’d teamed up with IG-11, but in the end, he had to destroy the droid to protect the kid. The anger in his voice was raw when he described watching IG-11 point his blaster at the child.

As the dusty, cracked surface of the planet came into view, you asked, “Is that what caused your thing with droids?”

“What thing?”

“Din.”

He was silent for a long moment.

“Droids destroyed my home planet, killed my parents. They’re the reason I was a foundling as a child.”

His words washed over you, and your heart dropped. You leaned forward in your seat to put a hand on his shoulder. He stayed perfectly still, helmet trained on the controls in front of him.

“I’m sorry.”

He nodded stiffly and reached up to squeeze your hand briefly.

“We’re about to land.”

You took that as a cue to drop the subject for now.

***

You and Din, the kid in his arms, approached a small collection of low structures. You swept your eyes across the uniform landscape—all was dry and sienna and flat. The Ugnaught’s homestead was the only sign of habitation in sight. The buildings were brown and domed, and windmills creaked slowly in the warm breeze. Three blurrgs in a large corral watched you balefully.

“Mandalorian!” the Ugnaught greeted, emerging from the door of his low home.

“Ugnaught,” Din replied with a nod.

“I did not think I would see you here again. What business brings you back to Arvala-7?”

“I was hoping that my friends could stay with you for a couple nights—I’ll pay you for the lodging.”

Of course he'd refer to me and a literal infant as his "friends."

You introduced yourself, offering your hand.

The Ugnaught bowed his head slightly as he clasped your hand: “It is nice to make your acquaintance. I am Kuill.”

At least Din knows his name now.

Kuill turned back to Din. “The child remains in your care,” he observed.

“Yes,” said Din, offering no explanation. He set the child down on the ground, and he toddled his way slowly over to Kuill.

Kuill scooped up the baby, and he chirruped happily, reaching toward his whiskery mustache.

“It hasn’t grown much.”

“I think it might be a Strand-Cast.”

You shot Din a skeptical look. He’d never shared this particular theory of his with you.

“I don’t think it was engineered. I’ve worked in the gene farms. This one looks evolved. Too ugly,” mused Kuill.

You raised your eyebrows at the frankness of his statement. He is not ugly.

“Your friends are welcome to stay with me. No payment will be necessary. I have spoken.” Kuill turned and headed back inside without so much as a backward glance.

“I insist,” Din said to his back.

Kuill disappeared into his home.

Din turned to you: “He does that. Just ends a conversation like that.”

“I understand why the two of you get along so well. Men of few words.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

Din nodded, reinforcing your point inadvertently.

You and Din stepped closer to each other at the same time. For the first time, you let the concern you were feeling color your features.

“I’ll be back in three days, if not sooner.”

He was padding his timeline in response to the worry that was etched across your face. You knew Din could defend himself—that wasn’t your fear. It was that, whether he liked to admit it or not, he occasionally let trust blind him. The irony of that wasn’t lost on you, considering how long it had taken for him to trust you. This was the trademark paradox of Din. He was loath to fully let people in, but he had a tendency to take people at face value and assume they would keep their word—because he always kept his word. He had a surprisingly generous worldview for someone with such a violent profession and brutal past.

Din reached down to grab something small that was tucked in his belt—the metal ball from one of the controls in the cockpit that the kid loved to play with. He occasionally pretended to be irritated whenever he wanted to play with it, but you knew he found it endearing.

He handed it to you. “He’ll want that.”

You smiled and nodded, looking at the sphere in your palm. Din raised a hand to your chin and tilted your face back up to his.

Do we... hug? He doesn’t seem like a hugger.

So instead, you offered, “Be careful, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. He stayed there for a moment longer, looking at you and rubbing his thumb along your cheek. Before you could decide if you should also try to hug him, he turned abruptly to walk back to the Crest.

You stayed and watched him as he walked the distance back to the ship and disappeared up the ramp. You stayed and watched as the Razor Crest rumbled to life and took off. You stayed and watched as it ascended through the atmosphere and vanished from view.

***

It was a relief to be off the ship for a few days—even if Arvala-7 wasn’t exactly your ideal planet. It would be a treat to eat real food, instead of shelf-stable ration packs, and to have more than the limited space of the ship to move around in... not to mention an actual bed.

Kuill was a kind and welcoming host. He offered you his spare room, where you placed your things, and you sat down for tea together in his small kitchen.

“How did you come to be in the company of the Mandalorian and the child?”

“I guess he has a soft spot for people who are wanted by the Empire?” you chuckled, and Kuill nodded somberly. “Now, we’re just helping each other out.” You weren’t really sure how else to explain it.

Kuill didn’t press you anymore than that, nodding sagely. Instead, while you sipped your tea with the kid on your lap, he told you about his background—decades of indentured servitude to the Empire before he worked off his debt and bought his freedom—in the solemn, frugal way that was clearly characteristic of the Ugnaught. You understood why Din trusted him: he was forthright, calm, wise.

“What can I help you with while I’m here?” you asked, already anxious to find something to occupy your time.

“You are my guest. You do not need to do any work.”

“I would be happy to,” you insisted. “I would rather be busy. I can help with cleaning or repairs—whatever you need. My formal training was in programming, but I’ve picked up general skills along the way.”

Kuill nodded and said, “Come.”

He turned and walked out of his house. You set down your tea on the table and followed him, the child tucked in the crook of your elbow, happily clutching the silver ball. Kuill stopped in front of the workstation that was a short distance from his doorway. Tools and wiring and various speeder parts were arranged on and around a long workbench and a collection of smaller tables and shelves. The circular backdrop of the workbench was the repurposed window of a TIE fighter.

An assassin droid was laid across the tabletop.

“Is this the droid that Mando shot?”

“I believe so, yes. It was left behind, in the Mandalorian’s wake of destruction. I found it lying where it fell—devoid of all life. I recovered the flotsam and staked it as my own in accordance with the Charter of the New Republic. Little remains of its neural harness. Reconstruction will be quite difficult.”

“What are your plans for it?”

“To convert it from an assassin droid to something more useful: a protocol and nurse droid.”

You nodded. “Handy.”

“I will have to reconstruct the neural harness, and then it will have to relearn every function from scratch. It will be a blank slate on which to program something nurturing instead of destructive. You may help me restore him if you would like.”

“Of course.”

The two of you got to work.

***

That night, when you lay down to sleep, you tossed and turned. The child was snuggled in a makeshift crib next to your bed. You found yourself sitting up periodically to check on him. Every time you checked on him, he was sleeping soundly.

Eventually, you slipped out of your bed, tiptoed quietly through the house, and walked out into the cold, clear night. You walked aimlessly for a while, circling the corral of blurrgs. They were asleep, eyes shut tight, standing in a close clump. Then you turned to head out across the open plain and watch the stars through the thin veil of clouds that dusted the sky.

You were starting to regret that you hadn’t pushed harder to go with Din. He was with a whole team of people who sounded untrustworthy at best, malicious at worst. You couldn’t help but think of all the things you should have said to him before he left. You hadn’t even hugged him.

It was freaking you out a little just how attached you were to a man who you’d known for a couple months.

You walked until the chill of the night air became too much, then turned back.

In the morning, you sat at Kuill’s kitchen table again, feeding the child. Kuill moved around the small food prep area, pulling together breakfast and making tea.

You followed Kuill as he went about his daily jobs, caring for the blurrgs, doing routine maintenance, and continuing the work on IG-11.

You were sweating in the sun, hands covered in grease, concentrating on refitting a damaged arm joint when Kuill’s calm voice brought you out of your train of thought.

“It is curious that the Mandalorian elected to keep the child.”

You looked up at him. “He secretly has a soft heart,” you said, smiling to yourself.

“Yes, that much is clear, but he is also set in his beliefs, and this choice went against the Guild Code. What is curious is that such a small being could inspire a change of heart in such a rigid person.”

You considered his words.

“I... think he was just waiting to find a greater purpose than hunting, to find someone to love, you know? It comes naturally to him, but I don’t think he’d ever had the chance.”

Kuill hummed thoughtfully. “Is that not what we are all doing—looking for a greater purpose?”

“I guess?” You shrugged.

“And have you?”

“Have I what?” you asked, wiping a bead of sweat off your forehead.

“Have you found the greater purpose you were looking for?”

You considered for a moment then said, “Well... I found a purpose a long time ago, when I joined the Alliance, and since then, I’ve been too busy trying to escape the wrath of the Empire to really think about what’s next in the larger sense... Staying alive has been the main priority.”

Kuill hummed again, glancing over at the kid. “You weren’t looking for something greater, but it appears to have found you.”

“I...,” you started. You watched the child, who was siting on the hard ground admiring the silver ball clutched in his hand. “I’m not sure.”

“I have spoken,” said Kuill, bowing his head, and he lapsed back into silence.

You watched the kid as he dropped the ball and staggered to his feet, squealing excitedly as he chased a lizard that darted past him. You wondered where Din was at this exact moment, and your heart squeezed in a familiar way.

***

The second night was much like the first. You walked outside for some time, thinking of all the awful things that could be happening to Din.

What if they turn on him?

What if another hunter finds him?

What if he doesn’t come back?

It wasn't a crazy thought. You were used to people not coming back.

Until that moment, you hadn't considered that you'd be the sole guardian of the kid if Din didn't return. For a split second, you felt the crushing weight of responsibility for the life and safety and happiness of the tiny green child that Din must feel at all times.

Eventually you fell into a fitful sleep, waking early, and the day dawned bright and cold. As the sun climbed, the chill rapidly dissipated, making way for a dry heat that seemed to be the only weather condition on Arvala-7.

You spent the morning helping Kuill continue the repairs on IG-11. You did your best to not count the hours that slipped by. He’d said it could take three days, so there was no reason to be concerned yet.

But... did he mean he would return ON the third day? Or the fourth day?

And for that matter... did the day he left count as day one? Or was yesterday day one?

Did he mean seventy-two hours from the time he left? Or that he’d be back at the start of the third day?

How did I not clarify this before he left??

That evening, you were in deep in discussion about artificial intelligence when Kuill said, “I believe your Mandalorian has returned to you.” He pointed behind you, and you whipped around to see the Crest touching down in a cloud of dust in the distance.

“Will you—?” you asked, turning back to Kuill.

“I will watch the child.” He seemed vaguely amused by your enthusiasm.

You sprang to your feet and walked as fast as you could toward the Crest. You briefly considered running, but that felt dramatic. He’d only been gone a couple days.

Why did he land so fucking far away?

You’d made it about half the distance when the ramp of the Crest finally began to lower with a hiss. Your resolve snapped, and you started to jog. Din descended the ramp, and you were so relieved to see him that you weren’t even embarrassed anymore that you were literally running to him.

Din cocked his head—a curious head tilt—when he saw you sprinting at him across the dusty ground. He paused at the bottom of the ramp.

“Are you—?” he started to say as you crashed into his chest and wrapped your arms around him. He barely budged upon impact.

His shoulders relaxed immediately, and he pulled you tight against him.

Well, if he wasn’t a hugger before, he is now.

“I’m okay,” he reassured you.

“Good,” you said into the fabric bunched around his neck.

After a moment, you released him and stepped back, the steadying weight of his hands remaining on your arms. He looked like he was in one piece, but the slight heaviness in his shoulders told you that the job had taken a toll on him.

“I, uh, missed you too,” he said, a little awkwardly.

You smiled at him and took his gloved hand in yours to walk back towards Kuill’s home. You felt slightly giddy that you were casually holding the Mandalorian’s hand. He seemed taken by it too, his helmet tilted down to where your fingers were intertwined.

“The kid?” he asked, looking up to your face.

“He’s good. Misses you, I think. Ate several frogs. And one lizard. The usual. He is disgusting,” you laughed.

Din made a sound that you would almost swear was a snort. “Yeah, he is,” he agreed fondly.

Kuill was waiting outside his home, the child in his arms. When you and Din were close, Kuill set him down, and the baby tottered over to wrap his tiny arms around Din’s calf.

You watched as Din bent stiffly, slowly to pick up the kid.

“You’re hurt,” you realized.

“I'm fine,” he said.

You felt sure that wasn’t true, but you let it be for the moment.

“Thank you,” Din addressed Kuill. He reached into the pouch of his belt for credits.

“I will not accept payment,” Kuill insisted, shaking his head. “In fact, your friend here helped me make great progress on my current project.” Kuill raised his eyebrows at you.

“Very well,” Din acquiesced.

You gathered your things and said your thank yous and goodbyes, returning to the Crest, which—with a jolt—you realized was already starting to feel like home.

***

Chapter 8

***

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