#replaced with something else that sure. you control. you pilot

[horrorshowcliche]

his body is no longer his own

[magicwhiskers29]

Taking a break from my regularly scheduled staring out the window to give some thoughts on Pikmin 4 now that I've finished it! (finished the main game, anyway)

Spoilers, of course, ahead!

Great game! I enjoyed it a lot! I will be being obnoxious about it, but having waited a decade for it, I feel that's justified

I wasn't sure I was going to like the Rescue Corps during the first hour or so, but no, they're extremely fun. Their conversations at the end of the day/night are often completely insane, but I live for it. Highlights include:

Shepherd explaining that she hired Bernard because he delivered packages faster than any one else (probably through illegal means)

Collin telling Shepherd his current job was the hardest he's ever had, after listing a bunch of taxing jobs

Literally any time Yonny talks about his experiments ("glow pikmin are immune to all hazards" "yonny how do you know this? yonny!?!?")

Dingo's guilty conscience about leaving Bernard behind causing him to confess the truth of the incident when Bernard was just talking about stolen pizza

Bernard claiming that sleeping is an integral part of his job

Shepherd abruptly stopping the ship after the fake credits for Oatchi was really sweet too; it really helped to sell the moment.

Olimar in the second half was a really nice addition. It was good to see him defending the fact that Moss didn't need to change, at the end, even if it meant leaving her behind. They were a fun duo.

AND LOUIE! "Grade A troublemaker" indeed... I was waiting for him to show up and cause trouble the whole game, and he sure did! His memos in the voyage log are hilarious to read through (I particularly enjoyed the one about him planning to just make random nonsense up to use as a report to send to the President, since he's kind of just been vibing and enjoying the planet, rather than looking for Olimar) And goddamit, Louie, you've got to stop controlling final bosses!!! He's awful. (Never change, Louie)

Gameplay-wise, I think I definitely miss Pikmin 3's multiple captain system, but Oatchi can feel like a suitable replacement. Some Dandori challenges and night missions where it was optimal to control him separately definitely gave me back the feeling of piloting around three captains at once. "Go here" was definitely more of a thing I used because I was too lazy to find the way, as opposed to proper Dandori efficiency, though, on account of most commands being better if you want to send Oatchi or your captain somewhere.

In general, Oatchi is definitely a little OP too (I mean, I killed the final Empress Bulblax in one spicy-spray-fueled rush....), but is also really satisfying to control, so I won't complain too much. And I think the advantages you get from riding with him are interesting when you have to decide whether it's better to keep him with you for rushes and ease of traversal, or send him off to do something for multitasking, in Dandori challenges. He's a certified good boy.

Ice Pikmin were a wonderful new edition to the roster, I found. There was less incentive to just freeze water, rather than go in with blues, than I was expecting, which was good! It helped them to feel more balanced. The limited damage from them also helped, here, though definitely less so, because ice pikmin are, of course, still very much combat-viable. I've seen it suggested that creatures killed whilst frozen should not drop nectar/ spicy spray, and yeah, I agree there. Most of the time, that is not a disadvantage over using non-ice pikmin for the kill, and can also be actively advantageous. But they're not jarringly unbalanced as some other types have been before, imo, so I definitely think positively of them.

Night missions were way more fun than I expected! I went in with a lot of trepidation, but I love the general concept. It makes a lot of sense that when we finally get night missions, they're defensive endeavours, and we haven't just spent 3 games avoiding the surface at night for nothing. I enjoyed how they increased in difficulty by stacking and creating factors like the extra Lumiknoll, and Smokey Progg egg(s). (Also the Baldy Long Legs. Aghgh. It was a problem.) I didn't really find myself using items like the game kept trying to suggest, though. Only the occasional emergency lightning if something was at the Lumiknoll, or my usual spicy spray.

Glow Pikmin were really cool for the night missions, too. They have a great design, and their mechanics are definitely tailored excellently for night missions. Teleporting to the active player's location is a must-have, and Glow Mob keeps you in the habit of charging like you would usually rush really well. The glow seed mechanic for them was well appreciated, and the ten I made for the Cavern for a King were used to their fullest! (Not exactly like I was able to leave them at the sublevel entrance like I might with all the others...) I am a little sad how they completely invalidate blues in caves, but that's mostly because blues are my favourites; I only used them in the last cave anyway (Along with the blues, of course!) They are kinda just Bulbmin+, but that's fine; they're used uniquely

For the most part, I thought returning pikmin were handled well, too.

Reds got less use than I thought they would, but I think that's because of the three pikmin limit. (Why would I bring out reds for combat when I could just spicy spray the pikmin I actually need for overworld use?) Though their use in Giant's Hearth and the Frozen Inferno was really interesting, I will say.

Yellows felt like a proper staple for the first three or four areas, though did start getting less use, though I think that's just because areas stopped being designed for them. (I was definitely missing them in night missions for those Baldy Long Legs...)

I've already discussed blues a little, but I do appreciate how a lot of what water there was was tailored for using blues rather than wings, ice, or Oatchi. I think they could absolutely benefit from a secondary ability like most other types have, to give me a reason to use them in caves other than personal biases, and glow pikmin only make that more obvious.

Purple Pikmin are back, and I think their reworks were done well! A 1.5x damage multiplier instead of 2x, and lack of stun on impact make them considerably less OP when compared to Pikmin 2, whilst still retaining their core characteristics better than 3. Locking their onion behind a challenge most people will leave until later (people like me. I haven't actually done it yet, but I will) helps to keep them balanced too, so you won't just steamroll with a squad of all purples.

White Pikmin are back too, and whilst they, strictly speaking, only got nerfed, I still think they're pretty good here. Glow pikmin can't match their speed, and I think of their two abilities, that's the more valuable one, anyway, since poison isn't really used much until the final area.

Rock Pikmin cannot be matched by glow pikmin in any way, and are still as good as ever, though, woah, the final area really shafted them. You can't get them in the final cave? And you don't need them for anything? :( (maybe they know my defensive strategies of going in with only rocks to avoid being crushed too well...)

And Winged Pikmin aren't nerfed exactly (unless you count their ai being slightly wonky at times in their pathing for carrying things back), but they definitely have significantly less to do. Like rocks, they aren't in the final cave, though I think I definitely would have used them if they were, so maybe that's on me for not bringing them in.

Otherwise, I adored Dandori. I platinumed all the Pikmin 3 collect the treasure missions with my dad on the Wii U back in the day, and the Dandori challenges gave me that exact feeling again. I'm very excited to go through and platinum them all. (Though I think that might be a little easier than in 3, considering I found it fairly easy to platinum, or come very close to platinum many on the first try...)

Dandori battles were fun too! Nobody ever wanted to Bingo Battle me in Pikmin 3, but now I can have Olimar's trash AI! Yay? Seriously, Olimar's ai is probably a little too bad in some of the early Dandori battles, because it felt like he wasn't even trying. The Louie battles were really good, though. Those felt like an actual competition. (And the final Olimar battle, but that one to a lesser extent.)

I'll talk briefly about areas too, and say that, whilst I think they were lacking in variety compared to usual, I did very much still enjoy their gimmicks and map design. The Serene Shores are a great example of this, with the tide gimmick being fun to work around, and the sand castle overlooking the rest of the map being an excellent base.

As for the caves, the Pikmin 2 callbacks were wonderful (even if the Engulfed Castle did leave me terrified. Seriously, my only other Pikmin post before playing this game was me talking about being terrified of the Submerged Castle...), and I thought the new ones were cool too! The Subzero Sauna, Frozen Inferno, and Below-grade Discotheque, for example, with their interesting use of ice pikmin, use of red pikmin, and cool boss respectively.

Of course, the stand-out cave is the Cavern for a King, which, despite mostly just being a boss rush, has such creative ways of increasing difficulty on past bosses, that I have to praise it. It's incredible how just adding water can make the arachnorb bosses more challenging, and fighting the Smokey Progg without access to a proper glow mob definitely felt scary. The Ancient Sirehound was an excellent final boss too, with its gloom phase being actually decently challenging and intimidating. (Though I wish it had water and poison phases too, for completion's sake) It was definitely appropriate for the final cave!

I'd be remiss to not at least mention the music. I don't think I like the ost quite as much as I like Pikmin 3's (but that is a personal staple...), but that's not to say it's not great! There are still many stand-out tracks such as the tough enemy theme (which?? Just?? Went so hard???), the Groovy Long Legs's theme, Hero's Hideaway's theme, the Dandori challenge theme, and of course, the Ancient Sirehound's theme (with references to Pikmin 3's boss theme, my beloved), to name a few.

So yeah, it's a great game, and one I would definitely recommend :)

[blatantescapism]

(you can also, if you so choose, be a sweaty horny pastel princess)

(or an asexual dyke)

The point here is that people have picked up some very weird and harmful ideas about sexual attraction and gender presentation,

because our oppressors have learned that they can wield control by using powerful labels like “toxic” and “predatory”.

Assholes have been trying to paint minorities as “predatory” since day fucking 1. This is Not New, but some of y’all younger generations don’t know your history and are repeating patterns we have seen before.

There is nothing inherently predatory or creepy or unnatural about experiencing sexual attraction. What matters is that you treat other people with basic dignity, and that you respect consent.

Thoughts in your head don’t hurt anyone. Feelings in your pants don’t hurt anyone. It’s your actions that matter.

It’s not inherently predatory or creepy or unnatural to express sexual attraction! This is an extremely common part of the human experience! Anything from flirting to fucking can be a safe and positive experience. You just have to gauge how appropriate and welcome your behavior will be beforehand. Make sure everyone is an adult who freely consents. When in doubt, you explicitly ask. If someone indicates that you should stop, you stop. Clear and honest communication is a key part of consent. This also holds true in nonsexual situations!

You with me so far? Okay.

It’s not inherently predatory or creepy or unnatural to express your gender. Everyone has a body, your body is your vehicle on this earth, you deserve to be as comfortable in your body as possible so that you can pilot it to Do Things. If a particular way of decorating your body makes you happy, or makes it easier for you to live your life, or just feels right, then it is good and healthy to do it.

Don’t decorate your body with hate speech, that’s an important rule. Hate speech causes actual harm. If your safety or the safety of others genuinely requires covering certain parts of your body, or wearing certain kinds of specialized gear, you should do so. If your safety or the safety of others genuinely requires temporarily removing or altering something that you normally wear, you should do so. A rule designed to address a genuine safety concern should have obvious practical reasoning behind it.

You have the right to make temporary or permanent changes to your body. If it’s a permanent change, it is good to make sure you are well-informed about options and outcomes, but others should trust that you know what is best for you and your body. After all, you’re the one who has to live in it. From hip replacement to tattoos to gender surgery to getting wisdom teeth out, it is normal and good if a person decides to improve their own quality of life by permanently altering their own body.

Are you still with me?

Within these guidelines, there are SO MANY ways you can express yourself! People can have all kinds of different clothing or body mods or makeup or assistive devices, and that’s really cool! It’s cool when different cultures develop different styles, it’s cool when individuals do completely independent self-expression, it’s cool when people just go for the minimal or practical and it’s cool when people get elaborate with it

but ultimately, the way a person chooses to decorate or alter their own body is their own personal business. And if they’re following reasonable guidelines for practical safety, it does not and cannot cause harm to anyone. It’s just their appearance. The body is the vehicle by which a person interacts with the world. It is a person’s *actions* and *choices* that matter.

YOU CANNOT JUDGE SOMEONE ELSE’S MORAL CHARACTER BASED ON THEIR APPEARANCE.

Our oppressors really, really want to pretend that you can. They invent elaborate justifications for how it totally counts this time, we swear, you can tell that *this* person is a Bad Person just by looking at them! It’s totally okay to label an entire group of people as Gross or Inferior or Predatory, just based on what they look like! Don’t judge people by their actions, judge them by the color of their skin, or how their nose is shaped, or if they choose to wear something that covers their hair!!

Don’t listen to what people tell you about their own genders, their own bodies, their own lived experiences… judge them by how much body hair they have, how thin they are, whether they “look” disabled. Tell them they don’t “count” if they don’t fit a certain narrow range of Acceptable Physical Appearances.

This is how our oppressors control us, by controlling what is Acceptable, by moving the goalposts whenever they like, by spinning a narrative about Us versus Them.

And there is an old, old tactic of saying that only certain forms of sexuality are Acceptable. Everything else is Predatory. You don’t have to ask the people involved if they’re all happy consenting participants… you can tell just by looking at them!!

If you treat other people with basic dignity, and respect consent, and check in with yourself and others to make sure you avoid causing harm, and try to learn and grow from accidents of miscommunication,

If your sexual expression falls within these guidelines, if your relationships fall within these guidelines,

you are NOT a predator.

Some of y’all are so afraid of predators, or of being labeled predatory, that you have been bamboozled into being afraid of even the *appearance* of possibly being *associated* with being predatory.

That’s how the oppressors get you, babes. You get caught in keeping up appearances, and they’re the ones telling you which appearances are Acceptable and which are Signs of the Predator.

If you genuinely want to be a sexless pastel princess holding hands in a field, if you’ve thought about it for yourself and you wholeheartedly choose that for yourself, good! Asexuality is a totally valid and healthy way to be. Pastel colors are pretty, and many people find joy in girly-girl flavors of gender expression.

But if you feel like you *have* to be a perfect pastel field princess because that’s the *only* option that isn’t tainted by evil scary associations, if you think that *looking* virginal and innocent will magically protect you from false accusations or oppression, if you are obsessed with indicating moral purity through appearance,

1.) you’re probably stifling yourself terribly

2.) you are just a step away from being manipulated into believing extremely harmful and incorrect things.

People who “look” innocent can do terrible things. (That’s actually a common tactic of a genuine predator.) People who “look” scary can do good deeds… or bad ones, or neutral ones, the point is that you cannot base your judgement on appearances!

THE ONLY ACCURATE WAY TO JUDGE SOMEONE’S MORAL CHARACTER IS TO EXAMINE THEIR ACTIONS AND CHOICES. And actually talk to them yourself, don’t just swallow what other people tell you!

Y’all we have to stop making eachother feel bad for having sexual attraction. Lesbians are allowed to be horny we don’t have to be sexless pastel princesses holding hands in a field or smth. Be horny, it’s frankly revolutionary to be a sweaty horny dyke.

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Apparently there is a new Funko Pop coming for X-Men 97:

Maddie?

MADDIE?!

I'm super excited!

Although interestingly, it says Goblin Queen, not specifically Madelyne Pryor. Maybe the X-Men 97 version of Goblin Queen will be a corrupted Jean? Even though she already went through the whole Dark Phoenix thing.

This also lines up with rumors that Jean will be pregnant in X-Men 97. Maybe the pregnant "Jean" is actually Maddie?

It will be interesting to see how the show does the Goblin Queen story. X-Men TAS already did Dark Phoenix (going with the "Jean was possessed by Phoenix angle). Jean dies, and then gets immediately resurrected by all the X-Men present giving some small part of their life force to revive her. So there's no real chance for Scott to marry Madelyne. Even the brief time on the show that Jean was missing, after flying into the sun as Phoenix, Scott certainly wasn't getting with anyone else.

So where does Madelyne fit in? How do you do an abbreviated Goblin Queen/Inferno storyline? It seem like Madelyne would need to be part of the team first, or at least someone they could sympathize with, so that her downfall actually means something. Although I guess she could just be an evil Jean clone working for Sinister, but that would be boring.

My wild speculation - at some point in X-Men 97, it will be revealed that Jean was kidnapped and replaced with Madelyne, who has been brainwashed into believing herself to be Jean. (If you want to get really grim, maybe Jean was replaced all the way back before their wedding in Season 4, which means that twice now Scott and Jean have attempted to and failed to get married.) Maddie has some kind of mental suggestion planted in her mind to leave and go to Sinister once she gets pregnant, or possibly once she gives birth. (Why use Maddie when Jean is still alive? I dunno, maybe Maddie is easier to control and manipulate with suggestions planted in her mind, so she's a guaranteed baby source.)

Or, both Maddie and her baby are lab grown, with DNA stolen from Scott and Jean. She escapes and finds her way to the X-Men while pregnant. Possibly while believing herself to be Jean.

I'm interested in a Maddie who genuinely believes herself to be Jean, and has a breakdown and identity crisis when she learns the truth. This would be a Maddie that the team would sympathize with as she spirals into Goblin Queen.

I realize this would mean erasing the pilot Madelyn Pryor, but honestly, I'm not sure how "normal human who just happens to look like Jean and marries Scott" would fit into the show. But I can imagine "Sinister clone on the run begging the X-Men for help" as a sympathetic character.

[transman-badass]

I don’t even know if I want to put this on my blog but I’m not sure it’ll go away until I write it out so

Avatar, the James Cameron movie with the blue people, except rewritten as a horror movie. It’s 2022 and I’m up at three am thinking about the fucking James Cameron Avatar, what is my life.

EDIT: I apologize to the fans of the actual Avatar - the badass cartoon - because I know this will show up in your tags. I’m so sorry for how Tumblr works

Everything is pretty much the same up until the third act. There’s a few mentions of ‘what a mother wouldn’t do for her child’ [which gives away the whole plot if you’ve seen the real movie] and a couple strategic glances between the head scientist and the protagonist. The scene with the glowing plant seeds is replaced with something else. There’s some mentions of the local plants growing really quick and the maintenance staff having to work extra hard to ‘fend it off’. Otherwise, until the part where all the Avatars are forcibly disconnected, everything is mostly the same. Probably rewritten to be less... yeah

Anyway, head soldier guy yells a bit, but none of the protagonists really speak. They just kinda... stare into space, or look around. Just seem really confused. And when prodded, the lead protagonist says, “I don’t remember any of this.” None of them remember anything - the lead protagonist doesn’t remember anything from after he was first hooked into his blue catman body. The female scientist doesn’t remember anything since she was first hooked into her body on the planet - and her personality has changed significantly, insisting that she told all of them that the technology was unsafe, that there was something wrong with the bodies. Turns out, their consciousness never entered the Avatars - something else was controlling them, and entering their bodies. And while she’s arguing with the very confused command, those bodies proceed to ‘wake up’ and vanish into the jungle.

Yes, the planet is alive, and is a mother to her children. But she is not a nice mother - not to her children, and not to the invaders threatening them.

The aliens are basically unconnected from the climax, which is the planet itself attacking the humans. They’re either just trying to get out of the way, calm down their ‘mother’, or in the case of the main ones, helping to evacuate the humans. The Avatar bodies attempt to mislead and sway them from helping the humans - the main alien woman is forced to acknowledge that the man she fell in love with is nothing more than a puppet created by her ‘mother’ to manipulate her and ‘bring new life’ to her people. The male protagonist has to fight for his life, with his disability, to survive against his basically superpowered doppelganger, who taunts him.

The head soldier guy does a heroic sacrifice to ensure the ships get off the planet. The pilot woman survives. The scientist woman is badly injured, her fate is left unknown as she’s loaded onto a ship. The male protagonist defeats his ‘evil’ copy with the help of the alien woman - the “I see you” thing is turned ironic on the alien copy before he’s killed, and bittersweet with the protagonist and the alien woman. There is no love between them, they are strangers united by the same strange circumstance. 

The humans evacuate. The planet is subdued, thanks to the arguments of the scientist woman and the alien shaman, but she is still angry, and attempts one last pot shot before at the ships. They discuss bombarding the planet, but that would destroy the precious ‘unobtainium’ [god what a stupid name, what were you thinking Cameron]. Their only option, if they want it, is to negotiate with the locals, as the scientist woman mentioned was the original plan for the body suits/avatars before greed took over. And that greed got a lot of people on both sides killed.

The last shot of the movie is the surviving protagonists clustered together in some quiet spot. They are all holding hands or otherwise touching each other. Its very subtle, but one of them blinks, and their eyes are gold. They blink again, and fall asleep on someone’s shoulder.

I hope I can sleep myself now that I’ve gotten this stupid shit out of my head. 

[cozycottagetarot]

Pick a Pile: Your Next 10 Days

Piles 1-4 starting from left to right.

This is a general reading intended for many so not everything may resonate. Usual disclaimer at bottom.

Feedback is appreciated, and I'd love to know if you find/found any of the things from your pile coming/came true.

P I L E 1

Difficulties or obstacles you may face: The Roane Mermaid

The Roane Mermaid card actually doesn’t represent any obstacles, however two necessary bits of advice attached are 1.) do not be afraid to ask for help and 2.) concentrate on what needs to be done.

How you’ll be successful in obtaining your hopes and wishes: The Right Whale

The Right Whale is about focus, understanding and intuition. Some actions associated with this card are considering your values, reminding yourself (or figuring out) what direction you’re heading, and doing what it takes to get there. This card is also about finding support in close friends and/or relatives, but be careful of putting your trust in or relying on someone who has commitments elsewhere.

Potential things in the next 10 days: The Mermaele, The Mermaids Glove, The Sith Mermaid, The Water Nymph, The Nix, The Common Dolphin, The Nixie, The Gray Whale

A wish (big or small) being granted. Being mindful of impulses. Be cautious of gaining one desire only to ‘throw off’ the whole plan. Fun approaching. Someone declaring feelings for you. Friendly contest. Being rewarded for a small act of kindness. A happy ending in love. Financial wealth. Someone may be deceiving you or trying to ride on your coattails. Holding on to your original plans. Someone around you draining your energy. Intuition. Success in making the most of your potential. Focusing on yourself. A new chapter of any sort. Travel abroad.

Common/Duplicate Messages: Holding on to your original plans. A wish fulfillment. Listen to your intuition. Asking for/accepting help. A new romance.

Affirmations & Advice from the cards: Faith sees the horizon beyond the wave. | The pathway to a dream is one of sacrifice | Talk happiness and happiness will gravitate towards you. | Lose not a tide and waste no time. | The power that creates and sustains you heals. | The first to wisdom is understanding. | Calm waters reflect clearer images than rough waters. | You never know what great idea may arise in your sleep. | Your soul will build what it is trained to expect. | To give and receive genuine love brings a gift of happiness.

P I L E 2

Difficulties or obstacles you may face: The Killer Whale

The Killer Whale is about exploitation and deception as the Killer Whale’s appearance makes it look smaller allowing them to fool their prey. Your advice here is to 1.) keep a clever mind and dive deeper and look beyond what is presented to you. 2.) remain adaptable to your environment and resources.

How you’ll be successful in obtaining your hopes and wishes: Proteus

Avoid taking on anything that may only become troublesome or a burden. Guard your interest and do not be intimidated. Success lies in your sensible adaptability.

Potential things in the next 10 days: The Roane Mermaid, The Hooper, The Nixie, The Bottlenose Dolphin, The Striped Dolphin, The Black Dolphin, The Humpback Whale, The Vodyanoi Sprite

Focusing on yourself. A new chapter or renewing of a new chapter of your life. Help from someone in a high position. A new sense of courage. Concentrating on what needs to be done. Knowing what you want and getting it. A changing relationship or a new relationship from an unlikely meeting (doesn’t have to be romantic). Shifting your appearance. Invitation to travel. Someone potentially trying to seduce you. Many interested in you, but question their motives. A surprise. Help from mother or female friends in particular. Getting together with a new group of friends. Working with and developing your strengths. Creative ideas.

Common/Duplicate Messages: Gatekeeping. Adaptability. Meeting with important people. Staying focused. Receiving help. Travel (hot & sunny places mostly). A new cycle or fresh start. Creative projects.

Affirmations & Advice from the cards: Perseverance and determination bring results. | Plan, relax, and flow with the tide . | Faith sees the horizon beyond the waves. | The one principle that runs through the universe flows in the waves of the sea. | Your soul will build what it is trained to expect. | Safe shores of emotional and physical security are yours. | Good news flowing through the ether waves will answer your prayers. | Recognise which waves will carry you to your new horizon. | Nothing can be done without the proper means. | The ebb and flow of the tide carried good tidings.

P I L E 3

Difficulties or obstacles you may face: The Mermaid’s Rock

This card is kind of tricky as it’s one of those cards that don’t really have any negative connotations. The only message from this card I would say that can be interpreted as an obstacle is whether or not you’re able to tap into your inner strength and hold on to your faith in whatever you may be facing.

How you’ll be successful in obtaining your hopes and wishes: The Sperm Whale

Mainly, as long as you put your mind to something, you can achieve it.

Potential things in the next 10 days: Melusina, The Kelpie, The Right Whale, The Common Dolphin, The Gray Whale, The Blue Whale, The Bottlenose Dolphin, The Siren

Receiving a response you desire. An invitation from someone emotionally attached. Choosing who to hold on to and who to let go. Remaining calm will put you in a better position. Think before you act. Seeing through appearances. In control of yourself. Help from mother or female friends in particular. Good news. Someone being curious about you. Push yourself (within reason of course. Please don’t overwork or exert yourselves). Travel abroad/to the coast. Being ‘set free’ or a new beginning. Listening to your intuition. Considering your values. Checking in on your goals. Finding support in close friends and/or relatives. Be careful of putting your trust in or relying on someone who has commitments elsewhere.

Common Messages: Being observant. Being able to adjust or shape a situation to your liking. Achieving goals you set with focus and an extra push. Trust & listen to your intuition.

Affirmations & Advice from the cards: When two people in their hearts are one. they shatter the strength of stone. | Make friends with the cheerful and optimistic. | The calm of patience brings a tranquil sea of protection. | The longings of your heart are prophecies of realities. | The pathway to a dream is one of sacrifice. | You never know what great idea may arise in your sleep. | To give and receive genuine love brings a gift of happiness. | You will achieve your dreams through innovative solutions. | Safe shores of emotional and physical security are yours. | In the treasure of a day light is thrown on what could be tomorrow.

P I L E 4

Difficulties or obstacles you may face: The Pilot Whale

One of things The Pilot Whale speaks to is taking a moment to asks yourself if others have your best interest in heart or if you’re taking the wrong route if you’re doing things out of the ordinary. Make sure you’re carefully planning and know who you can trust.

How you’ll be successful in obtaining your hopes and wishes: Melusina

The key thing is to remember to think before you act and remaining calm as impulsive reactions can jeopardise situations or make them worse than they need to be.

Potential things in the future: The Humpback Whale, The Triton, The Nixie, The Vatea, The Kelpie, Ningyo, The Merbaby, The Kraken

Something coming to an end. Nothing to be afraid of. Happy days ahead. Focusing on yourself. A new chapter or renewing of a new chapter of your life. Vulnerability— make sure you’re guarded and cautious as you get to where you need to be. Avoiding being sidetracked. Achieving what’s good and right for you. Invitation to travel. Someone potentially trying to seduce you. Trying to free yourself from the unconscious. ‘Your ability to master forces lies in looking deeply into your subconscious.’ Good fortune in waves until the biggest arrives. Meeting a stranger (potentially romantic). Someone you already know may want you more. Refuse to be disheartened or muddle-headed.

Common Messages: Being careful with your actions. Be careful of someone being dishonest with you. Questioning the motive of others. Control yourself/Self awareness. Going into your subconscious. You have the answers you seek inside.

Affirmations & Advice from the cards: You are your own fate and control your own destiny. | The calm of patience brings a tranquil sea of protection. | Nothing can be done without the proper means. | Your aim rather than your desire is your real doctrine. | Your soul will build what it is trained to expect. | The secret of happiness is consciously uniting with the best in you. | The longings of your heart are prophecies of realities.| Astral light and an image of the world and oneness integrates the two, them and you. | The skill of being in harmony increases your effectiveness. | Your success and happiness lie within you.

___

Disclaimer: I read tarot for self reflection and guidance purposes, but as always, this reading is for fun and entertainment purposes only. I may include advice for if you find a particular topic resonating, but it is in no way meant to replace any kind of professional advice. Any reading I post is in no way meant to act as or replace professional advice of any kind. You know yourself and what’s going on in your life best so I ask that you trust yourself above all else. Prediction readings are to be seen simply as a potential outcome. Finally, please take only what resonates from the reading which may be some of it, all of it, or none at all.

[atalana]

alright never mind apparently im doing the sky essay first - @toshitophchan​, the first of many sja essays 😂

but god i love the addition of sky as a character and i so wish we had more episodes with her and luke as siblings

bc like. admittedly, when i first watched sky, i was a little like “ah i see we’re just replacing luke by doing the exact same plot all over again”, but i didn’t realise until the man who never was just how vital it was that they did that

and their introductory episodes do have an incredible amount in common! both luke and sky were genetically engineered to be used as part of an alien plot - in sky’s case she was explicitly a weapon, with her innate electrokinesis modified to act as a bomb against her creator’s enemies. luke was more designed for information gathering and experimentation, but again, created to be used against earth

both were created to be young teenagers, they didn’t have a childhood, they remember the day they were born. they’re human enough to pass as human with effort, but not enough to truly be counted as one, not by most people’s metrics. mrs wormwood tried to call herself luke’s mother, and convince him he belonged with her, and so did sky’s creator, and both kids needed sarah jane to stand in the way and show them what a real mother should be. they have abilities others don’t, like luke’s heightened senses and perfect memory, or sky’s electrokinesis, but they also struggle a lot with blending in and knowing how a human is supposed to act (see: these two are so fucking neurodivergent i love them)

and this is a show about found family, very explicitly. “in all the universe, i never expected to find a family” has been in a closing narration about three times now. and luke’s character arc was very much about finding a family who appreciated him, but it was also about how isolating things were despite that. season one is full of him making social errors and feeling bad about it, season two has secrets of the stars where he feels isolated and weird for not having a birthday, and complains about how every time he thinks he’s gotten the hang of living as a human, something else crops up to make him feel different. mrs wormwood straight up calls it out in enemy of the bane, how isolated he must feel by being truly alone in the universe, no one else like him anywhere. and we see this continue throughout most of the show, it comes back a lot in the nightmare man, even though his friends are there for him, they’re not like him, and that weighs on you.

so of course they had to introduce sky, not as a replacement for luke, but as a sister. someone else who can genuinely truly understand where he’s coming from, and he to her. and you get such good supportive moments in the man who never was, like “but you did see that?” “yes, but no one else did”, validating her even though they can’t talk about it here, or “is this what humans are like?” “not all of them”, or “you are so my sister!”, like, it’s just luke going “yep i remember what that was like hey here’s something i call Luke’s Guide To Masquerading As A Human Teenager When You’re A Two Week Old Alien Weapon”, it’s so good. he gets a sister who understands him for the first time ever, and he can make sure that sky never goes through what he had to

(though, side note, im never gonna get over how hilarious it was that when piloting serf, luke took motion controls and sky took dialogue. like. i understand it was for the comedy, but, you have two kids here, one who is electrosensitive, and one who has a perfect memory and who witnessed the rehearsal of this dialogue. sky would have just as much ability to make him walk around as luke would, perhaps better because she could do some of it remotely, and luke could copy his dialogue from the rehearsal word for word. but no, instead what we get is “remember, he’s american!” “YEEEEEHAWWWWWW” 😂)

but you just know after like a year or two of knowing each other they’ve just developed this whole new method of communication that sounds so bizarre to everyone else around them bc they don’t have to do social masking at all around each other they can just be themselves and bond over how weird life as a human is or what the fuck birthdays are, it’s the best

[earliebirb]

nosedive

steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words

Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.

From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.

He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly. 

The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.

“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”

“...What?”

“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”

“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”

“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”

“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”

“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”

“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”

“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”

“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”

“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”

“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”

“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”

“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”

“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”

“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”

“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”

“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”

“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”

“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.

Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”

Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit. 

“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”

“A… feeling?”

“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”

“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”

“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”

“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”

“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”

“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”

“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”

“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”

“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”

“Do what? And stop saying that—”

“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”

“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”

“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week. 

“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Tony?”

They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this. 

“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”

“Tony, wait.”

“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.

Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut. 

“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”

“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.

“Look, Tony, I—”

“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”

“Tony—”

“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

“But—”

“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”

“...Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”

“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”

Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”

“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply. 

As if he could ensure Tony’s safety with the force of his willpower alone. 

Come back home to me. 

That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.

“I hear you.”

“Great.”

“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.

He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him. 

“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”

Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.

He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him. 

It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand. 

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—

“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.

Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks. 

“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”

“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.

“Oh.”

Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d make it home safely.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—” 

Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.

“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.

“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”

“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.

Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.

Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.

Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator. 

“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”

“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes. 

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Why are you carrying me there?”

“Because I want to.”

“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”

“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”

“Um.”

“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”

“I, uh, missed you too.”

Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.

When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed. 

That is not, in fact, what happens. 

Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve. 

“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

Tony blinks.

“We’re not?”

“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.

“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”

Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously. 

Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.

The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.

“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.

The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.

“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”

Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.

“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”

Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about… jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.

“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.

“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.

“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.

Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.

They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.

“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”

Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”

Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.

Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.

Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled. 

“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s. 

Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”

[wkemeup]

Start Again II

summary: You and Steve deal with the aftermath of the pollen pairing: steve x reader word count: 5k warnings: SMUT (18+), perceived sexual assault (by steve), self loathing af steve rogers, making up for lost time, a very fluffy ending a/n: ok last and final part! Thanks for indulging me in my steve fantasies. You can read part one here 🌟

The more Steve thought about it, the more he wished that Hydra agent had just shot him.  

He could still feel the sensitivity pulsing in fluttering beats between his legs, forcing him to adjust his pants in search of relief. He could still smell the slight tang on his fingers, on his thighs; could feel the residue on his skin. His stomach was still twisted and warped and tied into knots as he struggled to keep still in his seat while he shot cautious glances back towards the loading dock, waiting for you to return.  

It took a few minutes after he’d started digging his nails into his palms until he heard the softened footsteps, head perking up as you appeared at the back of the jet. You slowly made your way up the ramp and pressed a hand to the retractor, signaling Sam you were ready for takeoff.  You were silent as you passed the seat beside Steve, the one you usually occupied, the one closest to him, and took your place across the aisle. Legs crossed, leaning off the furthest edge of the seat.  

It was then Steve noticed the subtle reflective marks on your cheeks, a redness straining into the whites of your eyes, a sniffle in your nose as you brushed a hand over your face. You only nodded, jaw clenched, when Sam called back from the pilot seat in his usual light-hearted banter that he was approaching takeoff. You didn’t so much as a crack a smile.  

So yeah, Steve wished that agent had just shot him instead.

Hours later, after the jet touched back on solid ground and he’d put as much distance away from you as he could manage, Steve found himself standing under scalding hot water. It showered down over his back, his right hand propped up against the wall for support, wet hair and trails of water streaming down over his eyes.  

It burned. The steam itself was suffocating. The water only washing away the sweat beading on neck. But it was all he could do to rid that room from his body, the pollen from its talon-sunken holes clawed deep into the furthest corners of his mind.  

It wasn’t you he was trying to rid himself of. Never you.  

No—it was the remnants of the violence etched into his skin, the devil in his desires, the monster in his movements.  

You couldn’t look at him. You’d tried to force it back in the vault, calling his name, making sure he was alright even after what he’d done, but that was just who you were. Kind beyond what he deserved. Loving to a fault. He knew you were putting on a brave face, but you could hardly stand over wobbling legs.

So, he left. He gritted his teeth and gave you as much space as he possibly could, tried to spare you the grief of having to be in the same room, to breathe the same air, as the man who—

Christ.

He couldn’t even say it.  

He stayed there, standing under scalding water, long after it lost its warmth, until it was so cold his skin had numbed and his teeth were chattering.  

Nothing seemed to be enough to rinse the monster from his body. He wondered then if he ever would, or if it was just a part of him now, if it was engrained deep into his soul, if maybe it had been lying in wait under the surface all his life, waiting for the right moment to be release and rip away the very thing he adored most in this world and –  

Knock knock knock.

Steve froze at the edge of the bathroom. He looked down to find navy blue pajama pants and a thin t-shirt covering his body, the cotton a little damp from the shower. His hair was dripping onto the collar of his shirt, leaving small patches of darkened cloth behind. 

He blinked a few times, trying to pull himself back to his body. He glanced back at the shower. He didn’t even realize he’d turned it off, didn’t register when he’d gotten out and started to change.  

Fuck. He was losing it.  

He exhaled a heavy breath, starting to make his way back to the bed when the knocks came a second time.  

Knock knock knock.

A little more urgent this time. A slight shift in the floorboards outside his room. A nervous kind of energy.  

Steve swallowed, slicking back his damp hair and slowly padded his way over to the door.  

But then, the sweet scent of coco butter caught his sense and he stilled. His heart was suddenly pounding in his chest, thunderous, like it might burst through the surface and fall broken and battered to the floor at his feet.  

He was stone. A statue. A breath of wind could have knocked him over.  

“Steve?” your voice called gently, muffled by the door between you.  

He couldn’t speak. He could only stare at the small cracks in the wooden frame, the broken splinters from where he’d nearly ripped the door from its hinges the night he heard you scream through the night terrors plaguing your dreams. Tony always offered to replace it but Steve wouldn’t let him. The small broken fragments made it easier to listen for you.  

“I know you’re in there,” you murmured. A soft tap followed and he could practically picture you setting your forehead to the wooden frame. “Please, just talk to me.”

A crack in your voice. A lump in your throat. You'd been crying again.  

“Stevie, please... don’t shut me out,” you whispered, voice barely audible but it tore through Steve’s chest like you’d screamed it. Your hands dragged along the door until they stilled on the knob. It was unlocked. It always was. A habit he’d come to find after you’d started showing up in his room late at night when you couldn’t sleep.  

But the door didn’t open this time. You didn’t peer your head in cautiously, fingers grazing on the edge of the frame. You didn’t call his name sweetly with that nervous smile on your lips. No—you waited. Waited for him to open the door himself.  

And still, he couldn’t move.

He hated himself for it.  

It wasn’t until he listened for the deflated, broken sigh as the floorboards squeaked gently beneath your bare feet, your hand falling away from the door as you started to leave, that Steve finally found the courage to move.  

He was at the door in two steps, hand on the knob and swung it open. You flinched in your surprise and Steve instantly stepped back, made himself as small as he could manage. The last thing he wanted was to scare you. It was the only time he’d ever wished to rid the serum from his veins; make him the scrawny, unintimidating boy he was before the war.  

He didn’t know what to say as he stared at you. Your hair was damp like his, arms folded over your chest, holding the edges of your robe securely over your body and while it could have easily been because of the chill of the air conditioning in the hallway, Steve took another step back, certain you were hiding yourself from him.

His eyes fell to the ground.

“Can we talk?” you asked sheepishly.

Steve nodded, stepping aside. 

You slipped past him and made your way to his bed, though you paused before you sat down. It was familiar, a habit, for you to rush into his room and plop onto his bed with handfuls of popcorn and M&M’s and watch movies for hours on end. But things were different now. You clung tighter to your robe.

“You can sit. If you... um... if you want, I mean,” Steve said awkwardly, his voice broken from disuse. He wasn’t used to feeling so on edge around you and it left behind a sour taste in his mouth. He cleared his throat as he sat on the edge of the bed, giving you as much space as he could.

You nodded, offering him a short smile. You tucked one leg under you, the other hanging off the side of the bed as you turned to face him. Steve could feel you watching him, though he was determined to keep his focus on the bristles of carpet under his feet.  

“Steve, I—”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words falling past his lips before he could quite gain control of them. His jaw ached from how tight he’d been clenching his, his hands restless from pulling and twisting at his fingers until the skin was red and raw.  

He didn’t notice the surprise on your face, not though the tears brimming in his eyes. He didn’t notice as you crept closer to him along the bed, gently calling his name, couldn’t hear as you called for him so sweetly it ached and bled.  

“I’m so sorry, Y/n,” Steve cried, pushing the heels of his hands to his eyes. “I never—I never should have given in to that stuff and now—now you can't even look at me and I feel so fucking selfish because that’s what scares me more than anything else. More than what I did in that room. The fact that I might have just lost you because of it and I—fuck—I can’t lose you because I’ll go out of my goddamn mind. I can’t.”

“Steve,” you called again gently, trying to interject, but he was too far into his own spiral of guilt and self-loathing to hear you.  

“I hate that this happened and I hate that I did this to us and I—I hate that everything is in fucking pieces right now and I don’t know how to make this right, or if I ever can, and—and I know I have no right to ask for forgiveness but—”

“Steve!”

Your hands were on the sides of his face, a firm hold of stubble along his jaw rubbing against the inside of your palms, wide blue eyes staring back at you in shock. Glossy in color, reflective marks of tears on his cheekbones, touching against your fingers. All he could focus on was the startling warmth in your hands, the tenderness in which you held him as you forced his gaze to you, and he choked back a sob brewing up the base of his spine.  

“Oh, honey. All this guilt you carry... it must be so exhausting,” you sighed, gently wiping the tears under his eyes. There was an ache in your voice, a love, that ripped straight through his chest. You smiled for him, something so soft, barely lifting at the corners of your mouth, but it was enough. “I was there with you, remember? You asked for my consent a dozen times. I said yes. You warned me it would be rough. I still said yes. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Steve was unconvinced. He remembered how tightly he’d gripped your hip, how he left bruises behind and how your skin was scraped and burned as it rubbed against the table. He remembered how he’d pushed you down, a hand firm on your back, how he’d used you for his own pleasure and lost a part of himself in the chase.  

You must have seen his mind wandering because you settled in closer to him, releasing your hold on his face, though your hands never traveled far. Instead, they ran gently down along his arms until they landed on his hands. Fingers curling under his palms, tugging them to your lap as you carefully traced the lines in his skin, over old scars and the lifeline running in an elongated arc to the center of his wrist.  

“You're a good man, Steve,” you said, still staring down at his hands. “Most men... they wouldn’t have held off as long as you did. Wouldn’t have asked permission, either. You forget that I know what the effects of the pollen feel like, too, Steve. I was begging you. God, I felt like I was going to die if you didn’t do what you did. So, if you’re going to sitting here and blame yourself for what happened, then you better blame me, too.”

Now that, he didn’t see coming.  

You were smiling at him when he dared to meet your eye again, though there was a sadness there. You squeezed his hands, slowly bringing them up to your lips and pressing a gentle kiss along the knuckles. He watched you in awe, heart stammering, and he did his best to memorize the feel of your lips on his skin.  

It took Steve a minute to respond, too focused on how warm your hands were around his. The two of you were close, yes, but you’d never done anything like this before. Even in the nights when you crawled into his bed, there was space between you. Always teetering on the edge of something more and never daring to cross the line.  

Until the line was ripped to shreds and tossed to the gutter.  

The goddamn line didn’t even exist anymore.  

“You alright?” you asked sweetly, because of course you were worried about him. You always were.  

When he didn’t respond, you released his hands, letting him pull them back into his own lap, and a chill started to prickle at his skin. Cold, in your absence. He was always cold when you weren't there.  

It used to be enough to be near you, to be close enough to smell the coco butter lotion on your skin and see the faint discoloration on scars from past missions. It wasn’t enough anymore.  

Steve took in a heavy breath, trying to find the right words. “It just... It shouldn’t have been like that."

You narrowed your eyes, confused.  

“Our first time. It shouldn’t have been like that,” Steve admitted, digging his nails to his palm. When he looked up at you again, you were staring at him with wide eyes, lips slightly parted, shocked. He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I had this whole plan, you know?”

You shook your head, just barely, but enough.  

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I... uh... I’ve been making reservations at this fancy restaurant downtown... the one Stark won’t shut up about. Been doing that every Friday night for the past two months. Just in case I worked up the courage to finally ask you on a date. A real date.”

The words were spilling out faster than he could hold them back, but there was a relief in it, a waterfall in the admission that swept through the tension in his muscles and drew away the unsettling ache in his bones.  

“I think about it a lot. I think about how we’d talk all night, like we always do,” he continued, in an almost dream like voice, “but there would be expensive wine. Red, I think. We’d order two bottles and earn some angry looks from the other tables because we’d be laughing too loud. We’d eat something good. Something recommended by the chef. I’d pay—”

“--with Stark’s card?”

Steve paused, turning to find you smiling at him, genuinely smiling. Enough to bite down on your bottom lip to try and suppress it, though it did no use. It pushed lines up by your eyes, a glow in the way you watched him, and suddenly, his whole chest was warm. He nodded.  

“Of course,” he chuckled, surprised how easily it came. “Always on Tony’s dime.”

You laughed, and he was certain it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard.  

“Then what?”

“I’d walk you through Brooklyn. Show you all the places I grew up. Probably stop by an ice cream joint because the portion sizes at expensive restaurants are pitiful,” Steve said, grinning as you struggled to contain your laughter, your shoulder bumping into his. He sighed, watching you for a moment, before he let himself say the words he’d been trying to say for years.  

“At the end of the night, I’d—” he paused, stealing a quick glance at you before he found his remaining courage. He exhaled a heavy breath and admitted, “I’d tell you I’ve been head over heels for you for as long as I can remember. I’d tell you that you’re my best friend but I... I want you to be more. And I’d tell you I’ve wanted it for a long time.”

You froze, smile faltering for just a moment, stunned. “You would?”

He nodded, his cheeks burning a little pink, but he didn’t mind. “Then, when we got back, I’d walk you back to your room, be a proper gentleman about it and, if you’d let me, I’d kiss you. Something short. Something a little chaste. Because I wouldn’t want to push things too fast and risk messin’ this thing up because… this is it for me. You're it for me.”

Steve had never seen you rendered to a stunned silence quite like that before. He was used to fighting for a word in because you always had something to say about everything. He liked when you rambled and lost yourself on long tangents, wondering how you got from the missing Thin Mints in the freezer to the state of Greece’s economy. He found it endearing, but for once, he had a moment to talk. So, he took advantage of it.  

“We’d go on a few dates,” he continued, with a soft smile, a casual shrug, like he hadn’t been thinking about it for years. “I’d hold your hand in public. Bite the head off of any reporter that asked too many questions, but I’d want people to know that I was yours, so I wouldn’t be shy about it. I’d wrap an arm around you on the couch on movie nights and wouldn’t care when Sam teases me about it because you’d be in my arms and that’s all that would matter.”

Steve swallowed, his heart beating a little faster. “And then, only when the time was right, when we’d found a trust that extended beyond the missions and the Avengers, I’d linger a little longer by our hallway before I said goodnight. You’d do that thing where you bite your lip because I know you’re waiting for me to make the first move, and I’d ask if you wanted to stay the night.”

"And if I said yes?” you asked quietly, inching just a little closer to him, enough that he could feel the warmth of your skin against his thigh.  

“I’d kiss you in the doorway,” Steve exhaled a heavy breath, picturing it in his mind the way he had dozens of times before. “Something slower, enough to leave you feeling breathless. I’d kiss you enough to memorize the taste of you on my tongue, slip my hands into your hair and drag my fingers over your scalp. I wouldn’t pull away until I felt you whimper against my lips.”

When he glanced up at you, your eyes were near black, pupils dilated enough for the colors of your iris to be left in thin rims at the furthest edges. You swallowed, lips slightly parted, a dangerous kind of look about you.  

“Show me.”

Steve swallowed, staring at your lips, how you tugged them between your teeth in anticipation. He exhaled a steady breath, searching your eyes for resistance, and when he found none, he let his hand slip up along your arm and nestle into your hair. You shivered under his touch, chest rising a little faster, as he slowly leaned towards you.  

He paused, nails tenderly massaging at your scalp, just enough until he caught the flicker of lust woven through the startling colors in your eyes. Then, with more courage than he’s had in a long time, Steve met his lips to yours.  

Slow. Wet. Starting at your lower lip, pulling it between his own and sucking sweetly. Then, a flicker of his tongue along the lines of your mouth, waiting patiently, and you parted your lips a little further for him. He swept his tongue along yours as he kissed at your upper lip. Sighing into the touch, the muffled sound of a whimper escaped and Steve smiled against your mouth.  

“Then what?” you gasped, a little out of breath as Steve began to kiss along your cheekbones, your jawline, then to the sensitive parts on your collar.  

“I’d lay you down on my bed,” he whispered against your skin, warm to the touch. You leaned back to the pillows, pulling your legs up onto the bed as Steve followed in suit. He laid beside you, a leg between yours, his lips never once leaving your body.  

“Then,” he continued, pulling back for only a moment, though your huff of disappointment didn’t slip his notice. He chuckled as he crossed his arms at his waist and pulled his shirt up and over his head. “I’d start getting rid of the fabric between us.”

Steve paused, eyeing you, waiting for permission, and you nodded at him. A smile lifted at his cheeks as he crawled back down over you, pressing a kiss to your clavicle. His lips trailed along the bone, until he met the cozy fluff of your robe. He inched it off your shoulder, kissing at the skin between.  

“I’d take off your clothes, but I'd do it slowly because I’ve already waited so long and what’s another few minutes when I can have you whining and needy by the time I’m done,” Steve teased, unwrapping the belt at your waist and letting the fabric fall open. 

You giggled under him, muffling the sound against his shoulder. Underneath, you were dressed only in a tank top and panties; so thin he could see your pebbled nipples through the thin fabric.  

“Keep going,” you sighed, arcing up for him as his eyes lingered just a little longer on your chest.  

Steve nodded, pinching up at the ends of your tank with his thumbs, slowly bunching up the fabric towards your ribs. He leaned down and pressed his lips to your stomach, touching over curves and edges, over scars and freckles, discovering the most beautiful pieces of you he could find.  

“I’d kiss every inch of you,” he exhaled, pushing the fabric up further as his lips made their way to your ribs. Then, over your breasts as you helped him discard the top over your head and toss it to the floor. Steve sighed, staring in awe. “I’d have to take a minute when I finally saw you because you’d be more beautiful than I ever pictured in my head. You’d laugh because you wouldn’t believe me and you’d try to cover yourself--” he raised an eyebrow as your arms moved to shield yourself from his staring eyes though you froze when you realized what he said, “-- like that.”  

Steve chuckled, waiting for you to relax your arms back to your sides. “But I’d be determined and I’ll want to make sure you know how serious I am. So, I’d take my time with you, kiss you everywhere but where you need me most, even when I feel you searching for friction at my thigh between your legs.”

You paused, not even realizing you were trying to rub yourself on his leg, but Steve was smiling so wide, you couldn’t help but return it. There was no room for embarrassment, not with no much love in his eyes.  

Steve lowered himself to your breasts, the heated flush of his breath touching your skin. Then, his tongue dipped to your nipple, circling the bud for a moment before he pulled it onto his mouth, sucking sweetly enough to pull a whine from your lips.  

“Oh, Steve,” you moaned, hands sinking into his hair, guiding him, arching up into him. His hand worked at the other breast, kneading and brushing his thumb over the sensitive bud. He didn’t let up until you whined, “Stevie, please. I need you.”

He pulled back, a teasing smirk on his face as he glanced down your bodies to find your panties wet at the center, damp to the navy plaid pajamas on his thigh where you’d been rubbing yourself. He could smell the sweet, tangy scent of the wetness between you and he licked his lips.

“Not this time,” you urged. “I need you, Steve. Please.”

“You’re skipping steps in my plan, sweetheart,” Steve smirked. “I didn’t tell you yet about how I was going to kiss along your thigh, just up to the crease of your leg, kissing at your folds until I dipped my fingers between them and touched the wetness there, parted you enough that I could run my tongue along your slit.”

You shivered; lips parted in a breathless gasp. Steve winked, hooking his fingers in the band of your panties, pausing until you rolled your hips up for him, and slid them down your legs.  

“I would have slid my tongue into the deepest part of you, tasted you,” he continued, a dark kind of sin in his voice that swept up your spine as he pulled down his pants, freeing himself from the fabric and letting his cock stand out against him, press up against your thighs. “I would have wrapped my lips around your clit as I slipped two fingers inside of you, three if you were ready enough. I would have sucked and kissed and licked at your clit as I pumped my fingers into you, waited until I felt your walls clenching around me, until you were digging your hands through my hair and became a withering, moaning mess. I wouldn’t stop until you cried out my name, and maybe not even then. I’d make you come at least twice before I even pulled my cock from my pants.”

You whined, jaw clenched, hands running along his chest. His cock edged at your entrance; thick, full, aching in its pulse and the pre-cum dripping at the tip.  

“Steve?” you finally managed to mutter, wrecked.  

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

You took a heavy breath, eyes darkening over. “Stop talking, will you?”  

Steve grinned.

Then, he sank into you.  

The stretch was unlike anything else; the pulse of it against your walls tighter than you’d been within Hydra’s vault, the absence of the pollen in your system giving way to a whole new kind of high. No longer overwhelmed by the lust and cravings and sensations buried deep inside you, but instead, memorizing the slight ache between your legs, the feelings of the thick vein that rang down the underside of his shaft as it pressed up against this glorious sweet spot at your opening, the touch of his breath warm and moist to your skin, the low hums and moans of a man you adored.  

“Oh God... Steve...” you whined, knees lifting higher in search of that perfect angle that brought him deeper inside you. He choked back a groan, muffled in the crook of your neck.  

His hands encased around your shoulders, hips slowly beginning to rut further inside of you before he slipped out, just to the tip. Filling you, stretching you, sinking into where he belonged.  

“Fuck-- sweetheart, I—” Steve let out a growl, his right hand running up along your curves to find your breasts, fingers pinching and teasing over hardened nipples. “You feel so good, baby. So fuckin’ good.”

Your hands raked along his spine, nails digging just enough into the skin to pull a hiss from his lips before he started kissing along your neck, your jawline, hips picking up in pace. Steve slid his hand down the edge of your curves, over your stomach and between your legs where your bodies met. The pads of his fingertips dipped to your core, swirled over the drench of wetness there before they carried just a bit higher to your clit.  

You gasped, clenching around his cock as his trusts began a little less gentle a little more desperate; the cry of the bedsprings and the labored breaths between you filling the room, joining the salty tang of sex in the air. Steve grinned against the crook of your neck, kissing at the dip in your collarbone sweetly in startling contrast to the rough snap of his hips. He circled at the bundle of nerves at your core, bringing you closer to your release as your walls started to cave in around him.  

“Don’t-- Don’t stop,” you gasped, the coil at your core tightening and drawing to the edge, “oh fuck, Steve!”

Muffled cries into his shoulder, Steve kept up his pace, not relenting for a beat as you rode out the peak of your high. Nails digging into his back, dipped into his shoulder blades as you bit on the edge of his collar. His hips started to lose their rhythm, his breaths heavy and labored, moans slipping from his lips as the haze began to leave you and you pressed kisses to the lining of his jaw, whispering, “that’s it, Stevie. Come for me, honey.”

He nodded, hot breaths to your skin, and with a strangled cry, he released into you, filling you whole, before he chased a few more thrusts and stilled. His body fell to your chest, sinking you into the mattress as he rested his head against your heart. Arms circling up and under your shoulders, curling you in close to him, you could feel his smile curving up against your skin.  

You grinned up at the ceiling, a laugh bubbling in your chest as your fingers started to rake gently through his hair, combing through the beads of sweat left behind on his forehead. He sighed at the feeling, eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his lips to the hill of your breast before settling in.  

“I should get up,” he mumbled, though he made to effort to move.  

“I like you where you are,” you replied cheekily, squeezing your walls around his softening cock and laughing when you felt him jolt against you at the shock of it.  

“Watch yourself,” Steve warned lightheartedly. “You’ll work me up again.”

“Maybe that’s the plan.”

Steve lifted his head from your chest, catching your eye for just a moment, and the smile on his face nearly captured the air entirely from your lungs. Impossibly sweet. Gentle. Loving in a way you never thought you’d see nestled in the pale blue of his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips.  

“We missed a lot of steps, didn’t we?” Steve sighed, his smile softening to something sadder, like something precious had been taken from him. The first date. The first kiss. The nervous parts in between. He wanted them all.  

“Doesn’t mean we can’t go back and start again,” you grinned, cupping the side of his face as you pulled him back to your lips, kissing him until you could feel him start to smile again.  

You started to edge him off of you, slipping out from under his weight as he protested in a whine. He rolled onto his back, sheet draped over his lower half, elbows propping him up against the pillows as the sunlight peaking in between the curtains cast of his skin. Warm and inviting. Soft.  

You leaned against the bathroom arc, just admiring him for a moment before you said, “be ready by seven tonight.”

Steve narrowed his eyes, raising a brow, though the smile on his lips was still as dreamy, still caught up you. “Why?”

“We’ve got a first date, Steven,” you winked before disappearing into the bathroom. “Don’t be late.”

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[liquid-luck-00]

Safety Net 2

Part 2

Day 9: Teen Titans @maribatmarch-2k21

Ao3 *** Part 1 *** Here *** Part 3 *** Part 4 *** Part 5

This is based on Teen Titans Judas Contract

~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette became a fully fledged Talon when she turned 18. Six years with the court before they turned her, as to not arouse suspicion with a child. She doesn't remember the events that led to her leaving but she did. She supposes it is the fact she is a Talon that repressed her memories but that doesn't matter the court and all the other Talons are dead. She kept a single vial of the only poison that could end her life. She left not looking back.

She actually didn't get far when she first saw him. His swords danced, connecting to his target, death etched on his blade edge. Then he vanished.

She would see him again and again as she moved from city to city, state to state, even from country to country. One night as she watched the London sky, from her perch in Big Ben, did he come to her.

"Who are you?" His mask deepened his voice, made it colder and more robotic. She turned to look at him, not saying a word, and then turned back to the city.

He apparently didn't appreciate her silence as he stalked closer to her. "Who are you?" he growled the question, the sword tip pressing into her neck, but she didn’t move.

"Talon." was choked out. The voice was gruff and scratchy from being unused. That single word seemed to answer a few of his questions.

"The Court?"

"Gone"

"Orders?"

Now she simply shook her head. The sword was removed from her neck and was placed back in its sheath.

"How would you like to have your own agency again?" His voice was still gruff and cold. It held authority but it was human. She turned to see he had removed his mask. His hair was stark white, small scars littered his face, his eyes were cold and calculating, yet they didn't lie.

Her mouth opened slightly before she closed it. A deep buried resolve began to surface as she nodded in answer.

She followed Slade Wilson out of the bell tower.

---

She was then embedded into the League of Assassins. This was where they needed patience.

She didn't speak, they thought her mute, she played along. Yes she could withstand life threatening hits, but she didn't let them happen. She would strike faster, hit harder, she made herself stronger, so they called her ruthless. She didn't oppose.

Above all she was patient.

The day the coup was to happen she was guarding the Lazarus Pit.

Silently she killed the guard stationed with her and walked into the pit. The water was both cold and scalding. A fog began to enter her mind but she pushed against it. This was no time to be confused or dazed. She felt the chains and commands programed into her by the court, so she pushed against them too until they broke. She breached the surface of the pit. Shakily she stood, breathing heavily, she began to dress, quickly noticing her skin became more pink and her mind was clear. She had to leave this room as, the alarms rang signaling the coup, she ran out, fully dressed and hidden.

She took her position in the cockpit of a helicopter and soon only she and Slade were alone in the air. The others scattered in order to build up a base of operations. An hour later they landed in a small air field where a jet was waiting for them. They transferred their things and took to the skies again.

"How do you feel?" Slade asked her not long after putting the plane on auto pilot.

"Light," her voice was clearer, still raspy, but there was inflection and life traced through the word.

"Anger, fury, bloodlust?" He pressed.

"None." she shook her head.

"Interesting," he murmured.

"How bad?" she pointed to his wrapped head and covered eye.

"We'll find out once we talk with the Doc," a scowl appeared on his face. "so what's your name, because it isn't Talon"

"Um..." she thought hard and long. she had been called Talon for so long, but what did they call her before, "Grayson. They called me Grayson before they called me Talon."

---

Slade became her mentor of sorts, they would spar and train to learn their new bodies and limitations. In fact it was easy for them both. She became known as Phoenix. Her uniform was similar to her Talon one, but while Talon was gold Phoenix was a deep crimson. The helmet was replaced by a hood and a half mask that extended from her hair line to her nose. She took to being a mercenary rather fast, but all things considered it wasn't that far of a stretch.

The only thing that troubled her, were her nightmares, or were they dreams. But they didn't feel like something her subconscious had created. They felt like memories begging to be remembered. She would fly through the air as if on gilded wings. A pair of inviting and smiling-azure eyes of a little boy. A warm smile and reassuring embrace of the same boy would appear constantly. Then the fall, she never hit the ground, but she continued to fall. The cold and dark embraced her smothering her until she woke up.

---

She never stayed in one place long but sooner or later she would always pay Deathstroke a visit. It isn't that she is attached to the Mercenary. Sure she is grateful to him but it's like if she stays close she will find a missing piece of her puzzle. On one of these trips back she met her. A teen with blonde hair and blue eyes, Terra. She was met with a less than warm welcome but oh well.

"What's up old man!" she joked. Slade glared at her and nodded in greeting.

"We have a job."

"What is it?" she sat on the couch.

"Infiltrating the Teen Titans."

"That's what the kid's for," she hummed. "What can she do?"

"Meta. Geokinesis."

"Disassemble the little league before the big one." A calculated smile spread across her lips.

"I knew I kept you around for something." was his answer. To anyone else it would have seemed hostile, but she simply rolled her eyes at the remark.

"Any old memories come back?"

"Nah-uh." She lied, keeping the kind blue-eyed boy a secret, they both went to work.

It was idiotic how easily Terra integrated into the Titans. Slade helped her enhance her power, while Grayson was supposed to help her gain refined control but the younger girl wouldn't listen to her. Grayson couldn't do anything about that, she could support Terra and help her but that didn’t mean the teen accepted. She wasn't her mother or even her sister.

"... Not without my twin sister." A boy's voice echoed in her mind, she tried to shake the voice from her head, but it stayed.

Twin? Sister? I have a brother? I have a twin brother?

Unfortunately all these questions swam in her mind for months as Terra infiltrated the Titans.

Everything was going relatively well until Robin decided to stick his nose in. Unfortunately this was when she learned the truth to the infiltration. They were going to use the Titans and extract their powers and life force. It made her sick. Sure she didn't exactly see eye to eye with heroes, but she saw the good they did. Hell she may be called a mercenary, but the jobs she took aligned with her morals. Even if those said morals were just a 'fuck you opposite of the court,' but it stood, it was hers.

This was how she was found by Nightwing.

"Figured you wouldn't be easy to kill. Here." she pushed a robe into his hands. "Your team is held this way" she started to walk but he hadn't moved.

"What are you doing?"

"Look you can trust me or not, but those are just kids. I will not be the one to let them give their lives without consent or reason."

"Sounds like your speaking from experience."

"So what if I am."

Nightwing jumped down and the fight began. She went and unlocked the restraints on the Titans and jumped into the fight. She, Robin, and Nightwing were all fighting against Deathstroke when Terra regained consciousness. Both Robin and Nightwing stopped their onslaught but Phoenix knew how Terra fought, she knew how to work with the girl. Unfortunately she was thrown over towards Nightwing and Robin, a quadruple somersault led into a rollout allowed her to land safely from the throw.

"Terra!" she yelled.

"Stay out of it Grayson, Slade is mine." A desperate yell escaped the girl, as she unleashed her power. One of the Titans tried to help, but Terra moved him towards the others.

"I'm sorry." Grayson whispered, before she pulled the heroes to safety. They got out moments before the entire thing collapsed.

"Who are you?" A katana was pointed at her neck.

"More importantly the somersault and the name, Grayson, how would you know those?" Nightwing questioned.

"The name is a memory from before," she responded. "And the somersault is just in grained in muscle memory by now." She shrugged and turned to leave but was stopped. "Look I don't want to fight and I don't want to stay so..." None of the heroes said a word but circled around her. 'Sigh' "I'm not gonna get out without a fight huh?"

"That would be correct."

"Fine." Her hands went up in a placating motion, before reaching into a pocket.

"Stop that."

"Relax little birdie." she pulled out a small ring of keys, tossing them to Nightwing. "Don't know about you but I prefer to not walk over two hours to get to Jump city."

They all got to the car but as it only fit five and there were seven of them something had to give. Well she was sat in the middle back seat between Raven and Robin, Beast Boy turned into a cat and sat on her lap. Nightwing was behind the wheel, Blue Beetle on the passenger side, while Starfire flew above them all. Between the awkward silence and closed space she was lulled into a restless sleep.

Next

~~~~~~~~~~

Permanent Taglist: @itsmeevie01 @adrestar @miraculouspenta @vixen-uchiha

Taglist: @alysrose-starchild

[heliads]

Radio Silence Chapter Two: Off the Air

Poe Dameron has been assigned to work as an intel receiver to Acer, a Resistance recon agent. They’ve only ever talked through the comms, so when she’s captured by First Order troops he assumes she’s lost forever. When Poe accidentally rescues the absolutely infuriating Resistance spy Y/N L/N from a First Order Star Destroyer, he knows she’s got nothing do with with Acer. Right?

previous / series masterlist / next

Poe doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s been days since the sendoff. The suns rise and fall in different corners of the galaxy, he gets shipped off to different parts of the system in the hopes that doing something will make him feel anything at all. Nothing seems to register with him, nothing except the fact that Acer is gone. What is he supposed to do now?

He is supposed to continue on. He is supposed to swallow the loss and keep moving. He’s a commander of the Black Squadron, he’s closer to General Organa than half the guys on her staff. The issue isn’t finding things to do, it’s trying to put his heart into them. Poe knows his duty, and he knows that whatever mess he’s wallowing through right now isn’t the most efficient or effective use of his time. But it’s not that easy to turn your heart on and off like a droid, is it?

He can still hear her laugh echoing from his speakers. His feet keep unconsciously directing him towards that one recording room in the back, where he should have gone day after day. His eyes latch onto the chronometer on his wall, and he always feels that familiar rush of panic- it’s twenty standard hours, he’s going to be late and Acer’s going to tease him for it- but then he remembers. There’s no channel to open, and Acer can’t say anything to him at all if she’s locked in a dingy cell in some unknown part of the galaxy.

He can’t break the habit of expecting to talk to her. The first day after the connection severed, he was actually standing in the doorway of the receiving room before he realized where he was. He hadn’t remembered because of the nagging knowledge that Acer wouldn’t be there, or even a newly labeled placard on the door designating the room to some other scrawny operator. No, it took the sight of someone else sitting in his chair, using his same navicomputer, for the truth to finally sink back into Poe’s brain.

It hurt, in a way, to see that room reused. Just like that, Acer’s memory was wiped clean. The Resistance had to move fast to survive, he knew that, but the facts still don’t ease the leaden weight on his chest. Just seeing that guy there, listlessly spinning in the same chair Poe had always used, dusting off that spot on the console where Poe kicked his feet up even though he knew he shouldn’t, felt like watching someone walk over your own grave. The guy had looked up, confused, and Poe was forced to murmur some excuse about leaving his blaster parts lying around before leaving the room at last. He still wanders over there from time to time, and still has to force himself away.

He can’t help but wonder where she is, how she’s doing. Acer was tough, he knew that. If anyone could make it out of a First Order cell with nothing but the shirt on her back and enough wiles to command an entire base, it would be her. But hopes can’t take down a squadron of stormtroopers guarding your cell block, and they won’t get you a ship. Like it or not, Poe has to face the truth: Acer won’t be making it out, and mulling over this all the time won’t do her any good.

Poe thought he was doing a good job of keeping his feelings to himself until Finn walks up to him one night. Poe is bent over his X-Wing, methodically fiddling with the latches and panels in the hopes of getting distracted over his favorite ship. He’s always turned to the X-Wing for a diversion from his problems, and especially as of late. Leia’s been kind enough to keep offering him piloting missions, even though he’s sure there’s a list of pilots waiting for parsecs for a shot to fly their ships and take down some TIE fighters. 

Poe just knows that he needs the jump in his stomach when he’s looping around in uncharted space, trying his best to keep his problems on the ground while he soars around in the air. Maybe he takes more risks than he usually does while he’s out flying, but that’s nobody’s business but his own. He’s doing good for the Resistance, and he’s not stuck in his head. Are a few scrapes and close calls really that big a price to pay?

Finn saunters over, taking in the grease on Poe’s hands and the frenetic focus surely lining his eyes. Finn leans his back up against the ship despite Poe’s protests. “I got us a mission. We leave in two days.” Poe raises an eyebrow. “Exciting. Are we patrolling again?” Finn can’t help a proud grin. “No, we’re flying into First Order airspace in an old Mandalorian Needle.” Instantly, Poe’s attention is caught. He drops the multitool in his hands into a bag, turning eagerly to Finn. “You got us a Needle? We’re going where, the Unknown Regions?”

Finn laughs at Poe’s sudden enthusiasm. “Exactly. It’s nothing too big, just a supply dropoff to some potential allies in the Kinoss system, but it’ll be a good show. It’s right near a First Order hotspot, too, so you’ll have to keep your eyes open.” His friend pauses a second, then grins. “Sure you want to take it up? Or are you too busy moping over your radio friend?” Poe glares at him. “If you keep that up I’ll drop you off and run the mission myself.” He can’t stay mad for long, though. “A Needle. Man, I’ve wanted to fly one of those for years.”

Poe still can’t believe it’s real. Sure enough, however, he finds himself sitting in the cockpit of a Mandalorian Needle in two days’ time. Poe has to sit for a second, just staring at the controls and the ship itself. Smooth metal, blue highlights, round engines, sleek shapes and a powerful engine- Poe loves his X-Wing, but he might make an exception for this ship. Finn, next to him, chuckles softly. “Are we going to leave anytime soon or do you just want to look around for a while?”

Poe hits his friend on the shoulder good-naturedly, but he begins liftoff with a grin. The ship itself is a little large for one or two pilots, but they’ve got to carry a fair amount of cargo. Finn readies the controls next to him, glancing over through the transparisteel windscreen. “Don’t get too carried away. This is a quick mission, in and out. No trouble as far as we can help it.”

This, however, turns out to be a grave miscalculation. Sure, the trip to the Kinoss system is easy enough, and they’re able to drop off the supplies without too much risk. Judging by the state of the planet, Poe is fairly sure that they’ll be able to sway the inhabitants to the side of the Resistance without too much effort. It will be good to have the manpower, and to have a potential source of information located inside First Order airspace.

It’s on the return journey, however, that things begin to get a little dicey. First, they’re spotted by a couple of TIE patrols. Just when Poe thinks they’ve managed to lose them, they get caught by another squadron. He has to pull some fancy flying, which gets the ship away from the TIE fighters but a quick hyperspace jump lands him directly in front of a massive Star Destroyer. The Needle itself does not portray any signs of being a Resistance craft, but their sudden appearance still sets off alarms inside the ship, which leads to them being caught by a tractor beam before Poe can steer them away. He has no choice but to sit there in his beautiful yet useless ship, watching the Star Destroyer loom closer and closer above them.

He turns to look at Finn. “A quick mission, in and out. No trouble. What happened to that?” Finn returns his gaze. “Hey, don’t look at me. I’m not the one who managed to end their hyperspace jump directly in front of a Star Destroyer.” Maybe it’s a sign that he really is going insane, but Poe breaks out into a laugh. “I really did, didn’t I? Right in front.” Finn snorts. “You had great timing, I’ll give you that.” 

Poe allows himself a few more seconds of laughter before standing up and starting to move away from the console. “We’re both wanted by the First Order, if they find us they’ll either capture us or shoot us and save themselves the trouble. We’ve got to hide, and seeing as this is a Mandalorian vessel I have a hope that…” Poe’s voice breaks off as he taps around on the plasteel panels lining the walls, and eventually one comes loose in his hands. Poe cheers inwardly. “Here we go- secret panels. We can stay here and pretend we evacuated.”

Finn nods. “Reminds me of the time Rey and I hid from Han Solo. That time, though, we were in the Millennium Falcon and we were in the floor instead of the walls.” Poe turns to stare at his friend. “You were hiding from Han Solo in the Millennium Falcon?” Finn vaguely inclines his head, studying the panels before him. “Him and Chewbacca, yeah.” Poe’s gaze is incredulous. “When did this happen? Where was I?” Finn shrugs. “I thought you were dead. I think you were with the Resistance or something.”

Poe considers the empty hollow in the wall before him, muttering something about why couldn’t he have just stayed in that TIE fighter on Jakku for a minute longer and he could have been in the Falcon with Solo, that would have been everything before crawling into the hidden space and pulling the panel shut behind him. He can hear Finn doing the same, and the two only have to wait for a couple of minutes before the rhythmic thud of stormtrooper boots echoes through the ship. The stormtroopers search for a long time, but the hidden spaces lock from the inside and the troopers can’t pull them open. At long last, they leave the ship, and Poe unlatches the panel, stepping back into the hall.

He carefully replaces the panel, dusting off his clothes before glancing around the corner at the boarding ramp. Two guards stand side by side, each in the pressed gray uniforms of First Order officers. Poe jerks his head towards the men and Finn nods, understanding. Silently, they creep down the ramp, knocking the men out without a sound before dragging the bodies back onto the ship. About a minute later, they stroll casually from the ramp, each dressed in a gray uniform. At least now they have a somewhat passing disguise- Poe doesn’t intend to get caught. 

Finn whispers over to Poe. “The tractor beams will be in a room near here, I think we can get over to them without too much trouble if we hurry.” Poe nods. “Whatever gets us out of here.” The room itself is large and spacious, and a few stormtroopers mill around the corners. They aren’t expecting to see two wanted Resistance men in stolen uniforms, and so Poe and Finn are able to get in and out without too much trouble. They have a close call on the way back where they almost come face to face with Captain Phasma, who would most certainly recognize Finn, but they manage to avoid her just in time by doubling back and taking a loop through some of the detention blocks.

They’re just a couple of halls down from the ship when Finn hesitates, staring at the placard next to a cell. Poe walks over to him, pretending that he’s just inspecting his boot to avoid suspicion. “What are you doing? We’re not supposed to be lingering by the cells.” Finn shakes his head. “I recognize this name. That’s a Resistance spy, and a really good one at that.” Poe squints at the sign. “Y/N L/N? I’ve never heard of them.” Finn straightens up, reaching for a key on the stolen uniform’s belt. “We have to get them out of here.”

Poe freezes. “What?” He hisses in a whisper. Finn glances around to make sure nobody is watching, then speaks hurriedly under his breath. “Y/N is a key Resistance officer, I see her name everywhere. I didn’t realize she was being held here, but if she is we have to get her out.” Poe checks the hallway, but no guards are coming. “Alright. Let’s do it, but hurry.” After a brief moment of activity, Finn manages to unlock the door and both men step inside, closing the door halfway behind them.

Poe’s steps falter as he takes in the contents of the cell. The walls are barren, with nothing in sight except an uncomfortable-looking plasteel bench. There’s a woman lying on the bench, a woman who lies sleeping with one arm curled under her head. She appears to be deeply asleep, and her eyelids flutter with each breath. Poe can’t help but stare- she’s one of the prettiest girls he’s ever seen. Maybe he’s alright with Finn suggesting they save her.

Poe takes a step closer, and that is where he makes his mistake. In a flurry of motion, Y/N rushes from her bench to snatch the blaster from Poe’s belt while he’s distracted, holding it out at his head. Clearly, she wasn’t asleep at all but planning an escape. Finn and Poe hold their hands up defensively. Poe is the first to speak. “We’re not First Order officers, we just stole the uniforms. We’re from the Resistance.” Y/N narrows her eyes at them. “And why should I believe you?” 

Finn walks forward slowly. “We’re with General Organa. We know the code for greeting undercover officers- it’s Nighthawk, right? You can trust us.” Y/N’s gaze clears as she looks at Finn. “Wait, I know you. You’re Finn, right? You’re the renegade stormtrooper. Everyone’s talking about you over here, actually.” Finn smiles, surprised. Poe frowns. “You haven’t heard of me? Poe Dameron, ace pilot?”

Y/N raises an eyebrow, glancing over at Finn. “Does he always insert himself into conversations?” Finn chuckles. “Only sometimes.” Poe shoots him a look, but Finn just grins. Y/N considers them a moment longer, then lowers the blaster and returns it to Poe. “So, do you guys have a ship or are we just making a run for it?” Poe places his blaster back in its holster. “We have a ship, and a damn good one at that. Come one, we’ve got places to be that don’t involve Star Destroyers.”

Poe has no idea how they’re supposed to escort a high level prisoner into a ship, but surprisingly, they almost make it before someone notices them. Such is the power of a uniform and an abundance of confidence, he supposes. They’re just about to board before someone shouts over in surprise. “Hey, that prisoner shouldn’t be leaving.” This draws a lot of unwanted attention, and more than a few rounds of blaster fire. Poe, Finn, and Y/N are forced to run for the ship, Poe and Finn returning fire while Y/N steals a blaster from a downed trooper.

They make it onto the ship by the skin of their teeth, Poe racing to the cockpit to draw up the ramp before they launch hurriedly into space. Luckily, they were able to remove the tractor beam in time, and the Needle is fast enough to outrun the few straggling TIE fighters that still try to fly their way. Poe doesn’t feel his heartbeat start to settle until he begins the jump into hyperspace, and the lights of the stars blend into streaks around them. Only then does he look back at Finn, and at the newly arrived prisoner sitting in a chair behind him.

Y/N is methodically bandaging up a few wounds on her arms, evidently from her time in the cells. She looks up when she feels Poe’s gaze lingering on her. “What? Detention cells aren’t all fun games and fast ships, you know.” Poe forces a sarcastic grin, but for some reason, he can’t quite follow through with his usual retort. There’s something about this girl that feels familiar, although he has no idea why. He doesn’t know her, certainly, has never met her before, yet something tells Poe that he is a lot closer to Y/N L/N than he would ever guess.

radio silence tag list: @kesskirata​, @ubri812​, @itsnottilly​, @20th-centu-fairy-girl​

[discoscoob]

New Earth | Loki x Female Reader

Loki (Marvel) x Doctor Who

Loki is officially a member of the TARDIS family and for his first trip the Doctor sets the TARDIS controls to random and she lands on a planet called New Earth and you know what they say ‘New Earth, new you!’ 

Part One | Part Three | Chapter Index

Words: 7.0k

Warnings: Dub con kissing: reader isn’t control of her own body and Loki isn’t aware

Read on AO3

You quickly learned that the TARDIS was infinitely bigger than you had originally thought. It turned out that the control room was just the tip of the iceberg. It had a swimming pool, a library, an art gallery filled with art the Doctor had collected from across the universe and more wardrobe space than you could ever dream of, full of clothes which the Doctor had granted you unlimited access to, you would definitely be taking advantage of that. It also had the usual like living rooms, dining rooms, kitchens, bathrooms and bedrooms. The Doctor, had confessed that the TARDIS was such a size that there were rooms that even he still had yet to find, despite the fact he had been piloting this ship for over half a millennium.

 You recalled how just before all this begun, you had planned to be curled up in bed within the hour, almost 24 hours had passed since then and you had yet to sleep a wink, you also hadn’t eaten. Once all the adrenaline had finally worn off, you felt as though you could have fallen into a coma. You were grateful for the fact that the first thing the Doctor did when he returned to the TARDIS was show you all to the bedrooms, it was on the way that he had filled you with information about the TARDIS and it’s many rooms.

 Once you reached the quarters where which the bedrooms were, the Doctor stopped and reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and silently handed you, Donna and Loki each a plain plastic bottle filled with goodness knows what and all three of you stared at him speechless waiting for an explanation. 

 “Aren’t you hungry?” The Doctor asked upon realising you were all staring at him cluelessly. “This will sustain you until you wake up, then you can have a proper breakfast.” 

 “What is it?” You asked, closely inspecting the plastic bottle.

 “Blimey! How big are your pockets?” Donna commented, trying to work out how he managed to fit three bottles into his suit jacket.

 “They’re bigger on the inside,” the Doctor shrugged as if it were obvious.

 “Of course they are.” Donna muttered to herself in a ‘duh’ tone.

 “And it’s like a protein shake. Try it, it’s nice!” The Doctor answered you.

 You felt your stomach growl as it demanded nutrients and you were too tired to seek out something else to fill it with so you shrugged and twisted the cap off the bottle and took a quick sip to test how it tasted. You were pleasantly surprised to find it tasted just like a vanilla milkshake and hummed happily as you drank down some more. 

 After that, the Doctor bid the three of you goodnight and left you to pick your own bedrooms, he assured you they were all practically identical and included en suites so there was no concerns over you squabbling for the biggest room, even if the rooms were different sizes you highly doubted that you had the energy to fight over them, you had already picked the bedroom behind the door closest to you after bidding Donna and Loki goodnight. 

 Once your vanilla protein shake was all finished and you had changed into some comfortable nightwear which you had found in the wardrobe, you were ready to crawl into the bed for a well-deserved night sleep. Was it even night? You weren’t sure but you couldn’t find the energy to care as you pulled back the thick white duvet of the double bed but before you could climb in and let your tired body rest there was a knock at your door. 

 You sighed wondering who it was and left your bedside to go and answer it. 

 “Loki?” You couldn’t disguise the surprise in your tone, he was the last person you expected to see when you opened the door. You took in his appearance and noticed there was no longer any traces of ash or blood on his face, his hair was combed back and still damp meaning he had not long been out the shower, the smell of the products he used filled the air around him and you found yourself breathing deeper to take in the fresh woodsy scents along with hints of vanilla. His sweat and dirt covered clothes had been removed and replaced with a loose dark grey hoodie over a white t shirt and dark jeans, seeing the God in such a casual outfit was almost as startling as seeing him stood outside your door. Your eyes fell to his hands which were clasping the bottle of protein shake the Doctor had gave you all earlier.

 “I hope I’m not disturbing you.” Loki spoke, his voice soft, you could hardly believe he was the same man who had trapped you against a wall only seconds after meeting you barely 24 hours earlier.

 “No, not at all. I hadn’t got to bed yet.” You assured him and he nodded.

 “I just wanted to bring you this,” Loki slightly raised up the bottle in his hand, “you probably need it more than I do, I don’t require nourishments as regularly as mortals do.” He explained.

 When you hesitated to accept the drink, due to how stunned you were by the fact he was even concerning himself with thinking about your nutritional needs he continued.

 “I haven’t touched it,” he reassured you, allowing you to inspect the bottle by holding it closer to you. “The cap isn’t even broken.”

 You couldn’t help the way your heart swelled, endeared by the way he fretted over the idea that you may have worried about him tampering with the drink, when actually that hadn’t even crossed your mind you were just shocked by his kind gesture. You had to pull yourself back into the moment to save him from fretting any further and took the bottle from his hand, your fingers slightly brushed against his as you did allowing you to discover how soft his skin was.

 “Thank you, that’s very thoughtful of you.” You smiled sincerely at him and he once again diverted his eyes and clasped his now empty hands behind his back.

 “I’ll let you rest now. Goodnight,” he spoke your name and your sleep deprived mind decided that you liked the way it sounded when uttered in his gentle tone. He had already begun walking away when you replied your own goodnight and you noticed he was heading away from the bedrooms, as you softly shut your door you wondered where he was going.

 ***

 Loki had decided that there was no point in attempting to sleep when he wasn’t tired so instead he chose to head to the control room in search of the Doctor. If he was going to be staying under his roof for a while he thought it would be best to learn a bit about him, since they hadn’t really had the opportunity while in Pompeii. 

 Just as he suspected, he found the Doctor in the control room, his pinstripe suit jacket had been removed, along with his tie and they hung neatly over the railing which surrounded the circular control panel which the Doctor was leant over with his back to Loki. It appeared that the Doctor was unaware of Loki’s presence behind him as he made no effort to acknowledge him. 

 “Doesn’t this thing come with an auto pilot?” Loki casually initiated conversation as he sneaked up beside the Doctor, who looked over his shoulder at Loki when he heard his voice and straightened his back, letting out a soft chuckle.

 “Yeah, it does,” he answered as he distractedly scratched at some stubble along his jawline, while Loki continued to scroll around the console, looking at all the controls, he let his fingers dance over them but he never touched any. “But I like to stay up here and monitor it as much as I can, make sure everything’s in order, look out for any distress calls. That sort of thing.” 

 Loki nodded to demonstrate that he was listening until he stopped three quarters of the way around the console from where the Doctor stood and finally looked back up at him to find the Doctor was already watching him closely.

 “You know you don’t have to treat me like the humans.” Loki stated, as he shoved his hands into his jean pockets, the Doctor mirrored him as he put his hands in his own. “I’m much more like you than them.”

 “Force of habit, I guess.” The Doctor shrugged apologetically. “I’ve been travelling with humans for almost...” he squinted his eyes as he worked out the numbers in his head, “50 years now. This is my first time travelling with a God.”

 “I’m honoured to be your first.” Loki smiled proudly before he continued to silently wander around the control room while the Doctor returned to monitoring the console, every so often he glanced back up at Loki just to check he wasn’t up to no good, each time Loki would look right back at him and offer him an innocent smile. 

 “Forgive me if this sounds imprudent, but how old are you?” Loki asked, if he wanted to get to know the Doctor better he needed to start somewhere and this seem like a good place to start. 

 “I’m 904... I think? I don’t really keep count anymore.” The Doctor explained, as he leaned against the railing and crossed his legs and arms.

 “And how does someone who travels through all of time and space, getting themselves into situations like Pompeii and answers distress call, after distress call, make it to 904 years old? Are you immortal or just tremendously lucky?”

 “Ha, I’m neither of those things.” The Doctor chuckled ruefully to himself as he pushed himself off the railing to stroll around the console as he explained. “Instead of dying my body regenerates itself. All my cells burn up and I grow new ones. I’m still me but I become a complete different person. New face, new body, new personality. The only thing from my previous form which I do get to keep are my memories.”

 “Therefore that would make you a...?” He put his hand out with his palm facing up, offering the Doctor to finish the sentence.

 “Time lord.” 

 The Doctor hadn’t noticed the way Loki’s eyes slightly widened and how the curve of his lip fell into a straight line. A few moments passed and Loki had yet to respond, the Doctor looked up to check that he was even still in the room and found Loki staring at him with a pale, unmoving face. “Loki, are you alright?” 

 Loki remained still and silent and the Doctor straightened his back and drew his eyebrows together as he took a single step forward. “Loki?” This time his tone was cautious, it wasn’t too gentle but it wasn’t too abrupt, it danced on a line between the two.

 Noticing the Doctor come closer encouraged Loki to finally move, he took a step back and tilted his head forward to glare at the Doctor from under his brows, silently warning him to not step any closer. 

 The Doctor understood and increased the distance between them by taking a few steps backwards and raised his arms, with his palms facing towards Loki, to demonstrate that he meant him no harm.

 “I’m not going to hurt you. Just tell me what’s wrong and I can fix it.” The Doctor tried, his voice was assertive yet calm.

 “Time Lords maintained timelines within the universe and were in charge of the laws of time.” Loki recited, as he carefully watched the Doctor.

 “Yeah...” The Doctor slowly confirmed, though his pitch rose at the end of the word making it sound more like a question as his face grew with intriguing while he wondered where Loki was going with this and why he seemed so alarmed by it.

 “But they all died.” Loki continued, it was a statement not a question and the Doctor had to quickly disguise the pain that threatened to show on his face.

 “Yeah,” the Doctors voice slightly wavered and he cleared his throat. “I’m the only one left.” 

 “With the Lords of Time gone there was no one left to continue their work.” The Doctor remained silent and listened, as he wondered where Loki got all this knowledge from. “Until the TVA was founded. They honour and continue the work of the Time Lords. My question is, where does that leave you, Doctor?”

 Now it was the Doctors turn to fall speechless, he had followed everything Loki said up until he mentioned the TVA. There was an organisation who honoured Time Lords and continued their work, maintaining timelines and enforcing the laws of time? The Doctor wondered how he never knew about this, he believed he was the only person in the universe continuing the work of the Time Lords. 

 “The TVA?” The Doctor faintly questioned, his brows tense as he glanced at the ground.

 “The Time Variant Authority.” Loki clarified, closely reading the Doctors reaction to try and find any hint of dishonesty. 

 “Is that who you’re running from?” The Doctor asked Loki, but he remained silent, uncertain of how much he could trust the Time Lord. 

 “I’m not with them. I had no idea they even existed.” The Doctor told him honestly, looking him right in the eye with his palm resting between his two hearts. “Whatever trouble you’re in, I might be able to help. If the TVA honour my species–“

 “No.” Loki quickly rejected the Doctors offer before he could even form a proper plan. 

 “They might listen to me–“ The Doctor tried to persist.

 “No!” Loki repeated louder, “I got away from them, haven’t I? I am already free. It would be foolish to go back and try to reason with them.” 

 “A life on the run is hardly freedom.” The Doctor argued.

 Loki disagreed. Even before the TVA, Loki had never truly known what freedom felt like. Growing up a Prince on Asgard his entire life had been planned out for him, all he had to do was perform the script that had already been written but Loki had no interest in the character which he had been given. All the rules and regulations he had to follow without question made him hungry to take control and live by his own rules but in doing so he fell under the control of Thanos and as a result he was forever confined to one role, one character: the villain. 

 In an effort to escape he merely moved from one cage to another. Then he was captured by the TVA and his figurative restraints turned literal but it felt no different, confirming that he had been right all along about feeling ensnared in the life which had been chosen for him. 

 What the Doctor failed to realise was that, the very first time Loki believed he felt what others described as freedom was when you had put your hand on his shoulder and reassured him he was safe and he realised that you truly had no idea who he was. You held no preconceived notions about him, there was no one you expected him to be. 

 For once Loki had the opportunity to discover who he truly was without the influence of other people’s ideas of him, which he had accepted would never change no matter how much he tried so he gave up trying and became what people saw him as but, you, you saw him as a stranger.

 The prospect of meeting someone who didn’t already know who he was was rare in Loki’s life, it seemed everyone had their own images of who he was, which made it hard for him decipher which parts actually belonged to him and which parts others had attached to him from their own imaginations. 

 Then you offered him the opportunity to stay and Loki felt as though he had finally managed to tear up the script which had been written for him and take the pen in his own hand and for the very first time in his life he had the power to decide who he wanted to be and if that’s what freedom felt like then Loki decided that he was going to cherish it for as long as possible.

 ***

 The sound of bird song and the feeling of sun light warming your face gently pulled you from your sleep. You squinted your eyes as they adjusted to the sunlight and once you could take in your surroundings you paused, forgetting where you were for a moment until the events of yesterday started playing back in your mind. 

 You were in your bedroom on the TARDIS, however you were certain that window hadn’t been there last night. You rose from the bed and walked towards it, the view showed you a clear blue sky and a vast meadow surrounded by healthy green trees while flocks of birds passed by above. It was a beautiful sight to wake up to, however that didn’t lessen your confusion over it. 

 Now freshly showered and changed into some new clothes which you found provided in the wardrobe, you were walking through the corridors of the TARDIS, letting your nose lead the way as it followed the scent of a hearty breakfast being cooked nearby. The two protein shakes had sustained you over night but now you were ready for that proper breakfast the Doctor had promised and from the smells that travelled down the corridors and lured you to the kitchen, it seemed like it wasn’t going to disappoint. 

 Once you turned through the archway which lead to the spacious kitchen which also included a dining area, you were greeted by the sight of Loki and the Doctor quietly bickering, they hadn’t yet noticed your presence so you quietly watched them as you leant against the archway.

 “You burnt the toast again.” The Doctor sighed, taking the toast and throwing it into the bin which you noticed already had a pile of burnt toast slices in it. 

 “I didn’t burn the toast, the toaster burnt the toast.” Loki argued. “I don’t know why you dragged me in here to help you cook for the humans anyway.”

 “Did you have anything better to do?” The Doctor asked as he popped some more bread slices into the toaster.

 “No.” Loki admitted honestly. 

 “Then you can pour the fresh orange juice into the serving jug. Everything’s almost ready, they’ll be here soon.” The Doctor instructed Loki, who sighed but still turned to go to the fridge but he paused halfway when he finally noticed you standing under the archway and he said your name with surprise.

 “Good morning, Loki.” You greeted him kindly as you moved into the kitchen. 

 “Oh,” the Doctor said your name after he heard you greet Loki. “Take a seat, it’s almost done.” 

 You sat yourself down on one of the chairs at the large oak wood dining table and observed Loki and the Doctor in the kitchen.

 You noticed Loki had changed out of the casual clothes he was wearing last night when he knocked on your door to offer you his protein shake. He was now smartly dressed in a dark fitted suit, with an olive green waist coat paired with a crocodile green tie which was secured to his white dress shirt with a gold clip. It was the finest you had seen him dress, he looked out of place as he stood in the kitchen pouring juice into a jug.

 The Doctor was dressed in pretty much the same outfit he wore yesterday, you wondered to yourself if it was the exact same suit or if he just owned multiple pairs.

 “Doctor.” You spoke the Time Lords name to get his attention.

 “Yeah?” He glanced up at you from where he was buttering some toast.

 “This morning I woke up to a window in my room that wasn’t there last night.” You told him, hoping he could offer you some insight.

 “It’s an artificial window,” he explained, “I turn on the feature when I’m travelling with humans, since the TARDIS has no windows some can find it quite claustrophobic but I can turn off the feature if you don’t like it.” 

 “No, no. I like it,” you quickly told him. “It’s nice, thank you.”

 The Doctor gave you a small smile to acknowledge your thanks.

 “No one talk to me. I need coffee.” The unmistakable sound of your auntie drew all three pairs of eyes in the room to Donna as she shuffled into the kitchen, she was dressed in a fluffy white dressing gown and slippers and her red hair was pulled up into a messy bun.

 “Coffee pot is there, help yourself.” The Doctor pointed to the counter where there stood a pot of black coffee.

 “Thanks.” Donna mumbled through a yawn.

 Your attention was drawn to Loki when he placed two full plates, filled with a variety of breakfast foods down onto the table.

 “You look nice today.” You told him and heat rose to your cheeks when Loki’s eyes met yours and his lips curled up at the edges.

 “I’m glad we agree.” Loki stood straight and tugged on his blazer where it hugged him snuggly around his waist. “It took me forever to find something decent in the Doctors closets.”

 The Doctor fetched over the rest of the plates and took a seat on the opposite side of the table to you, Donna sat beside him cradling her mug of coffee and Loki moved around the table to take a seat beside you, the same foresty and vanilla scent filled the air around him. 

 “I could get used to this.” Donna commented as she started scooping food from the buffet in the centre of the table onto her empty plate.

 “Don’t, I just haven’t eaten in a while, thought it was about time.” The Doctor warned her around a mouth full of bacon.

 “What’s the plan for today, Doctor?” You asked as you picked up a hash brown.

 “I was thinking I could set the controls to random and see where it takes us.” The Doctor offered. “A mystery tour! We could end up on any planet, anywhere, anywhen, in the whole, wide universe.” 

 “You mean, we could end up on an alien planet?!” Donna gasped, and it was hard to tell whether she was excited or terrified.

 “Time and space travel, consequently, yeah, I think our chances of landing on an alien planet are relatively high.” Loki sarcastically replied, while he picked at a croissant.

 “Can we leave him behind?” Donna directly asked the Doctor.

 “Hey, play nice you two.” The Doctor ordered them like a fed up father.

 ***

 “Earth?” Donna whined. “All that just to end up back on earth? And it’s pissing it down.” 

 You had all eagerly piled out the TARDIS to see what awaited you on the other side of the double doors, the last thing any of you expected was to end up in a rundown alleyway on earth during a rainstorm.

 “No, no.” The Doctor smiled, the only one out of all four of you who still looked enthusiastic while you, Loki and Donna all glared at him while the rain poured down on you. “This is New Earth!”

 “I don’t care if it’s brand, spanking New Earth, it’s cold and it’s wet and we’re surrounded by rubbish!” Donna complained, as she wrapped her arms around her torso to protect herself from the elements.

 “I think I just saw a rat.” Loki added.

Donna let out a ear piercing screech as she leaped into the air in fright.

 “Come on! Where’s your sense of adventure?” The Doctor tried to hype you all up.

 “Doctor, a cold and wet, rat infested alleyway isn’t exactly what I would call my idea of an adventure.” You told him, and his smile dropped when he looked at all three of you and saw your miserable faces.

 “Fine,” he begrudgingly caved in with a sigh. “Get back in the TARDIS, I’ll take us somewhere else.”

 You all simultaneously breathed a sigh of relief and began following the Doctor back into his ship one after another, with you following behind last but before you could step foot through the doors you felt an arm grab you around your waist and pull you backwards. You felt a sudden falling sensation, as if the arm had dragged you straight off a cliff edge. From what you could see it looked as though you were falling through a kaleidoscope. All this barely lasted two seconds, as all of a sudden you once again felt the solid ground beneath your feet. Your heart was hammering in your chest like a woodpeckers beak against a tree, as you patted down your body just to make sure everything arrived with you since you were pretty certain you had just teleported. 

 With wide eyes you looked around the dimly lit basement which had paint chipping off its walls and was filled with an unsettling  scent of chemicals. In the background you could hear the sound of a party coming through speakers, you discovered it was coming from a projection on one of the walls. The footage showed a beautiful blonde woman dressed in a stunning silver dress which was accessorised with expensive jewellery, all attention was on her as she elegantly glided around the room while handsome men dressed in tuxedos fawned over her.

 “Mistress! I brought you a pure-blood human.” You heard a timid voice, you immediately looked towards the direction it came from to find a small man with patterns on his pale face, hunched over like an elderly person and dressed in white scrubs.

 “Don’t be frightened, my child.” You jumped, startled by a second voice, this one feminine and aristocratic, it sounded almost identical to the one that belonged to the elegant woman in the projected footage. For a moment you didn’t realise where it came from but then you noticed the sheet of skin with a face attached to it. The skin was tethered to a metal frame like a trampoline and you gasped in horror at the sight.

 “Well done, Chip. You have delivered me a truly fine specimen.” The talking piece of skin praised the cowering man, who you assumed was her servant. 

 “Come closer, my child. Let me get a proper look at you.” She tried to tempt you towards her but you weren’t an idiot.

 “I think I’ll just stay right here, thanks.” You refused, going as far to take a few steps backwards.

 “Suit yourself.” The skin smiled to herself before her eyes shifted from you to the projection. “I remember that night, that was the last time anyone told me I was beautiful.” 

 You watched the footage as a man kissed the back of her hand and you heard him call her Cassandra.

 “After that, it all became such hard work.” Cassandra continued. “But I’ve not been idle. Tucked away down here I finally developed a solution to all my problems.” 

“And what’s that?” You were afraid to ask.

 “Chip, activate the psychograft!” Cassandra ordered her humble servant.

 Instantly your arms were immobile as an electric force bound them to a barrier which you hadn’t realised you had stepped into, no matter how hard you tried to pull free, your arms wouldn’t budge.

 “Cassandra, what are you doing?” You gasped mid-sentence as a circle of light surrounded you.

 “Moving on! New life, new body, new me!” Cassandra cheered and a gold essence evaporated from her skin and travelled through the air towards you. 

 Your chest tightened as you realised what was about to happen as the sparkling gold cloud reached you, it sank into your chest through your skin and flesh, once it was all inside you the force restraining you vanished and your limp body collapsed to the floor. Your head smacked against a loose pipe as gravity pulled you into it’s hard embrace.

 ***

 You had been right behind Loki when you were taken, which mean he had heard you yelp in shock when you felt the arm wrapped around your waist which made him turn to see what prompted such a reaction, only to watch you vanish into thin air right before his eyes.

 He called your name, in the tone of a question, into the now empty alleyway which was useless since you were already gone but it caught the attention of Donna.

 “What’s wrong?” She turned to Loki after hearing the confusion in his tone when he spoke your name.

 That’s when the Doctor looked up from the ships console, his own brows furrowed with concern as he looked between Donna and Loki.

 The Doctor realised you were the only one who wasn’t present and asked where you were, though his question was more of a statement to bring attention to your lack of presence.

 “Someone grabbed her and then they vanished.” Loki explained. 

 “What... what do you mean ‘vanished?’” Donna looked at Loki in disbelief, not trusting the mischievous God, she rushed back towards the doors and stepped back out into the rain shouting your name into the alleyway, her voice reverberated off of the walls.

 “It must have been a short range teleport, like a vortex manipulator.” The Doctor concluded. “Nasty and cheap.” He added in a barely coherent mumble. 

 He was already rushing around the console tempering with all sorts of switches in a seemingly random order. “If I can hone in on its signal, maybe I can follow its last route.”

 “Got it!” He announced only a few moments later. 

 “Donna!” The Doctor yelled towards the double doors of the TARDIS.

 “What is it, do you know where they went?” Donna came running back into the TARDIS, freshly wet from the rain.

 “I found the signal which was left behind by the teleportation device they used, I set the TARDIS controls to follow its last route. Hold on.” With that the Doctor pulled down the leaver and everyone knew to hold on tight during this part as tremors shook the whole TARDIS. 

 Loki and the Doctor held onto opposite sides of the console while Donna clung to the railing beside the doors. It didn’t take long for the tremors to subside as a wheezing sound filled the control room signalling that the TARDIS was landing. Once the ship fell silent Donna rushed out the doors without hesitation, ignoring the Doctor as he called her name and ran after her.

 Donna cried your name as soon as she saw you collapsed on the floor, then she noticed the creature with patterns on his face crouched over you.

 “Get away!” Donna yelled at Chip as she rushed to your side, she fell to her knees beside you and harshly pushed the creature away and he fell on his back before he quickly scurried away to cower in a corner as the Doctor came running out the TARDIS, followed by Loki. 

 Donna made room for the Doctor as he knelt beside her and scanned his sonic screwdriver over your body, while Donna stroked your hair, her eyes began filling with tears.

 “She’s okay.” The Doctor reassured Donna as he studied his screwdriver, Donna let out a sob of relief and wrapped your limp hand between both of hers and held it against her heart. 

 “Loki, take her back into the TARDIS. I’m going to take a look around here.” The Doctor instructed, while he glanced around the dull basement. 

 The Doctor moved, allowing Loki to take his place, Donna moved slightly to give him enough room to scoop you into your arms.

 “Be careful.” Donna told him, Loki’s brows pulled together, ready to snap at the woman, he was already helping, when he didn’t have to, she didn’t have to make him sound incompetent while he did so but as he turned to Donna ready to unleash his pent up frustration, he saw her eyes weren’t focused critically on him but they were filled with concern over you as they were trained on you unconscious form and Loki realised that she wasn’t nagging him, she was only worried about you. The tension left his brows and his eyes softened as he gave Donna a small nod and secured his hold on you. 

 Donna held the TARDIS door open and Loki carried you through, once they were both in the control room Loki continued walking towards the corridors which lead deeper into the ship.

 “Where are you going?” Donna fret, expecting him to have put you down on the floor of the control room.

 “I’m taking her to her room, her bed will be more comfortable than the floor.” Loki explained without stopping, he recalled how uncomfortable it was when he awoke on the floor of the control room, despite the fact you tried to offer him some comfort by resting his head in your lap. 

 It had sent an unfamiliar feeling through his chest that you had concerned yourself over his comfort. He could count the amount of people on one hand who would ever willingly rest his head in their lap and those people were Thor and his mother, everyone else either simply wouldn’t care or would be far too afraid of him to ever allow themselves to get that close.

 Since you had concerned yourself with his comfort and he was aware of how uncomfortable the TARDIS floor was, he thought it was only fair that he, too, saw to it that you were comfortable. 

 He was never one for concerning himself over other people’s needs, likely due to the fact he always felt as though no one ever cared about his but as soon as he felt cared about by you, he found himself considering your needs, whether it was intentional or not. 

 When the Doctor had handed the three of you protein shakes he knew immediately that he had no use for it, so he took it back to his room and dumped it on the bed as he went to shower with the intention of leaving it untouched. As he showered, no matter how much he tried to think about anything else, he kept thinking about the way he heard your stomach growl when you were stood next to him in the corridor and how he had something which could diminish your hunger, that he had no use for, so the logical thing to do was to give it to you, since you clearly needed it. 

 Just because it was the logical thing to do didn’t mean Loki was going to do it, at least that’s what he told himself, but as he started to get dressed in some comfortable clothes he found in the wardrobe, his eyes kept glancing over at the discarded bottle on the bed. 

 In the end he concluded that since he was planning to talk to the Doctor, meaning he would inevitably pass by your room on the way, he would knock on your door and leave the bottle on the floor for you to find while he quickly made himself scarce. 

 Of course things didn’t go to plan and he found himself still stood at your door once you opened it.

 Once he made it to your bedroom he gently placed you on your bed, over the top of your duvet, making sure your pillow was under your head and then stepped away to let Donna sit beside you.

 Loki paused halfway between the bed and the door, wondering if he should stay or go, he nervously fidgeted with his fingers. You had stayed with him when he was unconscious but you already had Donna, she was your auntie, you didn’t need him he decided so he turned on his heel and stepped towards the door.

 “You don’t have to go.” Donna offered, when she heard his footsteps, he looked at her from over his shoulder. 

 Loki considered this for a moment before he finally walked over to an armchair in your room and sat on it with his legs spread and his elbows resting on his knees. 

 “Moisturise me.” Donna and Loki sat up when they heard you mumble and you began to come around.

 “Moisturise? Moister... oh water? You want water?” Donna tried to work out what you meant.

 “Moisturise me.” You repeated, still half unconscious.

 “I’ll get you some water, don’t worry. I’ll be right back.” Donna promised you as she stood up and rushed out the room, leaving you alone with Loki.

 When your eyes finally pushed themselves open, they only saw a plain white ceiling which was far too clean to belong to the basement, which is the last place you remember being, so you came to the conclusion that someone had moved you. You wanted to sit up but when you tried to command your body to move, it wouldn’t, you begun to panic wondering if you had become paralysed but then you sat up without even trying, it was like an invisible force moved your body for you. Immediately you felt a pressure build in your skill, like your brain was being compressed. 

 You heard Loki’s voice say your name and the invisible force allowed you to see him as he stood from the armchair. You were in your bedroom, on the TARDIS, relief filled you as you looked at Loki’s familiar face and you wanted to smile and run over to him and tell him what happened but instead your body remained sat on the bed.

 “Yes... that’s who I am.” Cassandra replied to him, using your voice but you could hear yourself, you didn’t sound right you spoke with a upper-class accent that didn’t belong to you.

 “And you’re a tall, handsome stranger.” Cassandra dragged your eyes down Loki’s body with no concern about being subtle and if you were in control of your own body your cheeks would’ve been burning hot by now.

 “I’m not a stranger, you know who I am.” Loki responded with a confused tilt of his head.

 “Tell me again.” Cassandra prompted him, she made your voice low and breathy as she pressed your palms against your mattress and leaned your body towards the man who stood at the edge of your bed while she innocently looked up at him from under your lashes.

 “Loki of Asgard, God of Mischief.” Loki couldn’t resist answering, his own voice growing deeper as he believed his title appealed to you and that’s why you wanted to hear him say it.

 “A God?” Cassandra gasped as she made you move onto all fours and slowly begin crawling to the edge of the bed until you were knelt right before the God.

 “That’s right.” Loki answered breathily, his eyes never leaving you as Cassandra moved your hands to grasp Loki by the lapels of his jacket and pulled him closer, he moved without protest.

 “Does that make you immortal?” Cassandra whispered, your lips almost brushing his from how close your faces were and she continued to peer at him from under your lashes while he looked down at you with hooded eyes which kept glancing towards your lips, Cassandra lifted them into a smirk.

 “It does.” Loki answered, his voice so deep it was practically a growl and Cassandra made you moan as she suddenly forced you to tighten your fists around Loki’s lapels and pull him down until his lips smacked with yours. Cassandra moved your arms from Loki’s lapels to around his shoulders and made your fingers dig into his long, dark hair grasping a strong hold so his head wouldn’t move away from yours. 

 You heard Loki let out a deep moan and his hands grasped your hips and pulled them flush with his own. As Cassandra made you continue kissing him you felt the unbearable pressure in your head begin to disappear.

 You hadn’t noticed that the door to your bedroom had opened until you heard the sound of a glass smash.

 “What the hell?!” Donna cried, immediately Loki let go of your hips and without his strong hold supporting you, you felt your whole body go weak as you collapsed back onto the bed but you noticed as you fell back you moved your own arm to brace your fall. Experimentally you waved your other arm around in front of your face to confirm you were once again in control of your own movements.

 Then reality hit you as you realised what Donna had just walked in on but before you could even begin to try and explain you heard loud footsteps echoing through the corridor as they ran towards your bedroom.

 “Donna!” You could hear the Doctor shouting, before you saw him run through the open door of your bedroom.

 “Cassandra, get out–“ The Doctor yelled towards you his face full of fury but his foot slipped on the water from the glass Donna had dropped and he went flying to the floor.

 “Doctor?!” Donna gasped and rushed to help him up as he groaned in pain from the impact.

 “Donna, that’s not your niece!” The Doctor warned Donna. 

 “What do you mean? Of course, she is.” Donna argued with the Doctor, who was finally back on both feet.

 “She’s been possessed by Cassandra.” The Doctor explained, looking Donna straight in the eye as he held his hands on both her shoulders to convey how serious he was. “She’s the last surviving human and she refuses to die, she’s trying to use your nieces body as a vessel.”

 “I’m me again!” You tried to explain.

 “Get out of her now, Cassandra!” The Doctor ordered.

 “She already has,” you attempted to explain again. “She left me after she made me kiss Loki.”

 All eyes in the room fell on the God who was checking himself out in the floor length mirror beside your wardrobe. When he realised the room had fell silent and felt everyone’s attention on him, he turned and looked at you all with a smirk and then his eyes landed on the Doctor.

 “Hello, Doctor.” Cassandra greeted the Time Lord flirtatiously, through Loki. “Long time no see, and it looks like we both got new faces.” 

[lueurnotes]

Kissing Din

based on this ask

Din Djarin/Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings: blood mention, canon-typical violence, sexual situations, nudity

a/n: been a minute since I posted!! hope everyone is doing well <3

In Hyperspace.

You were sleepily rocking Grogu against your chest in the co-pilot seat. The little one was already fast asleep, a small snore coming from the bundle of cloth. The cabin was dimmed, with the small blinking control lights glittering through your sleepy haze. Hyperspace washed over you in blue-white streaks of light that kept you from falling asleep. Despite the rest that pulled at you, there wasn’t anywhere else in the Maker-forsaken galaxy that you’d rather be. Safe next to your partner with his son fast asleep on your lap. 

It’s been an incredible journey together. Only a few short months yet so much has happened. Fixing up the Crest when you were all stranded on an icy, krykna-infested planet. Patching up Din whenever he returned, staggering into the hull. Giggling with the kid in your lap as he pushed your tools around. The memories you shared with this clan were few but your heart ached like it was forever. 

A rustling sound coming from the pilot’s chair got your attention. Hm?

“Close your eyes,” Din hushed. 

You obliged, more than happy to shut your sleepy eyes. Frequent hyperspace travel never did get easier for you.

The sound of his helmet hitting the metal floor of the cockpit nearly caused them to snap back open. 

“Din what are you—” 

A bare hand traced your face and you tried to fight the shudder that wracked your body. The warmest hands cradled your face upwards, a thumb brushing across your parted lips. The mere thought that Din was bare-faced inches from you... Your mind kicked into hyperdrive.

“Please,” the hushed whisper fell from his mouth, stilted breath ghosting right over your panting lips. The voice you seldom heard unmodulated was steeped with longing. One word spilled into a sentence.

“I want to kiss you.”

Your face broke into the sweetest grin he had ever seen. Really seen. 

“Like you even have to ask,” you shifted your body upwards, heart racing as your lips finally met. 

On Tatooine.

The blaring wind outside rocked the Razor Crest in it’s docked spot. Some dusty backwater place you could absolutely care less about. You spat out some lingering dust into the sink. 

The little one was dropped off at Peli’s, which meant whoever this bounty was they were high-risk for Din. 

Not a lot of people made that list.

Also meant that maybe you shouldn’t be blasting music throughout the ship, but kriff you were bored. It’s been a couple days at this point and you were told to “lay low”. Din didn’t say anything about music though. Plus, the Razor Crest was a well-fortified gal. Sure, a couple of bits flew off here and there and the hyperdrive could use some work, but whatever was in the armory could ward off any sane being in the galaxy.

 The muffled sound of your playlist could be heard through the refresher door, jumping to full clarity as you exited. You broke into a grin, hips swaying as you sang the words loud. I wonder if Tin Can ever sings? You burst out laughing at the thought of the sound of scratchy-modulated humming. The man hardly talks as it is. I’d bet the Maker that he has a worse voice than me. 

“Something funny?” 

Crap.

You yelped, in a certainly dignified manner, you hope, “Mando! Glad to see you back home.”

Home?! Oh my stars, I’m done for.

The slightest tilt of his helmet let you know that he definitely heard you. He continued, “If you’re done using the comms, can you let Karga know we’re on our way?”

“Or we could just, you know, not do that,” a voice strained.

You finally focused on the bounty that Mando dragged back, a young twi’lek man with deep, blue skin. He wore a similarly draped sand-colored cloth you saw the locals wore. Arm wrappings covered to his wrist where there was no dirt under his fingernails. Your eyes wandered to his shoes, a type of thicker sandal with cording to attach… Yep, definitely not from here. 

You smiled back at Mando, “Gotcha, Captain!”

“Wait!” The twi’lek croaked out, “Please, you can’t let him take me!” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes, chancing a look at Mando’s visor as if to say can you believe this dude?

“Fine, I’ll bite.” You leaned on one hip, “Why should my partner and I not take in a bounty that we have been searching for I don’t know … ” you counted your fingers, “six days? Explain.” 

And here come the waterworks. 

He wailed, still on his knees next to Mando as he groveled, “It’s a false bounty! I was framed and I didn’t know what to do but run,” he looked at the carbonite cases, eyes growing larger when he saw their blank gazes frozen wide, “I swear to the Maker you’ve got it wrong!”

You bent down to his level, hushing him as you gently rested your hand on his cheek, “Are you implying that my partner is wrong? That he is being dishonest with me?”

Your wide eyes fell on Mando who stood unmoving. You turned back to the bounty before you could notice his hand clenching into a fist as you touched the other man. 

The twi’lek silently nodded, tears slipping over his hairless face.

“Well you’ll be sure to know that I loathe liars,” you nodded solemnly, “Especially if it’s to my face.”

He opened his mouth to say something, sharply gasping as a blue ring of light exited your blaster. He slumped over, mouth still gaping open.

You looked back up at Din, catching him as he adjusted his pants. Smirking, you stepped over the bounty until you were standing right in front of Din, feeling the heat of his body past the beskar. Extending your arms up, you rested your hands on his pauldrons, hand tracing the Mudhorn signet. Gingerly, you placed your palms up just under Din’s ice-cold helmet, eyes questioning. He gave a simple nod, bringing his gloved hands to wrap around yours. 

“I missed you,” you tilted the beskar upwards just the slightest amount, exposing a sliver of skin that was roughened with stubble. You tiptoed upwards and placed a short peck on him.

“It’s good to be home,” he gruffed out.

Keldabe

The overpowering scent of blood filled your mouth and nostrils. Tears tracked down your face as you let out a groan, spitting to the left of the man you just knocked out. You rolled over to lie back on the gritty pavement of the alleyway, uncaring of the unconscious man next to you. Somewhere down the dim alley, you could hear the distinct clang of metal against metal as Din fought the other bounty. The sound of a single blaster shot followed by a muffled yelp was the end of that. 

Never bring a vibroblade to a blaster fight. 

Your head pounded as you fought the urge to laugh out loud. You were lying next to a man that was set on killing you. You were pretty sure Din just shot the other one in the leg. And on top of that you were probably one wrong head turn from unconsciousness. 

Din’s shadow suddenly looming over you snapped the cord and you burst in giggles. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, immediately bending down to run his hands over any area that got impacted.

“You should have seen the other guy,” you winced as he grazed over your ribs. 

“Looking at him right now,” he deadpanned, “Good work. But I’d prefer if my partner would ask for help if they need it.”

He pulled you up, half resting in his lap as your legs splayed out in front of you. Instantly, you curled towards the cold beskar, seeking the warmth past it. 

“Hey Mando?”

“Yes?” He said lowly. 

“M’head hurts,” you slurred, “Kiss me better.”

You couldn’t see it, but he smiled under his helmet. Even with the absolute shit knocked out of you, you still wanted his attention. Kriffing adorable. 

He obliged, head tilting down so he could rest his helmet against your forehead. His eyes closed underneath, savoring the moment. 

“Ah,” you sighed, “Much better.”

“Are you using me as an ice pack?” 

“Maybe,” you whispered. 

He let out a breathy chuckle before drawing away, “Come on, let’s get back to the ship so we can take a nap.”

A kiss on the thigh

Several months ago when you first started co-piloting for Din, you never would have thought that the Razor Crest could be anything but damn near freezing.

This heat was something else. Panting breaths exhaling hot air. The blazing touch that seared across your thighs as Din hovered over you. Even your skin was starting to dampen in the cramped cot. 

“Cyar’ika,” he groaned, “Look at you.”

You opened your eyes, glancing down at yourself pressed so deliciously against Din. He was right there. Biting your lip, you tried to grind against him, only for Din to pinch at your thighs in warning. He continued his teasing, rubbing tenderly at your heated skin. 

Your back arched under his ministrations. Din was taking his time during the reprieve of a lengthy hyperspace pass, massaging enticingly at your thighs, touching everywhere but where you needed him most. 

Twelve hours. 

You moaned, “Kriff, stop teasing, Din.” You writhed under his hold, your thighs pinned down by just his hands. How does he feel so good without doing anything?

“No, I don’t think I’m going to stop.”

You gasped as he replaced his hands with his mouth, bending down to suck harshly at the inside of your thigh. Din licked at the sensitive spot, satisfied as he looked up at your panting face. 

“You look fucking pretty like this.”

A kiss on the hand 

"Glove,” you commanded, “now.”

Din put a hand on his hip. “You don’t need good luck right now,” He jutted his head toward the distant tree trunk that was today’s target, “Just hit it.”

You rolled your eyes, making sure he saw. Like, really saw. You swore up and down that he lacked actual peripheral vision because it was always you that caught the little one getting into places he absolutely should not be. The armory being one of them. You shuddered, finger flicking the safety on as you remembered that very eventful day.

“Focus,” he intoned, “You’re in your head.”

You cursed to yourself, flicking the safety back off. Raising your arm smoothly, your eyes followed the barrel of your blaster. 

Tree, damn it. Let me hit you.

Your eyes shut for a split second as you squeezed the trigger. A slight burst of energy shifted your hand half an inch. No sound of impact. 

You looked at the tree in dismay. 

The stump was definitely still there, not like it could dodge blaster bolts. Even if it could move, it wouldn’t have to avoid anything. The patch of brush next to it though? Thoroughly burnt. 

“And this is why I train close combat,” you patted at your vibroblade strapped to your thigh. 

“This is why you need practice,” Din moved next to you as you holstered your blaster, “Here.” He held his bare hand out to you, glove clutched in his left. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled. Gingerly, you grasped onto his hand with both of yours, thumbs tracing across his bruised knuckles. Din gave the slightest tilt in acknowledgement. You brought his warm hand right to your face, breaking out into a smile.

“I’m gonna get it for sure this time,” you said before placing a small kiss on his hand, “Now put that glove back on and watch me hit this damn target.”

Din chuckled as he backpedaled a few steps, looking on as you drew your blaster, aiming perfectly at the tree.

Breathe. You got this. It’s a completely immobile target. You thought to yourself. 

You squeezed the trigger and with a loud crack, the stump had a glaring split right down the middle where your bolt hit true. 

“Stars, yes!” You shouted in glee. Deftly turning the safety back on, you holstered the blaster and ran to Din, his arms already opening to wrap around you. 

“Knew you could do it,” he said, pulling you in lightly so the beskar wouldn’t bite into your skin. 

“Does this mean I can try out the rest of your armory?” 

“No.”

[ohnopoe]

Ulyc | Din Djarin

Ship: Din Djarin x Reader Word Count: 5.6k+ hahaha oops Tagging: @23orso​ & @hawkerz12​ Author’s Note: This is for the Mando’a Mandalorian Writing Challenge! My prompt was ‘Ulyc’ meaning careful or carefully. I’m so glad I finally got a fic finished for this fandom because damn do I have a lot that are sitting in my drafts unfinished, wow. Anyway, enjoy a slice of awkward fluff!

It wasn’t just hot, no, it had surpassed hot hours ago. The metal of the cargo hold practically sizzled whenever you accidentally brushed up against it, and you half expected to see steam wafting off the thin fabric you were using as a barrier against the heated steel. No, this was not hot as you had known it, this was sweltering.

Your usual flight wear had long since been abandoned, replaced by old threadbare shorts and a tee that was far from appropriate for anyone’s gaze. Hair stuck to you, that constant layer of sweat refusing to budge no matter how much water you consumed, nor how much you splashed desperately over yourself from the ‘fresher.

It was beginning to affect your mood too, making your responses short and concise, sharper than they might have been otherwise. There was no room left for your usual warmth and patience, it had been burnt away from you as time passed, searing the very nature of your being from you.

Of course you empathised when the child would coo unhappily at you, arms reaching up to you as if a hug would help his discomfort. It must be so much harder when you didn’t understand why the Razor Crest was suddenly akin to Hell’s Inferno.

You had tried to keep him cool, dousing him in water, a constant myriad of cooling focused on him as you suffered silently. But as the hours drew on each call of discomfort only played on your already frayed temper.

You could only hope, pray, beg the maker that this ceaseless torture would somehow end soon, that you would find somewhere safe to make repairs, that the damn hyperspace engine would come back from overheating when the temperature control had claimed it, and would allow you to travel once more at a normal pace.

Logically, you knew you could call up the ladder, could ask if you were nearing your destination, if it looked like this hell would end any time soon, but you thought better of it.

Din had been in just as much hell as you when he had trudged up the ladder, accepting your suggestion that you stay separate throughout the trip so he could remove not just the beskar that weighed him down, but the helmet that clung to his face too. You couldn’t disturb him now.

He had been so wary, so anxious to leave you alone in your suffering. His worry had shown in the small movements you had come to look for, had come to learn in a desperate attempt to understand your companion where usual tactics were lost. It showed in the way he dithered in his movements, shuffling on his feet, reaching out for you just like the child did, barely coming to his senses as his hand was nearing your cheek, ready to wipe away a bead of sweat that had made itself known. It was only when you pushed the canteen filled of cold water into his hand, only when you turned and began to rid yourself of any unnecessary clothing that he finally felt compelled to leave you.

If you sought him out now, if you called up into the cockpit you knew all his anxieties would come back, he would worry for you when he had to focus, and you were determined not to be a distraction. But that didn’t mean you weren’t worried. It had been hours now, hours since the temperature rapidly rocketed up, hours since he had taken that single canteen of water into the solitude of the cockpit. Surely he needed something else to drink, surely he needed a break.

Your thoughts were interrupted, however, when yet another sad coo echoed through the cabin. The child was desperate, wanting attention and comfort even though the touch he craved would only make the suffering all the worse. You had tried to explain it to him, tried to speak in soft words as you showed him slowly that the hugs he sought out would only increase both of your temperatures, would only make the horrid stickiness of sweat glean fruitfully. But he would hear nothing of it as his little arms reached out for you.

A sad smile, sympathetic, perhaps a touch irritated, played on your lips as you gave into his pathetic whimpering. It wouldn’t help in the long run, but you couldn’t let him suffer alone.

The child clung to you gratefully, a small heat-pack you did not need adding to your raised temperature. But he was calming down now, even though you knew damn well that he couldn’t be any more comfortable than you.

You had resorted to soaking fabrics in water from the ‘fresher, using them as cooling packs against the back of your neck, and wrapped around the child’s head, a desperate attempt to keep from overheating too much. But now, with the child tucking in against your chest, seeking out the comfort he knew so well, the cold liquid of his temporary bandana pressed tight against you too, adding the slightest relief against the hot blooded little being.

Perhaps this wasn’t too bad. And at least now he was beginning to settle, those large eyes faltering in an attempt to stay open, exhaustion finally starting to plague him. It had already been a long day, a bounty having caused more trouble than expected on a practically inhospitable planet, the seemingly easy task having stretched out for days, days of no sleep, of high emotions and tension. The last thing any of you had needed was the ship overheating on the way back to Nevarro, in fact it was quite the opposite of the peaceful evening flight you had hoped for.

You almost wished you could find that same peace, that same place of exhaustion the child was reaching quickly in your arms. Wouldn’t it be nice to simply sleep through the heat? To wake up safe and sound and cool? Even Nevarro, with its chaotic weather, lava spilling freely, would be more acceptable than this hellscape.

But the cooling effect of the wet fabric against his head was losing its power, and with the evening out of his breath, you simply knew you had to put him down to sleep. He’d be more comfortable in the long run, curled up in a thin blanket instead of seeping in the heat that radiated off of you.

The little hovering [pram] was completely out of the question, too small and condensed, with the blankets only helping cocoon the heat in. But then, the little hammock he knew so well was hardly any better. It was better aired, yes, but in order to keep him comfortable, and to keep him from potentially falling out, it too was layered in blankets.

When the hell did the Razor Crest get so many damn blankets everywhere?

You weren’t entirely certain what prompted you to do it, it wasn’t that you thought he’d be mad if he found out, if anything he’d be more logical about it than you were currently capable of being, but you still hesitated as you looked at the cot Din used for sleeping. It was harsh and coarse, but it had some give to it, allowing for enough comfort for the little one to remain asleep and able to spread out.

But even as you put the sleeping child down, your brow furrowed in discontent. It wasn’t that the fabric was itchy per se, but it certainly had grown old, any comfort it once held long washed out of it. The slightest give of the canvas below didn’t help either, it held no real support or care, and you were starting to understand how it was Din could sleep so easily in the pilot’s chair, or sitting upright on the ground… or just about anywhere really. Had he ever slept comfortably?

To be fair, your own sleeping arrangements were no better. Having refused to take the small solitude of his sleeping quarters, if you could even call them that, when he had offered, you had bunkered down on the floor, a nest of blankets and clothing that worked somehow as a bed whenever you got the chance to rest. It was easy to pick up, easy to push back into a bag and ignore during the day, and you weren’t even certain whether or not Din actually knew, or for that matter cared, where it was you lay your head at night.

You kept the shutter open, even the thought of how much worse it would have been with it shut in the small enclosed space making you cringe uncomfortably. This way he’d at least have some air, and you’d be able to keep an eye on his little sleeping figure as his entire being shifted with each easy breath he took, falling further into his dreamland.

For something so difficult, he was incredibly cute, especially when his little beady eyes were closed, his mouth pouted open with little snores escaping him. He looked content, almost happy in his sleep, and you could feel the irritation from earlier beginning to ebb away at the peaceful sight.

The sound of static shook you from your revery, causing you to turn suddenly in alarm. Only when the sound of a voice, not quite as distorted as usual, but still grating through your communicator, followed, did you begin to relax.

“I’m coming down,” the words were simple and straight to the point, and if his tone held a touch of nerves, you wouldn’t be the one to bring it up.

You nodded in answer, your mind slow from the heated haze, before you cleared your throat in realisation that he obviously couldn’t see you. A few steps and a rush of material later, and you found the communicator you only used when he was away hunting a bounty under your discarded flight-wear.

“Ok,” you spoke into the small device, moving further into the cargo bay, nearing the ramp to give him as much space as possible. Only when you were  on the other side of the hull did you bring it up to your lips once more, realising he would need more than that, and attempting to reassure the both of you as you added, “my eyes are shut, and covered.”

You dropped the communicator onto a nearby crate as soon as the words were out of your mouth. With your back facing the ladder, your eyes squeezed shut so tightly it was almost painful, and your palms covering them dramatically, to make sure he was aware they were covered, you waited.

Time passed slowly, and logically you knew it was most likely just your thoughts that made it feel that way. You had never been in the same room as the Mandalorian without his helmet, had never even considered it a possibility. Hell, had you assumed too much? What if he was only giving you the warning so that you would be decent? What if he had every intention of putting his helmet back on before coming down to face you, despite the discomfort it would bring.

There was no reason to think he would be comfortable enough around you that he would risk something so important, or trust your words. Sure, you had been travelling with him for some time now, had even fought by his side, if somewhat chaotically as you didn’t really know what you were doing. You trusted him with your life, and you liked to think he trusted you with his, but that didn’t mean he had to trust you with this.

A life is a life, it’s something sacred and precious and unlike anything else. You would protect him and the child, just as he would do the same for you. But at the end of the day, it was the same for any innocent soul, wasn’t it?

His beliefs, however, they were something different. Special and ingrained in his very being. They shone clear for the world to see, secret in their depths, but loud in their importance. Every sight of that helmet was a reminder, every time he would hold back or care for his weapons with more reverence than you had ever seen before, it only reconfirmed just how true that was.

This is the way.

It was repeated often enough that you had no problem accepting it. For him, it was simply a fact. And that included having his helmet on, being sheltered from the world, even the child he called his foundling.

No, expecting him to remove his helmet, even when you assured him you were doing what you could to help protect his creed, was impetuous at best.

The sound of his boots hitting the ground shook you from your fears, loud and distinct, intentional even. He wanted you to hear, wanted you to know he was down now, and the lack of an explanation only further proved your thoughts right. He had to be without the helmet.

You tried to shake the thought from your mind. It might have been overly presumptuous, but it was done now, and you’d just have to deal with any ramifications later, when you were together and no longer practically melting into the metal slates below.

Silence drew on.

Your eyes were closed tightly, and you could feel sweat running down your forehead, threatening to follow your creased up features and sting them through gaps you could not fathom. But you refused to relax, refused to smooth your stressed forehead, to calm the crunched up lines that were practically creating caverns for your sweat to run down. It didn’t matter if the salty wetness stung your eyes, didn’t matter if you were only causing more sweat to form, your eyes were going to remain dramatically closed, even behind your raised palms, even as you had your back turned to him.

He’d be done soon, you reckoned with yourself, mentally following a droplet of sweat as it desperately attempted to cool your sweltering forehead. There was no way he’d stay down here longer than necessary, no way he’d risk further exposure.

But then, why didn’t you hear any movement?

There was no rush of water to drench his cowl, no metallic clinking of the ‘fresher door that refused to move silently no matter how much oil you gave it. There was no sound at all.

Since the moment his boots had met the metal floor, all had been silent.

“Mando?” you called out into the darkness, worry playing on your tone. He had to still be there, you would have heard him leave, would have heard him move. Even in his quietest moments, when he would move so swiftly, so deftly, you had learnt to attune yourself to him. You might not hear his steps, but his cloak would sway and ruffle against itself, his armour would scratch against its straps… Even now, without the armour you were so used to, you were sure you’d hear something.

But the silence reigned on behind you, the Mandalorian stock still, barely hearing the way you turned the nickname into a question of its own.

He was transfixed. Without the interference of his visor he could see you, really see you, and that alone would have been enough to capture his attention. There were no displays of temperature, no shifting images or dulled colours, you were there before him, natural and pure. It would have stolen his breath at any moment, a sight he longed to keep in his mind forever.

But this wasn’t any other moment. Your baggy flight-wear was long gone, the layers you usually kept yourself covered in, protected by, had been discarded the moment he had moved up the ladder. Now he was faced with something new, something he could never have imagined, and something that was making a permanent home in his mind.

Your back was to him, but he could still see so much. Your legs peeking out of those old shorts seemed so much longer, so much more enticing away from their usual confines. Your t-shirt was stuck to your back, showing every dip and curve, giving a view of your body he had never come close to before. Sweat made your skin glean in the low lights of the cabin, enticing and captivating, and his mind was filled with images of your skin just as slick from sweat, but under such different circumstances; under him.

“Din?” his name came out soft, quiet, unsure. It was rare that you used the name aloud, only in moments of true fear or worry, moments you knew only he could hear you, or moments you worried even that weren’t possible.

The sound of his name, so worried, practically pleading, jolted him from his thoughts, and behind you a rush of fabric sounded, the stoic Mandalorian moving this way and that, turning from you as if he was desperately trying to remember why he had come down in the first place.

“I-” his voice was rough and restrained, the single syllable forced out of his dry throat as he looked down to the empty canteen in his hand. He cleared his throat, the sound reverberating through the silence without the filter of his modulator, deep and gravelly. If you hadn’t had your eyes closed before you knew they would have closed of their own volition at the raw sound. “I won’t be long.”

Was he reassuring you, or himself? He didn’t rightly know. But somehow he needed to say it, needed to confirm he would be back in the safety of the cockpit soon, away from the tantalising sight that had stolen his attention, away from the danger of you potentially turning around, of breaking his creed.

Your nod was almost robotic, reluctant in its jolted movement, and you could only hope he saw it because words were failing to form in your mind. So that’s what he sounded like without the modulator playing with his tone. It was oddly warm and comforting, softer than you might have expected; but then that was a reoccurring theme, contradicting with the tough Mandalorian you had expected when you had first boarded the ship.

You were right, you could hear his movements, even when they were softer than you had come to expect. His boots where mandatory, it was just downright dangerous to be on the ship without them, as you well knew, but aside from them, the sounds he made were different. There was no shifting of his cape, no grinding of beskar against itself, no fabric rustling as it gathered against his many layers. Everything seemed muted.

The focus you had put on his helmet, or lack there of, suddenly seemed so much smaller as you came to the startling realisation. He was probably no more dressed than you were, attempting to alleviate the heat and rid himself of his usual attire that would have had him sweltering.

With the sound of his canteen filling, water sloshing against the sides, your own throat felt suddenly dry. What did he look like? What was he wearing? He was always so covered, so protected, but now, in the sweltering heat, he was more bare than you had ever witnessed, and in a way, you still were no witness to it.

Would his skin be on display? Would his fingers be freed of the gloves he usually wore, the smallest, most tantalising and distracting display of skin free for the world to see if only they should look?

It was such a small area to focus on, especially when you knew his face, of all things, was uncovered too, but somehow there was a mystery there, brought to life over months of curiosity. You had seen the way the arm of his shirt would shift against his gloves, never quite showing any skin no matter what he did, and it was hypnotising. Somehow it had grown to something more than curiosity.

You could wonder all day over what his face might look like, what colour his hair might be, or the depth of his gaze. But his wrists held possibility. You knew you would never know the beauty of his face, never hold the image of him in your gaze, but the same was not necessarily true of other parts of him.

Perhaps one day you would know the tone of his skin, whether his fingers were soft from the protection of gloves, or calloused from the never ending work he pursued. Perhaps you would feel his hand against your own.

It was a small dream, but one you could not seem to shake as time went past, and the curiosity of the man hidden by beskar only grew.

You didn’t know how long you stood there, wondering over what he might look like, over what he might feel like to touch now that he had removed so many layers of cloth, but the thoughts distracted you from his movements and the sounds he made. They distracted you from how quiet the hull had become as he once more lost himself to the silence.

The touch was feather light, dancing against your bared shoulder so carefully that you weren’t entirely convinced it was real. But still, it jolted you from your thoughts, bringing you back to reality with a sudden jump. He was still there, those relaxing sounds of him teetering about the hull gone, replaced by that same silence that had dawned when he first descended.

It had been light, gentle, eerily careful, and you couldn’t quite place what had happened. It felt too soft, too giving to be his hand or glove, almost plush against your skin. So quick to touch you, and so quick to leave, but it had your head spinning. It almost felt like a-

“I’m sorry,” the words danced against your skin, warm breath caressing where he had touched. You could feel the movement of his lips with the gentle statement, only confirming your hopes.

He was there, his lips had met your shoulder ever so lightly in the gentlest of kisses, and he was apologising?

Your silence hung heavy in the air, only making the heat all the more unbearable as tension steeped into it, but your mind was foggy and words were hard to grasp. How could he be sorry? It wasn’t his fault the cooling fans had ceased to work when you reentered space, no more was it his fault when the hyperdrive followed its path to destruction. He couldn’t have expected it any more than you could, and, in all honesty, if it lead you to this moment, to hear his voice unfiltered, to feel his lips caress your skin, it was more than worth it.

But that intoxicating warmth from his body behind yours, the heat that should have been uncomfortable was dissipating and suddenly a barrage of thoughts came crashing down in your mind. What if he wasn’t apologising about the heat, what if he wasn’t apologising for the torturously slow manner you were creeping towards Nevarro. What if he was apologising for ever so much as thinking of pressing his lips against your heated skin.

Your mouth hung open awkwardly, not able to grasp just what he was apologising for, and leaving too much silence as a lack of response. You could hear him now, gathering the now full canteen, readying to depart once more up the ladder and back to the solitary confinement and safety of the cockpit.

“Wait!” the word escaped you, sharp and far louder than you intended, startling the Mandalorian who was lost in his own thoughts.

The decision was made without conscious thought, in fact, you were as surprised as he to find yourself moving carefully towards him. Your eyes were still closed so tightly it was almost painful, and you could only hope you were going in the right direction as you gingerly took a step forwards.

His movements had stopped, and you took that as a sign that it was alright to continue as you quickly stepped forwards once, twice- your knee hit the corner of a crate. The pain was sharp, aggressive, and every instinct in you wanted to open your eyes, if only to glare at the offending item that had hindered your movement.

But a gentle hand was on your wrist, almost timid in the way he held you now, a silent reminder that he was there. It was enough to pull you from your thoughts, to keep your eyes closed tightly, despite the jeopardy it put you in around the sharp edged crates.

“Ulyc,” the word shouldn’t have sounded as beautiful as it did. It was ugly, coarse and harsh, but his tone was so warm and gentle, as if it had slipped out from him without a seconds thought as he began guiding you around the crate. “Careful,” this time the word was clear, for you, not him. It was subtle and soft, and somehow it matched that odd word perfectly, with just as much care and intent.

But you couldn’t put too much focus on what he had said, not when your senses were currently feeling so very overwhelmed. The heat had already done a number on you hours ago, but now there was so much more to distract you.

The sound of his voice, closer and clearer than it had ever been before almost brought a smile to your lips, and you desperately tried to etch the sound into your memory, to never let the softness of his tone leave you. But it wasn’t the sound of his voice that captured your attention this time, no, it was touch.

His touch.

His hand was still grasped around your wrist, allowing you to hold his wrist in return as he lead you around the sharp corner of the box, and you could feel him. Skin against skin, no gloves holding him back. You could feel the light callouses of his fingertips as they held you, sure but gentle, a guide without force. Warmth, subtler than that of the ship itself, radiating from his touch.

You almost stumbled again as his movements came to a stop before your own, and was that a laugh?

At any other time you might have pouted, crossing your arms before you in mock offence at his finding your stumbling so damned amusing. But his laughter was so rare a treat as it was, and now, without the shield of his helmet between you, without the raspy modulator shifting the tone, you could hear it, soft and sweet, akin to a hum, and you were smiling shyly before him.

“Are you alright?” the question was barely above a whisper, carefully controlled, but still lingering in the air with unwavering care. Oh, how that damned helmet stripped him of such emotion in his voice, how dare it deprive the world of such a gentle tone?

You nodded in reply, suddenly glad for the fact your cheeks were already heated from the overall temperature, and therefore could not give away the additional emotions you felt as his honeyed voice dripped over you.

With one hand still in his, and the other draped over your face in an attempt to cover both your eyes at once, you found yourself at something of a loss. Something would have to give, and while you desperately didn’t want to loss the feeling of his hand against yours, you knew that your other hand’s position was simply too important to adjust.

A slight frown on your features had his heart racing in fear, worried you were now coming to your senses, ready to give him the berating he deserved. His own lips mimicked yours unintentionally, slipping into a frown as his fears began to grow. But he refused to take his eyes off you, refused to lose the sight of you there before him, pure and free.

Your hand began to move against his wrist, and he was ready to drop it, refusing to acknowledge the disappointment already dwelling within him at the slight shift. But your hand did not fall from his, did not even leave his skin. Instead, it traced lightly against his arm, feather light, as light as his own touch had been, as you found your way to his shoulder.

The frown was lifting from both your features, a small smile playing on your lips, curiosity playing on his own as he watched in wonderment, trying to figure out what exactly you were doing. Broad shoulders, strong and stiff under your touch, the feel of his t-shirt gathering and falling under your touch, and then skin once more as you reached his neck.

You could feel his gulp against your hand, the same nerves that had his shoulders so tense now clenching his jaw as you took your time simply feeling him. If you had continued upwards, you might have felt the way his brow had furrowed in confusion and anticipation, might have felt the way his lips had opened in silent question.

But as your hand found his jaw, he found himself nestling into the touch without thought or intent. It felt natural, calming, and suddenly he could understand why it was the child was always craving your touch. If he had craved the feeling of your hand against his beforehand, it was nothing to how he felt now that he had experienced it. It was intoxicating, even in the stifling heat. Addictive and condemning all at once, and he couldn’t seem to control the way his cheek pressed into your hand, especially when he watched the smile on your lips only grow at the action.

You were leaning forwards, following the guidance of your hand, finding him in your temporary blindness through blissful touch, and it was magnificent.

Fears that he would push you away, that he would regret his actions too deeply for you to ever reassure him slowly crept away as he leant into your palm, as his hand that had held yours began to trace its way along your forearm, only to stop uncertainly at your shoulder. He didn’t push you away, didn’t pull you towards him either, he merely held on; letting you control whatever was happening here, and embracing it.

His breath was against your skin, warm and lilting, and before you knew it, it stopped altogether.

Closer than you had ever been before, you paused, careful not to knock into him with your arm still pulled over your eyes, giving him every chance to pull away.

“Don’t you dare apologise,” your words were rushed, but determined, leaving no room for argument. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was an order, a clear statement that you simply were not accepting such a thing from the man you had come to care so deeply for.

But even with the determination of your words, you still hesitated to move, worried that it was you who were overstepping now.

What if it had simply been an action of no thought? What if he hadn’t apologised for the thought of upsetting you, but rather for ever kissing your bared shoulder in the first place? It was so damn hot, it was hard for you to think straight, what if the same was so for him, and his actions were born not of desire, but a simple lack of thought?

His hand shifted from your shoulder, thumb running over it once in an almost soothing manner, light and careful as were each of his movements in the odd sweltering abyss you found yourselves in. He lifted his touch from you, and you couldn’t help but gulp back the fears the shift brought. But before you could begin to overanalyse, to fear you had overstepped, his hand was back, finding a spot against your waist that felt too perfect. It was warm, his hand only further adding to how your top stuck to the curve of your waist, but you never wanted it to leave. It felt natural there, comforting, reassuring, and simply right.

His thumb moved uncertainly against you, an attempt at reassurance from a man who simply didn’t know how to be reassuring. It was awkward and jilted, but it was genuine, and the attempt had you smiling shyly.

The arm that covered your eyes shifted, your hand moving to cover them instead, to allow more space, and before you had even finished the movement, he was there, taking up the space with those lightning fast reflexes you had come to adore.

His lips found yours fast, so fast that it pulled the breath from you in a rush. It wasn’t sweet and chaste, nor lusty and skilled. There was nothing perfect or refined about it at all, in fact. But his lips were on yours, pulling a searing and fervent kiss from you, eager and awkward, unpracticed and desperate.

You couldn’t help but smile against his lips as you shifted slightly, allowing yourself to find a more comfortable position against him all while kissing back just as eagerly.

It was nothing like you had dreamed, neither romantic nor suave, but it was flooded with raw emotion, with relief and care and an absolute thrill of excitement, and you found yourself losing yourself to the sensation as he relaxed against you.

It wasn’t until you were truly desperate for air that you pulled apart, a goofy grin on your lips that was reflected on his own, unbeknownst to you.

“No apologies,” he agreed with a soft grin of his own as he took in your features leisurely. His forehead came down to press against yours tenderly, his eyes refusing to leave your features for even a second as he seared the blissfully happy sight of you into his memory.

And somehow, even with the heat of his body against yours, with his forehead drenched in sweat that had trapped your hand between you, the heat simply wasn’t as unbearable as it had once seemed, in fact, it barely registered at all.

[yoditorian]

lacuna- part 8

din/reader

SURPRISE DROP!!!!! there’s only one more part left after this can you bELIEVE???? i’ll leave the emotional spiel until then and for now i’ll just apologise for the pain you’re about to go through in such a short amount of time💛

series masterlist // main masterlist

word count: 2.3k

warnings: angst angst angst, some swears, no seriously this is just pain they don’t even bang, a confession

“Have you ever removed your helmet?”

“No.”

“Has it ever been removed by others?”

“Never.”

He’s lying.

Din has always been so careful with his words. Lying makes his voice tremble, it always has done. So he is careful, he never says more than he needs to, thinks on the phrasing of the promises he makes. He has only outright lied once in his adult life, to you. To protect you. Maybe that’s what keeps him steady now. Even with a blade at his throat and half the covert watching on. He does not falter.

You’d think they would make engine parts easier to clean. 

You’re perched on a crate in the hangar at your old work station, legs crossed beneath you, as you scrub away at the dull metal of the second-hand hyperdrive motivator that some vendor in a backwater scrapyard had, frankly, swindled you for. The stupid thing isn’t worth the credits you’d paid for it, but it’s still a hell of a lot more useful than the one that sits completely dead in the transport’s engine. But this was your decision, and you have to live with it.

What’s the alternative? Spend the rest of your life working your way around the galaxy, flying for whoever’s paying? Settling down in the little house on the edge of the Damerons’ farm? Going back to the New Republic? None of your options sound appealing enough to move on. You know this place, you know how it works. That’s enough.

“Wasn’t just me who stuck around either,” Ran’s voice pulls you from a particularly stubborn lump of grease, “You remember this one?”

Your heart leaps into your throat, when he’d told you he was expecting company you’d assumed it was another one of his contacts. A black market buyer or seller, they usually are. Not him. You were expecting anybody but Din.

His armour shines under the lights, sparks reflecting off the unpainted beskar. It’s beautiful. But your stomach lurches at how new it is, that his old armour had somehow gotten damaged enough that he needed an entirely new set. Except one of his thigh plates, dented to hell and back but still usable. There’s something of the man you know, the man you thought you knew, under all that.

The way Ran talks about you like you’re not even there is enough to calm you. He has no idea about your history with Din. Good, one less thing he can hold over your head. It’s far from the most dangerous situation you’ve ever been in, but you’re not about to let your guard down. Not with the team you know is heading out alongside him. Although nobody’s told you where they’re heading off to, which alone is enough to confirm that you wouldn’t approve of whatever it is. 

You’re grateful you’d tucked your old blanket into a drawer in your workstation, the hangar gets cold. Especially when the Crest returns and brings the chill of hyperspace with it. The knit of it loose with age now, but it’s the last of your life before. The last remnant of a time when you thought you knew who you were. 

You don’t expect Qin to be the prisoner they’d gone to break out. Although, now that you look back, who else could it have been? Who else did enough people on the station give enough of a shit about to warrant sending a team after? The old team, specifically.

Nobody follows him out. 

You’re moving towards the ship before you’re even really aware of yourself. Qin looks surprised to see you, but you bypass a greeting to glance into the Crest’s hull. Empty. Did no one make it out? Did Din-

He’s there, suddenly, walking down the ramp and catching the pouch of credits that Ran tosses him. You try to cover your sigh of relief with a cough, but you’re not sure how successful you are. 

“Something the droid said, about the hyperdrive. Could you come take a look?” Din turns to face you, and for a second it’s like neither of you left the station. You’re rocketed right back to before everything as you nod and pull the blanket tighter around your shoulders. You don’t quite catch what Qin says when you disappear into the hull and unlatch the access panel, you’re not sure you really want to know, but you don’t miss the hatch closing up behind you.

“Mando?”

If Din hears you, he ignores your question, and the rumble of the engines lifting off almost takes you off your feet. You hurry to latch the access panel back up and wait until the ship steadies to shoot up the ladder and confront him. 

Stars. Stars and three X-Wings dropping out of lightspeed right ahead of you.

Oh.

“Tracking beacon. They wouldn’t have let me leave alive.” So he did hear you. 

He’s saved you. He risked precious seconds, ones he didn’t really have, just to make sure he got you out before the fighters got there. Something twinges in your chest when you think about your A-Wing sitting in the corner of the hangar, abandoned without a second thought and now blown to pieces. Suddenly your blanket feels a lot heavier around your shoulders. 

You go to sink into a passenger seat, before you notice a pair of big brown eyes staring up at you. A child, not like any species you’ve seen before, but a child nonetheless.

“Who’s this?” You hate the way your voice comes out all squeaky, like you’re afraid of the answer. You are, there’s no doubt about that. But you don’t need either of them to know that.

“He’s a friend.” 

There’s more to it than that, obviously, but you’re satisfied. One of your best friends is a six year old after all. 

The child chirps as you take the other passenger seat, holding out a little metal ball in his three fingers. He waves it around, desperate to show it to you. It’s the knob from the landing gear shift. You’d know it anywhere, you were the one to screw it in the first time. Now that you glance out at the console, there’s not anything that’s changed about it at all. Even your A-Wing, in all it’s years of service, had had bits and pieces pulled out and replaced, and that had been brand new when you got it. So why hasn’t the Razor Crest?

“What were you doing back there?” He asks, and you’ve half a mind to tell him it’s none of his business. But you’re tired, and he’s using that soft tone that you only ever hear in the dark. You’re powerless against it.

“I went back after the war. It’s good money,” You frown, “It was, anyway.”

“You’ve been there since then?”

“Everybody belongs somewhere, Mando.” You don’t spit the nickname the way you might have wanted to in the past, but he recoils like you do.

But you don’t belong there, you never did. No, you belong in that little room at the inn in Mos Espa. You belong in the sky in a starfighter. You belong in some busy Yavin marketplace chatting with your friend, with the kid on your hip and Din by your side. You belong wherever you want to, he knows that’s not Ran’s station. And Din? He belongs with you. But it’s too late now.

He punches in the nav code for Yavin IV without even needing to ask where you want to go. It stabs the knife a little deeper, the way he knows you so well. The way he always has. 

The child scrambles off of his seat and toddles over to yours, determined to pull himself up onto your lap by your bootlaces. Din doesn’t tell you not to let him up, so you haul the little green thing up and settle him on your thighs.

“Hi.” You introduce yourself, although it feels a little silly. You’re not sure how much he understands but he chirps in place of a reply before he gets distracted by the blanket around your shoulders. His little claws disappear into the wool and he drops his ball, utterly fascinated. You catch the discarded ball with your foot before it can roll too far and snap it up with your free hand. Din’s relieved you’re preoccupied with the little one, at least you don’t notice him staring. 

“Is there a-?” The child snores softly in your lap, buried in the blanket he’d pulled off of you and wrapped himself in. You don’t mind. It should be used to comfort a kid again, the same way it’s provided for you all these years. Letting this baby borrow it is the least you can do for him. The kid has a history, if the way he twitches in his sleep is any indication, and you’re not about to deny him something he might never have had. 

“In the hull, I’ll take him. You take the wheel?” Din easily, naturally, takes the child from you as you slide into the pilot’s seat. You don’t expect the easy domesticity to hurt quite so much. It feels like the galaxy is taunting you, forcing you to live a moment of a life you always knew you’d never get to have. You let yourself heave a shaky sigh when you hear Din’s feet hit the floor of the hull. 

It’s been a long, long time since you sat in control of the Razor Crest, but it’s just as familiar as the day you told him to take it. You flick the autopilot switch off. Any idiot can fly in hyperspace, all you need to do is keep the ship straight, but you need to feel the controls under your hands. Anything to distract from the gaping hole in your chest.

Din doesn’t ask to swap back when he returns. He only settles in your abandoned seat, and you can feel his eyes heavy on your back. If he has anything to say, he keeps it to himself.

You hope he doesn’t notice how the house is exactly the same as when he was last here, when you were last here. There’s a fine layer of dust that’s settled over the furniture but two sets of footprints, one about your size and another smaller set, lead to the fridge. Several new drawings have been stuck up among the others. You might cry if you were in different company. 

“Will he be alright?” You ask. Din had elected to leave the baby sleeping on the ship, as you’d touched down in a disused field across the track. He nods, trailing a gloved finger through the dust on the table. 

“Will you?”

He’s not expecting that. But maybe he should have. You’ve never not been worried about him, not since the first time you let him touch you, but it takes him out at the knees every time. Even when he’s pushed you away, even when you’ve been suffering yourself, you have always opened your arms to him. He doesn’t deserve it. 

“You could,” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you know you’ll regret it if he leaves before you ask, “Stay.”

Din reels back. He can’t. You know he can’t, but you asked anyway. It’s enough to make his blood boil. He’s not angry with you, he never is, it’s his fault he can’t say yes. That’s all he wants. To stay.

“There’s schools, and other kids. You’d both have protection here. You’d be safe.”

The sun starts to disappear behind Yavin, plunging the kitchen into a red glow the way it did last time, but there’s none of the peace it brought before. It glints off his armour as the hope in your eyes starts to die. 

“I love you.”

How can the words he’s always wanted to hear make him so angry?

“Please! Every time I think I’m over you, you come back and turn everything upside down again. Please just give me something.” You can’t hold back anymore. You can’t stand here and pour your heart and soul out to a man who says nothing.

“You already have far too much of me!” He’s never raised his voice at you before, that alone stuns you speechless. So you just stare, chest heaving, waiting for anything to break the tension. And Din does another thing he never has with you, he fills the silence. 

“You have my name. You have my creed. I have nothing left to give you.” 

He leaves without another word, for the last time, and you can’t help but heave a choking sob before he’s even shut the door. His absence is everywhere.

He hurts.

Hurts like nothing’s ever hurt before in his life. Walking away from you, disappearing out of the door and knowing it’s the last time. You won’t let him back in after this. 

He can’t get back to the Crest fast enough.

Din practically falls through the side entrance of the hull, ripping his armour off before the door’s even fully closed. His guts twist and his lungs burn and he wrenches his helmet off, sends it scattering into a corner. He’ll find it later. Right now he needs to find the hole he knows is burned into his flight suit. A blaster bolt, a stab wound- something. But he only finds old scars and skin where your touch still lingers. 

No smoking hole in his side. No blood or wound. Just the absence of something important in his chest. An unfilled space. A gap between his ribs, something missing. He knows what it is.

His veins are somehow filled with fire and empty at the same time, knowing that would be the last time. The last time he gets to see you. And even though the hatred was so clear on your face, even though you were merciless in the words you hurled at him, he still thought you were beautiful. He’ll always think you’re beautiful, no matter how angry you are. 

Because he loves you. And now it’s too fucking late.

-

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[keeper0fthestars]

Fear and Trust

francisco (frankie) morales x fem reader

2K words

warnings: two idiots in love, language, fluff, so much fluff, cheesy intimate moments, Frankie is husband material

summary: There is only one thing in this world that scares you and that thing is heights

a/n:  based on this trope 

I am so blown away by everyone who reblogs my erratic little scribblings and sends me comments, you fuel me more than you will ever know.  And as always i would love to know what you think. 

~~

In search of your shoes, you walk down the hall in your bare feet, hands occupied with the zipper of your sundress. Rounding the corner into the living room, you find Frankie on the couch tidying the mess books and papers on the coffee table. Focused the space in front of him, he pulls a pair of sandals from under the coffee table, letting them dangle on two fingers. 

“Looking for thes-,” 

And that’s when he sees you. 

He doesn't drop the shoes in your outstretched hand as you expect; instead, they fall onto the couch and he takes your hand, pulling you up to him, knees knocking with his. His gaze is glued to your dress, the way it matches your eyes and fits you in all the right places and flares just above your knees, leaving just enough bare skin for his eyes to latch onto. He doesn't even need to say anything, your skin is already tingling under the weight of his eyes and you forget why you walked into the living room in the first place. His eyes finally drag back up to yours, his throat bobs and- 

“Tell me something, babe,”  leaning back on the couch soaking up the sight of you. "How the fuck am I supposed to wanna go anywhere with you dressed like this?"

You let him tug you down on top of him, content knowing that the effect you have on him is equally disarming, “Hey, this was your idea, remember?” 

Sinking into the worn leather of the couch, you brace yourself on his shoulders, knees hugging him on either side, your dress bunching over your thighs.  His hands settle on your hips, guiding you down, blowing a hot breath out of his mouth when he catches a glimpse of the dark lace between your legs. He looks weak and starved all at once, running his hands up your thighs, curving around your ass, giving you an appreciative squeeze.

“Mmhm...” he hums, hooking an index finger under the one strap, sliding it off your shoulder, he sits up, his mouth focused on the skin of your neck, leaving a trail of goosebumps on your bare skin. “I've got more ideas and all of them include this dress on the floor right now.”

“How am I supposed to resist that?” Sinking your fingers into his hair, you guide his mouth to yours.

His hands slide underneath your dress. “I hope you can’t.”

///

It’s taken all damn day and three caramel apples but he’s finally got you standing in line with him, sharing popcorn and more junk food, and every few minutes when the line advances, his hand finds the small of your back, tracing soothing circles, and you think maybe it’s the way he’s just licked cotton candy off your thumb, or maybe it’s the fact that he could not seem to keep his hands off you all day, but whatever he’s doing is working because the nervous flutter in your chest isn’t so bad anymore. 

From across the pier, it didn’t seem that big, but now that you’re standing directly under it, this is by far the worst ride in the entire park and you blame the sugar high for letting him talk you into this. He senses your jitters again and he tucks you into his side, pressing his lips softly to your temple. Your free hand slides into his back pocket and the brim of his ball cap skims the top of your head, he is warm and solid and more of your tension bleeds away. The next empty bucket that jerks to a halt is for you.

“You owe me for this, Morales.”

“I promise it’ll be worth it.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn’t answer; he just laces his fingers with yours, that dimple in his cheek melting the rest of your resolve and fuck, it’s kinda hard to deny him anything when he smiles like that. He leads the way up the ramp and into the open metal carriage with the narrow bench big enough for two. 

Everything from your elbows down is hidden from sight inside the swaying bucket.  The sturdy bar positioned across your lap looks like it was painted blue at some point but had long since been overtaken by rust. You resist the urge to look up.

The ride operator steps up, reaches inside and jostles the restraint over your lap, testing its latch before shutting the half-door with a clink. Without warning your bucket is yanked backwards a few feet and your stomach lurches, knuckles turning white on the rusted bar. The bucket then jolts to a stop to let the next people in line a chance to get on. 

Yep. Worst idea ever. 

“Oh god,” Taking a shuddering breath, you would give anything to be as relaxed as he looks, knees splaying, back slouched, “I cannot believe you talked me into this.”

He pulls you into the circle of his arms, his calming, “Breathe, baby, I’ve got you,” is the only thing that makes the next few jolts bearable as you climb higher. He reaches across your lap and gently tugs your knees together pulling them snug to his side. 

Turning your face into his shoulder, you wait for him to tell you this is nonsense and that you have nothing to worry about. 

But he won’t because that’s the thing about fears. They’re irrational like that. 

“Hey,” he coaxes into your ear, “you’re okay, I’m not letting go of you.” 

Forcing yourself to breathe, you relax your grip on the bar in front of you just as another jerk propels you backwards again, then another, and another and now you’re halfway up the back of the massive wheel. Squeezing your eyes shut, your heart is beating inside your throat now and you’re fairly certain your stomach is lying somewhere on the ground below. Frankie has to pry your hand off his thigh.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Watching me lose my shit over the damn Ferris Wheel.” 

“But you’re doing it,” with his nose, he nudges your face up, pressing his lips to yours, “even though you’re afraid.”

The truth was, you wouldn’t be doing it if he weren’t with you. And he knew that. 

When he’d learned there was only one thing you were scared of, he found it hard to believe at first and also adorable as hell, but he never bugged you about it; he knew what it was like to be teased about something you can’t control. The irony is not lost on you that your boyfriend happens to be a pilot. The only thing he'd said at the time was, only idiots are not afraid of anything.

Jerking to a halt again, you’re above the trees and now it’s the unobstructed view that captures your attention and steals your breath. It's spectacular, all glowing neon and twinkling lights. The sun is sinking, turning the sky into breathtaking orange and pink, matching the sprawling scene below.

“Oh," you breathe, "this is gorgeous.” 

"Yeah," he lets go of your shoulder to drag his thumb down your neck, placing his mouth just below your ear. “It is.”

Your shiver is accompanied by a familiar surge of warmth under the softness of his voice because he's not talking about the sunset.

Deep down, Frankie knows there would never come a day that his heart would not trip over itself and spill butterflies into his stomach whenever you’d enter a room. 

There used to be a time he'd thought he’d never be enough, but you’d put those deep-seated fears of his to rest a long time ago. You’d been the unshakable and constant stability in his life that left no room for any doubt. Not that he’d had any qualms or cold feet about spending the rest of his life with you; it was quite the opposite.  The purple velvet box at the bottom of his pocket induced enough butterflies to fill his truck bed if that was any indication of how strongly he felt about you. The rush he'd felt in his insides during his very first simulation at the academy was nothing compared to the glow he felt today and he had to keep hiding his smile against your shoulder to try and rein it in. 

The ride starts to glide smoothly and okay; all things considered, this wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought. Dusk is beginning to settle and Frankie’s arm rests warm and heavy across your shoulders. The wind on your face feels fantastic and you’re not quite sure when your nervous energy changes into something else but every time you feel the downward pull on your body, your face splits into a grin and if you weren't so damn happy, you'd be rolling your eyes right now wondering when your life turned into a fucking rom-com. 

When he faces you, the sun leaves dazzling flecks of deep gold in his eyes, making them shine like bronze. His crooked smile pulls softly at the corner of his eye, a smile that tells you he knows exactly what you’re thinking, a smile that makes your heart lose its balance. It’s the same look he’d had when you came out of the bedroom this afternoon; the same look you’d pretended not to notice all day, wandering the pier together. Your heart is suddenly fluttering again and it has nothing to do with being three hundred feet off the ground.

“Okay Frankie, what’s going on? This all part of some plan of yours?” 

He takes off his ball cap and then replaces it in the same spot on his head, clearing his throat. “What plan.” 

“Getting me on the biggest ride here, winning me over with… with enough sugar to last a year and all your sweet talk and... listen, it's gonna take a lot more than a few well-placed kisses to get me into your co-pilot seat.” 

You feel his chest beginning to shake with laughter, “Baby, my chopper is much safer than this fuckin rust bucket. The-,” 

Your mouth gapes.  “Oh fuck you.

Just when you were starting to relax.

He blocks your loose fist with a gentle grip before it hits his shoulder, uses it to pull you in, your affronted gasp cut off when his lazy grin bumps with your open mouth. You had a dozen comebacks for the way he just teased you, but they all melt before they have a chance to materialize. His eyes glitter with amusement and something else but he doesn't give you a chance to examine it. 

“Lemme kiss you properly and then you can think about fucking me, ok.”

It's a little hard to be irritated; it’s a little hard to think straight at all when his fingers start dancing up the inside of your knee. The rush in your stomach now has nothing to do with the way gravity is forcing you down into the seat. Damn this guy and his ability to silence every single thought in your head.  

The ride is nearing the end, and you find yourself disappointed remembering how nervous you’d felt about it at the start. It slows and eases to a stop, suspending the two of you at the highest point in the rotation. 

The sun half gone now, the clouds are washed with purple and dark orange, the leaves in the treetops kissing each other in the breeze. It’s peaceful up here, hanging above the world and you understand why Frankie loves it. And your heart just might shatter right now because for the first time you realize that’s why he wanted to share it with you. 

Your throat clogs up and you don't trust yourself to speak but you don't need to because he shifts slightly, angling you so he can slip his arms around your waist from behind, tucking his chin into your shoulder. He's the one steady hand in your life. You fall asleep at night and wake up knowing that he's never going to be anywhere but beside you.

“You're right,” you manage, "this was worth it."

The edges of his heart twinge at the lightness in your voice, he soaks it up, knowing he’s the one responsible for it, knowing all the things he wants to promise you, knowing he’s the one you lean on, the one you call in the middle of the day just to say hi, the one you trust, the one you’ve said countless times you want to grow old with so why the fuck was he so nervous. 

That’s the thing about fears. They’re irrational like that.

A fragment of a forgotten conversation echoes in his head, something he’d told you a long time ago: Only complete idiots are not afraid of anything. 

He ignores the trembling in his fingers and reaches into his pocket.

~~

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