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confessionsof-a-writing-freak · 3 years ago

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I Don't Wanna Be a Memory

Summary:

And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33385405

Rating: Explicit

Ship: James 'Bucky' Barnes/Steve Rogers

Additional tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha bucky!, Omega Steve!

Bucky’s voice is the single most dangerous weapon he possesses.

Not the guns, or the knives, or even the years of government-issued muscle memory in hand-to-hand combat could compare the carnage that rubbles and quakes the earth when he says Steve's name.

“Stevie,” Low and silky. Full of authority-full of alpha. But still understanding the difference in rank despite the apparent superiority in designation. Never challenging or speaking down, but fuck did it make Steve want to sink to his knees and watch Bucky fall apart due to his mouth for a change.

“Steve?”

Okay, maybe not the entire earth, but Steve’s world sure feels like it’s been turned on its axis.

“...Steve.”

The worst part of it all is Bucky has no idea. No clue. No motivation! He simply exists and speaks like that with no intention of letting his voice get all severe and appetizing for the purpose of getting Steve’s omega excited for Bucky's alpha.

It’s especially distracting during missions.

Steve’s heart races, his conscious thought nowhere to be found as he conjures up impossible scenarios involving his reformed assassin best friend and naked cuddling.

The second they boarded the Quinjet, Steve had torn the earpiece away as if it had burned him.

Can you imagine leading a team or keeping them safe when every so often your second in command asks for your position, voice rough as he asks Steve for orders?!

Can anyone really blame him for getting lost in the phantom sensations of Bucky saying his name like a secret no one else deserves to know?

He didn’t think so.

That being said, all the control he can muster in order to actually complete a mission evaporates into the wind the moment the dance between life and death comes to a close; every suppressed, shameless fantasy unleashed and unforgiving as they consume his every thought.

Steve is abruptly pulled from his most recent daydream when a cool metal hand taps the back of his wrist twice, “You with us, Steve? I’ve been calling your name for a minute now.”

Quickly, Steve straightens his back and squares his shoulders, meeting stormy grey eyes.

“Sorry, Buck. Had a lot on my mind.”, He says with more confidence than he actually has.

It’s not really a lie. He does have a lot on his mind, all the ways he can find himself face down, ass up on the other man’s bed. Drooling and crying and breathing in Buckys scent with every breath he takes.

Of course, he can’t very well say that, can he?

He was lucky the S.H.I.E.L.D issued, super soldier approved suppressants made him nearly null. He can’t fathom the level of embarrassment that would claim him if Buck- or the whole damn plane for that matter- could scent the desperation, horny inside of him.

Bucky shifts closer, grey eyes softening the tiniest bit with concern, “Is everything alright?”

No.

“Yes, of course, “ He lies, “Just thinking about battle techniques is all. Scouts honor!” Steve makes an odd, incorrect gesture as a mock salute.

Bucky allows a small huff of air Steve recognizes as his poor imitation of a chuckle. There’s a moment of fuzzy pride that nearly causes Steve to purr; happy he brought a smile to the alpha’s face before his stomach drops clear down to his toes as murmured laughter rumbles too close to a growl in Buckys chest.

“My memory may be shit, Stevie, but I know for damn sure you weren’t no boy scout.”

Aaaand there it is.

Stevie.

Steves omega stirs and preens before the captain shoves them back down. Resenting the butterflies crying out in his belly and the urge to beg Bucky to just say his name over and over and over…

“Steve?”, This time, the concern isn’t quite as subtle, “Are you sure you’re alright, pal?” Bucky takes a step closer towards the blonde, drawing out skittish blue eyes, lowering his voice in case anyone was listening.

Again, the omega clears his throat and squares his shoulders.

“Did you want to tell me something, Sargent?”

Bucky opens his mouth, defiance dancing on his tastebuds before something makes him snap it shut, offering a curt nod, “Yes, Captain.” His voice strained, everything he wants to say lodged in his throat.

“I just wanted to let you know that we should be landing in less than 15 minutes.”

Like before, Bucky opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it. Choosing instead to take a seat beside his captain, slipping his arms through the provided harness. He gives Steve a pointed look, “We should probably buckle up.”

For a moment, Steve is taken back to the war. When his body was just beginning to react to the serum and the increased suppressants. (The government had taken every percussion necessary to ensure the public wouldn’t know Captain America was an omega.)

After Steve became ‘big’ and outranked Bucky in the military, the brunette never did anything but follow him into the fire. Loyal and boundless. Never questioning his strategies or actions unless it put him in direct danger. That didn’t mean he could keep himself from telling Steve what to do. He just found different ways to do it.

Suggesting tasks, like putting on seatbelts, for instance. Strapping extra weapons to his ankles before handing one to Steve and forcing it into his hands even when the blonde would roll his eyes, whispering his disapproval so only he would hear.

Never raising his voice or permitting his tone to deepen or his scent to take on that spicy, electric feel that never failed to make Steve bare his neck. Never stepping out of line. Never disrespecting or demeaning Steves title. Always in charge anyway.

Bucky doesn’t utter a single command or request, but Steve buckles up anyhow. Drinking in the small, hardly there smile that Bucky offers to the air in front of him, not even meeting Steve’s gaze. And the omega hates the happiness, the relief he feels at satisfying Bucky.

Hates that Bucky doesn’t even have to tell him what to do for him to obey. Hates that he has to obey, even though Bucky doesn’t need him to anymore.

He doesn’t need him anymore...

Bucky still hasn’t said a word when they land, but it’s not like Steve gave him much of an opportunity.

Things have been strained between them since Steve began pulling away. Avoiding Bucky’s calls and limiting their time together.

It was just easier that way. Miserable and lonely, but easier.

The moment the Quinjet is stationary, the supersoldier is up on his feet and stomping down the runway, leaving the Avengers and Bucky behind him.

He needs to breathe.

He can’t breathe!

If he didn’t know any better, he would say he was having an asthma attack. It feels like an asthma attack.

Steve’s eyes sting with unshed tears, taking large gulps of air into his lungs, and it burns!

He arrives at his door by the grace of God, not remembering entering the tower or if he passed anyone on his way.

“Jarvis. Door.” He gasps. Actual fear starting to seep into his bones.

“Yes, Captain Rogers,” The AI responds, the oversized steel doors swinging open.

Distantly, Steve hears the door shut behind him and feels himself settle against a wall. He pushes his back against the surface and tries to even out his breathing. Revisiting everything he can remember about how to resolve an asthma attack.

After several attempts, he stumbles into a somewhat consistent breathing pattern, his chest heaving at a slower rate.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose. Out through the mouth. In through the nose…

It’s not working!

Steve’s heartbeat only hammers against his chest and neck quicker, his breathing sharply turning back into hyperventilation.

It’s then that he realizes he isn’t having an asthma attack at all. He’s having a panic attack.

Fuck, Fuck, Fuck.

In through the nose. Out through the mouth. InthroughthenoseOutthroughthemouth.

Why isn’t this working!?

The blonde clenches his eyes shut, a sob fighting its way past trembling lips. He feels so alone. So unwanted, Unwarranted.

He thinks back to the 40s- back to him and Bucky. After the serum, during the war. Hidden behind the cover of night and an abandoned building at the far end of Base. The first time since the change, his heart felt like it would crawl its way up Steves throat and swan dive right off his tongue.

Struggling to ease the fogginess in his mind, Steve remembers strong arms wrapped around his waist. Cool metal poking his nose as he bumped Bucky’s dog tags with each of his movements, scenting warm flesh.

Bucky’s voice is rumbling demands, his voice leaving no room for argument while every word was also laced with patience and love. Scent projecting love, understanding, I’m here, you’re safe.

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

He repeats the mantra until Steve’s Omega obeyed his alpha, sucking in lung fulls of oxygen and releasing it in time with Buckys orders.

The memory of bombs and gunshots lost behind the sound of Bucky’s voice.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

He conjures up the memory of Buckys voice, coated in alpha command, urging him to breathe evenly. Fingers digging into Steve’s flushed skin, grounding him.

His alpha always knows what he needs...

Steve misses him.

Misses more than just the raw irrefutable attraction that got them into more trouble than it should have growing up. But he misses the rest of him too.

Misses the smirks and the long nights dreaming of what the future would bring. He misses Bucky’s laugh. God, he can hardly remember what it sounds like now.

Steve misses the way he would kiss. Gently. Chaste. Rough. Long. Kiss him in private and kiss him places that weren’t safe. On the stoop in front of their apartment, before the sun would come up and wandering eyes could catch them. Or alone in their bedroom, lips starting on his eyelids, across purple bruises, then down to his chest. Swallowing the omega’s moans and grinning into his mouth before settling beside him and chuckling deep into his ear, the last thing Steve would hear before sleep would overcome him. He misses the way Bucky would say his name like a prayer, wrap his lips around every letter like a caress, eyes sparkling with their love.

He misses knowing he’ll never be alone.

His heart thunders in his ears, chest feeling seconds away from crumbling in on itself as he thinks maybe it was easier when he believed the alpha was dead. Before he found out Bucky was alive, he mourned the man who loved him. Now, he grieves the love he’s lost. The alpha- his alpha-standing beside him without an ounce of affection or desire in his eyes.

Bucky wasn’t mourning the loss of Steve because he didn’t want Steve. Not anymore.

He clearly remembered enough. He may remember it all. However, knowing didn’t mean he had any intention of returning to what they had.

But even if every memory was gone, if the omega mattered at all, Bucky would remember him- his soul! If Steve himself were robbed of his past and they were just meeting again for the first time, he knew his soul would remember Buckys. Would want to know him all over, not needing to understand why!

The tears are falling before Steve has the chance to notice. A jagged whine barreling past his lips. All the weight of devastation and loneliness finally falling onto his shoulders.

Bucky had met him again. But he didn’t need him the same. Didn’t know his Omega; he didn’t want his heart.

Steve slumps further against the wall, blonde hair drenched in sweat, hands clawing at his chest, trying fruitlessly to manage his racing heart.

Closing his eyes, the omega summons an image of Bucky smiling reassuringly, soothing him as he tells him what to do.

In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.

Okay… okay. That’s better.

“It hurts to think of you,” The omega confesses to no one, the tears running past his chin onto his suit. But I need you, “And I can’t breathe without you.”

“In through your nose. Out through your mouth. In through your nose. Out through your mouth. I’ve got you, Stevie. In and out. That’s it. In through your nose. Out through your mouth.”

Steve allows himself to sink deeper into his fantasy, swearing he could actually feel Bucky's hands running down his back and through his hair.

“I’ve got you, Stevie.”

It’s the last thing Steve hears before he passes out.

***

Steve is warm.

Steve’s bed has always been too soft, even after Sam suggested a firmer mattress. While helpful, he still couldn’t manage anything better than a fitful half-sleep most nights. He knew why, but in an effort to avoid further misery, he chooses not to dwell too much on that matter.

Aside from the too-soft mattress and the alpha missing from his bed, the omega was never warm enough. He shivered and reached out for body heat too far from his reach. But…

Steve is warm...

For a moment, he swears arms are around him.

And for a moment, he doesn’t care who they belong to. Because he isn’t shivering, for once. Isn’t suffering through another cold sweat, and the omega constantly pacing within him is actually settled. He hasn’t been this comfortable since the previous century, so whoever the hell is beside him can very well stay where they are, as long as he can keep this feeling.

It’s with another breath, he feels consciousness slowly creep up on him.

He almost laughs at the thought of being comfortable in anyone else’s arms. Of course, Bucky should have been his first thought, but honestly, at this point, Bucky willingly in his bed was a cruel dream.

Bucky must be using the same blockers Steve does. His Omega can’t scent him even this close, but who else’s arms fit so perfectly around him?

It’s the closest they’ve been at all since rescuing Bucky from Hydra, and Steve hated it as much as he loved it.

He wants to go back to sleep. Wants to bask in the warmth Bucky offers and pretend they’re back in their tiny apartment in Brooklyn. Struggling to make ends meet and unplagued by the horrors of war. Hidden from the world behind wilting wallpaper, sharing sweet kisses and bruising grips.

But this isn’t 1939. Bucky doesn’t share his bed...or his affections.

He would give anything to go back. He’d give anything to have his alpha again.

“I didn’t know you still had panic attacks.”, of course, Bucky noticed he wasn’t asleep anymore.

Steve feels him shift away, the arm around his waist, already feather-light, hardly there.

The omega within him whines, not wanting him to pull away. No, he wants him to climb on top of him. To drop all of his weight onto Steve’s hopeless body, make him stay in place. Unable to move until Bucky tells him he can...

Steve clenches his eyes tightly, suppressing his every unrelenting instinct from manifesting into something that will only push Bucky further away. And he needs him. Steve needs him, even if it is killing him.

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot you don’t know about, Buck.”, the omega remarks, his back still firmly pressed to Bucky’s chest.

Bucky may be ready to move, but Steve certainly isn’t. It’s not like the Alpha will say anything. Steve is far from perfect, despite whatever bullshit the news wants to feed the public. Steve is flawed and can be as selfish as anyone else. There are times where he permits his gaze to linger longer than it should, hands lazily pulling back when they should’ve never left his side, to begin with, or say Buckys name in the dead of night, surrounded by nothing but darkness and the sticky evidence of his spent weaknesses.

In private or in front of the alpha, Steve has toed the line of what is appropriate between friends and behavior shared between lovers.

Bucky has never reacted to any of it. Robotic and perfect all at once. His responses are exactly what they’re supposed to be, feeling false all the same.

Never contesting. Never reacting. As if Steve doesn’t ache for him.

It’s then that the confusion begins to twist at the recess of the omega’s mind.

“Why are you in my bed, Buck?” And how can I keep you here?

There’s a beat of silence, Bucky’s breath even beside Steve’s ear. It almost feels rehearsed, as if Bucky is concentrating on his breathing. Steve shakes the thought away before he can fool himself for the millionth time something is there that has proven again and again to be long ago dead.

“I was worried about you,” Bucky eventually admits, the arm just barely resting on Steve’s hip returning to its previous pressure, fingers hot and electrifying as they accidentally meet bare flesh peeking beneath Steve’s sleep shirt.

Sleep shirt?

“Did you change my clothes?” Steve says without thinking, saying anything to stop himself from moaning. He can’t remember the last time Buckys hands were this close to his body without explosions and frantic shouts playing in the background.

He turns his neck enough to meet Bucky’s clouded grey gaze.

A gasp falls from his lips instinctively, his own eyes widening on their own accord, taking in the receding blood red only just beginning to fade from the alpha’s eyes.

Just like that, Bucky is removing his arm entirely, releasing the Omega and taking all of that delicious warmth with him.

Bucky stays on the bed, though. His back resting against the headboard.

Steve just narrowly stops himself from shouting, ‘No! Stay, please!’, his heart pounding in his ears and his hands burning with the desire to reach out and drag the other man in.

Instead, he swallows his cries and urges his weary muscles into a sitting position, facing away from the former assassin.

While Steve was changed into something more comfortable than his uniform, the omega notices Bucky remains in his clunky tactical gear, down to his boots.

He had no intention of staying, Rogers. Take deep breaths, and give him an out.

He just needs to go.

The blonde is good at pretending. Well, most days anyway, he can fake a smile when the world is falling apart; he can pretend to be happy. But what he can’t seem to do anymore is pretend that he isn’t painfully in love with the man currently sitting on his bed, not a single reminisce of what they once were hanging between them.

He can’t manage a smile or a whisper of optimism when everything good has been taken from him. He knows what’s expected of him, but there are days when the sorrow is crippling, and he feels weaker than he ever did as that little guy from Brooklyn.

Clearly, no more talking is going to happen. And Steve isn’t emotionally stable enough right now to act as if he doesn’t want the alpha to bathe him in his scent, forcing the lingering panic, unwell, lonely away.

He moves to stand when,

“Rest.”

The order is sharp and certainly unintentional.

The shiver that races down Steve’s spine is violent, and his body locks up, ready to obey.

Turning his neck again, Steve catches the profile of the alphas annoyingly handsome face. His eyes are closed, brow pinched in concentration.

Steve stands slowly, hands shaking. It’s sickening how dreadfully good that single word made him feel. Floaty and sated. His blood, always raging, rushing, and crying out, settles within him, preparing to be taken care of.

The logical part of him reminds the omega they’ve been here before. Bucky will do something so woefully familiar, he dilutes himself into thinking he’s still wanted.

It’s never the case.

Steve keeps the hope from his tone when he challenges, “Excuse me?” Waiting for another command with bated breath.

“You should probably rest, Cap,” Bucky folds his arms across his broad chest, still ignoring Steve’s previous question as well as his gaze.

Forcing a smirk that makes him want to throw up, Steve teases, “Are you avoiding my question, Sargent?”

“Steve,” Bucky objects, voice chastizing.

Something uneasy burrows into Steve’s stomach, his body rejecting the discontent emanating off Bucky's skin.

He shrugs away the urge to whine, instead offering an ingenuine chuckle, “Jeez, I’m fine. Why so serious, Buck?”

Bucky stands, eyes hard, glaring right into Steve’s soul. The blonde sucks in a harsh breath, his fingers tingling and breath shallow.

Bucky’s eyes are red.

“Why so serious? “ The alpha growls, not moving from his spot beside Steve’s bed. The distance separating them not making sense in contrast to the intimate edge heavy in the air. It would be comical if not for the current sparking the negative space.

“We’re just gonna pretend like I didn’t find you seconds from passing out less than an hour ago? Is that something casual, am I supposed to just ignore it?”

Steve’s plastic smile fades, a tired expression painting his sharp features, “Yes. That’s exactly what you’re supposed to do.” He sighs, scrubbing his face in frustration, “Ignore it. Like you ignore everything else, Bucky...Just go.”

“What’s tha ‘posed to mean?”

“It means I’m sorry you had to see that, but you don’t have to worry about it.”

“See what? You being irresponsible?”

The thin scrap of patience the omega has evaporates; actually, it burns the fuck up, raging as loud as Steve’s fury, “Irresponsible!?”

The anger shoots through Steve like a wildfire, his temperature rising and his hands balling into fists. If the Alpha didn’t know any better, he’d think Steve was going to punch him.

Even so, he doesn’t back down. Instead, he takes a single step towards the blonde, body tight and rigid. Voice booming when he sneers, “Yes, goddamn it! Irresponsible.”

“Fuck you, Bucky!” Steve shouts, “Who the hell are you to lecture me on being irresponsible?”

“I’m your… I’m your second in command, and if you were struggling with PTSD, you should have told me something! Instead of me following you to your rooms and basically threatening Jarvis into letting me in. You were pale, Steve. Snow White ain’t got shit on how you looked- you were nearly blue! And I’m sorry for stepping in. We can blame it on your biology, but you finally managed to relax when my alpha came forward. It’s irresponsible to let yourself get to that point when you could have come to me- or, or anyone in the avengers for help.”

“You’re sorry,” Steve scoffs, “ You’re sorry you had to help me.”

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

“Oh, but it’s what you said, isn’t it?” The Omega is nearly in hysterics. Half sad laughs, the only thing keeping him from crying.

“Steve...”

Buckys voice is now soaked in concern, the anger lost behind wisps of worried seeping from his concealed scent. Which serves only to break Steve further.

“Stevie.” Bucky repeats, wondering if Steve was spiraling into another panic attack.

He is only two steps away from him in a second, twitching, never touching but always close.

Steve feels another shock rack his entire body. His name falling from Bucky’s lips so effortlessly. The authority he holds swallowing every syllable. The sheer force of it nearly brings the omega to his knees.

Steve's heart pounds against his chest, like his heart is trying to escape. Running both hands across his face, then over tufts of blonde hair, his hands meeting behind his neck craned up towards the sky. Praying to anyone up there with mercy that Bucky will just leave. He keeps his arms where they arm before he can do something stupid like reach out.

“Bucky, why are you so concerned about it?” Steve’s eyes are still trained to the ceiling.

Steve knows he’s playing with fire. Playing with his own emotions, but sometimes he can swear he lives for it.

Bucky hesitates, watching Steve with careful eyes. “Because…You are our Captain and my best friend. If you need help, I am going to help you.”

The finality in his tone almost sounds like an alpha command, but his words contradict any sense of attraction or desire.

Another huff, gaze and arms dropping, “I’ll be fine once you leave.” Steve counters, harsher than he intended.

But fuck if he cares. Bucky doesn’t want him. He deserves to be a little angry. If he can’t grieve him, he can at least have this!

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing!” He snaps, “Just leave, James.”

“James? Oh, I’m James now?”

Steve could care less if he’s hurt his feelings. He’s had enough. His heart hurts, and his head aches. He is done playing this ‘I’m okay with everything’ game.

He is not okay with this, Dammit!

His heart is broken. Shattered. Irreplaceable. And he’s just supposed to be okay with that? He’s supposed to be Bucky’s friend and make jokes and smile when he is dying inside? Crying for his alpha- for stability when he feels like his whole world has been rocked?

Well, he’s had enough. He’s behaved for 2 years. He’s done!

Clenching blue eyes shut, Steve feels every carefully constructed wall of deception crumple at their feet.

“I don’t have time for this. Just leave so that I can breathe! I can’t breathe with you here!”

“Stevie…”

“Please,” the omega whimpers, all the fight leaving his body, long pale fingers running through sleep tousled hair, pulling at the roots, “Just stop.”

“Stop what? I can’t stop doing something if I don’t know what it is I’m doing!”

It’s Bucky’s turn to be panicked. In two strides, he’s in front of Steve, feeling the alarm creep up his chest, a flash of something sharpening eerie grey.

“Steve! Answer m-” Bucky lifts his hands as if to reach out for the other man but catches himself before metal could find flesh, “Will you tell me what I am doing wrong?”

Steve wants to cry and scream and rip that stupid mental arm out of its socket just so he can slap Bucky with it.

“Stop!” He repeats desperately, “Just stop! Stop saying my name! Stop talking to me like-like…”

“Like what!?”

Taking a calming breath, Steve forces himself to meet the alpha’s eyes, “Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to give you orders and never receive a protest in return?”

There’s a beat of silence accompanied by a blank expression. Steves heart shouting in his chest.

“...What?”

Steve continues, “Telling you what to do and how to do it. At least before you would fight me, yell at me. Make it easier to breathe.”

“Steve, what the fuck are you talkin’ about? You’re my boss. I’m s’posed ta take orders from ya.” Steve just about weeps when the Brooklyn accent begins to peek through, just as it usually does when Bucky is confused.

“Well, I’m not just your boss!”, Steve hears himself say, “I’m not just your boss. I’m also an omega. And I want you to tell me what to do. Your voice is like it’s permanently in alpha command, and I want you to fucking command me! Because I’m not just your boss. I’m not just an omega. I’m your fucking omega! And I can’t stand you saying my name like your seconds away from telling me to get down on my knees because you never do! And it isn’t your fault! It’s not! You don’t want me anymore, and that’s fine, but my omega hasn’t forgotten, and my heart won’t forgive you for not loving me anymore. So stop. Stop saying my name like you still want me. Because every time you do, for precisely one second, I feel like you’ve come back to me, but you haven’t- you won’t! And it’s killing me, Buck.”

Steve’s eyes are misted with tears, his chest heaving and skin flushed with embarrassment and shame, “Please… Just don’t say my name, or I’m just gonna break.”

The words pour from his lips, and he wants to disappear. He wishes the ground would just swallow him whole and save him from Bucky’s response.

Steve trembles beneath stormy grey, choosing instead to watch the ground. His omega whining and clawing at the back of his mind.

“I can’t do this anymore, Bucky.” He murmurs, waiting for the outrage or worse; the indifference-the clunk of footsteps walking away from the mess he’s made. The life they had. The man he no longer loves.

Steve hasn’t found his eyes again. Won’t move his head. He doesn’t care how submissive it makes him look because he’s spent most of his life searching for steel grey eyes in crowds and across rooms. Seeking them out in the dark, the only beacon of light he would see most days. And now… Now those eyes that kept him so safe when the world was crumbling around them made him feel like winter on a summer day, cold and alone, only seconds from melting into nothing.

He’s not sure how much time passes without a word between them. He waits another moment before surrendering a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, shaking his head and turning to leave.

He didn’t know where he was going, but he couldn’t stay here.

Like lightning, Bucky’s right hand snaps forward, catching the omega’s wrist before he can make it far, and just like electricity, a jolt of fire scorches where their skin meets.

As one would an old friend, Steve invites the sensation to consume him, feeling every nerve respond to Bucky, it’s like he was brought back to life, and he wants nothing more than to cry because he knows it won’t last. He knows as soon as the alpha lets go, he’ll return to reality as only half a man. Something-someone always missing from him.

“Steve.”, his breath hitches, and his hands shake. A whisper of a scent he’s all but forgotten seeps into the room, but it’s gone before Steve can determine if it’s only a memory.

Steve’s name rolls off of Bucky’s tongue too easily. Too pretty. Too dark. Too much!

Jesus!

Hadn’t he been clear enough the first fucking time? How else exactly was he supposed to phrase it; ‘Don’t say my name, or I’ll break from how horny it makes me?’

“Steve,” The alpha repeats.

Steve feels another pang of electricity shoot to his fingertips, itching with the need to just touch, “Bucky, I think you should leave.”

He doesn’t want him to. But when was the last time Steve got what he wanted.

“Now,” He adds after another second passes. Bucky's feet were firmly placed on the ground, not a single muscle prepared to even twitch.

The room is blanketed in heavy silence before, “No.”

Steve feels as if the wind has been knocked out of him. His lips part in surprise, brow furrowed as his heart begins to pick up the pace.

“Excuse me?”

“I hate that I can’t scent you,” The alpha announces, talking slow, calculated steps forward, eradicating any space brave enough to separate them,

“I hate that I can’t tell where you are during missions.” Suddenly Bucky’s grip loosens, yet it doesn’t move far. He runs his hand up Steve’s forearm, fingertips dragging across perfect porcelain skin, not stopping until the palm of his flesh hand rests on Steve’s neck.

“I picture what it would feel like to sink my teeth into your neck and keep you there, with my fangs in your flesh, drawing blood from your skin and moans from your lips. I dream of you whimpering, “ He whispers harshly, eyes trained to Steve’s neck.

The omega’s eyes flutter closed, lips trembling around the alpha’s name, “Bucky,”

Ignoring the blonde, the other man continues, not quite done yet, “I defend those thoughts by saying to myself, it’s all so that I can feel you. So I can feel where you are when we’re in the field. So I won’t worry as much, won’t get distracted. But I know it’s just half of it. I know I want to tell you to take those damn blockers off. To wash it away, or let me lick it away with my tongue-whichever came first.”

“I hate that I want to fall asleep with you curled above my chest because you’ll be warmer that way. And for whatever reason, I remember you always being cold before bed. I want to demand you buckle up and wear extra layers. I want you to fight me a little. I want you to tell me to shut up but get all soft when I give you a hard look. Like, you are now, with my chest touching yours, hands at your neck and waist. Your heart stuttering against me. I want you to tease me because you want me to get annoyed so that I tell you to shut your mouth and put it to good use. I hate that I want to do all these things, but I can’t. Because you don’t want me to...”

Blue pop open, held hostage by grey. Bucky is everywhere. His face is so close Steve can feel every breath the alpha takes fan over his eyelashes. His eyes tracking over the curve of pink lips and soft skin. Left arm curled around Steve’s waist, metal grip unmoving. His other hand still firmly placed over his scent gland, Bucky’s long fingers spread over the column of flesh, thumb running back and forth along the length of it, causing goosebumps to follow his trail of fire.

Steve moans at the sensation, baring his neck so Bucky has the access he would need. His legs nearly giving out beneath him, but the arm at his waist won’t let him fall.

“Are you telling me that you want me to?” Bucky presses. His voice is sharp and promising. The hand around Steve’s neck, a light pressure the omega finds himself pushing into.

“Steve! Look at me. Look at me, omega.”

The blonde hadn’t noticed his eyes fluttering shut again, the sensation of being held, of having so much alpha- his alpha right there in front of him. Soaking him in his scent. Not a true claim or even a scent mark, but this is more than he ever thought he would ever get again.

Bucky’s words have barely registered for the omega; he lost the ability to comprehend English the instant Buckys hands found his body. But he reacts to the order, all the same, seeing the steely, beautiful grey (beginning to tint red again) he has known since he was a boy.

Slowly, so slowly, Steve begins to piece together the things Bucky has confessed, his eyes once more welling with tears.

Patiently, Bucky waits for the understanding to reflect in sapphire eyes, speaking only when he knows the omega can now retain information.

“Are you telling me you want me to touch you, Stevie?” Bucky murmurs, staring at Steve’s bottom lip.

“Yes,” He breathes, just barely audible without an ounce of hesitation.

The next thing Steve knew, Bucky had him against a wall. His nose buried in his neck and his hands rounding his ass, using his shoulders to pin Steve to the wall and lift his legs until the omega joined the program and wrapped his legs around Bucky’s waist. Bucky’s hardening cock pushing into his hip.

“Oh shit, Buck!”

“ I have to say your name,” Bucky growls, grinding into his omega.

“As much as I can, even if it doesn’t work in the conversation, because it’s the closest I can get you in my mouth. It tastes like heaven, and memories I can’t decipher are real or just fantasy they- Oh, fuck baby. Yeah, Stevie- They don’t compare to this- Keep moving, just like that, babydoll.”

Steve ruts against Buckys friction, his eyes closed tightly, whatever was left of their blockers bleeding out, replacing the neutral aroma in the room with their combined scents, desperation, and slick.

“God, Bucky. I missed you so much. I’ve been so alone.”

Buckys mouth finds Steve’s trembling lips, nothing subtle or slow about his movements. The alpha’s tongue swallows the moans tumbling past Steve’s lips. Hands gripping his waist tighter.

The sun bursts behind their eyes. Blood rushing and hearts bumping to twice their regular speed. For different people, people who aren’t Steve and Bucky, a first kiss after so long should probably be slow and tentative, something soft and building. But they aren’t different people. They are too broken and too powerful and undeniably deserving people who have had nothing to count on besides one another their entire conscious lives. To entertain even a second of not indulging in hard, fast, desperate supersedes unthinkable and settles somewhere over cruel.

“Never again, Stevie. I ain’t leaving you alone” another thrust, “Ever, “ another bruising kiss, “Again.”

Bucky’s cock strains against his uniform, desperate for Steve’s hole. Steve is a withering whimpering mess, drunk on Buckys scent and high on all the delicious friction causing his weeping cunt to flutter, uncomfortably empty.

After several more minutes of making out, Bucky moves them back to the bed, lying Steve out on the mattress. He only has a fraction of a second to admire the work of art that is Steve Rogers sprawled out and waiting to be fucked when Steve’s hands are at his neck, pulling him back in.

His lips move against the alpha’s sloppily, sucking on his bottom lip until the ex-assassin growls impatiently, searching for his mate’s tongue. His mate…

His mate. Steve thinks he may cry as the sheer relief almost painfully washes over him. All of the uncertainty and shame of being unwanted melts away, and all that surrounds him is the vibrating want, mine, love, love, love from the man above him, trailing scorching hot kisses down his neck.

“I wanna be ‘side you, baby. Please, Steve. Let me, ugh, please, babydoll. Can I-”

“Yes!” steve interrupts, “Yes, Alpha, you never have to ask! I’ll do whatever you ask, oh just touch me, Bucky, alpha, my alpha, touch me-”

“Shh, “ Bucky chuckles, stopping the omega’s rambling. He runs his flesh hand through disheveled blonde hair, dragging his nails through Steve’s scalp and marveling at the hiss the omega releases, “I’ve got you, Stevie. All I needed was a lil consent, then all bets are off, aren’t they? ‘Cause you’re mine now, aren’t you, baby?”

“Always have been, jerk. I never stopped.”

“Good. Now, stop touching me.”

With a whimper, Steve can’t stop his hands from frantically clawing every inch of Bucky he can access.

“Now, babydoll, don’t you wanna be good for me?”

Still clutching one hand around Bucky's thick, muscular biceps, the other pulling at the strands of dark brown hair helplessly, “I can be good,” the omega babbles, “I’ll be good, Alpha. So good, I can be good, so so good. Please-”

“ Then listen to what I am telling you. I won’t repeat myself again, Steve. It’s my turn now. I wanna get my mouth on you, and I can’t do that if you keep pullin’ me back up to kiss. So stop touching.”

The moan that stutters past Steve’s lips would be embarrassing if not for how fucking fantastic it feels for Bucky’s alpha command to slam into him. Paralyzing him in place. Hands falling unceremoniously at his sides.

Crystal blues brimming with tears, he feels safe for the first time since coming out of the ice- he feels familiar. Not somewhere foreign with no understanding of anything besides, fight this, kill that. This is different. This is them. This is intimacy- their intimacy.

There’s trust swimming within the negative spaces Bucky extends, and he knows, to his core, he can let go. Steve surrenders all his false smiles and exhausting positivity. This is home. Bucky is home. He doesn’t have to put up a front because his alpha has it handled.

Steve isn’t Captain America or some beacon of hope. He’s just Steve, Stevie. Bucky's Omega.

He’s unsure how much time passes or where it went, to begin with, but his body sinks deeper into his mattress, feeling entirely boneless.

“You okay, baby?” Bucky’s husky voice breaks through the fog, “I lost you for a second there.”

Steve feels himself come back, callused hands running through damp blonde hair.

“Mmm,” he hums.

“You spaced a little, Stevie. You’re so beautiful when you get all soft for me. But you’re back now, aren’t you? Look at you. So perfect. Pretty, perfect omega-mine. Kept your hands at your side the whole time too. Such a good boy. You’re gonna keep your hands right where they are, Stevie. Don’t you move a fucking inch. I’m going to lick you open now, babydoll. And you’re gonna come on my tongue as many times as I want you to. Because I’ve gone 70 years without you, and I’m goddamned starved” Bucky’s voice goes from soft praise to near feral growls. His voice sending nothing but jolts of electricity down Steve’s spine, another wave of slick slipping down his thighs.

Before the ‘please’ has the opportunity to touch Steve's mouth, Bucky's hot, slick tongue finds his pulse point, just mere inches from his mating gland.

“Bucky!”

“I want this off!”, The ex-assassin grunts, in one swift move yanking the crisp white shirt from Steve's chest.

��Oh!”

Bucky backs up to lean on his knees, eyes tracking over pinkening skin. Steve’s own gaze glides over now exposed skin. Steve tries to finger out when he removed his clothes but falls short.

After so long without Buckys tenderly harsh commands, falling into space came a little easier than he would have thought. Overwhelmed by the unanticipated satisfaction.

“Open your eyes.”

When had Steve closed his eyes again?

“There you are, dolly. Keep those pretty eyes on me, okay? Always on me, baby.”

Rough, mouthwateringly calloused hands find the waistband of Steve’s pants and yank down in one fluid motion.

The blonde hisses for a moment at the sudden cold air biting his skin, but it only lasts a moment before he’s screaming.

“Fuck!” Steve throws his head back in favor of making sounds even a prostitute would blush at.

One moment Bucky’s on his knees, eyes predatory and sinful, calculating all the things he could do to the man shivering beneath his gaze, the next finds him throat deep, swallowing down Steve’s sweet omega cock, slurping up his precum and getting high off the scent of slick so close to his nose.

Steve can’t breathe.

God! It’s too much. It’s so good. It’s too good!

Steve can feel the familiar pull of an orgasm tugging inside of him. The corners of his closed vision whitening out around the black, lacking the energy to even feel embarrassed by how quickly he’s reached his pinnacle.

Pulling off agonizingly slow, Bucky lets his tongue harshly lick along Steve’s little shaft and twirl over his tip, remembering- fucking remembering! All the sounds and glazed looks elicited from the man below him in the past.

Grey eyes flick up hungrily, ravenous for a look into perfect crystal eyes; he can remember the glazed debauched expression that could devour Steve’s pupils, but it’s not enough!

He wants the real thing.

He wants something tangible and alive in his hands he can never again confuse with desire. Something he’s sure happened, a gift Steve is willingly offering instead of a snarled half-memory he can’t allow himself to believe.

“I-ugh! I’m gonna-“Steve stutters, toes curling and knees bending, framing Bucky's face between his thighs. His hands twitch beside him, but he doesn’t dare move them.

“Oh!”

It should have been a cry of ecstasy.

Should have been the Yellow River Flood; relentless and relieving. No survivors.

Instead, Steve is left with his chest heaving violently. Gasping for air just as he did when he was small.

The omega hears Bucky tutting before he manages to pry his eyes open. Immediately recognizing his mistake before the words fall from cum slick lips.

“Oh, baby. You were doing so good.”

“Nno! Buck, please!”

“Shhh, What did I say, dolly?” Bucky replaces his mouth with one strong hand, lazily jerking at Steve’s straining cock.

He’s smirking when Steve hisses beneath him and hums in approval when his hands stay at his sides.

“F-Faster! Please, Buck! Goddamn it, stop teasing’ me.”

“What did I say, Stevie?” Bucky repeats sharply. His movements slowing further.

Steve’s omega cries.

“You wanna cum, baby doll? “

“Yes!”

“Then what do you have to do?“

Steve’s mind has gone to mush. He thrusts his hips up, chasing after Bucky's friction. Hands struggling against the bedsheets.

“Still, omega!”

Bucky's voice is rough as sandpaper, sounding as on edge as Steve feels. A firm metal hand presses into the omega’s hip holding him in place.

“Be good, Stevie.” The alpha asserts firmly, scent growing muskier with every heavenly noise gasped and groaned from Steve’s sinful lips.

“If you wanna cum, what is it you have to do?”

Bucky rubs a metal thumb soothingly over a sinfully sharp hip bone before trailing his fingers over Steve’s quivering thigh.

Grey eyes nearly roll into the back of his head, “Fuck, baby, you’re so soft. C’mon, don’t you want me to touch you?”

“Yes! Please, fuckin touch me, you jerk!”

Chuckling darkly to himself, Bucky watches Steve with bated breath, and all at once, he feels like his mind had never left. Like an addict, he was never over his addiction; he just forgot how good it was. And like the degenerate addict he apparently was, he sucks in deep breaths, sucking in as much of Steve’s aroused scent that his lungs can handle.

All it took was one hit of Steve- his omega- and he had fallen into himself, more of who he was than any memory had offered.

Steve is his clarity and his habit. The one thing that will always bring him back because Steve is home.

And he’s gonna make him feel good. He’s gonna make up for all he put his omega through, and he’s gonna enjoy every second of it.

Every moan, every shiver, every cry. He’s gonna hold him and bruise him because Steve is his, and that’s how the omega likes it. Bucky’s omega. Bucky's Sweetheart. Bucky’s mate.

The ex-assassin lets his fingers trail lower, his other hand still just barely moving over Steve’s pulsing cock.

The first touch of cool metal meeting Steve’s hole causes the blonde to nearly jump off the bed.

“Buck!”

Steve thinks he’s gonna die.

He feels every cell in his body vibrating with a hot, hopeless sensation. Slick pours out of him the second Bucky’s teasing, perfect, godforsaken pinky circles Steve’s core. His lungs and eyes are burning, nearly out of breath, and only capable of volunteering a broken sob when that fucking pinky just barely pushes in.

“Please,” he whispers jaggedly.

He’ll be good for bucky. He’ll keep his hands at his side. He’ll do what he says even without the command, the fogginess of his brain settling deep enough that any request will register as a command anyway.

That’s just how Steve is wired.

Designed to submit to Buck’s direction.

He knows what Bucky wants, but to physically pry his eyes open at that moment was easier said than done. He struggled to determine whether or not he’s trying to starve off a quickly approaching orgasm or trying to chase one.

Whatever the answer, Bucky doesn’t let him reach it.

The alpha’s dark, whiskey voice sounds as wrecked as Steve feels.

“What. Do. I. Want?” Bucky growls impatiently. Another wave of slick dribbles from the omega wetting the sheets beneath them.

Think, steve! Give alpha what he wants! You can be good. I can be good…. What does he want again?

“My…ugh! M-My eyes.”

Finally, fucking finally, Bucky pushes a finger into Steve’s hole. Fast and absolutely delicious.

Just when he thought Bucky would stop playing games, he realizes the ringing in his ears is replaced by the alpha tutting above him.

“Very close, baby, but not quite.”, Buckys finger starts to draw out slowly; what little fullness Steve has is threatened, and the distressed mewl Steve makes in protest causes the alpha to chuckle darkly.

“P-pretty! Keep my pretty eyes on you! Only on you!” his eyes snap open frenzied, finding a swirl of grey and red zeroed in on him.

In a millisecond, Steve has two metal fingers thrusting into his hole. His back arches on the mattress, fingers nearly numb as they grip the sheets tighter, but his eyes don’t close again.

“That’s right, baby. Only on me.”

“Oh! Yes!”

“Fuck! You’re so tight, Stevie.”, Bucky groans, lowering himself as to mouth along Steve’s jaw, nipping his skin between tentative licks.

“Pl-Ease! Oh, yes... Please, Buck.”

“Please what, Stevie? Use your words.”

Steve’s mind is a simple stream of 3 thoughts, Touch me. Fuck me. Love me!; all of which he can only vocalize as, “Oh please, please. Bucky!”

Working a third finger along with the other two, Bucky hisses with Steve at the stretch his hole gives.

So fucking tight, the alpha thinks to himself, I don’t know how I’ll survive it, but I’m gonna fuck this omega so gooood.

“Words, Steve. Or I’ll start thinking you don’t want me t’touch ya at’all. Huh, maybe I should stop...”

“No! God, Buck, don’t stop, don’t ever stop!”

“Then tell me what you want. What a’you begging for, Doll?” Bucky trails the tips of his fingers over Steve’s ribs, rounding at his back, “is it my fingers? Sliding through all your slick? Or is it my mouth?”

“Yes!”

Bucky chuckles,” That’s not really an answer, Stevie.” His voice gets darker each time he says the omegas name like he knows. Actually, the bastard does know! He knows exactly what he’s doing.

The prospect of teasing seems to pull him just the tiniest bit to the side of coherent, a snarky remark falling from his lips as easily as the desperate pleas had moments before.

“You havin’ fun, Buck?” Steve pants, “Seems like you’re having a little too much fun.”

“Aw no, baby. I’m having the exact right amount of fun. Aren’t we?”

“ ‘We’ are a lotta peop-le!! Oh shit!” pushing his fingers in deeper, Bucky just brushes against Steve’s prostate. A sinister and smug smile curling his lips upward.

“Words, Stevie. Tell me what you want. And I’ll give it to you, omegamine. Just tell me.”

Steve’s chest flushes more as the words tingle on his tongue. Bucky's nearly feral tone betrays his suave and calm demeanor.

He’s just as desperate to be buried deep in Steve’s hole as Steve is to have him there.

Bucky’s fingers push more firmly against Steve’s prostate, and the omega nearly sees stars.

“Sing for me” Almost like an echo, Steve hears Buckys words like gospel.

It’s a command he’s most familiar with. He knows just what ‘ song’ Bucky wants ….

“Daddy!” Steve hisses around a fourth finger. The words punching out of him before he could stop them.

“ I wondered if that was just fantasy,” the alpha mumbles. Eyes darkening a rich crimson. An ever-present growl rumbling in his chest.

Bucky leans over, letting his fingers get even deeper, dragging against Steve’s special spot with every new thrust. With red eyes and diminishing control, the alpha drinks in every pant and whine that drips past kiss-bruised lips and bouncing off the walls of Steve’s room.

Bucky drops his nose into Steve’s scent gland, swiping his tongue over the swelling tissue for a better taste.

“You smell so fucking good, baby. Like mate.”

“Buck…” Steve gasps, feeling overwhelmed. Any moans he could possibly wish to suppress are yanked from his chest with every move the alpha makes. Sounds too rowdy even for porn echoing in his small dark room.

Bucky can’t get enough of it, stuttering an accidental thrust into Steve’s hip when the omega whines in a delightfully sweet way, the scent of slick and alluring sounds steve makes nearly choking him.

Fuck, I hope Tony has these rooms soundproofed. Steve uses his last brain cell to think.

Bucky's metal fingers continue to work him open, preparing him for his big alpha cock fast and rough and exactly how he likes it, but his other hand still moves sluggishly over Steve’s, slowly purpling prick. Tightening and stopping entirely every so often as to starve off Steve’s orgasm.

“Bucky, please!”

Fuck, Bucky thinks, I hope everybody can hear him, fuckin; hear us,

The blonde knows all he has to do is tell Bucky ‘Fuck me’ maybe add on ‘Daddy’ to further wreck him like it did back in the days if he even still likes that. But as much as Steve likes Bucky telling him what to do, he loves to defy him into aggression, twice as much.

“Say it again,” Bucky mumbles against the omegas scent gland, unable to move a millimeter.

The laugh that tumbles past Steve’s lips is quickly swallowed by Buckys tongue shoved down his throat. Pearly white teeth pulling back only to stress a bite on his bottom lip, not stopping until a faint taste of metal joins the deliriously delicious taste of Buckys omega.

“Again, omega. Say it again.”

With another brush against his prostate, Stev’s vision begins to blur, but he won’t close his eyes, no matter how much he wants them to,

“Alpha!”

Steve is a debauched disaster. A puddle of liquid fire and Bucky wanted to fucking burn.

“You know that’s not what I want to hear, babydoll. But I’m feeling generous, so let’s make a deal, yeah? You say what I want, and I’ll tell my precious boy how good he is. How good you feel around my fingers swallowin’ my fingers so fuckin’ good. And I’ll say your name as much as you want. That’s what you were beggin’ for, wasn’t it?” Bucky rambles, fingers pumping quicker into Steve, hand starving off the omegas dick, tugging over the length with dangerous precision.

“You want me to say your name, dontcha dolly? Tell you you’re being good. Everything Daddy needs. My good, beautiful Stevie.”

Buckys cock presses into the mattress, the slightest friction sending magic to tingle over his skin. His knot calls out for Steve’s sopping wet pussy, fluttering around his fingers. The sensation alone is a mutual torture all on its own.

It would be so fucking easy to slide home into Steve’s awaiting heat. So fucking easy!

Not yet, he reminds himself.

No, he wants something first, and he’s gonna get it.

Outside of the bedroom, the thought of ever using his alpha tone with Steve is unthinkable. There isn’t a scenario out there that could justify taking away his omegas free will.

But here-like this. Sweaty and drooling and filthy, reeking of mate and sex, the tone combines with his voice as if that’s the only way there is to speak.

“Say it again, Steve. Now!”

“Daddy! Daddy, fuck me! Please,pleasepleaseplease”

Gently, the alpha removed his fingers. Steve’s mouth opens to cry, but before he can focus too much on the dreadful emptiness, Bucly is buried to the hilt in Steve’s ass.

“Ah!” Steve shouts, throwing his head back and moving his hands to grip at Bucky’s shoulders for the first time since being told not to move them an inch.

He quickly realizes his mistake, and in a fearful attempt to keep Bucky inside of him, confident he wouldn’t survive another moment of his teasing, his alpha’s voice rumbles past the panic.

“Touch me. Wherever you want, Stevie.”

The sigh of relief is an afterthought, long nimble finger trail over both metal and flesh shoulders, a satisfying wave pushing into the realm of too damn good. Being allowed to touch after being denied was always such an experience. Reverse touch starved. Bucky has the go-ahead to do with him as he wishes. Meanwhile, every instinct within the omega seeks Bucky out. His skin, his mouth, his scent. He wants to feel his alpha under his fingers as much as he wants to bounce on Buckys, but he can’t. He has to lay there and fight against the urge to suck hickeys onto every surface of skin he can find.

Pulling on stands of dark chestnut-colored hair, Steve tries to adjust to the girth inside of him.

“Move.”, the omega whispers harshly after a few moments.

Bucky doesn’t need much prompting; he knows Steve can take it, and more than that, any remaining sting that prepping might have missed, Steve fucking aches for.

“As you wish.”

It’s like a dam break. A flood, unforgiving, and exactly what they each fuckin need!

Bucky's shallow, calculated thrusts soon quicken, taking on a brutal pace.

He slams his cock home and grinds deep before pulling nearly entirely out and slamming back in. Again and again and again. Returning quicker every time he finds himself back inside Steve’s velvet-soft heat.

Words are lost on the omega, choosing to indulge rather on feral groans and guttural whines, meeting every thrust and dragging sharp nails across Bucky's shoulders.

It’s all so much. Like a storm, heavy and pounding in their ears. And it all makes so much sense.

They’re a natural disaster. Bucky kisses like a hurricane, all lips, tongue, and teeth. Steve moves and squeezes his walls around Bucky's cock, no rhyme or reason to his actions, just passion, just I have to have this.

Kisses pouring down upon kisses like rain, soaking them in love, and Steve nearly cries.

He never thought he’d have this again.

The ex-assassin is a bit more vocal.

He can feel his release creeping up, desire warm and urgent low in his belly. But cumming before Steve is absolutely not an option. Half the fun was watching the poster child for purity throw his head back in ecstasy, beggin for ruin with Buckys name on his lips. And he’d be damned if he's gonna miss it in the cloud of his own pleasure.

“D-Deeper!” Steve whimpers, pulling Bucky closer by the nape of his neck.

The hand that had been knotted in Steve’s own hair follows suit of the palm firmly placed over one sharp hip bone.

Gripping him with enough pressure to bruise, Bucky bends over Steve’s lithe build and takes hold of one muscular thigh, nearly folding the blonde in half as he settles Steve’s leg over his flesh shoulder.

“Fuck!” Steve cries, Bucky's cock sliding that much deeper, hitting his prostate with nearly every thrust.

Bucky groans at the new position, one large hand kneading and pulling at Steve's ass, tugging him back with the snap of his hips. His other hand runs over the omegas sweaty, slick body, sliding a finger over a single hard nipple before securing his fingers around Steve’s neck. Palm pushing into his scent gland.

It is a little more than light pressure, but it gives its desired effect; Steve’s eyes go from unfocused and glassy to piercing. More black than blue, pupils blown, but Bucky still catches the glint of gold mingling about, exactly what he’d been waiting for.

There you are, omegamine, he thinks.

“Ugh, yes, fuck! You like that, don’t you. Like me pushing you down. Like me pounding into your sweet pussy. But it’s not really yours is it, baby?”

“Gnnn”

“Answer me. Who’s pussy is this, Steve?”

“Y-yours, Daddy. I’m yours.”

“Mine.” The alpha growls, yet another wave of slick passing Steve’s thighs. “My omega. My good boy. Listened so good, doll.”

“Fuck, Buck. Alpha, my alpha. I missed you, I missed you so fuking much. I missed your big alpha cock. So good to me. I wanna be good, Daddy. Tell me how to be good.”

“You wanna be good?”

“Yes!”

“You’re already so good for me. Perfect omega. Pretty, perfect thing.”

“I can be-ugh yes!! I can...nnnn….be better.” The omega stutters between kisses, “Wanna be the best boy.”

“Yeah?”

“Please, Alpha. Knot me!”

“Okay, baby. Listen closely, hmm?”

“Keep still.” In two mostly smooth movements, Bucky is lying on his back, Steve’s lean frame now straddling the alpha, lifting him by the waist; Bucky sinks Steve further on his cock.

“Ride me.”

As if without his permission, Steve’s moving above the bigger man.

Thick thighs feel even wider between Steve’s slightly smaller ones. Bucky’s hands come to Steve’s waist, helping him grind down harder, deeper.

Steve can’t keep his gaze from trailing down to where they’re connected. His hole swallowing 6 to 7 inches of monster alpha cock, and he could just cry for how hot it is to see them connected like this.

I wanna be locked to you. I want your knot!

“Eyes, Stevie!” Bucky snarls with another hash snap of his hips, impaling Steve further and hitting his prostate. The omega falls over, making sure to lock blue with grey.

Abandoning their vice grip on the alphas thighs, Steve steadies himself with one hand over his lover's heart, fingertips brushing the mating gland by his neck as the other grips the headboard above the bed, wood splintering under every shock of pleasure jolting through Steve in response to each of Bucky's strident thrusts.

“Oh, oh! D-Daddy. I’m gonna, I’m gonna cum!”

“Now that I’ve got you back, we won’t be leaving this room for much, Stevie. I want you on your knees sucking my big alpha cock. Licking up the evidence of what you do to me. I’ll hold you by your neck and force-feed it to you just like you like it.”

“B-Buck-eyy!”

“Yeah, baby, say my name. You’re beautiful. Angelic. A work of. Fucking. Art.” He punctuates his words with a sharp jerking of Steve’s body above him. Pulling his center as close as he can get him, knot swelling mercilessly and snagging on Steve’s rim.

Steve feels pleasure like he’s never felt before. Words slurred and hardly coherent,

“‘Wan’ yur k’nnot!”

He sounds drunk.

Bucky loves it!

“Not until you cum, baby doll. You first, then Daddy. Good boys get their rewards, and this is-” using Steve as a ragdoll, Bucky manhandles him into circular motions, twisting and penetrating the omegas sweet spot with wild precision.

One hand (Steve couldn’t even tell you which, mind too fuzzy and too loaded with his quickly approaching orgasm) presses into the omegas gorgeous tits before sweeping down to tug on Steve’s crying cock, pre-cum dribbling from its bright red head.

Steve cums with a shout, back arching and eyes struggling to stay open, finally shut. His vision whites out with pleasure, but he can’t bring himself to remember anything outside of this bliss. No world lived outside of these walls. Just him, his alpha, and all the pleasure Bucky brings him.

“Ohhh, Allphaa,”

“Yours. Yes! Oh, you feel- God so fucking tight, Stevie. Look ‘atchyou. Milking my cock, pussy squeezing my knot, beggin for it. Daddy’s gonna give it to you.”

“Gimme,” he whispers weakly.

He doesn’t feel Bucky flip him over or the hands pushing both his legs over Bucky’s shoulders, but the moment Bucky starts pumping in and out again, his body jolts awake, and all Steve wants is to make his alpha cum.

“Daddy’s gonna cum right inside your tight, perfect pussy. Yeah, Stevie. ugh!”

“Wan’ be...hmm.”, he tries to form words, but they die on his tongue, not coming down fast enough to entertain even a murmur of conversation.

Another 30 seconds passing before he has enough brain cells to return his gaze to stormy grey.

As always, Bucky’s eyes are already on him.

“That's all you got, Daddy?” The blonde snarks between pants, another orgasm building in his belly, toes curling, and his half-soft prick smushed and pulsating against Bucky's abs.

Bucky laughs around a moan, pulling Steve into another kiss before giving one, two, three more thrusts, shouting out a string of praise as his knot pops inside of his omega.

Steve’s heavy punched out sigh joins the shuddered fluttering of his hole, another wave of release escaping him.

The room fills with pants and sloppy kisses. Each man nosing along their scent glands, finding where a bond mark would go and lapping over it lovingly.

In the 40s, hiding their love was a matter of survival, and a surrender of their need to properly mate. They didn’t have to hide here. They could love each other and bite each other someday. Unified in the one way they spent most of their lives thinking they’d never have.

They Lie there, tied together even after Bucky’s knot goes down. Thoughts of taking that step-marking each other, on the tip of both of their tongues.

They lie there, bathing in the calm after the storm.

Sometime afterward:

After another round and many minutes of lazily making out, the pair rest beside each other, touching the other man wherever he could reach, tracing nonsense patterns into heated flesh and feeling happier than either had in 70 years.

“What were you sayin’, y’know before we… Y’know”, Steve blushes as if he wasn’t just face down ass up drooling over Tony’s Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Before you started crying for my knot, and I fucked you 6 ways from Sunday?”

“You’re a fucking jerk!”

“Nah, I’m just fucking a jerk.”, The alpha smiles, joy like nothing he’s been able to remember trips over his heart.

“I’m serious, Buck. Before we...did it”

“Ha!”

A sharp smack falls onto Buckys bare chest, “Fine! Before you came like a geyser up my ass-”

“Steve!” Bucky barks a laugh, loving the pink blush dusting over Steve’s cheeks despite the faux aggravation he was attempting to express.

“Will ya quit interrupting me? You fucking alphas are so rude!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, Stevie. What were you saying?” Bucky concedes, the shit-eating grin doing nothing for the butterflies swarming the omega’s insides.

“You were saying that you couldn’t decipher real from what’s fake?”

Sighing, Bucky cards his fingers through Steve’s hair, not stopping, when the omega turns onto his stomach, exposing his back and facing the brunette. Bucky smiles down at the omega letting his hand slide down to his spine, tracing the smooth pale skin with the tip of his finger.

It’s freeing, liberating even, to let his hands and eyes roam wherever they want. After so many years of separation, then being reunited only to build unnecessary obstacles designed for the sole purpose of self-sabotaging, somehow they’ve found themselves again in the other man’s arms.

Bucky bends down to press a gentle kiss on Steve’s shoulder, loving the way the omega shivers beneath his lips.

I could just eat him alive…

“Buuuuck,” Steve shakes his head, smiling at the alpha underneath long lashes.

“Sorry, baby, you just look so sexy.”

“Oh, do I? Maybe it has a little to do with all the naked skin?”

Smiling goofily, Bucky allows his voice to get al sweet, “C’mere, smartass.”

Bucky pulls a yelping Steve into his lap, effectively laying the slender omega over his broad alpha chest.

The feeling is exhilarating. Bucky feels his stomach swoop and heart skip a beat, feeling more accomplished in this solitary moment entangled with Steve than in months of SHIELD work.

Steve grins despite himself. Settling against Bucky's chest, folding his hands in front of him and resting his chin onto his knuckles. Suddenly thrilled by the position.

He can stare into Bucky's eyes forever, and he has a sneaking suspicion the alpha won’t protest.

Cold metal fingers trail down Steve’s spine, eliciting a gentle quiver from the blonde man, shamelessly beaming beneath the attention.

“I remember how scared I would get in the winter.”

Steve’s brow furrowed in confusion, lying his head down onto his forearms and urging the larger man with his eyes to continue.

“I love that I can make you shiver now. But I think it would’ve just about wrecked me with worry back then.”

Bucky's flesh hand curls across Steve’s exposed waist, letting his heat seal into his fingers. His eyes close in relief. Like he’s remembered something… or rather; reminded himself of something.

“ I remember the worry best. The sleepless nights and evenings spent bent over pews, praying no one could hear your name falling from my lips because then they’d know… Know how much I wanted you. Wanted you to live. Wanted you to love me. Wanted you to be my omega. I remember going to work at the docks and feeling the bike rise in my throat as we talked about chasing tail when all that I fucking wanted was to make it through my shift and run my way home to you.”

Steve smiles fondly at Bucky. His head remains rested in the crook of his right elbow but reaches forward with his left to trail patterns on Bucky’s scent gland. Trailing back from his neck to his cheek, he will never understand how helpful he is just by existing.

“ I remember wanting you. I know there has never been a moment in which I existed, and I didn’t love you, even under hydra. Even when they told me- made me go after you. They had to wipe me twice before I stopped fighting… I should’ve kept fighting.”

“Buck-“ Steve’s tone is soft and reprimanding in the way only Steve Rogers could manage, but it’s not enough. The tears build behind grey and crimson. Shame burning him from the inside.

Bucky shakes his head, trying to shake away Steve’s tender touch.

Leaning forward, Steve ignores the alphas dismissal, warm petal-soft lips find Buckys, and he presses his weight deeper into his alpha.

“I’m here. With you. You stopped, Buck. You never, not for a second, stopped fighting! That wasn’t you.” Steve’s tone was loving and firm in the way only Steve Rogers could ever manage- or could ever feel for Bucky Barnes.

Bucky's eyes find crystal blue, and for a moment, he’s thrust back into his mind, his heart thrashing and growling, crying Not him! Not Steve. Stop! God damn it! You’re hurting him! We can’t hurt him!

For a moment, Steve’s sweet pink cheeks are bruised and bleeding, split by Russian metal and the free will Bucky was robbed of.

“Bucky!” Steve whispers harshly, just on the edge of frantic, “ C’mon, alpha. Don’t leave me alone again.”

“I’m here.”, Bucky chokes out, “ I’m here, baby. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

They hold each other for, neither of them speaking. Foreheads pressed together between grabby hands pushing firmly against heated flesh.

A reminder…

I’m alive. You’re okay. We’re together.

“ I remember those things; that panic of possibly losing you, very easily,” Bucky continues, “ And then… it started as flashes. Split seconds. But god, did I chase after them. It would be something minimal at first. You lying down on the bed or smiling at me over a sketchbook. But then they changed, and your head was thrown back, and the things you were drawing were us-naked. And I started hating myself because my fucking crush on you was filtering in on my memories of you, and it wasn’t fair. It felt real, but I knew it wasn’t or-“

“But they are real, Buck. We’ve always been us. This way! Laws be damned! We loved each other, and no one was gonna tell us we couldn’t have that!”

“It didn’t matter, though,” Bucky adds.

Steve shoots up off his chest, kneeling on the mattress, and as naked as the day he was born. More hurt than he thought he could ever be in his alphas arms, “ Of course it did. How could you say that? Wha-”

Bucky sits up quickly, reaching out, but Steve swiftly evades him, feeling colder than Brooklyn in February.

“Steve-“

“No! How could you say that? It matters! We matter. You matter. I fucking matter, Bucky! I lost you. You died! You fell off that train, and my alpha died!” he cries,

“I flew that plane into the ocean not because Captain America’s nobility prevails, I did it because l was grieving and life wasn’t worth living without you.”

“Steve-“

“No! Shut. Up.” Steve growls, but it sounds more like a whine.

“I died too, Buck. And woke up to a life I didn’t want either. Not just like you. I know what you went through was unthinkably cruel. But living without you was a prison sentence. And I had no choice but to wear red, white, and blue in place of orange and serve out my life miserably and without you. And that mattered.”

“I know, Stevie, I know. I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, baby.”

“Then how else did you mean it?”

“There were things that I saw or remembered-whatever! But neither matter because fantasy is something that can never happen, and if it’s a memory, it will never happen again.”

Steve can feel his heart breaking in his chest. Angry and more than a little offended, he can practically feel the anguish emanating from his alpha’s skin.

“Because you wouldn’t want the blood-soaked into my hands to touch you. To touch your pretty perfect body, so I say your name, and I can’t stop because my alpha is always just before feral, and you are the only thing keeping Me on the side of sane. I know you matter. You’re the only thing on this entire fucked up bullshit infested planet that matters!”

“But the thought of losing you based on things I simply wanted and not what you needed from me? It didn’t matter- nothing mattered beyond you. I thought you wanted Bucky Barnes, the closeted best friend. I couldn’t trust myself to believe you wanted me in the 40s, and I couldn’t hope that if you had, you’d want me still.”

“You’re an idiot,” Steve sighs, eyes misting, but he lets himself be drawn in by strong, vulnerable arms.

“...I think I understand what you mean, though.”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to say I miss you ao many times. But then I just...couldn’t. I thought it wouldn’t change anything, so I just kept pretending I didn’t. But then there are days when I wake up, and the fact that it’s without you won’t let me pretend anymore.”

“Now, who’s the idiot?” Bucky chuckles, brushing strands of hair from those hypnotizing blue eyes.

Bucky lets the Sympathy, understanding pool from his scent and settle over Steve like a warm blanket.

Smiling, Steve takes the comfort from his alpha in stride, “Of course, I talk like an idiot, Buck. How else are you ‘posed to understand me?”

Huffing a quick laugh, the ex-assassin feels all the love for this omega shine in a smile, “You’re such a fuckin’ punk, y’know that little omega?”

“ I’m your fuckin’ Punk, and besides, I’m not so little anymore.”

Whatever faithless semblance of decency they had left swiftly deteriorates as Bucky fully settles Steve into his lap, lying back into the cushions and pulling the duvet over them both.

He presses a soft kiss on Steve’s forehead and whispers with as much meaning he can muster, “You’re perfect, omegamine. Fuckin’ perfect! Perfect for me, you hear?”

Steve releases a joyful giggle,” I hear. Are we going to sleep, Alpha?”

“Yep!”

Snuggling deeper into the alpha’s chest, Steve feels content for the first time in what feels like forever, loving how perfectly he still fits in Bucky's arms, even all beefed up by the serum. Not a single gap between them.

“You comfortable, sweetheart?” Bucky asks happily. Certainly hearing and feeling Steve’s pleased purring.

“ I’m warm,” The omega mumbles, exhaustion barreling into him.

“Good. Sleep, Stevie. We'll talk more in the morning.”

Steve doesn’t respond, just nuzzles into his alpha more until his nose is close enough to the source of the brunette’s scent, humming satisfaction as he sniffs pleasantly.

“I never thought I’d get to have this. That you’d be in my arms like this. I thought I’d spend the rest of my life just pining after you-loving you. I love you, omegamine. I love you so much.”

Steve replies in soft snores, but Bucky doesn’t care. He presses a kiss to the top of ruffled blonde hair and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

He doesn't mind that Steve fell asleep because nothing else matters besides his blue-eyed beauty. Not when he has this. Not when Steve is soft and asleep and warm. He has the rest of his life to tell his omega he loves him.

One thing is for sure.

Bucky will never stop saying Steve’s name.

131 notes · View notes

xwing-baby · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Trust You (Din Djarin x gn!Reader)

for @propertyofdindjarin - sorry its so late but i hope you enjoy this!!

Characters: Din Djarin x gn!reader (i dont think i used any gendered language in this but let me know if i did and ill change the tag)

Word Count: 8k (this really ran away with me lol)

Warnings: enemies to lovers, description of injury, canon level violence, little steamy (kissing, insinuated smut), threat of death, like one swear word, pre show! Din

Summary: The Mandalorian killed you two years ago, yet here you are alive and well on a different planet. The Mandalorian is called in to help you and your team of royal guards find a missing princess. Things go horribly wrong and you are left to journey home with your worst enemy...

A/N: shout out to the random radio 4 play that gave me the idea for the plot of this and to @propertyofdindjarin for the request for enemies to lovers! i’ve never done this trope before and im not sure if i really did it justice but i enjoyed writing it at least hahah i hope you like it too darling and thanks for requesting!

“The Master is calling in reinforcements from a bounty hunter for this mission,” The general in charge of your squad spoke as the team dressed.

“Who?”

“A Mandalorian,” The general answered.

“We don’t need a Mandalorian,” You spoke up bitterly, looking up as you finally pulled your boots on. The general sighed, used to your defiance and vocal hatred of The Mandalorian. He rolled his eyes at your attitude.

“We need all the help we can get on this,”

“I don’t need a Mandalorian,” You corrected yourself.

“I don’t care about your opinion. My word is final. And besides, there is nothing you can do he is arriving… now,”

A knock at the door turned everyone’s heads. The general nodded and it was opened to reveal the shining armour of the Mandalorian. You scowled as you watched the Mandalorian swan into the room, newly polished armour glinting in the light. You frowned and turned your attention away from him, just the sight of him made you exasperated.

You didn’t understand why The Master would want to bring him in, he was expensive and more importantly an asshole. All the hard work you and your team would put in on this mission would undoubtedly be overshadowed by him. He would be praised no end and paid a handsome fee while you would probably be berated for not meeting his standard and not get any reward for returning the princess.

It was the second attempt to get the Master’s daughter back from her kidnappers. The first time had been a complete failure and caused the gang to go into deeper hiding. It had taken weeks to locate her new location, there was no room for error this time. The princess had to be returned.

The Mandalorian had noticed you the moment he entered the room. He was surprised to see you alive at all, he’d assumed you were dead, having killed you two years prior. But here you were in a brand new system, alive and well. He didn’t say a word on the matter, he’d been paid for your bounty already, it wasn’t his fault you had miraculously survived.

You sat in silence, glaring at the Mandalorian across the room, while the General spoke about the plan for the mission. You grumbled and rolled your eyes when he made suggestions. The nerve of him. Coming here invited and not trusting your plan. The grumble earned you a sharp elbow in the ribs and a hiss to shut up.

With the plan set, you began the long trip out to the location. It was far, a days trip by speeder at least. Across plains, over mountains, through valleys and finally to the destination. A small building atop a large hill. It was strangely open, considering how long it had taken to find. The sun was going down by the time you arrived. You were apprehensive to approach so quickly, wanting to wait out but you had no power amongst this group, especially with the Mandalorian validating the plan there was no way you’d win. The group dismounted the speeders mere feet from the entrance, loaded their guns and went inside, barely stopping for a second once their feet touched the ground.

You however did not follow. Ordered to stay outside, they didn’t trust you. You were to keep watch, not that there was anything to watch for. Two years on the planet and you were still considered an outsider. Your reputation had not preceded you but it quickly caught up. Within two weeks of your arrival, whispers of your real name had floated across the galaxy until it landed into the mouth of the Master. You were allowed to stay, only if you joined the royal guard to put your skills to use.

The royal guard didn’t trust you, used you as a scapegoat on any occasion and sent you in many suicide missions purely because you were expendable. But as even the Mandalorian knew, you were very hard to kill. You came back every single time with nothing more than a scratch. Instead of your action gaining their trust it bred jealousy and mistrust.

You scuffed around the site, listening out for signs that the mission was complete or anyone was in trouble. The moon rose slowly into the sky, stars appeared with it giving you some entertainment as you tried to spot the constellations familiar to you. A twinge of anxiety cut your stomach, they should have been out long ago. You should have followed to help

Suddenly, a bone-breaking thunderous sound erupted from below and the ground began to shake. You were frozen to the spot until your spot began to fall away. The ground beneath you shook and collapsed inwards. You scrambled out the way, moving to where the ground was stable again. The building your squad had gone inside had collapsed, screams and cries of terror could be heard from inside. The building fell, then fell further. All you could do was watch in horror as where the building once stood, a crater appeared. Dust plumed from the wreck, filling your lungs and scratching your eyes. You coughed and spluttered, shielding your face from it.

Soon the dust settled and things became clearer. The devastation was all that was left. And the Mandalorian. Stood alone on the opposite side of the great crater, he looked down into the hole for a moment, thinking, before making his way around to where you were. He didn’t stop to talk to you as he passed, simply readjusting his vambrace and walking away. Disturbed by his lack of reaction it took you a moment to react, you watched him walk a few paces ahead before running after him.

“Hey!” You called after him, “Where are you going?”

“There’s no speeders. We’ll have to walk,” He said, not stopping.

“They’ll kill us if we return without the princess!” You protested.

“They’ll kill you when you don’t return with the girl,” Mando corrected you, “Unless you want to walk climb in there and search through rubble, the only thing to do is walk back,”

“It’ll take days! There’s no way you’d make it back to the city in one piece,”

“Who said I was going back there?”

“You have to finish the job,”

“The job is finished,”

“You arrogant son of a bitch,” You scoffed as he continued to walk away. He picked up his pace, “I told Illana that we didn’t need you,” You shouted angrily. Din didn’t reply, trying to block out your whinging. “You’re a waste of money, everyone knows Mandalorians don't work well in teams. There’s a reason you all got wiped out,” You snarled. That comment bristled Din. He knew you were only baiting for a fight, angry your squad had died and he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted. It wasn’t advantageous for anyone, “What happened in there? You blow it up to make the job easier? You killed them all,”

Din ignored your questioning. He hadn’t killed them, he had barely made it out alive

“She was just a child and you killed her, for what? Tell me!”

He turned when he heard the load up of a blaster behind him. Your blaster, loaded and waiting in your hand was pointed at his back while he walked ahead. He whipped around just as fast, his blaster pointed at you too.

“Really?” He asked.

“Talk,”

“It was a trap,”

“Liar!” You shouted.

“The girl was tied to some kind of trap that blew up the mines below the building. I was not in the room when the extraction happened. I didn’t do anything,” He explained, you didn’t reply, grinding your teeth as you tried to get your head around it. “Why would I kill them? I needed her alive,”

You hated that he was making sense. There was no real logical reason for him to kill the princess. He needed her alive to get his payment just as you did. You glared at him, fingers twitching over your blaster.

“Keep walking,” You said sternly. You turned the safety back on to the blaster though never lowering it. Din lowered his weapon. “I’m not having you anywhere out of my sight. Can’t trust you as far as I could throw you,”

Din huffed in agreement and turned to continue walking. Your blaster wasn’t going to do anything more than scuff his armour, he didn’t worry about you attacking him from behind. If you’d wanted to kill him you would have tried by now. Whatever made this whole ordeal go faster was what he was going to do.

You walked across the grassy plain for hours in total silence. At least outwardly silent. In your mind, you were cursing his name in every language you knew to any deity you could think of. Cursing him, his stupid armour and his stupid helmet. You cursed the planet, you cursed the city, you cursed the entire universe for forcing you to be stuck with the one man you hated most. You wished you had followed the squad and died with them, it would be more pleasant than this. At least with the pace the Mandalorian kept, you were going to be back to the city in record time, this nightmare could end.

Soon the grass gave way to shrubs and weeds, trees that were rare before now crowded around you. You came to a path, well-trodden and open, surprisingly. If it was this clear it was only a good thing, you were on the right path back.

“Stop,” You ordered as the path forked out in two directions. Din had chosen one path already, a few paces ahead. He stopped and turned around to see what the problem was. You were facing the second path, motioning with your blaster to cross over. “There’s a shortcut,” You said, “That forest opens back up in the West of the city. If memory serves me correctly it’ll cut our journey in half,”

“I don’t trust you,” Din said warily.

“Never said you had to trust me. If you carry on that way it’ll take another three days to walk around a huge lake and a ravine. This way cuts that out and we’ll be back in the city in two days,”

You walked forward into the break of trees, turning back when you didn’t hear him follow. He hadn’t moved, still calculating the decision. “Not scared are you, Mando?” You taunted him. “We don’t have much sunlight. Move,”

For a moment Din contemplated shooting you right there. You were rude and arrogant, nobody would question your death at all if he did it. His hand hovered over his blaster, before finally deciding against it. He needed the payment and with you alive at the end of it he would have proof he didn’t slaughter the entire garrison.

He followed you into the forest, walking in front of you as before. The trees were so dense, a few minutes of walking cut out all light. Spotlights of dusty yellow light broke through the canopy providing enough light inside to see your footing directly in front of you but nothing more. Roots covered the floor, winding around your ankles trying to pull you in so your body could supply nutrients for the plants. Branches caught on the Mandalorian’s shoulders, snapping back into your face often when they released. You learnt quickly to keep a few more paces back to stop the attacks.

You had heard stories about these forests. Fables told to the children in the city warning them of the dangers of the expansive green land. Most of them you knew to be just stories, but like most legends in the universe, there was truth to some. That knowledge kept you alert as you continued the walk.

Suddenly, the Mandalorian stopped in his tracks. You nearly crashed into him, not looking where you were going you were met with metal.

“Keep walking,” You ordered. He didn’t move, turning his head to look up at the canopy. You frowned, growing impatient. “What?”

“Quiet,” He hissed. You paused as you heard another shuffle you had thought to be Din moving. It was above you, beside you and behind you. Then you heard it, a shrill echoing cry from above. A cry you had been told to fear since day one on this planet.

They descended from every side. Five or six strong and lean warriors armed with metal spears and knives swarmed you and Din before you even had time to run.

A flurry of metal and blaster bolts occurred. You were quick on the draw taking two warriors quickly before another knocked your gun from your hands. It was immediately lost to the undergrowth. Dodging one strike then another you grabbed hold of one of the warrior's weapons, forcing it back on them to push them back. Pull, push, slash. A splash of blood as the spear cut into his skin and another dead.

You had one left. Flipping a small knife in his hand, the warrior snarled at you before pouncing. Taking out your own, you threw yourself at the warrior. Each attempted strike on your part was blocked effortlessly. Your advance became a backwards pace as you were slowly overpowered. The knife scraped against your vambrace as you blocked yet another strike creating sparks.

The warrior growled something in a language you didn’t understand as you stepped backwards again, finding yourself cornered to a tree. You growled and surged forward again, catching a slice to his cheek and shoulder before being pinned to the bark.

You cried out as a sharp bite pierced your skin, the warrior slipping past your armour and plunging their blade into your side as your hands came up and used your knife to slice their throat. A spray of blood hit your face as they fell to the ground. You fell backwards leaning against the tree for support as your head went light, you watched Din take out the remaining warriors. One on their spear, another with his blaster. He was surrounded by bodies but looked like he’d barely broken a sweat. He surveyed his area before finally noticing you. The ambush had happened so fast he barely had time to spare a glance in your direction to see how you were.

You grimaced as he walked over. He didn’t come close, not helping you, just watching. He saw the leather strapped blade on the ground beside you and the body next to you. You hissed as you tried to push yourself up, even minimal effort was aggravating the wound.

Your hand let go of the injury, revealing the blood to Din. You wiped it on your pant leg, laughing dryly as you looked up at him. You could barely see him, eyes hazy, even speaking was an effort as your throat was stinging with the threat of vomit. Din lurched forward holding out his hand. “I don’t need your help,” You garbled, trying again. This time you were successful, only for a moment as your world spinning and went black for a moment., “Stars above,” you gasped, falling forward into the Mandalorian. He caught you quickly before you fell to the floor.

“Where are you hurt?” He asked urgently.

“Under there,” You slurred, waving your arm weakly at your side. Your eyes were dropping, skin pale. It was the end, killed by a forest warrior’s blade with the Mandalorian by your side. Not how you wanted to go.

You came too in the dark. You startled, immediately on guard. The sudden movement made you cry out as pain overtook your body.

“Don’t move,” Came a gruff reply. It was the Mandalorian. Ignoring his request, you slowly pushed yourself to sit up, wincing at the pain but you couldn’t just lay there.

You then realised your armour was gone, top feeling practically bare in your undershirt. A bandage was wrapped around your ribs, soaked in blood. He had saved you.

You looked at him across the fire, confused. You had expected him to leave you for dead. You certainly should have died. Either the gods were playing a horrific joke on you by drawing out this quest with your supposed enemy or he had cared for you. You wondered how long you’d been out for. Could have been a few hours, a few days. You doubted he would care for you for that long but evidently, the bounty hunter was full of surprises.

“You should have left me,” you finally spoke. Your voice was coarse and you coughed to clear your throat. “Why’d you do that?”

He shrugged. You frowned but decided not to press the matter. You preferred living over being dead.

“How long was I out?” You asked.

“A few hours,” He replied, “Nice to have you quiet for so long,”

“Where’s my armour?”

“Here,” He said, patting the pile of metal next to him. You watched him carefully now. You needed that back if you were going to make it and didn’t entirely trust he would give it back. Parts were beskar. You knew he would try and stake a claim to it despite the fact he knew where you’d gotten it from. He’d tried it before and that had ended with you at the bottom of a rocky gorge, “I’ll give it back in the morning. You need to rest and you can’t in that,”

“It’s very important to me,” You stated.

“I know,” He said.

“How do I know you won’t take it?”

“You’ll have to trust me,” Din said. You were not about to do that. You pushed yourself to stand up, grinding your teeth to not let out the sharp pain that was splitting through your side, “Sit down,” Din ordered.

“Give me-,” As you stood up your vision went blurry, you stumbled forward into the fire pit. Luckily the Mandalorian had quick reflexes and caught you before you fell into the flames

“I didn’t save your life for you to fall into a fire,” he scolded you, helping you back to the ground. Sit,”

You shoved his hands off you and shuffled away from him. “I’ll kill you if you take it,” you grumbled.

“You would try,” Din agreed. Both of you knew you would not be a threat. While the Mandalorian had managed to flush out most of the poison some of it remained in your system. Not deadly in dosage but enough to weaken you significantly. You wouldn’t be able to get real help until you returned to the city.

Silence fell over the camp again. You stared into the fire, watching it spit and spark. A physical manifestation of your rage and embarrassment. Not only were you weak and wounded, but you were also stuck with the one person you swore would get revenge on if you ever crossed paths again. Now the only revenge you could manage was maybe to scratch his armour. You had slaughtered people, entire towns had met their end through your hands. Now your life lay in the Mandalorians’s. You hated it.

You glared at him for what felt like hours. Neither of you was going to give in to sleep, too suspicious of the other to succumb to the vulnerability. The three moons travelled slowly overhead, animals scratching around the clearing of the forest none would dare to venture into the foreign light of the Mandalorian’s fire but you could feel a thousand eyes in the darkness watching you intently.

Suddenly he stood up. Suspicious you watched him walk the short distance to you. Without warning, he passed a silver packet of food to you and walked behind you. You looked dumbly at the packet and turned your head to see what he was doing. You had barely looked over your shoulder before his gloved hand came to the side of your face, pushing you away.

“Turn around and I’ll kill you,” Din warned you.

“Ok! Kriff, calm down I don’t want to look anyway,” You scoffed at him. Somehow, his insistence that you didn’t see his face only made the idea more enticing. You heard a scuff of metal and the sound of something heavy on the grass, his helmet was off.

You kept your head straight forward, moving only to look at what you were eating. It was very similar to eating next to a wild animal, any movement you made while he ate could be your last. You knew enough about Mandalorians to know it wasn’t him being territorial but to do with his ‘creed’. They could never remove their helmets, never show their faces to anyone except family. It didn’t seem like the Mandalorian behind you had any family, there was barely a caring bone in his body. Except he had saved your life, though that was more an act of self-preservation than anything else you thought.

Din wouldn’t usually risk eating like this with someone like you nearby. There was no privacy, no guarantee you wouldn’t turn and catch him but his hunger was overtaking his logic. It had been days since he’d eaten, he was the lowest on credits in his life the small amount he’d earn from this bounty was desperately needed. If he was going to be paid at all now.

He ate quickly, wolfing down the scraps he had found in your pack. It was bland and chalky but it was food, nutrients, and that was all that mattered. He had to survive until the next. Once he finished, he picked up his helmet and placed it back on his head. Safe inside his metal shell he stood up and walked to his previous spot on the other side of the fire.

He watched you while you ate. He took in the way your skin glowed in the firelight. Wisps of unruly hair caught the light giving you a halo over your head except there was nothing angelic about you. You knew murder and destruction just as well as he did. You’d killed many and cursed more to the haunting image of your destruction. You were one of a small few in the galaxy who had survived the Mandalorian.

There was something oddly satisfying at the fact you couldn’t get away now. You couldn’t do anything if he tried to kill you again now. All your power, all your strength, was in his hands. It was a dark feeling he wanted to avoid, he didn’t think about it too much. If he’d wanted to kill you he would have left you to die.

Once you finished your food you threw the packaging into the fire and settled back. You watched the Mandalorian pick through your pack, pulling out whatever he could find useful for the rest of the travel. You knew we wouldn't find much, the thing had only been packed for a two-day trip maximum. You ached from head to toe, tired and more hungry than the nutrients bar could stave off you longed for your bed. Soft and warm it was the only good thing in this place, the only thing that had kept you here for so long. Comfort was never something you had been given freely, you were going to hold onto this one for as long as you could.

Soon you couldn’t fight sleep any longer. You lay down next to the fire, watching the Mandalorian until you could no longer keep your eyes open.

—

The next day something had shifted in your dynamic. The fact he’d saved your life had changed things. You weren’t so angry at him. He was careful with you, helping you up from the ground and you didn’t miss the way his helmet stayed on you for longer than needed as you pulled your armour back on. He’d cleaned it too, wiping off the blood and dirt from the metal.

You walked mostly in silence, Din still in front of you. You may not hate him anymore but you didn’t entirely trust him yet. He was on neutral ground as far as you were concerned. He'd tried to kill you once, he’d saved you once, They cancelled each other out and now all was left as to gain any opinion either way about who this man was. Was he a killer or was he kind? His actions thus far, surprisingly, offered the latter. Despite that, your hand never left your blaster, though not drawn it was ready in its holster if he decided to turn on you.

Every time you hissed or groaned as you walked, he would stop, look at you and check you were okay before continuing. If it wasn’t for the cold nature of his helmet it would have been endearing.

You travelled together through forest and fields, over a small mountain and down a ravine. Your legs ached, back sore from carrying your pack but at least your stab wound had gone numb. Your pain receptors were so fried now your brain was trying to forget it all together so you could survive.

You flagged behind Mando, gritting your teeth and forcing yourself forward until you couldn’t take it anymore. You let out a small cry of defeat before calling for the Mandalorian to stop. You sat on a rock above a reed bed, leaning on it with one arm while the other pried your armour from your body. Din stopped walking as soon as he heard you.

“I need to rest for a bit,” You admitted, struggling with your straps. One-handed it was impossible to get them off but if you didn’t you couldn’t breathe. You pulled and tugged at the buckles until you were stopped by the Mandalorian’s gloved hand on yours.

“I’ll do it,” He said quietly. You moved your hand, turning a little to let him have better access to the buckles holding the metal to your body.

You didn’t say a word, knowing you couldn’t do it by yourself. His skilled fingers worked the buckles open and pulled the chest pieces away from your body. There was care in his touch, his fingers momentarily gracing over your exposed skin for a moment. The light touch sent shivers down your spine. You turned your head for fear of showing just how affected you were by his touch. You sighed in relief when the weight was gone and the strain on your muscles was decreased.

“Thank you,” You mumbled.

“We can set up camp here for the night,”

“It’s not even dark,” You protested, “Give me a few minutes we can keep walking. It’s not safe out in the open like this,”

“You’re in pain,”

“I’ll be in pain wherever we are,” You said, “There are caves just over there, it will be safer to stay there,”

“That’ll be two hours walk,”

“I can do it,”

“I’m tired too. We’re staying here,” He said, “You can bathe in the river, clean the wound again,”

“Mando-,” You protested.

He wasn’t listening anymore. He’d set down the weapons on his back and set to creating a fire. If it was going to be as cold as last night you were going to need one.

You were silently relieved. Your entire body was screaming for a break, the wound throbbing so much you could have thrown up. You needed to rest. You knew you weren’t far from the city now, it was on the other side of the pass, you could see ships land and take off in the distance, specks leaving white trails in the sky. You would be back by the next evening, you predicted. Only one day left free of consequences.

As the decision had been made to stay by the river for the night, you decided you could get out of your armour again. You sat up slowly, leaning to one side to avoid putting pressure on the wound on your side. You piled the pieces up next to the rock.

Din was still busy searching for suitable wood, a good distance away from you you decided it was safe to strip off and explore the water you could hear behind the reed bed. You pulled aside the plants, creating a path for yourself and revealing a beautiful stream. The water was crystal clear, reflecting the sunset colours above you.

You waded into the water, holding up your tunic so it didn’t get wet. The current wasn’t strong, stones were stable under your feet and you let yourself walk further into the river until it got to your hips. Creatures in the water scattered as your legs invaded their home. You pulled your tunic over your head, throwing the fabric back onto the riverbank, then untied the Mandalorians bandages leaving them with the tunic too. The cool water soothed your aching muscles, washing away the sweat and dry blood as it passed over your skin. You groaned at the heavenly feeling before dipping down under the surface, letting the world melt away in the stream.

Din returned to find you missing. He dropped the sticks he’d found and looked around for you. He hadn’t heard a struggle, he’d have seen someone if you’d been taken. He spotted your armour in a pile while you’d been lay, too neat to be stripped of you in a hurry you must have taken it off. None of his weapons missing either. Then he heard your voice from behind the tall reeds surrounding the lazy river, a pained groan. He was quick to action fearing you’d fallen and been hurt again. He barrelled through the reeds, nearly falling down the riverbank into the water until he saw you. Entirely naked, facing away from him, standing waist-deep in the cool water. Every scar, every bruise, every lump and bump was on view under the golden sun instantly transfixing Din.

He didn’t want to stare but he couldn’t bring his eyes away from the view. Drenched in golden light, your wet skin sparkled. His eyes fell slowly down your body, his own body was fighting between leaving you alone and joining you in the water. Your shadow cast on the opposite bank of reeds showed a broken image of everything you had hidden.

“Can you pass me my clothes when you’re done staring please Mando?” You spoke up suddenly, looking over your shoulder with a smirk on your lips. Din startled, snapping himself out of the trance he’d fallen into, nearly falling in the water. He coughed and spluttered, the sound coming out strangely through his vocoder, which made you laugh. He nodded, muttering something you couldn’t hear before disappearing back through the reeds to retrieve your clothes.

You were used to washing with no privacy. Being in the places you’d been, privacy was a luxury. You could ignore the lustful stares men gave but something about Din watching you set you on edge, it excited you. You couldn’t see his face, couldn’t tell where he was looking but his vision bore like laser’s into your skin. You felt electric. He could have watched forever and you wouldn’t mind at all.

You dunked under the cold water, cleaning yourself and cooling off the heat of your body. You found your clothes laid out on the bank, where Din had been standing before. You smiled, dried off and dressed before re-emerging from the reeds.

The sun was going down now, barely a sliver above the horizon. Stars came out, colouring the night sky with constellations. The Mandalorian had a good fire going. A field rat hung over the flames cooking away.

“Sit close to the fire so you can dry off properly,” He said as you approached. You smiled and nodded, feeling brave enough to sit next to him rather than across as you had done the other night. He was opposed to your decision and didn’t move when you settled down next to him in the grass. “The wound looked like it's healing well,” He said after a moment of quiet.

“That’s all you were looking at?” You asked with a smirk.

“I didn’t mean to pry,” He apologised, a little ashamed at his voyeurism.

“I didn’t say I minded,” You smiled, sweet on the surface but the wicked fire in your eyes told him exactly what he wanted. He shivered under your gaze and moved quickly to get away from your scrutiny, turning his attention to stoking the fire again. You laughed to yourself and settled back onto your elbows to watch the stars.

This night was so different from the one before. You didn’t watch him so intently, trusting that he wouldn’t suddenly try to rob you or kill you. You were relaxed, as much as you could in the circumstances. Your earlier question of the character of the Mandalorian was slowly being answered. He was a mixture of good and kind, and cold and calculated. You couldn’t forget how viciously he had attacked you all those years ago, how bloody and raw those warriors had been left in the forest. But simultaneously you couldn’t forget his kindness in saving you, his care for your wellbeing as you walked today. How bashful he became when you confronted him about his peeping. You could hear the embarrassment in his voice. If he was a cold and heartless killer like you thought him to be, he would not take your teasing. He wouldn’t be embarrassed. No, this Mandalorian much like everyone else was complicated. Under that beskar somewhere lay a man, who unfortunately you were starting to like.

You couldn’t hate him. Not when he had found and cooked food for you to share. Din had pulled the field rat off the spit, opened it up and pulled out the cooked meat. He passed you half before collecting his own. You initially curled your lip at the charred remains in your lap but there was no other choice. It was that or starve.

Din opened his mouth to speak, to tell you to stay put as he sat behind you but was astounded at how quickly you’d turned your back on him giving him the privacy he needed. Metal hit the ground with a thud, you stayed perfectly still. Din noticed instantly, his chest becoming heavy as he saw your fear. You had been friendly all day, talking as if you were friends but the way you sat in front of him like caught prey reminded him that wasn’t the case.

You surprised him, it was rare for people to understand so quickly, let alone someone like you. Someone who hated him, had tried to kill him, usually, they’d mock him and refuse unless he threatened them, like he’d done to you last night. You didn’t say a word. You respected him.

So, he ate slower. Taking the time to enjoy his food, as much as you can enjoy slightly burnt field rat. He picked at the meat, pulling it apart with his fingers. His quiet groan of pleasure at the taste of his food made your ears prick and hair stand up on edge. You’d teased him for watching you in the river, but if he sat behind you and made sounds like that you were going to have to do something. Call it Stockholm syndrome, some kind of weird lapse of judgement due to the stress of your predicament but you found yourself liking the Mandalorian. He had tried to kill you before, he should terrify you, but the fact he was such a mystery, and a dangerous one at that, made him all the more enticing.

Din didn’t miss the way you’d pricked up at the noise he’d made. He didn’t mean to, it had just slipped from his lips. A new kind of hunger took over him as he finished his meal. He wanted you. The memory of you in the river cast over him. He wondered how soft your skin would feel, fresh from the mineral waters you’d bathed in. You smelt so fresh from where he was sitting, how much better would it be with his nose in your hair. He’d been hungry for days, but this hunger had gone unsolved for months, he could hardly remember the last time he’d held someone, kissed someone, fucked someone.

Without realising it Din had moved closer to you. His hands ghosted over your hair, wanting desperately to run his fingers through it. He wanted to touch you, to feel you. He leant over, just outside your peripheral vision and placed a kiss on your cheek. It was short, shorter as you startled at the sudden touch. Din retreated quickly, your sudden movement startling him too.

“What was that?” You asked sharply. Din frowned, instantly regretting his action. To his surprise, you didn’t make a move to look at him.

“Wh-what do you mean?” He stuttered, all confidence draining from his body.

“Kiss me properly if you’re going to kiss me,” you said confidently. A simple touch of his lips to your cheek had set you alight, you were startled but didn’t want him to stop.

Din grinned in the dark and surged forward to kiss you properly. The sharp scratch of stubble surprised you as he kissed you. His lips were soft as passion dripped into your mouth as your mouth opened to him in a gasp. The Mandalorian pulled you closer, turning you to face him properly. You hissed in pain when his hand brushed over your wound. He whispered an apology, moving down to your jaw. His nose brushed along your jaw taking in the clean and earthy scent of you.

His kiss travelled down your neck. The burn of his stumble on your soft skin made you sigh and open up to him more. Din could feel himself falling into you, your scent and taste, the noises that you were making just from his kisses were driving him insane. He could stop if he needed but he didn’t want to. He could trust you.

His hands stroked down your arms, taking your wrist into his grip. He continued his assault on your neck as he lifted it. He placed your hand over your eyes, holding your wrist tight to keep it in place. His warm hand over yours was oddly comforting.

“Move your hand and I stop, yes?” He whispered in your ear, his hot breath tickling you and sending a shiver up your spine, “I don’t want to kill you, but I will,”

“I understand,”

If there was any way you could have predicted the ending of your adventure with the Mandalorian there would be no way you could have predicted the events of the previous night.

He was good. Surprisingly good. You were a little shocked, having thought he was some celibate mercenary monk type character, but he knew what he was doing. If there weren’t stars above you, he’d made you see more. He was careful not to hurt you but didn’t hold out. Edges of your previous hatred for one another dipped in, adding so much to the event. You woke up sore in a completely different and entirely satisfying way.

You set out for the final stretch of the journey with a smile on your face. Your blaster was left alone in its holster and the Mandalorian walked beside you. You trusted him.

The final stretch was the most challenging. Through a rocky ravine, you had to climb over boulders and through tight passes. If you could have gone over you would, but the hundred-foot sheer cliff faces took that option away from you pretty fast. The Mandalorian walked slower to allow you to keep up, taking hold of your chest armour when the weight became too much to take anymore. You still couldn’t understand the reasoning behind his kindness but accepted it easily. He wouldn’t leave you more than ten foot behind, despite your insistence on leaving you to catch up on your own he refused and waited for you before enforcing a rest stop so you could catch your breath and continue. After hours of walking through the rocky pass, red stone finally gave way to green grass and blue sky once more.

You saw the city gates on the horizon and your heart began to ache. You had almost forgotten what you were walking back to. You had to tell the Master that his daughter was dead, that your entire team was burnt alive and you were the only survivor. You were dead for sure. Being the outsider anyway put you on rocky ground, this would be the final straw.

Din could sense your nervousness. Even if you didn’t express it verbally, he knew you were anxious to return. He thought you were brave for doing so, but you didn’t have a choice. If you ran you could never stay hidden from the Master. You were dead either way, at least if you brought yourself in you could argue your case.

Citizens lined the wall of the city, flags waving and cheering songs danced on the breeze as soon as you and the Mandalorian were spotted. You walked through the outlying villages with heads hung low as the people ran up to you expecting their princess in tow. When they saw the two of you alone their cries of joy turned to silence.

You reached the city gates and it seemed nobody had noticed, bells rang out and drums echoes from inside. Children waved from the wall, happy and excited to see you. The whispers started, turned into murmurs and soon the yells of praise and joy were spitting insults and exclamations of pain. People yelled out questions, what had happened to the princess, where was she, who’d killed the princess. Why hadn’t you saved her? Your heart sunk, you couldn’t lift your eyes from the ground as you and the Mandalorian were escorted to the palace.

Din always hated a failed mission, letting targets getaway in mistakes was what kept him up at night, but this was so much worse. He didn’t have any personal connection to the girl but the vitriol spat at you and him as you walked through was tough to take. He kept his head up, trying to think of a plan for what might happen next.

The news of your failure had spread fast, arriving at the Master’s feet before you did. You knelt at his throne, the Mandalorian standing beside you.

“What news do you bring?” The Master asked. He didn’t need your answer, he just wanted to watch you squirm.

“I am afraid we were unsuccessful Master. An accident occurred at the camp and we two are the only survivors of the event. There was no way of recovering your daughter, I apologise,” You said finally looking up at him. Your voice was calm, collected and confident. There was nothing you could do now, it didn’t matter whether you were visibly upset or not.

“Mandalorian? Do they speak the truth?”

“Yes. Charges were set in the mines beneath the location and set as soon as we arrived,” He elaborated.

“I appreciate the aide Mandalorian, however without a successful return of my daughter I cannot pay you,” The master said. Din nodded, having expected as much, “Guards arrest L/n,”

“I assure you we did everything we could to get your daughter, none of this was their fault,” Din insisted.

“You are dismissed, Mando,” The Master ordered. Din didn’t move, his blaster raised at the guards approaching, standing between you and them to protect you.

“Stop it,” You hissed at him, alarmed that he was putting his survival at risk for you.

“Put the blaster down, Mandalorian. You are far outnumbered here. I suggest you leave me while you still can unless you would like to join L/n in front of a firing squad,”

“It’s not worth it,” You whispered, as you pushed yourself to stand up. You gritted your teeth as pain shot through you. You both knew this was how it would end, there was no other way, “I accept my fate,” You spoke loud enough for everyone else to hear. Din didn’t accept it, he refused to. He had only just got you into his life, whatever the relationship was between you two he wasn’t going to let you die for something that wasn’t your fault.

You were surrounded inside the palace. Din’s defiance was only drawing more soldiers in. The chances of either you or Din coming out alive were drawing in. You knew the Mandalorian was worth more, something inside you told you he had a great destiny before him. While our crossed paths had arrived at a pleasant spot you would like to continue, if that was the final destination of your lives then you wouldn’t be the one pulling him to a halt with you.

You stepped into the Mandalorian’s vision, soldiers drawing closer, and you placed your hand over his blaster. You looked directly into his visor, staring directly into his eyes. You didn’t have to speak, he knew it was over. Slowly, Din lowered his weapon and stepped back. With his hands up he nodded to the Master who smiled smugly and gave you one last look. As soon as the Mandalorian walked away the guards were on you, hands roughly tugged behind your back and into harsh cuffs.

Din didn’t look back. Couldn’t. If he did he would do something he would regret. The Master’s voice echoed out of the Palace doors relaying your sentence. You were to be executed at sundown. Din pulled himself into a comfortable stoic calm, and indifference forced upon himself to allow him to carry on. He walked out of the city with nothing. Penniless, hungry and alone.

The Razor Crest provided some comfort as it always did. No matter what changed around his outside could always be corrected inside the silver confines of his ship. He had enough fuel to get him to the next populated planet, hopefully, he would find work there to get food. He settled into the cockpit, flicking through maps for a while to see where he could go. After a while, the exhaustion of not sleeping properly for three days caught up and Din fell asleep in the pilot seat.

“Oi! Mando! Open up!” Hard rock being thrown at the front of the Crest and the sound of your voice startled him awake. It was dark now, the moon high in the sky above him. Din’s heart sunk, it was just a dream. You were gone now.

He let himself wonder for a moment if he could have done more, knowing that probably wasn’t true. The galaxy had a way of making things work out the way they should no matter what he did. He settled back against his chair again, head resting on his chest when something slammed against the side of the ship and shouted for him again and he knew he wasn’t dreaming.

He did a double-take when he saw you at the door. Dishevelled and breathing heavily, you grinned up at him. “I thought you were dead,” He said.

“I will be if you don’t let me in in a minute,” You looked over your shoulder as speeder lights approached over the brim of the hill. Din had barely stepped aside before you barreled into the ship.

He stared at you in the low light of the hull. confused by the image you presented. Your armour was half missing, only your chest plates and one thigh plate remained and you were covered in blood. You were not only alive but you had fought well for it. Considering the state you had been in just hours before, barely able to stand up unaided, he was astonished.

“What? It’s not my blood if you’re worried about that,” You wiped your face with the back of your hand then wiping it on your pant leg. “Hurry up and get this ship in the sky. We need to go right now,”

A blaster shot ricochet off the side of the Crest, the sound of bikes coming closer, setting Din back into motion. He raced back up to the cockpit to set off. You followed quickly and watched as the Mandalorian set to getting the ship into the air while under attack. You jumped into the seat behind him, giddy with excitement as the weight of what you had just done inside the city walls had not yet settled in. You were high on adrenaline. The engines roared into life and suddenly the Mandalorian turned back to look at you.

“I’m glad you’re not dead,” He said.

“I’m glad I’m not dead too,” you smiled, warmth spreading through your body at the sentiment, “now please can we go,” A shot hit the front window making you duck instinctively. “Go!”

happy may the fourth guys!! omg i missed writing din so much!!

tags: @beskar-falcon @peterssweetpea @beskarbabs @wille-zarr @this-cat-is-dea @dameronology @fandom-blackhole @artsymaddie

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baronetcoins · 2 years ago

Note

i'd like a snippet/link for "this au turducken has gotten out of hand"

oh ok this bad boy deserves some Context: Me and some friends (@kangoo and @kingstealer) have a destiny ocverse that has enough of it's own lore to be a separate spin-off property at this point, including Kangoo and I's dearly treasured AU, It Takes A Village (ITAV for short). ITAV takes two canon characters (Drifter and Shin Malphur) and a handful of our OCs (My Thyme, Sable, and Shrike, Kangoo's Occam mostly) and says "what if the five dysfunctional adults shared an apartment and together tried to raise a child (Shrike) with strange psychic powers". The au turducken part of this would be we went "what if ITAV had a magical girl au". They're all bird themed, because of course they are.

Anyway I couldn't pick just one part of this block for a snippet so have a long excerpt from the one scene I actually wrote for this incredibly self-indulgent au

When the camera caught them, it zoomed in on the group pulling themselves out of the wreckage. No civilian bodies, thank god—the evacuation efforts had been successful, but they were battered and bruised. Guardian Magpie was supporting Osprey on his shoulders, and Swan was holding onto a wound on their side, but they would heal soon. Jay pulled on Swallow’s cape a little pathetically, and made an up gesture.

Swallow immediately snapped over to look her up and down. “You hurt?” She signed, scanning for the signs of injury. Healing factor might make them harder to kill, but it didn’t get rid of the pain.

Jay shook her head. “My feet hurt. The heels are killing me.”

Right. Just because she’d done her time in character shoes didn’t mean everyone else was used to moving in heels. Swallow grimaced in sympathy and went to sweep her up, bridal-style.

Magpie caught her eye and made a gesture. “Press to your 6,” he mouthed. She adjusted her grip on Jay and turned to watch the news anchor in a windbreaker and remarkably practical shoes picking her way over the rubble gunning straight towards them, with a camera operator not far behind.

“Game faces.” Osprey whispered. “They aren’t friendly.”

Swallow’s eyes caught on a moment after. The logo emblazoned on the front of the windbreaker was that of the local far right radio commentator. Internally, she scowled. Externally, she plastered on her best impression of the stoic yet positive hero.The ‘reporter’ flagged them down when she got close enough. She waved a microphone at them.

“Guardians! I’m Maggie Webber, with the Ely Evans show. What would you say in response to the people who are worried about how you behave yourselves in public? What kind of example are you setting for the children who look up at you when you act like—” She waved a hand at Jay, curled up in Swallow’s arms. “—this?”

Swallow felt her own arms tense as Jay pressed her face further into her chest. She dropped the expression.

“The right one.”

Webber took a half step back before recovering. “But Guardian Sparrow! Surely you understand people’s concerns with you shoving your lifestyles in the faces of the populace! As public symbols—”

“We just saved your life with the power of love. Are you really going to care who it’s for?” Thyme pressed in, using the height advantage granted by the rubble for all it was worth. “Now excuse us. I need to take care of my girlfriend.”

#cw homophobia #my ocs #my writing #thyme #sable

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imagineabrighterworld · 4 years ago

Text

Summary// Ground Zero has been your crush since you were rescued by him, and ever since then, you've been writing love songs that your manager is sick and tired of hearing. One day on a live broadcast, you admit that the songs were inspired by your admiration for said hero. Little did you know, he was just in the other wing of the building getting his own interview done and decides to see you after the cameras are off.

A/N: I know his hero name is Dynamite but I wrote this before it was decided so I'm sticking with Ground Zero, sorry ^^;

————

You were never camera shy, you loved the stage and all that came with it. The lights, the flurry of makeup artists and the adrenaline rush of seeing the On-Air light turn red.

But the moment you saw him walk into the room, you swear your heart fell into your stomach and all the words you've ever sang were sucked right back into your throat.

- -

Ever since the accident that nearly took your life, you have been an active fan of Ground Zero. He was constantly in the news, either due to his heroics or due to being spotted with other top heroes such as Deku or Shoto. Considering he was their classmate in high school, the media gobbled up any coverage they could with the trio.

You on the other hand, were mostly into the tabloids for information on Ground Zero.

The accident was after one of your concerts. You had been on your way to your tour bus when a villain had attacked. Luckily none of your crew were hurt, but you were trapped under the rubble of the concert hall that had fallen when the villain rammed into the wall. It was cramped and had little oxygen, the air was full of dust and your lungs were heavy with the ash. You had broken your arm and had to use it to support yourself to keep from getting crushed under the rubble that was slowly but surely pressing down on you.

You had little hope for yourself as the rubble grew heavier, your arm giving out under the weight of your body, but before it could fully crush you, you heard the sounds of explosions.

Not long after, you felt the weight of the rubble lift.

Ground Zero had sent smaller blasts to break up the larger pieces of rubble before finally moving the giant piece that was pinning you to the ground. He scooped you up into his arms and murmured the same line under his breath as he brought you to the paramedics.

"You're safe now."

He lowered you onto the gurney and waited by you as the paramedics asked you questions, soon finding your rib was cracked as well. Ground Zero gave you a once over before parting with a quiet goodbye and a thank you to the medics that were helping you.

You didn't get the chance to thank him as the medics placed an oxygen mask on your face.

So you wrote him songs. You never used his name, but a hero was always implied when it came to songs about him. You tried to be subtle with the crush you had developed, but apparently you weren't subtle enough.

Your manager was sent an invitation for an interview to talk about your new album full of love songs. The album was crammed with songs about a one-sided pinning for someone who could never love back, but the last song was a ray of hope that they might find a way to each other.

Was it based on reality? No. Ground Zero couldn't have liked you like you liked him, he didn't know who he had saved and likely didn't look back on that event. He was a busy hero who saved people daily. He wouldn't know your name, but you could always dream maybe he would hold you like he did when you were hurt.

So there you were, in a chair with the lights on you and your interviewer.

"Your album is named Loved One, are you trying to send a message to a certain someone?" The man asks as he cleans his glasses with a wipe.

You fiddle with your hands on your lap, a half smile on your face. "It's a love song for someone, yes. But if he's ever heard it I'm not sure."

"Your songs have been in the top ten, with Sweet Delights being number one for seven weeks straight. Surely he's heard one of them."

True. Your music was popular. But did he ever hear them? Would he know it was him you were talking about when you sang?

Of course not. That's why you wrote your feelings with no fear of being found out.

"He's a very special man, I can't say he has the time for music." You turn your face as a small blush fans your cheeks. "He's a hero, I'm sure he's too busy to listen to the radio."

The interviewer leans forward in his seat, a grin tugging at his lips. "A hero?"

The live audience begins to whisper and you can hear the names of heroes being tossed around.

Deku. Shoto. Chargebolt. Cellophane.

Ground Zero.

"Yeah." You chuckle. "He saved me during an accident. I'll be forever grateful to him for saving my life."

"Love at first attack."

"Something like that."

"What would you say to him if he were here right now?" The interviewer leans back in his seat.

You look down at your lap, twiddling with your thumbs as you try to come up with the words. You've written dozens of songs, but what words would you give him?

"Thank you. For being my hero. I've written you love songs I never thought you'd hear. Maybe I thought it would make you feel the same way I feel for you." You look up from your lap and chuckle, this time a tad bit weaker. "Silly isn't it? I get to know so much about him but I'm just a dime a dozen that he saves. He doesn't even know my name."

The interviewer scoots forward and hands you one of the tissue boxes on his desk. You aren't about to start crying but you appreciate the gesture and take it from him anyway.

"Love can be tough. But you've written plenty about it haven't you?"

A light chuckle comes from the crowd.

You smile. "I know enough about pinning for someone who will never know me."

"What is his name? Maybe we could get him on here, get you a coffee date." He says in a playful tone.

What's the worst that could happen?

"Well, this is a little embarrassing, but it's Ground Zero." You rub your neck as the crowd collectively gasps. "He saved me after a concert I held, and ever since then he's been on my mind. I thought it was creepy, so I figured I would use my music as an outlet. My album is dedicated to unrequited love and accepting it. Hopefully I'll accept it one day too."

For a moment the interviewer is quiet, but when you look closer you see a smile is building on his face.

He clears his throat and lifts his remote control to the screen behind the both of you. "Ironically, in the west wing of the building, we're holding an interview with Ground Zero himself."

The screen turns on to show Ground Zero seated with his own interviewer.

They were watching your interview live.

And he just heard your admission to liking him.

Your grip on the tissue box tightens as you see his eyes scanning you.

Oh god you were going to be sick.

He stands up and walks out of the room. All you feel is lead in your gut as you watch the television move onto commercial.

Your interviewer presses on the Bluetooth in his ear and nods along to whatever the people were saying. But you didn't want to hear any of it. All you felt was dread.

He heard.

He must think you were crazy. It was his job to save people! He didn't do it out of chivalry or kindness like some knight in a fairytale!

You let go of the box and cover your face with your hands. The crowd was talking now, you couldn't catch what they were saying but they were going wild.

Deciding to see what was getting the crowd so riled up, you look to the doors.

And there he is.

Standing across the room with his eyes glued to yours.

- -

So there you are. No words were forming and you felt like you were being sucked into the Twilight Zone.

The crowd cheers as he walks down the aisle in his full gear and makes his way straight to you.

You cover your face again as the interviewer speaks to him.

"The man of the hour, Ground Zero ladies and gentlemen!" He announces, but the crowd was already roaring with energy.

You feel the hero stand in front of you, mostly because he blocked your light, and soon you were wondering if you could sink into the cushions and disappear forever. Let Loved One be your momento mori, your swan song before you disappeared off the face of the earth.

"Hey."

No no no no- no!

You hear his gear shift and from the cracks between your fingers you see him crouch in front of you.

"Stop filming." He says to the interviewer.

"We still have five minutes to break-" The interviewer starts up but stumbles on his words. You hear the pop of small explosions and the murmur of the crowd.

"Break for two!" The producer calls from backstage.

"Hey."

This time, you lower your hands to cover your mouth, looking at Ground Zero with half of your face covered.

He looked just as he had when he rescued you, minus him being in his winter gear. But it was all the same. Even the tone he was using with you. Like you were fragile.

"Did you mean it?" He asks, his head nodding towards the screen above. "What you said about me."

"I.. I did." You uncover your face, using your nervous energy to hold onto the box of tissues instead, squeezing the life out of the poor box. "Every word. You saved me and I'm grateful." You look down in shame, unable to utter the next words while looking him in the face. "I- I know it's weird, to like someone you know so little about-”

"Bakugou Katsuki."

"Huh?"

"My name, is Bakugou Katsuki." He grips your chin gently and tugs you to look at him. He had a small grin on his face. "Go to dinner with me and I'll debate letting you call me Katsuki."

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thejollyroger-writer · 3 years ago

Text

THE WASTELAND - HOME (15/15)

Some triggers: this story is rated TEEN, mostly for violence. It takes place during wartime, and some of the characters go through some violence and torture. If you need more information about this, please just message me!

SUMMARY: In a world that has been saturated in war for as long as anyone can remember, Emma Swan has rebuilt her life as far away from the chaos as possible, opening her own maternity hospital after spending too many years in makeshift battlefield aid stations. But one night, a bloodied and battered soldier finds her hospital trying to get away from an enemy with a penchant for torture and a personal vendetta against him. With the help of Emma’s childhood friend Prince David and a motley collection of humans and magic-wielders, the quest to save Killian Jones’ life from the poison used by the enemy takes them to places even beyond the known world.

A/N: Can you believe it? This story is COMPLETE, which feels surreal and ethereal in unexplainable ways. I've literally been writing this story longer than it took me to write my masters' thesis -- though, needing to write my masters' thesis is most of the reason it has taken me this long. Thank you all for sticking around through it all, if you've been here since the beginning -- and if you've hopped on somewhere along the way, you're just as important to me. Thank you, all. Enjoy the last chapter.

Start from the Beginning // Also on AO3!

For a long, drawn-out moment, nothing happens. Emma can feel the beating of her heart in her stomach and fears that something has gone wrong, attempting to use her unhoned magic for too big a task too quickly.

And then, she feels her feet shift on uneven ground and she dares to open her eyes.

Sand.

They're on the shore. Everyone is on the shore, Belle still tending to Will's wounded shoulder and Mary Margaret comforting David, his pain obvious on his face. Killian releases her hand, rushing to the prince's side with his canteen at the ready. The water doesn't heal David as quickly as it did Killian, but as he swallows the few sips he was given, his expression grows relieved and the tendrils of poison retract across his exposed chest before disappearing from the site of the wound. It's not nearly as climactic as Killian's healing was (Emma refuses to think about why that might be) but she still feels a weight lifted from her chest as all traces of the poison disappear, leaving only a small cut on his side where the arrow nicked him.

Killian and Mary Margaret simultaneously sigh an audible breath of relief, her petite form almost comically small as she leans into Killian's shoulder.

"Let's get off this bloody island," Killian says, allowing only a moment's pause before he helps Dave to his feet — though his words are practically forgotten as the forest begins to groan and grumble, trees snapping, cracking, falling to the ground behind them.

And they watch as four, five, six boys move through the treeline, all dressed in rags and covered in dirt.

"The Lost Boys!" Wendy cries, rushing towards them.

"Please take us home with you, Wendy," the one who looks to be the oldest begs, terror obvious on his face, as on all of their faces.

She turns to look at David. "Without Pan's magic, the island will disappear, and the boys will die."

David shakes his head. "I have no argument."

"What about what Pan told your brothers? That only the amount who arrived can leave?" Regina's voice is heavy with worry. None of them want to leave the boys behind, but if it means that no one will make it home, it's a much heavier question.

But Belle is the one to answer. "With Pan defeated, the island holds no power. Even if it wanted to stop us from leaving, it is no longer able."

The oldest boy knits his eyebrows. "Does that mean—" he starts, but is silenced by a deafening thump as another large tree hits the ground, this one not far from the shore and sending a tremor under their feet.

"Welcome aboard the Jolly Roger," Killian says with a smile, gesturing for the boys to lead the way to the waterline and aboard the ship.

"Rufio, where's Felix?" Wendy asks, walking beside the oldest of the boys.

But the boy shakes his head. "He's always been the most dedicated to Pan and here longer than the rest of us, you know that. He said he would rather die here with Neverland than become a traitor."

"Oh, Felix," she breathes, but it does not keep her or the other boys from boarding.

As the rest of them move towards the ship, Emma moves to stand beside Killian, who is waiting to go last as the captain does. He pats Robin on the shoulder, the pain of losing Graham sinking in once more as his body is carried onto the ship. “Take him below decks. Merlin can show you where to find what you’ll need to wrap him.” Robin just nods.

"We did it, Swan," he breathes, reaching down to squeeze her hand. "How do you feel?"

"It's almost surreal," she replies, lifting his hand so she can look at his arm. She still barely believes it, would not have believed the way the water healed him if she hadn't seen it herself — and she still had trouble understanding how easily he was healed by her magic, even after learning of their connection, their destiny.

She still doesn't want to believe it, really. Everyone is so sure that it's about them, that they were prophesied ages ago to go on this journey, to save each other. She's not denying their connection, not anymore, but she still struggles to believe that they were destined to be together because some ancient seer decided it was supposed to be so.

"Let's go home," he says finally, gesturing for Emma to follow Robin and Regina onto the Jolly Roger.

Home. He's not even sure where home is anymore. For years, it was in the Northern Mountains, then with Dave and his band of followers after returning from Neverland. He's been ready for a new home for a while, he realizes, following Emma onto his ship. With her, he hopes. Hell, he's never wanted anything as much as he has wanted to be with her. They're destined to be together, but all he wants to do is kiss her, find all the things that make her happy and never stop giving them to her. He wants to wake up beside her, learn the way her golden waves look in the morning sun, the way she takes her coffee. If it means working beside her in the hospital, doing everything he can to help her while hopefully keeping them from harm — hell, he'll work in a maternity hospital. For her. He would do anything for her.

They leave the island behind quickly, the Lost Boys, Wendy, and a fully-healed Will watching it crumble, leaving behind nothing but a pile of ash and a cloud of dirt that covers the horizon.

Killian doesn't turn back. Some of the others peer over their shoulders but Killian seems to be the only one fully content leaving the island behind without a second thought — but, then again, he is the only one among them to have experienced it twice, to have it take multiple people he loves from him, even if it brought others together.

He thinks of Graham, being prepared belowdecks for burial at sea once they're out of the wretched Neverland waters; he thinks of Milah, who sacrificed so much, who hid her true identity from a world she felt so unsafe in, gone forever in the pile of rubble and debris.

Liam. He thinks of his brother, releasing the helm to feel the large ring hanging from his neck between his fingers. He left Liam behind in Neverland twice, never able to give him the burial at sea he always wanted. Well, he thinks, turning his head to glance behind him, if the entire island crumbles into the sea, then Liam is finally laid to rest as he would have wanted.

"I was wondering if you were ever going to look back," Merlin says from the spot he has found against the railing, only using the basest of his powers to move the ship along the waters until they take to the sky.

"I wasn't going to," he confesses, looking down at the ring once more. "But then I thought of Liam, and the burial at sea he deserved and never got."

"Well, the whole damned island got a burial at sea, and that sure as hell included him."

Killian nods, managing a smile. "That's what I thought, too."

They travel along the water for a few hours, pausing around dusk to bid their final farewells to Graham before taking to the sky. The sun sinks below the horizon, and Killian turns to the same star charts they used on the journey there to guide them home, though this time Emma takes part in all of it: helping Merlin and Belle fly the ship, learning the stars that they use to guide them back to the Northern Mountains. He has always felt at peace behind the helm of this ship, even when it was his brother's; having Emma beside him, his chest pressed against her back as he points over her shoulder towards the stars, is the most at home he has ever felt, and he wishes — on the stars that guide them home, on any good luck charm he has ever known, praying to the gods who have seemed to answer him a lot lately — that it's not a feeling that disappears.

The journey back isn’t as celebratory as expected from a group of people who have evaded what they all believed would be certain death. David and Mary Margaret spend most of the trip in the lieutenant’s quarters, Mary Margaret finding the sleep that evaded her the last few days, the two of them taking turns caring for the other. Merlin and Belle spend the return trip just as they did the journey there, guiding the ship through the air, though when Emma is feeling at her strongest, she attempts to assist them. (The rest of the crew does not fail to notice how Will spends much of his time sitting against the railing near wherever Belle has stationed herself, eating what seems to be a never ending supply of apples and chocolate and other types of random snacks and reading the books spread across his lap, even though he was never known to be a voracious reader before.) Similarly, after being comforted by her after Graham’s burial, Robin and Regina spend most of their time together, a pairing of sensible pantsuits and olive green attire that none of them saw coming.

Wendy and the Lost Boys spend most of their time gaping at the views over the railing, trying their hardest not to get airsick to avoid ridicule, filling their stomachs with each of Merlin and Belle’s smorgasbords as if they have never seen that much food in their life — Killian doesn’t let himself think about how long they may have been in Neverland, just how long it has been since their last decent meal, and he is happy to be the one to offer it to them.

"What are we going to do with them?" Mary Margaret asks Emma one night as she sits with her on the deck, picking at the half-eaten sandwich on the plate in her lap.

"With who?"

She points to the boys, throwing small rocks and food scraps off the deck of the ship and laughing as they disappear into the clouds below them.

"I guess we're going to—" she starts, but then realizes that she has no idea how to finish the sentence and leans closer to her friend. "What are we going to do with them?"

It's a thought that never even crossed her mind. She's been so worried about returning to the life she had, possibly even learning to include Killian in the chaos of running the hospital, that she never stopped to think about the people whose lives have been upended because of their trip. Who knows how long the boys have been stuck on Neverland, how long it has been since they were taken from their families — if they ever had them in the first place. Emma remembers the long nights on the streets of the Gale when she wished she were anywhere else,praying to whichever of the gods was listening to give her a place to belong. That's what Pan did for these boys in his own wretched way, she realizes.

“Who knows how long they were stuck on that island. I doubt many of them have thought about what they would do if they ever returned.”

But Emma shakes her head, remembering the nights she stared up at the stars and wondered what her life could be like if she were in any other situation. “I can assure you that some of them have thought about it.” She doesn’t mean for her voice to be that soft, to make the hurt so apparent in her words. She tries not to play the orphan card, especially around Mary Margaret, whose empathy is so strong Emma sometimes thinks she fully understands the heartbreak she tries her hardest to hide even though she only recently lost her father and sees her mother as often as her and David’s schedule allows.

Mary Margaret just nods, taking a bite of her sandwich. “I suppose we could start by talking to them.”

Emma can’t help but laugh, thinking of how she would have responded in their place — which, she supposes, is exactly what David did, granting her a new life in the infirmary. She wonders if any of them have discovered their powers, or if they would simply hide, dormant, for the years they spend without aging in Neverland. “We should wait until morning, though,” she comments, watching as one of the younger boys lets out a big yawn across the deck. When she turns back to Mary Margaret, she is stifling a yawn of her own. “Looks like it’s your bedtime, too,” she adds with a soft laugh.

“I’m just so tired all the time. Is this all that pregnancy is?”

“I have no firsthand experience to share, but from what I’ve heard, yeah, that’s a big part of it.”

“Someday, Emma,” Mary Margaret comments, and it’s a thought that hits her like a truck. Sure, she’s spent years in the maternity hospital, helping other women bring babies into this world, but having one of her own was never a thought that crossed her mind. Is that what she wants? Could she even bring a child into a world so full of violence and terror and the exact things they’ve been battling for the last few weeks, not to mention the War that has affected every facet of the world for longer than anyone can remember.

It’s at least not a thought that she needs to focus on right now.

“Hey, love,” Killian says, thankfully pulling her out of the depths of her own mind as he approaches them from across the deck. “We’re going to begin the descent back to the water soon. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Thanks, Killian,” she replies, offering him a soft smile, which he answers with a soft kiss to her cheek.

“I’m going to bed, then,” Mary Margaret says, one hand on her stomach as she reaches out to squeeze Emma’s hand with the other, then moves across the deck to the stairs.

“I can’t wait to be on the water again,” Killian says after a moment of silence, leaning back against the railing, and she steps into his arms.

“Why is that?”

“There’s just something calming about it, something that’s not there in the sky or even on the land. The moment the hull hits the water, I just feel… peace.” She hums, resting her forehead against his shoulder. “It’s not just the ocean, either, though. Graham always laughed at me when I would go stand in the rain, or sometimes stay in the shower for longer than I meant to.”

Emma leans back to look up at him, gears turning in her head. Rain. Showers. The ocean. The way his body reacted to the pool on Dead Man’s Peak. Water. “Killian,” she whispers, then cups her hand between them, creating a small pool of water in her palm. “Can you… move this?”

He looks first at her, then at her hands, his dark brows furrowed low on his forehead. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, love.”

“Was your mother one of the merfolk?”

This makes his eyebrows jump towards his hairline, bright eyes wide. “Pardon?”

“Your mother,” she repeats. “I know she passed when you were young, but what do you know about her? Was she a mermaid?”

“No. No, that’s… that’s crazy,” he whispers, staring down at the water in her palm, slowly dripping through her fingers onto the deck between his worn boots.

“Can you just try? For me?” Remembering how her magic reacted to his touch, she reaches her free hand out and rests it on his hip.

He nods, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. “What do I need to do?”

“Think about what you want it to do. Close your eyes. Feel it.”

“What do I want it to do?”

With a soft chuckle, she turns her eyes up to his, shaking her head. “It doesn’t matter. Just… anything.”

He nods, but stays silent, holding up his hand in the space between them as he squeezes his eyes shut. Somehow, Emma can feel what he’s thinking, imagines the small sphere of water rising above her hand before it happens — but then it’s there, right before her eyes, hovering above her palm.

"Bloody hell," he mumbles, his eyes darting to meet hers for a moment instead of staring at the sphere. "And you're… this isn't you?"

"No," she whispers, picturing it falling back to her hand just to make sure — but it stays there, hovering a few inches above her palm.

“Of the merfolk,” he whispers, the sphere splashing back down into Emma’s hands. “I never even imagined.”

“I’ve known for a very long time,” Merlin quips from behind them, his eyes closed but obviously paying attention to them.

“For real? And you never thought to tell me?”

He shrugs. “It was not my secret to share.”

“Why did I not learn about it sooner?”

Emma gasps, pulling Killian’s gaze back to her, and Merlin laughs, finally opening his eyes. “So you figured it out, then?”

“The Prophecy,” she whispers, barely believing the words as she says them. “Their strengths will finally be revealed. That’s the line, right?”

Merlin nods.

“Not just my strength, but both of ours. He needed… me. Us.”

It’s another piece of the puzzle that fits a little too well, that makes it hard to deny that they are the ones from the prophecy, brought together by destiny. A chill runs down her spine as Killian’s jaw drops, realizing exactly what her words meant.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles. “I need… sorry, love,” he mumbles, backing away from her to go and stand by himself, looking out over the moonlit water as the ship makes its descent.

Emma’s heart drops and she crosses her arms, leaning back until her hips hit the railing behind her. Is it too much for him, now? The man that confessed his love for her in a cave, who has believed in their connection since the first he heard of it? She understands needing space — she would be a hypocrite if she claimed she didn’t — but she still feels a heaviness in her chest, and icy pain in her heart as she thinks of the worst-case scenario: Killian turning away from her just as she realizes she is ready to be with him. When she feels her lip quiver, she pulls it up between her teeth, turning her back to where Killian is standing and taking a few steps away from him. Part of her wants to disappear belowdecks, curl up in her hammock and hide from her feelings, as alone as she has ever been. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tries to take herself somewhere else: counting the supplies in the basement of her hospital, walking along the well-known trails by her house — the very house that she dreamt of sharing with Killian not too long ago. She shakes that thought away and tries again, this time in the palace gardens where she learned most of what she knows about plants, about healing. Then she’s in the hallway, aiding David in a meeting with his advisors, focusing on the echoing of her boots on the stone floors and not the fears running through her mind.

Across the deck, Killian turns to look at her, trying to organize the thoughts jumbled in his brain. A merfolk. He has learned so much over the last few weeks, about the world, his friends, his enemies — himself, more than anything else. He has tasted death and felt true grief, witnessed unexplainable things, traveled to places he has spent more than a decade trying to forget. Every step was harder than the previous, pushing himself harder and farther than he thought he was capable — and for every step, she has been there, healing him inside and out, stitching together his wounds and piecing together the remains of his broken heart. Why is this so difficult for him to grasp, given all of the other impossible things he has witnessed since Emma Swan entered his life? Water has always calmed him, healed him, given him a sanctuary in times when he had no others, the same way Emma became his sanctuary.

He loves her, he realizes, not for the first time, though the thought still threatens to knock him off his feet. He loves her in ways he never knew were possible, more than he ever imagined being able to love someone, loves her in a way that fills the deepest parts of him, dark spaces that hold his regrets and his fears and the few things he has allowed himself to dream about. And there is nothing, no feeling that can compare to the warmth that washes over him when she holds his hand, when she smiles at him. His mind separated the two, his powers and his love for Emma, but he realizes now, in this moment, turning away from the water to find her, that they are not two separate things. His powers only exist because of his love for her, and though the time they have spent together is only the first drop in the ocean of the rest of their lives, he wants to look back on his life overwhelmed by the memories they create together, better because of the other.

Then, he notices the pain on her face, her eyes squeezed shut, bottom lip pulled between her teeth, and her arms wrapped around her knees as she sits alone by the railing — alone, exactly where he left her. He crosses quickly, his footsteps hard against the wooden planks, and kneels in front of her, carefully reaching out to brush his fingers against her hand.

“Emma?” he whispers, but it is not loud enough to break through the wall that has formed around her, protecting her from whatever kind of hurt she feared he was leaving her with. Leaving her, he realizes. That’s what she fears, more than anything else. Is that what she thinks he is doing? “Emma, love, I’m sorry.” This time, his voice is a bit louder, his fingers a bit firmer on her hand, and her eyes open, a runaway tear falling down her cheek.

“What?” She raises her hand to wipe her cheek, but Killian beats her to it.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, covering her hand with his once more. “I shouldn’t have — walking away from you like that, it was unfair. I don’t want you to think…” he clears his throat, trying his best to smile at her through his stuttering before starting again. “I’m here, love. With you. That’s not going to change.”

“Promise?” she whispers, unable to control the quivering of her lip, and he learns more about her with that single word than the rest of their journey. The both have dark pasts, Emma’s even more than his own, and the traumas that they have endured have left pieces of them broken, pieces that may never be fixed, but pieces that perhaps can be soothed, especially when the darkness rears its head.

None of the words that come to mind are good enough. He nods. Laughs, thankfully answered with a smile of her own. And then leans into her, holding himself up against the railing to keep from crashing into her as he finds her lips with his own. It’s the best promise he can give her, and when she reaches up and slides her fingers through his hair, her other hand tightening around the collar of his jacket, he can’t help but laugh against her lips, mumbling the words that have been waiting on the tip of his tongue for the right moment.

“I love you, Emma,” he says, and she resituates them so they are laying beside each other on the deck, pulling herself into him in ways his previous wounds never would have allowed.

“I love you,” she repeats with a giggle of her own, her lips finding his again as the ship touches down on the water, lurching against the surface.

They’re back. The real world — Nephylisis, the Gale, the War. The Wasteland. But they have each other.

Anything is possible.

TAGS: @shireness-says @cssns @kmomof4 @thisonesatellite @teamhook @darkcolinodonorgasm @cocohook38 @ultraluckycatnd @facesiousbutton82 @hollyethecurious @stahlop @tiganasummertree @angellifedeath @pepperpottss @mariakov81 @scientificapricot @kday426 @xarandomdreamx @ohmightydevviepuu @xhookswenchx @nikkiemms @carpedzem @superchocovian @resident-of-storybrooke @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @captain-emmajones @killian-whump @officerrogers @killianjonesownsmyheart1 @captainkillianswanjones – want to be added or removed? let me know!

#the wasteland #my writing #wordsbymeganmichael #cssns #cssns 2020 #my fic #captain swan #cs ff #cs fic #ouat ff #fantasy au #if you made it this far and found yourself in the tags please know there is a secret epilogue #but i'm not changing the chapter count #its already written in my head it just needs to come out

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theanimekid · 3 years ago

Text

Endeavor x Vigilante Fem Reader

Chapter 1.5: First Encounter

Synopsis: Night has fallen once more, you, me, and other vigilantes have intercepted a transmission regarding the delivery at a boat shipment off the coast of the East Sea.

Warnings: Suspense (in certain parts), your first encounter with your boss in the field

Characters: Y/n(Reader), Me(The Watcher), Endeavor

Tonight is raining. Hard. When something rains this much it can't be a good sign.

Rain has drenched the city. Standing on top of the tall, and enormous building was you, sitting on the edge of the edge watching over the town, waiting once again for an update. Taking another sip of your coffee, your phone pulsated in your hero uniform.

Please let it be something good

You opened your phone and saw the text message

Me(Watcher): The swan leaves at midnight

It's Time, you thought.

Y/n(Blue Devil/Zilla): But can the crow sing its tune?

Me(Watcher): The crew is waiting for you 20 clicks north. Be there

Y/n(Blue Devil/Zilla): on my way, tell them to wait for me

You turned off your phone and went to the rendezvous. You stopped at an abandoned building. Rubbles of rock and brick scattered across the ground, wrinkles of ruined, and shredded sheets hung outside the windows like a terrible storm has brewed here before. You'd approached the building with caution. You stood within the door window, staring through the darkness. A cold breeze passed within those hallowed halls, singing a dead tone of the night. You backed away from the door and knocked without hesitation. Distant stomping echoed in the halls getting closer...and closer...and closer towards the door. The door creaked towards him, a Large figure stood against the door, bigger than you, with chains wrapped around his arms and hung loose down his sides, gray soldier-like pants, humongous black shoes, brown short hair, and black eyes. He looked down at you spoke.

Vigilante 1: *Demonic Voice* The swan leaves at midnight

Y/n: *Slight chuckle**talks seductively* But can a crow sings its tune?

The vigilante burst into laughter.

Vigilante 1: * Laughs loudly* Ha! Alright boys we're clear

Lights brighten throughout the building like a star, chattering of other vigilantes appeared from the corners of every room, nook, and cranny. The halls were filled with people loud but silent talking came from everywhere as they headed down the basement. The vigilante opened the door, inviting you to come in. You nodded and walked into the hall, he checked first if you were followed and closed the door behind you, and placed his hand around your shoulder.

Vigilante 1: So... Have you heard about the shipment that's coming in tonight?

Y/n: yeah I heard what about it Unchained?

Unchained: Well this next load is going to be pretty well protected

Y/n: Oh? Pray tell.

The two of you stopped at the end of the hallway to the basement room. Unchained removed his hand from your shoulder and turned to you with his arms crossed to his chest.

Unchained: The last loads had little protection and it turned into more of an 'in and out the situation'.*Concerned* But this time some villains are gonna be all over the whole shipyard. Why?

You took a moment to think about it, but it's true. This is different than the last loads that came through, it was so easy that you didn't have to use your quirk that much, but this one, and with the strongest ones guarding the load. Something about this isn't right, you thought.

Y/n: Let's not go off worrying now, look, *Pointing at the calmed crowd that started settling down* the meeting's about to start, we should probably go join them then.

Unchained: *slight Sigh* Alright then, shall we?

~~~~~~~~

After the Ship Yard Heist

Me: Alright, heroes ears up! Police and Pros are coming your way. I've sent all of you your escape routes, NOW SCATTER!!!

Vigilante 2: *on coms*On it

Vigilante 3: *Italian accent* Everyone move out!

You and your squad followed the escape route and split up from there.

The police and the pro heroes arrived at the shipyard, looked like a full-blown raid had started, And before you left the scene, a strong yet familiar voice stirred within the crowd. It's Endeavor

Endeavor: * Shouting* You there stay where you are!

You cursed under your breath and ran off to the woods, Endeavor started to follow you from behind. You ran as fast as you could to at least shake him off your tail. but you know Endeavor, he never stops pursuing someone until they're down. Endeavor left magma-like footsteps into the ground as he continued to follow you, he held out his arm as a ball of ember inferno formed into his hand. The flames changed into an arrow and threw it at the sky. Not knowing where the arrow went and only focusing on getting him off your back...

BOOM!

The ignited arrow landed on the ground starting a huge fire in front of you.

Ha! Like that's gonna stop me. You thought.

Your hair began to glow, bright neon blue lighting at the end of your hair to the front, You ran faster than your previous pace towards his flames. You Fazed through them like nothing but a candle to a wind, blowing it out. Endeavor couldn't believe what he just saw, you ran into his flames and not getting burnt but how?

Endeavor: *thinking* Her hero suit must be fireproof or something if she managed to run out of that one.

This chase ended at a chiff that you are running towards. You instantly stopped yourself until you were nearly at the edge. Endeavor finally caught up to you.

Endeavor: So you must be The Blue Devil I've heard about. I know you and other wannabe heroes were at that shipyard. Now you are going to come quietly and spill with to the police or do I have to do it with force?

Do you really?

The wind blew in your hair like grass, clouds uncovered the moonlight and shined upon you, your eyes reflected the moon. It's like everything stopped for just a moment when he saw you. You turned around slowly but peacefully and looked at him With a surprised look on your face.

Y/n:*surprised*You.

Wait...we met before? If so...When?

Endeavor slowly approached you, step by step he got closer and closer...Until you realized what someone told you before.

No matter what never let anyone in.

Y/n:*startled warning* N-No please stay away from me.

You jumped off the cliff before Endeavor got to say anything

Endeavor*concerned* Hey Wai-

SSSSPPPLLLLAAAASSSHHHH!

He followed you where you jumped off and stopped himself. He looked down at the bottom, the water deceased itself and returned to normal. He sighed in confusion and left to join the others

Your body changed into a scaly-like creature, still human but showing skin on your chest. You breathed the sigh of relief and swam to shore. Taking another deep breath you thought about what happened back there. Your boss almost figured out who you were and what's crazy about it...he was blushing?!

To Be Continued...?

#endeavor #endeavor x y/n #endeavor x oc #enji todoroki x y/n #enji x fem reader #todoroki enji x reader #enji x you #enji x y/n #endeavour x reader #todoroki enji #endeavor x you #endevour #enji todoroki #bnha fanfiction #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha oc

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

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Say You’ll Stay - Chapter 8

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

Guys, I’m so sorry its taken me so long to get this chapter out. My muse abandoned me and my laptop was being weird. But here we are! Let me know what you think!

Tag List: @happyveday @alwaysindecemberfeels @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes @saritanotserena

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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The sunrise lit up the morning sky with an array of beautiful, pastel colors. Anna could only hope it was a good sign for the day. She rubbed a hand over her tired eyes as she carefully walked over the rubble on the city's streets, dodging icy puddles and mud. Gene was going to be quite upset with her later, but she tried not to think about that now.

Quickly, she hurried up the creaky steps of the old two-story home. It looked similar to most of the other buildings but its door was dirty and faded red with a rickety looking porch only half standing. She made a mental note to thank Boyd for his surprisingly clear directions, otherwise she knew she would have been wandering for a while and on these streets, that was far from safe. As quietly as possible, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. She had been invited here, actually forced to come here if Boyd's look yesterday said anything, but she still felt like an invader. The idea of setting foot inside the men's barracks was something her mind fervently refused to acknowledge; it just was not even a possibility in her mind. Though this building was not technically an army barrack in the literal sense, she still felt like an intruder because it was sleeping/housing quarters for the men.

Her grandmother would be furious if she ever found out Anna entered the men's quarters…. especially letting herself in. The thought tampered down Anna's nerves slightly as she thought of the horrified look on the elderly woman's face, if she ever discovered this. It lightened her mood for a brief moment.

In the room to her left, a soldier sprawled on a mangy looking couch with an arm thrown over his eyes. If she had not been able to see his chest rising and falling, she would have gone to check his pulse for how still he was otherwise. In that same room another soldier sat in a high-backed chair with his head tipped back, eyes closed and snoring like a chainsaw. Not recognizing either man, she guessed they were from one of the other tank crews. The sounds of movement and soft talking to her right had her quietly turning in that direction, hoping to allow the soldiers their well-deserved sleep.

She startled when a head popped around the corner, covering her mouth quickly before a scream could escape. The man had a face that reminded her vaguely of a bulldog, thick jaw and deep-set eyes. He scanned her for a moment in a way that felt more like an assessment than any kind of leering.

He grunted then jerked his head back the way he had come. "This way." He muttered only to disappear just as quickly as he appeared.

Through her heart still hammered in her chest from the unexpected startle, she took a deep breath in an attempt to steel her nerves. Sudden, frightened screaming would most likely get her or someone else shot. It was too early to be shot in her opinion. Best she try to suppress any girly screams for now. Or at least until after she got some sleep.

She followed the man around the corner only to encounter what most likely used to be a kitchen but was missing some key utilities. The faded, peeling wallpaper only added to the desolate feel. Just off center and close to a window facing the river was a table with three men sitting around it. Two others leaned against a countertop, mugs in hand. What quiet conversation had been going before her arrival ceased as she came into view.

"Anna?"

"Good morning." She attempted to smile but worried it came out more as a grimace. The need for sleep was beginning to claw at her mind.

"Sit down," Boyd immediately stood up, gesturing to his chair at the table. "You want some coffee? I reckon we got some left."

"That would be lovely, thank you." Knowing she probably would lose the fight, she went ahead and took his seat. Something she had learned about Boyd Swan over the past almost two weeks she had known him, he was a gentleman but beyond that…. he was stubborn.

Don leaned back in the chair next to her, cigarette between his lips. "Morning." He stated in a gravelly voice, lingering traces of sleep apparent in the sound. He must not have been awake long.

"Good morning." She flashed him a quick smile, willing the warmth to dissipate from her cheeks, or at least hoping no one noticed the blush. This schoolgirl crush on him was ridiculous, and she knew it. A peek of those blue eyes and her heart beat a drumroll in her chest that rivaled any band.

Boyd set a tin cup in front of her, steam tantalizingly drifting out of it. "Didn't think you'd be here this early. Why ain't you sleepin'?" Boyd asked.

She took a sip, the warmth delightful even if the taste was less than desirable. "Um, well, I'm supposed to be but I wanted to see y’all before, or you might come busting down the door again." She directed the last part to Boyd with a mock glare. He was lucky none of the medics carried guns with how he burst into the aid station demanding to see her.

He shrugged unapologetically. "Just wanted to make sure you was alright. We didn't know where you disappeared to. I see you got some new clothes."

"Yeah," she glanced down at the ODs she now wore. They were ill-fitting, clearly meant for a man, not a short nurse. She had to roll up the hems of the trousers and the sleeves multiple times and she swore she still looked like a child playing dress-up in their parent's clothes. On the other hand, they were far warmer than her nurse’s torn uniform and right now, that was more important. "Gene let me have one of their spare medic uniforms."

"Mmm… explains the patch here." Don touched the screaming eagle patch over her upper arm.

It was an innocent, teasing gesture but it still shot sparks through her system. Her eyes jumped up to meet his lingering gaze. He gave her a quick wink before leaning his chair back. The warmth of a blush reappeared on her cheeks. Quickly, she took a sip of her watery coffee, well aware of the others sitting or standing around quietly in the room.

"Gene? That medic with the southern accent?" Boyd asked, leaning against the wall nearby. His question was innocent enough but the scrutinizing look on his face said otherwise.

"Boyd…"

"He just seemed real protective of you, that's all."

She groaned, setting her cup down on the table and dropping her face into her hands. A few chuckles drifted from around the room but she ignored them. Actually, now that she was sitting still with her eyes closed, she could feel a wave of sleep threatening to crash over her and pull her under, with or without her consent. The coffee should have been helping to keep her awake but at this point, the warmth in her belly only made her want to curl up like a cat and doze off.

A conversation picked up around her, two of the men in the room speaking in a low drone. She recognized the sound of the man with the bulldog face, he made some kind of remark that had Don chuckle next to her before replying. Her mind refused to process the words though. The conversation became a background noise as she teetered on the edge of sleep and wakefulness. She should get back to the aid station. She needed to get back to the aid station to help Roe. Yet her body refused to comply.

"Anna."

The soft whisper of her name caught her attention from the sleep-induced haze. She turned her head slightly to meet Don's concerned gaze.

"When did you last sleep?"

"Mmm?"

He huffed at her noncommittal answer. "Did you sleep at all last night?"

"No…. I stayed up to cover so some of the other medics could sleep. I'm fine. I should probably head back."

"Doll, I just watched you fall asleep sitting right there."

"No… I was just… resting my eyes. I should get back."

"Like hell you are." He raised his gaze to look over her head, his volume rising from the whisper they had been speaking in. "Boyd, take Anna upstairs and let her have one of the cots or bed. We'll take her back once she gets some sleep."

"No, it's fine…." She weakly tried to argue but snapped her mouth shut when he turned his gaze back to her.

"If you don't walk up those stairs right now, I'll throw you over my shoulder and carry you up them." Don stated, then took a hit of his cigarette. The statement should have sounded like a joke but with his matter-of-fact tone and the way he watched her, Anna knew he was serious.

"Come on," Boyd put a hand on her shoulder. "We was gonna ask you to check Norman anyway."

That caught her attention. She whipped around to look up at Boyd. "Is he alright? What happened?"

"He's fine. Think he's got a cold.... maybe a fever too."

With that information, she more readily followed the gunner up towards the nearby stairs and up to the second floor. There were four doors in the hallway but he led her to the furthest one on the right. Inside was a bed big enough for two people, a large dresser, nightstand and a short couch off in the corner. What immediately caught her attention though was the figure lying in bed, curled up like a child and coughing with a dry and scratchy sound. Her own exhaustion was forgotten as she darted past Boyd to drop next to the figure under the thick quilt.

"Hey, Norman."

"Anna?" He blearily opened his red-rimmed, glassy eyes. He sniffled, wiping his nose on the edge of his sleeve.

"How are you feeling?"

"Ok…"

"Liar." She teased, running a hand through his hair gently after feeling his forehead. He felt mildly warm but nothing she was too concerned with yet. That cough had her more worried. "What all hurts, Norm?"

"Boyd thinks it's just a cold."

"I know. Running nose, scratchy throat, slight fever… anything else? Headache? Fatigue?"

"Uh huh." He mumbled, eyes closing as he relaxed under her touch, sleep guiding him away from awareness.

He looked so painfully young, lying in the bed. It broke her heart to know this was someone who was forced to kill people on a regular basis. He should be back home and going to school or flirting with his crush or playing baseball with friends. He should not be here. None of them should be here.

Yet here they were.

She looked around her and found his canteen laying just underneath the bed. Picking it up she was pleased it was at least half full.

"Norm, I want you to drink some of this before you fall back asleep. Can you do that for me, please?"

With a painful groan, he shifted enough to drink a couple of mouthfuls of the water before handing it back to her and slinking back down onto the bed. She stood up but was surprised when his hand darted out to grab hers.

"Don't go yet." He said just barely above a whisper. It was the pleading look in his eyes that convinced her.

"Ok, sweetie," she cooed, running her hand over his sweaty forehead again, "I'll stay a little longer."

She looked back over at Boyd, hovering near the door with an expression on his face she could not distinguish.

"Can you fill this back up and get him some of those crackers from your rations?"

Boyd nodded, moving to take the canteen from her hand. "Sure thing. Anythin' else you need?"

"No, I'll stay just for a little bit. Can you come get me in an hour or two? I really need to head back to the aid station."

"You also need to rest. Those bags under your eyes look like permanent bruises now."

"I will." She snapped then immediately felt bad and sighed. "I'm sorry, I will. I promise."

"S'alright. I'll come back in an hour."

"Thank you." She smiled, even if it was only a twitch of her lips. As Boyd walked out, she knelt back down next to the young soldier. His eyes were already closed, breathing slowing as slumber took hold once again. She rested her head on the side of the bed, carding her fingers through his hair. A hacking cough overtook him, startling them both. Once he settled, she continued her ministrations, humming softly. She hoped it was just a cold. That it was nothing more severe.

She made a mental note that when Boyd came her in an hour, she would make sure to ask Gene if anyone had found tea or honey laying around.

*****

Don watched Boyd and Anna go up the stairs. When he turned back, he saw a couple of the men's gaze lingering on the stairs.

"The nurse is off limits." He stated with such finality that had at least one of the men's heads snap towards him. As if his statement sealed an invisible decree, the men in the kitchen turned back to whatever they were doing prior.

Davis looked at him from his spot across the room, leaning against the kitchen counter. "She yours?"

"I thought you don't participate in gossip?"

The other tank commander shrugged, taking a sip of his coffee.

Don ignored the question, even if he could feel Davis' gaze frequently drifting to him. He focused on the map on the table before him. It was not necessary for him to study it but the action had become a habit of his whenever his crew moved to a new location. Knowing what other towns were nearby, rivers, roads, anything that could be of use later, he tried to memorize it. At this point, he figured by the time the war was over he would have most of Europe and North Africa geography permanently seared into his brain.

A couple minutes later, Boyd came back down and returned to his seat next to Don. He scrubbed his face with his hands and sighed deeply. "She's workin' herself too hard. Looks like she ain't slept in a week."

Don kept his thoughts to himself but he was loathed to agree. Exhaustion hung off her like a heavy cape making her feet drag as she walked. Witnessing how easily she fell asleep just sitting at the table did not help her case.

"Told her I'd be back up in an hour to get 'er."

Don raised an eyebrow, looking at his friend. "Are you going to?"

Boyd smirked. "I'll check on her but if she's sleepin', I'm gonna leave her be. Lord knows she needs it." He paused, glancing towards the stairs. "I'd bet my own Bible she's asleep right now."

"Mmm… Norman alright?"

"He's sleepin'. She's takin' care of him."

He was not all surprised. Since they had arrived in Haguenau, Norman's health had plummeted. Don worried for his newest crew member. The poor kid looked miserable and these were certainly less than ideal conditions for someone sick. The kid had a bed and a roof over his bed…. he would pull through. He had too. Don would not even consider the alternative. Especially with Anna now looking after him. The small nurse would mother the hell out of whatever is wrong with the kid. With a smirk at the thought, Don went back to studying the map.

Several hours later, he headed up the stairs to the room he shared with Boyd and Norman.

A runner had come from Captain Winters requesting his presence at noon at HQ. Don agreed, sending the runner back on his way. Boyd met his annoyed gaze and they shared a mutual sigh. So much for them having a reprieve before being sent back out.

Up the stairs he went and down the short hallway. The floorboards creaked under his boots; a sudden memory of his childhood home crossed his mind. Whenever he tried to sneak out of this bedroom as a child, he never could get far because of the damn loud floorboards.

He opened the door slowly, not wanting to startle the room's occupants. As he registered what he saw, it brought a small smile to his lips and he paused at the sight. Norman was still curled up asleep on the bed, mouth open and breathing loud. On the other side of the bed, Anna lay on her side, hands tucked under her face, hair a wild mess around her. Boyd had mentioned when he came up to check on them, he had helped move Anna to the bed with her barely rousing. Clearly more tired than any of them assumed.

Instead of waking her up like he intended to, he found himself closing the door quietly and just watching the two sleep. Yes, he knew it was creepy and if Boyd knew, the gunner would rightly smack him in the back of the head. Would not be the first time after Don did something stupid.

War brings people together in the strangest of way. After the…. accident...he thought he would never have family again. That because of his stupid mistakes, he was destined to be alone forever. Which he rightly deserved. But then he went to war. He was thrown into a tank with four other men who quickly became brothers.

If he needed to be distracted from commands and his own inner demons, he knew sitting down with Gordo would distract him for a while with his crazy stories of home and the shenanigans he did as a teenager. Gordo always had a joke or story to share to lighten the mood.

Grady respected Don as a leader but never let him run him over; he could just as easily return Don's anger-fueled fire as follow his commands. It had taken some time for them to trust and respect one another, their tempers too similar. Now there was an underlying understanding between the two of them, that they took the worst of the jobs, that they would carry the most blood on their hands to spare the others. If Don had to get into a fist fight, there was no one else he would want more by his side.

Then there was the man who had become more than a blood brother, a confidante, a best friend, a moral compass. Even in the first week of tank school, Boyd had looked over at Don one day, said he was proud to be by his side and thought Don was a good man. Don had laughed in Boyd's face but somehow it sealed a pact between them. Boyd's calm demeanor helped keep Don's temper down and even when it did flare up like a roman candle firework, Boyd was always there to rein it in. Neither of them drank so while the others went off to drink away the night, Don and Boyd found themselves sitting together silently and both were more than alright with that.

Norman reminded Don of his little brother so much it physically hurt sometimes. He despised himself that it was HIS fault the boy was forced to lose that innocence he carried. It was HIM that made Norman kill. But this was war, and if they wanted to survive, they needed to be merciless. Don knew he overcompensated by making sure Norman ate and rested when they could. He showed the young soldier how to disassemble and reassemble his rifle, how to stab and slash, how to survive. He refused to let the boy die even through his own stupid mistakes. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind, the idea had been planted that making sure Norman survived this goddamn war would be his penance for his own failures.

Before two weeks ago, these were the four people that mattered most to him. Even more than what was left of his blood relations. Losing Red, Norman's predecessor, had felt like a knife to the heart, even if he masked it for all to see. He refused to let the others see him grieve, he had to be strong for them.

Now though, Anna had slipped past his heart's barriers and settled there in a place that he had not realized was empty until her presence filled the prior void spot. She remained in his thoughts more than he cared to admit. Her soft touch, her gentle spirit, those gemstone eyes, that faint scent… it all lingered with him like a summer's heat that no matter what you tried to do, day or night, you could not escape. He swore she was a siren, come to torment him. His life was proof enough he did not deserve someone like her, he never would deserve someone like her. She was gentleness and kindness wrapped up in a person. He was wrath and mistakes that cost people their lives.

Yet still her presence persisted.

Shaking his head, he pulled himself out of his thoughts and moved to her side. He hated to wake her. She looked so peaceful.

"Anna." He whispered. "Anna, wake up."

Overly aware of his actions, he squatted down to be eye level with her. He reached a hand over and brushed some loose strands of hair off her cheek. The sunlight coming through the dirty window made her red hair shine. "Come on, darling. Time to wake up."

He was unsure where the pet name came from but once it left his lips, it felt right. Before he could think too long about it, she began to stir.

She sucked in a sharp breath. Her eyelids fluttered open but once the sunlight hit, they slammed closed once again. "No…" she whimpered, scrunching her nose up in dislike of either the sun or waking up. Either way, he was positive he had never seen anything as adorable before… and he never used the word adorable.

Oh, he was so fucked now.

He chuckled. "Come on, Anna."

"What time is it?"

"Almost noon."

She peeked an eye open at him. "I told Boyd to wake me in an hour."

"Yeah, well we thought you needed some sleep."

Grumbling something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like "overprotective mother hen", she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up.

Movement drew Don's gaze over to Norman who was shifting around. His eyes blearily opened; it took a few seconds to come out of sleep. Once his mind seemed to realize Anna was still half laying in the bed less than a foot away from him, he sat up like he had been shocked with electricity.

"Don, I swear nothing happened. We just sleeping, I mean… I don't think…" a bout of coughing interrupted his frantic and hasty explanation.

At that, the tank commander laughed loudly. "I know, Norman." He shifted back towards the door, watching the two amused. Anna's cheeks were pink now but she gave no other indication of hearing Norman's sleepy mumbling.

"How are you feeling, Norm?" She asked, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.

"Alright, I guess."

"Think you can come down and eat?"

He nodded sluggishly. They both rolled out the bed, him moving a bit slower. The whole way out of the door and down the stairs, Anna walked next to him, occasionally putting a hand on his shoulder or giving a word of encouragement.

Don led the way back down, still smirking about Norman's hasty and confused comment. He would have to remember it to rib the kid later on when he was feeling better. Finally making it to the kitchen area, they deposited Norman at the table next to Gordo, who was nursing a cup of coffee. Boyd meandered over from reading on one of the couches in the common room, glasses still perched on his nose.

As soon as Anna saw him, she stomped over and punched him in the arm. "You were supposed to wake me up in an hour."

Boyd winced and tried to shuffle out of range of another strike. "Well, you looked tired."

"What every girl wants to hear, Boyd, thank you."

Don was not the only one laughing at the interaction.

Anna blushed as she seemed to notice the others about the area but ignored them, walking back over to Norman. "You just rest. I'll come back and check on you tonight. I'll see if they have anything to help at the aid station."

The kid nodded then started coughing again.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of him." Gordo said, wrapping an arm around him and giving her a quick wink.

She smiled back, cheeks still pink from her prior blush. "Thanks, Gordo."

Don figured it was time to speak up now. "Let's go, Anna. I'll walk you back." He was surprised when she followed him without hesitation after a quick goodbye to those from his crew.

Don and Davis were lucky to have found an unoccupied house on the western side of Haguenau for their crews, further away from the river and the Germans across it. Binkowski and Peterson and their crews occupied the building just behind them. Here they did not have to worry so much about the frequent mortars and snipers. Though some of the holes in the floorboards were concerning, but it was a roof over their heads.

The tank commander and nurse walked in silence past the other houses and buildings towards the aid station. The frost, hidden in the shadows, crunched under their boots. An unusual silence permeated the air, no shouting or sound of gunfire coming from the river. It made Don wary and he slowed down his typical purposeful stride to match hers, making sure to keep his body between hers and the direction of the river. He knew the action would be useless against a mortar but it helped alleviate some of his worry.

They stopped at the back door to the aid station, the couple brick steps still intact, leading up to a small stoop and the back, wooden door. Don remained on the muddy ground while Anna stepped up onto the first step then turned around to face him.

"Thank you for walking me back."

He hummed, glancing further down the road. "You make sure to eat something now. Can't have you wasting away."

"Isn't that my job to take care of others?" She said cheekily.

"Yeah, doesn't hurt to have someone looking out for you too."

It was a simple, truthful statement. If war taught anything, it was the need for others to watch your back both in dodging bullets and to share meals. War and death were malicious bastards, dragging down anyone into a black hole of melancholy before they could even realize they slipped in the first place. Yet as soon as the words left his mouth, the weight of them hit him firmly in the chest. Instead of meaning it as a comrade or friend, he realized he meant something more. Someone to look out for her in more than just the little things, but in everything. Shit.

Her head snapped up, her gaze meeting his in a way that sent a tingle down his spine. Neither one moved as they stared at one another. The world threatened to fade away around them. She was beautiful, it was a fact. Even in ODs that threatened to swallow her, she still managed to radiate warmth and kindness. He had caught more than one soldier eyeing her up. It burned him up on the inside but he had no right to fight them over their actions. She was not his…. even if he was beginning to wish she was. She was too good for him. Too pure. Too beautiful. His presence would only taint her.

He needed a distraction, something to break the hold they both seemed stuck in. He blurted the first thing that came to mind. "You still have the knife on you?"

She blinked rapidly as if awakening from a dream. "Yes." She stuttered then leaned over slightly to lift her right pants leg up.

He looked down and noticed it strapped to her lower leg, just above her boot. "Good."

Even though the conversation halted, it seemed neither one wanted to move away. Her eyes held his once again as if waiting for something. A sign? A word? A fucking billboard with neon lights? Hell if he knew. The problem was, he could feel it too. There was something shifting between them and it both terrified and elated him.

Before he could stop himself, he reached out and slipped an erratic strand of hair behind her ear. His thumb trailing down her jawline after, her soft skin like velvet against his own roughness. Fuck he had been dying to touch her again. Instead of alleviating the need, now it seemed to burn stronger in him.

"Don…" she whispered as his thumb hinted at touching her lower lip.

The way she said it in that breathy tone, the light in her eyes and the blush on her cheeks, all of it combined sent a bolt of lightning through him that threatened any self-control he had. He wanted to pull her small frame against him, to taste her and see if her lips were as soft as they looked, if that heavenly scent that surrounded her came from her skin or hair. He wanted her. Fucking hell, he wanted her. And if the way her eyes were dilated and her breathing uneven, perhaps she wanted him too.

The door beside them suddenly opened, jolting them both back to reality. Whatever moment they had, dashed away as a paratrooper glared at them then pushed past them.

"I should…."

"Yeah," he said, pulling out a cigarette. He needed to keep his hands busy otherwise he would be tempted to pull her against him. "I'll send someone to come get you later."

"That's not necessary."

"Maybe, but I sure as hell don't like you walking around by yourself."

"Fine." She stood up on her toes and brushed a quick kiss to his jawline, an innocent ode to the last time she kissed him. "Be safe, Sergeant." She whispered against his skin then quickly turned and ducked inside the aid station.

"Damn it." He muttered after his brain finally decided to restart. Such a simple touch should not make him lose all sense. He kicked a loose rock, sticking the cigarette between his lips and lighting it. The smoke curled in his lungs, helping solidify him into reality. He glanced back at the door, briefly wondering what it would be like to storm into the building and kiss her like he wanted too. But before he could do something stupid, he headed towards the regiment HQ, the lingering hint of lilacs danced in the corners of his mind.

#Fury movie #fury fanfic #fury 2014 #band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #Don Wardaddy Collier #Don Collier #Don Wardaddy collier x OFC #don collier x OFC #boyd bible swan #boyd swan #norman machine ellison #Trini Gordo Garcia #grady coon-ass travis #mzwrites

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hectabdr · 4 years ago

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Dragon Raja IV - Chapters 13 - 15 + epilogue (Abridged)

Hi everyone, sorry for taking so long to post the last part, I had a lot of work this week.

BTW, since it's over, I put the whole novel summary on a PDF document, which you can download from here.

Previous Chapters

Chapter 13

The nurse at the mental hospital couldn't believe her eyes when Luminous came back and requested to be admitted in his old room. He asked for his usual injection and went back to his not-so-favorite video game level.

In his vision, he kept accelerating far away form the swarm of death servitors, everything went according to plan and they still had lots of time to spare. He made many excuses to Nono in an attempt to justify his incredible performance, in the radio, there was a very strange song, Luminous recognized it, the name was "Daily Growing" by the folk group Altan, it was the same song that Johann and his father heard before they ran into Odin.

Nono was confused, Luminous just seemed to know way too many things. He knew about the damaged tire, about every safe route, the reach of the Nibelungen and the presence of a small, strange building hiding in the distance. It was the Media Asia Group building, according to Finger, this is the place where Nono found Chu Tianjiao's home. If this was a Nibelungen, an exact copy of the room should be there as well, still intact.

There was nothing surprising about the small place, but that was intentional. A person like Tianjiao was probably trained against people with skills like Nono's, so there had to be a secret compartment or a hidden door. He lifted the bed and there it was!

Mr Chu managed to create an underground bunker for himself. There was a bigger, more comfortable bed, a record player with Elvis Presley's discs and leather jackets. Luminous wanted to be more like this stylish man every second he spent there.

He noticed a bunch of pictures hanging from a string. Tianjiao spend a lot of time making copies of photographs from his family, but he wasn't in them, there was another man next to his wife and his son, but he used chemicals to erase him from the images. He also wrote small phrases dedicated to his wife in the back of the photos, like:

"This is the first year since you left me, you look good"

"This is the third year, you're getting fat"

"Fifth year, I don't have time to think of you anymore"

"Sixth year. ...but I still miss you".

The rest of the walls were filled with images and documents connected by red strings. Multiple events were listed in them, including the fall of Black Swan Bay in 1991 and the Greenland incident from November 7, 2002. These events related to dragon sightings and awakenings all led to a specific incident: The resurrection of the Black king Nidhogg. Even to the other dragon overlords, Nidhogg is a god-like existence, and its words are taken as prophecies. Chu Tianjiao was the city's watchman, he came to that place with a special purpose, but he mistakenly fell in love with a young dancer. They got married and had a child, they were happy, but he knew very well that he couldn't give them a peaceful life, so he signed the divorce papers and watched her take Johann away and marry a different man. While that family went to amusement parks and movie theaters, Tianjiao stayed on his underground room thinking about the fate of mankind.

Luminous memorized as much as he could from Tianjiao's investigation and went back with Nono, he kept driving and they entered the empty city, the lights were still on and the amusement park shined like a neon show.

- I always wanted to be in a Nibelungen, but I didn't expect it to be like this.

- How did you think it would be?

- Distorted, scary, definitely not this beautiful.

They looked up and they saw Odin, standing on top of the clock tower, Nono raised a gun and pointed at him but Luminous held it down, telling her not to disturb him, they kept driving silently and the god didn't notice their presence.

Luminous took her to a shopping mall, where they entered a department store and he gave her a dry change of clothes. This was still strange to her, he already knew her size, he never stopped looking at his watch and somehow he also picked an outfit that she liked (a pair of burgundy sports trousers and a fleece hoodie).

He gave her a cup of hot coffee and he suggested they waited on an empty movie theater while they waited for help.

Nono waited uncomfortable in front of the screen, Luminous picked up a random movie from the projector room, it was Wall·E, the second film roll to be exact, so the film started from the halfway point. The movie slowly relaxed her and she started chewing popcorn while they waited.

- I've been here before, haven't I?.

This was the theater where she rescued him from a failed love confession to Wenwen, before taking him to sign his Cassell admission papers. Actually, Luminous was watching Wall·E with his fellow literature club members. All of these were deliberate choices, he only picked the second half of the movie because they didn't have enough time to watch it from the start.

- You have been here, you have experienced all the things we are experiencing now and I have lived this moment many times.

Nono was a profiler, it wasn't that easy to trick her, so he admitted the truth. At 12:00am, Nono was going to die, like every other time.

- This dream will become a reality. I have repeatedly entered this dream just to find a way to save you, but I couldn't find it.

- If you can't find a way to save me, why don't you save yourself instead?

- My senior brother said that he always regretted leaving his father here alone, that feeling of regret is so terrible, it made him want to go back and die right there.

- Don't say such disgusting things, if this is really my end I will accept it.

The answer became obvious, the only way to escape this Nibelungen was for one person to stay behind and die. As the movie reached its climax, a spear broke through the screen, Nono didn't move, Luminous didn't move.

- No, senior sister, this will not be you end, it will be mine.

Chapter 14

Luminous opened his eyes, it was still a quiet summer night, he slid a small knife that he bought at the convenience store and ripped the straitjacket open. The hospital personnel were resting in different rooms so he sneaked out with ease.

His last attempt was the 108th, none of them managed to give him the perfect ending that he desperately chased. The old man with the tricycle was waiting for him outside, Luminous got on the small bike and drove away. The security guard couldn't believe it when he saw the same tricycle pass by for a third time that night, straight into the elevated road.

Luminous reached the old Asia Group building, now flooded and filled with rubble and mud. He managed to find the secret door and found the insides half-submerged as well, but not everything was ruined, he located a small metal suitcase in the corner that was filled with multiple weapons, including a revolver, a tactical shotgun and a Uzi submachine gun.

All seemed to indicate that this equipment came directly from Cassell College, an academy that never bothered to mention Tianjiao's existence.

In his way out, he picked one of the photographs that managed to survive the flood, it portrayed a family of three. Johann was probably five years old and his expression was as emotionless as usual, his robot face wasn't the result of some traumatic event after all, it came with him from the moment he was born. In the corner, Tianjiao wrote some words as well: "Stay like this, not crying, just looking into the distance".

This arsenal was strong, but insignificant in front of a being like Odin. Ming·Z·Lu showed up to offer one last gift.

Something for nothing, 50% fusion.

Luminous was familiar with that sensation, his nerves burned and the depths of his mind seemed to be cracked open, the pain was bigger than any human can endure, but once it was over, there was a feeling of euphoria, a need to fight. His senses increased immensely, he could now distinguish every single drop in the middle of the rainfall. This usually costed him a full quarter of his life but now it was... Free?

He finally heard the distorted noises of the death servitors, it sounded like the crying of babies. The wall of water and wind that protected Odin became visible, the black figure mounted an eight legged horse. He was in the Nibelungen again, this time he didn't plan to turn around.

Luminous approached them and parked the tricycle next to the Maybach, he stood in front of Odin and the god stayed silent. The words "You are finally here" were not uttered this time, he was right, Odin was waiting for Nono, but he didn't bring her this time, Luminous's presence was meaningless to his rival.

Odin kept staring at the end of the road, waiting for Chen Motong to appear and show her face.

- This is the right way to start the game, my senior sister is not here, only you and me, only one of us can leave this place alive!

He was vey happy, he finally played the god. He slowly grabbed a spear rocket launcher from the tricycle, the little devil was as reliable as always. The servitors immediately recognized the destructive potential of the weapon and tried to disperse, but Luminous opened fire first and scattered their shadowy remains on the road.

He saw his face in a puddle, the crazy expression of Ming·Z was now his own, like every other time they fused, it felt like this was his true nature. Weapon after weapon he ran out of ammo, some servitors sneaked behind him and sliced his torso with their claws, if it wasn't for the bulletproof vest that Tianjiao left in his suitcase, Mingfei would have died already.

A shot of his last gun, a M500 revolver finally broke one of the servitor's masks. He hadn't seen one of those faces since his mission in Japan, their skin was covered in scales and their teeth were long and alien-shaped. Odin gave them black robes and masks to use them as his personal servants. Odin was definitely different to every other dragon king he had faced before, they were all savage and aggressive, but this one was stoic and dressed like a figure of mythology, unless...

That was it! Odin wasn't a dragon disguised as a mythical character, Odin, the myth himself has been a dragon all along. The secret party had misread norse mythology, now it was clear that it narrated the history of the dragon clan and it was written by the dragons themselves. Every god was in fact a dragon king, in those myths, the main antagonist of Nidhogg was Odin. This god had already foreseen the coming of the end of the world, the so-called twilight of the gods, where the world tree would wither.

The suppressed Nidhogg will rise in the air, ready for revenge, it will destroy everything and ruin the kingdom of the gods. Therefore, Odin prepared himself for this battle, ordering the Valkyrie goddesses to gather the heroes's souls and place them in the Hall of Valor to assist him in resisting the black dragon. If the norse myths are indeed dragon history, the hall of valor must represent a place filled with countless dragon cocoons and embryos waiting to be awakened.

This information, this great secret was about to be buried there with him if he didn't survive this battle. Nono was probably packing, ready to leave with Finger and go back to Cassell, for whatever reason Odin needed her, she would be out of his reach, he just needed to endure and Odin was still as invincible as ever. Making a deal with Ming·Z was inadmissible, giving the little devil enough power to materialize could bring an immeasurable catastrophe. The boy appeared in front of him.

- Brother, you finally asked to see me, do you want to... Shake my hand?

The multitude of servitors overwhelmed him, he contemplated dying there, it wouldn't be so bad, just very lonely. With a loud bang! the strongest servitor flew out and fell motionless on the mud.

A red BYD car swiftly parked next to him, a hand came out of the window and shot the three closest servitors, that was Finger, of course it was him!

- Drive faster! Why the fuck are you here?

- What do I know? I was eating dumplings with your aunt and the hospital called to tell me you were gone!

Finger placed a tracking device on Luminous just like he did with Nono and saw his trace disappearing in the highway, so he went to investigate and entered the Nibelungen by accident.

- Don't get confused by my F-Rank rating, I started as an A-rank, remember?

Flammel tasked Finger with helping Luminous to prove Johann's existence, he didn't remember the young hybrid either, but he trusted Anjou, and Anjou believed in the importance of Luminous more than anyone. Not everyone on Cassell gave up on him after all.

- Don't drive away, we can't escape!

- I thought you told me to drive faster!

- Yes I did, but I meant towards Odin!

The servitors quickly realized what they were intending to do, so they formed a barrier in front of their master. Finger pressed a button on the car and one mini-gun came out of each side of the vehicle.

- The equipment department makes phones that double as grenades, you think they can't make 007's car?

The gatling guns opened fire on the crowd of servitors, effectively cleaning the way. Finger put the car on self destruct mode and got ready to jump out, Luminous got on the roof, aiming his knife at Odin. The car hit Odin's water barrier and exploded, the shockwave soared into the sky, filled with flames. Luminous jumped and managed to pass through, and with a swift move, he pierced through Odin with the blade, just like Tianjiao attempted to do many years before.

Every servitor stopped their movements, Odin's scores started dropping down immediately and his body got split in two. There had to be something wrong with that, there's no way he would fall to his death so easily. Luminous took the god's skull and removed the mask, under it, the face of a death servitor greeted him instead, the others started crying and laughing at them. Odin's only goal is Nono, it had always been Nono, this was a trap and he was already on his way to get her.

Chapter 15

Nono was sitting next to Su Xiaoyan's bed, peeling an apple. The woman happily ate the bonbons that Nono brought for her as a gift.

- Nono, how is your mother doing?

- She's fine, she's still working and always asks me when I'll get married but I just don't tell her.

Nono had to make up that story, but at that moment she really felt like Xiaoyan's niece. She checked the woman's medical records, apparently the doctors thought she was schizophrenic and amnesiac, as long as Nono played her role well, the medical personnel would think Xiaoyan's amnesia made her forget about her relative.

Because Nono brought Bonbons, Xiaoyan recognized her immediately and happily accepted her gift.

She had been there since her son's death, she lost track of time, to the point where she felt like she had been there for three or four months, when in reality, seven years had passed. Not many people visited her in that time, her husband would take her home for a few days every now and then, but those events became less and less usual. Of course, Nono was there for a reason, without Tianjiao's apartment, her only remaining clue was Johann's mother, but the woman wasn't very open about her life. Nono's ability allowed her to put puzzles together, but Xiaojiao kept messing up the pieces.

- Did your former husband treat you well?

- He couldn't make enough money and he was very unmotivated, playing foolish all day long, I had enough of him!

- But he's handsome, and he's probably still breaking hearts.

- How do you know that he's handsome? You haven't seen him before.

- Of course I have, I remember hugging my uncle!

- Come on, do you really think I'm that broken? I know I don't have a niece.

- Then why didn't you tell the doctor?

- Because you're so pretty, and I like to chat with pretty girls, there's no one else here to chat with me, and you don't look like a bad person either.

Nono was genuinely surprised, so she declared her intentions straight on, she wanted to know more about Chu Tianjiao, but his ex-wife didn't seem to know a lot about him either, he would constantly lie about his past and alternate between multiple versions of the story.

- Sometimes he told me that he was a great spy, and that he came here to complete a task, and I believed him, without a clue of his salesman-like nature!

- And you still married him?

- He was handsome, and I was young.

Xiaoyan didn't express any regret in divorcing him, she'd rather be with someone she could rely on, but there was something else she could not explain.

- But he seems to have left something behind with me, a very important thing, I just can't remember it.

- What is it?

- I said I can't remember it, I've been thinking about it for a very long time.

- What kind of thing?

- A very important thing, I must find it, it would be very bad if I didn't.

A burst of cold wind opened the windows and made them shiver, Nono stood up and went to close them but she noticed something strange, the flowers on the outside were all withered, black petals flew through the room, she closed the window as fast as she could, something bad had happened and the air outside smelled of death.

She took out a desert eagle from her bag and stopped Xiaoyan from screaming, the woman relied on her intuition to understand that Nono wasn't going to hurt her. The place was silent and the lights flickered, the instinctive feeling of being alert that came from true isolation soon got a hold of her. She and Xiaoyan got out of the room, door after door, every doctor and every patient had disappeared.

The rain and the wind rapidly eroded the building. The day was finally here, she had never been in a Nibelungen before, she once regretted not being able to experience it, now Nibelungen came to see her. She didn't knew wether to be nervous or excited.

- Someone, someone is coming. Su Xiaoyan's voice trembled slightly.

The sound of footsteps made an echo in the building, those weren't human steps, that sounded like a few horses were coming their way. The storm, the Nibelungen, the steed, the rider, it seemed to be an ancient king who came with a strong breath of death, and the flowers in the garden withered in front of him. Nono remembered him, she saw his silhouette in the reflection of the glass when she went to Tianjiao's apartment.

The rider didn't seem to know where Xiaoyan's room was and he was checking them one by one. They ran towards the elevator, the rider was on the first floor so they needed to get to the top as fast as they could without the sound of their steps giving away their position. Behind them, the fluorescent lights went out one by one. Nono finally saw the reflection of the elevator's door in a mirror, but when its doors opened, the light of Odin's flames came out.

They ran in the other direction and soon reached the stairs, they ran down but it didn't matter, they were trapped on an endless loop. She shot at the creature but the bullets melted before touching the god's armor. They kept running and Nono kept shooting back but it wasn't buying them any more time, temperatures were rising and there was no way out.

Odin wasn't even in a hurry to reach them, Nono took Xiaoyan in her arms and ran across a hallway, enduring the terrible heat of the floor. She tried to get out through a window, but after opening the curtains she noticed that the whole world outside had changed and she was greeted by the sight of a roman pantheon.

Nono suddenly fell silent, she helped Xiaoyan to sit down on a bench and put her boots on the woman's feet. She noticed something, she was crying, she was remembering.

- There might be a way for you to get out of here by yourself, now tell me, what did Tianjiao left for you exactly?

- It's... A child. I had a son with him, his name is Johann Chu, I can't find my son... I can't find my son!

Xiaoyan was holding a pillow in her arms, the doctor said that she would put this pillow in her belly every morning and happily declare that she was pregnant. Nono took it from her hands and threw it away.

- Since you have a clear memory of him, you don't need this anymore, you will find your son, although I don't know where.

In this world, those who are not lunatics are the ones who were deceived. Luminous and Su Xiaoyan were the craziest because of their link to Johann Chu, to the truth. His mother's mental disorder was not there because she had lost a son seven years ago, a certain god wanted to modify her memory of him and she was resisting. She tied the little pillow to her back because a child is only safe in his mother's body, she sensed that someone was going to hurt her boy, so she wanted to feel like she could protect him.

Nono pushed Xiaoyan into a cubicle next to the ward and told her to keep the door closed until someone came to rescue her. She took Finger's GPS device out of her bag and broke it, expecting Luminous and Finger to arrive there after seeing her signal disappear. Odin arrived, his flames evaporated the strong currents of water and stood in front of her, Nono kept two knives on her back and a desert eagle in each hand.

- Odin!

The creature and his lance were impossible not to identify, the god actually exists.

- You are finally here.

He slowly raised Gungir and a faint white thread appeared, connecting the tip of the spear and Nono's heart. She thought his goal was Xiaoyan, due to her connection to Johann, but she was wrong, Odin's goal was her and only her. No wonder Luminous threw her down in the library, he probably had a foreboding of her death for some reason and tried to save her, his eyes showed a constant state of panic.

She didn't believe him and they put him on a psychiatric institution. She really wanted to tell him that she was sorry, because she had underestimated him.

She had always tried to be there for Luminous, she couldn't deny that she saw a lot of herself in him, this obsession with taking care of her sidekick was so prevalent because she knew how it was like to be powerless, lost and defenseless, but in the most critical moment, she had failed him.

Nono vaguely heard a song, a duet about a father and his daughter, it was coming from somewhere, along with the noise of a car engine. Luminous was coming, that song came from the radio, but how could she hear him? It didn't matter, she felt him presence and she believed it.

- Luminous! Don't you fucking dare to come here!

Nono shot every bullet she had left and they melted on Odin's presence. The lance was thrown and suddenly, the Maybach smashed through the wall, its lights illuminated Nono's eyes. She smiled, the moment she saw him, the cartridge of her gun was empty. The lance had already started its course and Luminous could only see her lips moving:

- I'm sorry

- Ming·Z·Lu! Luminous roared, time slowed down in his eyes

- The little one is here! Ming·Z smiled, Since I promised my brother that I'd try everything!

Come out! Golden saint cloth of the zodiac!, Phase shift armor!, Fierce fist! Seven-fold ring of the blazing sky!, Absolute domain AT Field!.

Every time he yelled a strange name, Luminous froze for a moment, these strange spells were taken directly from anime shows, they were weapons that lined up in front of Odin's lance, even a nuclear explosion could be rejected by them.

- What are you doing?

- I don't really know what tricks would work so I'm doing all of them!

Ming·Z kept casting spells, the speed of the lance was indeed affected but it never stopped nor it changed its trajectory.

- Hurry up brother, run!

Nono tried to yell, telling Luminous to stay away, but her mouth moved too slowly. Luminous ran past Odin and past the lance. The seven-fold ring was the strongest defense against projectiles, every time the Gungir lance pierced through a layer, it made a loud noise. Nono dropped the empty gun, she didn't have the strength to wield her knives. The spear hadn't arrived yet, and she was already like a lamb crucified on an altar.

Gungir hit the final defense, the sound was almost glass shattering.

- I couldn't stop it, even with the last layer. Give her a hug, kiss her! This is going to be your last chance! I'll buy as much time as possible for you!

Ming·Z made another barrier but the lance broke it, the little devil's hands were splashed with blood and they stained his bow tie, but he didn't care and looked at his side as an indifferent Luminous passed by and stood in front of Nono. He never managed to change the events, just the scenery. Gungir pierced through Ming·Z's chest.

- Brother, I tried my best

- It's ok, I'm here as well.

Luminous wasn't going to hug or kiss Nono, he was there to take her place. He could clearly feel his heart being cut open. The spear hadn't even touched his skin and his body had begun to carbonize and turn black, showing a rare struggle, burning it inch by inch.

- No! No! No! Nono struggled to stand up and pull the lance away from him.

- Don't come near me!

The lance tried to go through him, but it only managed to pin him against the wall. Nono shivered slightly and tears slowly ran down her face, but she didn't realize that she was crying. She always wanted him to grow up and go his own way, to use any advantage she might have over him to push him forward, but now the person who was crying on the floor was her.

- Senior sister, are you okay? It's okay.

Luminous raised his head, half of his head and body were carbonized, the cracks at the end of his lips extended all the way to the roots of his ears. He was really happy, because he finally managed to achieve his goal. He didn't want to live with the regret of losing her, he had seen Johann's own regret already.

Odin wasn't pleased, the god roared as he realized he had missed his chance. Luminous whispered:

- Ming·Z·Lu...

- Brother, I am here, you really found a method to stop the lance!

- In this world, only a monster can stop a monster, and I am the biggest monster in the world...

- Yes, you are the biggest monster in the world, brother! You are awesome! Then, are you ready to make the last deal? I can't do much against the lance, but I can take care of the monster behind it, the little devil is good at this dirty work!

Luminous stared at him and asked for two conditions:

- Kill Odin, but also take Nono back to safety.

- Alright but hurry up! That guy is almost here!

Sleipnir's eight legs made a thunderous sound, the dragon subspecies that Odin mounted carried its master into the room. Luminous raised his blood-soaked hand and gave the little devil a high-five. Ming·Z's figure suddenly appeared in the night sky, this time he stopped laughing and opened his arms. He looked like a suspended cross.

- Something for nothing, 100% fusion.

He breathed deeply, as if he wanted to inhale all of the world's air into his lungs. Sharp bone spurs protruded from his body and he was covered in black scales. Huge black wings sprung from his back and he took flight, diving down, his image poured into Luminous's body.

The carbonized skin quickly peeled off, he experienced musculoskeletal growth and deformation and the sound of a glacier cracking was heard across the hospital.

The black wings were opened and Gungir was ejected from his chest. Sleipnir couldn't move a single inch closer to them, because Luminous placed his hand on the horse's chest. Nono stared blankly at him, because she couldn't tell if the monster in front of her was a friend or an enemy, but Luminous stared back at her.

- Sister, don't be afraid, as long as I live, you'll be fine.

After two years, Chen Motong saw the devil that rescued her from the bottom of the Three Gorges Dam once again. She remembered how he held her, his childlike fear and his voice.

Don't die, don't die, don't die... Don't Die!

- So it was you...

But Luminous didn't hear those words at all, he rushed to Odin, at the flash of lightning, the monsters that had been in conflict with each other so many times, leaving countless disasters, clashed once again, and the claws and the sword stained the place red and black.

They roared, they fought, a war between kings that can only be ended by death.

Epilogue

On the elevated road, Finger stopped for a moment to catch his breath. This guy is usually slacking and his posture is erratic. The death servitors are struggling to even reach his clothes.

There should be half a marathon left before he can lose them, however, the physical strength of those things is almost unlimited.

Seeing him stop, a group of servitors suddenly became excited and the baby-like cries they made reached the heavens. A girl in a black outfit and a gauze mask appeared in front of him, a ninja.

- How did you know I was here?

- I have a radar for pretty girls... Can you handle that many servitors?

Mai Sakatoku drew two small blades.

- Those are too many, I'm specialized in assassination, not group combat. It's a pity that the other two girls are not here...

- Then I hope I can help.

He had a sword in his hand, the mirror-like Murasame suddenly turned black, the black blade light soon extended all the way to his body and the rain around it evaporated. Mai was surprised by the brutality of the sword, but Finger remained indifferent.

- What kind of sword is that?

- Murasame, have you never heard of the Dragon Slayer of Fire? Then you are really kind, but a bit ignorant, my friend!

After saying that, he jumped and cut off the elevated road.

#dragon raja #dragon raja novel #luminous #nono #ming z lu #finger von frings #johann chu

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swan2swan · 5 months ago

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WEISS IS DEAD.

#GONE FOREVER #A VICTIM OF HER OWN WIT #or lack thereof #swan watches rubbles #weiss schnee

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therenlover · 4 years ago

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heyy jac I first wanted to say you are amazing, thank you for going out of your way to give us tfatws content. it brightens up my day whenever I see you post. I was just listening to your zemo playlist and I’m one of those people who when I listen to a song I love to make scenarios in my head. I was wondering if you could walk us through some of your favourite songs on the playlist and tell us how you associate them with zemo. I’d love to hear your thoughts on some of the songs. (if that isn’t too much hassle sorry if I’m being annoying lol).

Anon, you are currently my favorite person in the whole wide world. I absolutely want to give you my favorite songs on the playlist and tell you exactly what I see when I hear them, and you have given me an excuse to do so. This post will probably be long as hell, so I’m putting it under the cut.

Foolish To Think from A Gentleman’s Guide To Love and Murder

We all know Zemo is a baron, but like... we don’t know how powerful baron’s are in Sokovia. We also don’t know pretty much anything about his childhood or rise to power. I am a firm believer that he’s been ever so slightly unhinged even when he was still just a normal dude, so this is him deciding “you know what, I’m about to climb my way up the Zemo family ladder however I need to,” This, in my mind, is the epitome of fresh faced, 18 year old, canon Zemo ready to go fuck some people up for power.

If Music Be The Food Of Love arranged by David Dickau

During his rise to power, still just a normal dude, Zemo falls in love with his wife. I’m a big believer in the fact that, because Zemo was raised as royalty, he knows a whole lot of pretentious shit like Shakespeare and recites it to his partner to be romantic. The line “Though yet, the treat is only sound, sure I must perish by your charms unless you save me in your arms,” is what he used to woo her early in the relationship. So cute, it would be terrible if something bad happened to her...

Bogoroditse Djevo arranged by Arvo Pärt

This one is more of a scene I get in my head. It’s a Christmas tune, and I can see him, his wife, and their infant going to their first Christmas market as a family in Novi Grad. Just... walking from stall to stall, giggling at the performers, eating the food, buying little gifts for the baby to remember the occasion. It’s a calm before the storm.

The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns

This song, in the playlist, marks the death of Zemo’s family. In the past, dancers have interpretted the melody as a badly injured swan, slowly struggling as they die but still being graceful and elegant as they do. As he searches through the rubble, his hope slowly dies, and in the end his hope dies where his family did. Thus begins his descent into madness in...

Daemon Irrepit Callidus arranged by György Orbán

Daemon Irrepit Callidus is Zemo’s descent into madness. From this point on, he slowly loses his softness. The tone of the songs is often much more modern, pulling away from his roots as a baron and man of high status and leaning into something more gritty for much of the Civil War era in the playlist. He has descended into hell and he believes there is no turning back from here.

Songe d’Automne performed by The White Star Orchestra

Reportedly (by Harold Bride, surviving Jr Telegrapher who was washed off the deck as the ship sank) this was the last song the orchestra played as the Titanic sank. Zemo is going nuts. ‘Nough said.

If I Believed from Twisted

This song, along with a few more, is an outlier in the Civil War era. It represents his reasoning for what he’s doing. I imagine this song is the feeling he has after he listens to his wife’s last voicemail. He’s doing everything for her, burning a whole superhero organization to the ground so that he can assure nobody else has to live through what he did, but he can’t deny that a part of him wishes he could just bring her back no matter how illogical that is.

How Does A Moment Last Forever (Music Box) from Beauty and the Beast

This is, again, a softer moment. He looks back on the time he spent with his family and tries to keep it safe in his mind. It anchors him to reality and keeps him focused on his goals. The end is coming soon in his mind, so he clings as hard as he can to those remaining memories of peace.

Dies Irae arranged by Giuseppe Verdi

He sets the Winter Soldier loose murders all the remaining soldiers in the Hydra base on his day of reckoning. Yeah, that’s basically it, it’s just hype music as he has his big moment.

As The World Caves In by Matt Maltese

His plan has been carried out and now Zemo is simply watching as the world caves in around him. He’s succeeded in all of his plans, the avengers are crumbling, he’s listened to his wife’s voicemail one last time and now he’s ready to be dead. He thinks this is it. Well, until he’s taken into custody and locked up forever.

Leonardo Dreams Of His Flying Machine arranged by Eric Whitacre

My man Eric is coming in clutch once again. This is Zemo, brilliant mind and all, stuck rotting in jail. He has nothing but his dreams of grandeur to tide him over So, he dreams. He dreams of escape, of his family, of what waits for him once he dies. 8 years of dreaming pass before Bucky finally approaches as Lacrimosa plays.

Lacrimosa by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart

Fuck you, Mozart. You’re only here because you played in the show. Moving on.

The Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani

You cannot tell me that this isn’t what was playing in Zemo’s head as he escaped from maximum security prison and rolled up to that warehouse looking all hot and mysterious.

Sibella from A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder

Look who’s back! This time, though, I included this because I am adamant that Zemo fucks someone he used to know while he’s escaped and they have a big dramatic love affair. Like, he just does. I don’t make the rules.

WAP by Cardi B featuring Megan Thee Stallion

Zemo would just love WAP. He says all that woke shit, so like, he vibes with female empowerment and the idea of them taking back their sexuality. He also loves the annoyed look on Bucky’s face when he plays it, so it stays on the playlist.

The Man I Used To Be from The Count of Monte Cristo

Now, this one is more speculative, but I feel like Zemo will have a minor change of heart. he won't suddenly be a morally straight good guy to the bone, but I think he’s seriously rethinking his ideology and at some point, he might find a way to let go of a lot of the pain and remorse he’s been carrying around.

No More from Into The Woods

This song, in my mind, takes place at the Sokovian memorial. Zemo is there and he’s so tired of running and fighting and grieving. He just wants to be okay again but he doesn’t know how to. He has this mental moment where he’s asking his deceased father for help and yet the memory (ghost?) of his father, who he resented for most of his life, isn’t helping him straightforwardly. He has to figure it out for himself in the end. This line speaks to me most. “No more giants waging wars. Can’t we just pursue our lives, with our children and our wives? Till that happy day arrives, how do you ignore...”

and finally...

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep arranged by Laura Farnell

Of all the songs on this list, this one was the only one I was absolutely certain of including and I knew it had to be the last song no matter what else I included. Its contents, a famous poem by Mary Elizabeth Frye, could refer to either Zemo or his family. In the case that he visits the monument, it could be the feeling he gets there. Finally, he knows that his family is somewhere better, not buried under the rubble of his home. He’s finally free.

If he dies at the end of the series though, it takes on a whole new meaning. It’s about him, how he isn’t trapped by his mortal body anymore. He’s now everywhere, both a constant reminder to the world of the atrocities committed in Sokovia and a testament to how powerful a father’s love for his family can be. Once again, he’s finally free to reunite with those he loves, but this time it’s he who isn’t truly dead so long as people heed his life as a warning.

Wow, this was longer than I thought it would be even when I cut a few songs... I hope you enjoyed!

#jac rambles #playlist #zemo #helmut zemo

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dragonrajafanfiction · 3 years ago

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The Trieste Venture (Part 2 - Mourning the Lenin)

GAME CANON VERSION: The second part of the rewritten Trieste Story Quest. I wish they had added more of the emotional stuff for the MC. I don’t think it would have been hard. They had like, some nice elements. They just didn’t use them well or not at all. Below the Cut!

You watched those lung snails slowly swallow Caesar and Chu Zihang like a mudslide, while you sat with this bloodless coward in the cockpit.

The lung snail attached to the Lenin's outer wall probably weighed several hundred tons, and could kill a man if it hit him. Chu Zihang was trying to climb towards Caesar, but he was further away from the nuclear power module than Caesar was. He was carried askew by the currents when he fell into the lung snail pile, and his landing point was not as good as Caesar's. According to the instructions for use, the suit can only support five minutes and is used to repair the shell of the deep submersible if necessary, but now Caesar's suit has been outside for seven minutes, and Chu's has been out for two minutes. Caesar is unconscious, and Chu Zihang's vitals are getting worse and worse. He is relying on blood rage to support himself, but the effect of blood rage in this extreme environment is also unknown.

The chances are getting smaller and smaller. The Chu Zihang in his spherical submersible is still paddling his arms in the pile of lung snails. He understands that he is doing his best. He’s obviously the kind of person who is not too concerned about anything, but as long as he has any strength left, if there is even a glimmer of hope, he will not let it go.

Chu Zihang finally broke through the lung snails in front of him and grabbed the handrail behind Caesar's suit. He tried to use a strap to tether the Caesar’s submersible to his suit, but how the two suits are joined side by side and this is a big problem.

Your rage has gone and left you feeling empty inside as you watched. It wasn’t like the heart-pounding explosions, the gunshots and the desperate screams of the dying at Black Swan Bay. This seemed cold, clinical and distant. The cabin was completely silent while you watched them struggle.

There was no need for you to be here. Caesar and Zihang were absolutely wrong. There was something you could do.

You slip off the headset and take off the seatbelt.

“Not you too! What am I supposed to do?” Lu Mingfei cried.

Because Caesar and Zihang would live, they would be able to provide him with instructions. That was a fact. So there was no need to say anything to Lu Mingfei or answer his questions.

“There are only two suits. You’ll die if you go out there!” He protested.

“That’s the point.” Because Lu Mingfei meant nothing to you, and his feelings didn’t matter, it was easy enough to say what was in your heart.

“Really? Suicide?!” He whimpered. But, just as you expected, he was too weak and cowardly to stop you. He didn’t even move to unbuckle his seatbelt.

“You’ll understand later. I’ll be back with them.” You stepped into the cockpit hatch and shut it. Inside, you could hear the rushing of the ocean over the vessel. It reminded you of the time you fell into the ocean after being pushed there by your dear friend. You’d survived extreme ocean conditions before.

You close your eyes to focus. In your mind, swirling serpents appear in a vision. They part to reveal flaming golden eyes.

“Wait!” Lu Mingfei’s fists are pounding on the hatch. Your eyes are golden, your pupils have turned to vertical slits, and large blue-black veins are crawling up your neck and face followed by bright golden scales. Because you were going to die, it didn’t matter if you died like a monster. With this strength, with Blood Rage, you could live, just like the mermaids lived. From within the hatch, your heart beat loud like a drum. In a single inhale, you sucked the air. When you opened the hatch, the water rushed in, pressed in on you and forced that breath out of you. The water was pitch black, but you could see just fine.

More and more mermaids crawl out of the ground, creeping and swimming, reminiscent of millions of earthworms crawling from the mud in spring. A huge crack appeared, cutting lengthwise into the long river of lava. Hundreds and thousands of tons of lava gushed into the crack. Something huge struggled in the lava, its scales black, its dorsal crest bearing barbed bone spikes, black metal hooks piercing its muscles, locking it firmly under the rubble. But the metal hooks were just barely able to restrain it, and it lashed the ground furiously with its thick tail. The buildings that still stood collapsed in pieces, with metal fragments floating up with the gravel, forming a blinding fog in the sea.

But that wasn't the worst of it. What looked like swarms of fireflies were flying out of that chasm!

It was those ghost-toothed dragon vipers! They had first appeared further up from the trench, but no one had expected the ruins to be their nest. The dragon vipers poured out like silvery bands of light in the sea water. They were not interested in small things like lung snails or corpse guards, but gradually closed in on the struggling Caesar and Chu Zihang. Your mind explodes in a rage. You remembered what Chu Zihang and Caesar said: the ghost tooth dragon viper gathered in groups and chewed the bronze pillar to eat. They can secrete strong acidic mucus, and chewed metal with their horrible teeth. Can the titanium-magnesium alloy used to make men’s equipment stand up to the dragon viper's teeth?

You weren’t about to let them find out. The Dragonblood in your body was surging and you let out an inhuman cry, a cross being a baby’s cry when it is first born and a wildcat’s scream. Your body powers forward, undulating like a dolphin, knowing how to swim like this even though you weren’t built like a mermaid. The dragon vipers didn’t know you, but your fierce charge marked you as an opponent and, for a moment, they instinctively changed course as one school, spinning away from you.

Caesar and Chu Zihang couldn't run, they were completely trapped in a pile of lung snails. Chu let go of Caesar, plucked the lung snails in front of him, and headed for the nuclear power module. Apparently, he had heard your scream and understood the situation at hand. He was trying to see if he could fire up the nuclear pods before the dragon vipers pounced and tore into them, but all he knew was that the code had something to do with Nono's birthday.

The swarm has come back around, this time in even greater numbers. The urge to survive is pushing your blood rage to higher levels and now you don’t even think twice about focusing on the group and lashing out with claws, slicing the fish open neatly, blood and entrails filling the water.

The viperfish are not above cannibalism and this throws the swarm into a frenzy, biting into their wounded brethren and occasionally taking chunks out of healthy fish who are then rendered skeletons in an instant. The feeding frenzy doesn’t go unnoticed and more viperfish are coming. You cry out from the sharp pain of one latching onto your foot. You dislodge it, but the numbers of fish are starting to over take your ability to fight and those on the outer edges of the school suddenly turn their attention back to Chu Zihang and Caesar.

Fortunately, the toughness of titanium-magnesium alloy is far more than bronze, so these small things they have to bite very hard.. Chu Zihang is exhausted, he is still less than 5 meters away from the nuclear power module, but his metal prosthetic limbs have broken, he can not enter the passcode. You want to save them, but the moment you turn away from the school of viperfish, they pounce on you, biting at you like gigantic mosquitos! You start to realize that you might not rescue Caesar and Zihang after all, that maybe… just maybe you wouldn’t be enough…

Again.

The spherical figure suddenly stood up. It was Caesar, who had been unconscious! His pupils burned brightly, and he used metal prosthetics to crush the dragon viper attached to his body. With the power of a rock driller, he plucked away layer after layer of lung snails. He passed Chu Zihang step by step, approaching the nuclear power module. You’re stunned for a moment and then you feel a sudden thrill, like the sudden excitement of descending the first hill on a rollercoaster!

Your body really is moving on its own. You slice through the fish like a blender, claws ripping, teeth tearing. Scales floated through the water like it was glittering confetti for New Years Day at Times Square! They turn to bite back but you’re too fast, zipping through the school with such power they were forced to part ways or get bludgeoned to the side by your own body. You’re lost in the amazing power of it. Was this you? Was this happening? You’re laughing, but you don’t feel breathless! How was this happening? What was happening? Your mind was screaming with giddy joy, but you’re not sure where this is coming from. It was as if you were on some sort of high from a powerful drug and your conscious mind was taking a back seat.

Caesar was a little drowsy, slowly entering the code. A confirmation of success! The nuclear power module reignited, the cadmium rod recovered neutron density and rose. This time it wouldn't go into safe mode. It really became a nuclear bomb. Caesar turned around and grabbed Chu Zihang who was struggling in the pile of lung snails, and removed the lead dive weights from their suits. The weight was reduced and they immediately surfaced, taking with them the ghost-toothed dragon vipers that were biting at them.

You follow them into the pressurized cabin as door began to fill with water, followed by drainage, when the pressure in the pressurized cabin returned to the same as in the cockpit, Lu Mingfei could not wait to pull open the pressure door.

You were a mess of half human, half servitor and bitten a thousand times. As the strange power left you, you found yourself unable to stand any more and slipped to the floor. The pain was unbearable as your muscles and bones reminded you that even though you couldn’t feel it in your moment rapture, they were working beyond their limits. The strains, sprains, bites and bruises crashed into your mind all at once. It hurt so much you couldn’t even cry, only gape wordlessly.

“Get Caesar! I’ll take care of her!” Chu Zihang had already shed his spherical suit. He drew his blade and brought it down hard against the dragon fish that were still clinging to it, beheading them as neat as a sushi master. He then left for a few seconds and returned with the injection that was supposed to save you. Still, he held that bright blade against your throat just in case. You didn’t even feel the needle only the serum’s burning course through your veins.

“It’s okay…” You tell him. He didn’t have to try to save you. In fact, you don’t know why you even came back to the submersible. You were just following the natural order of events and you felt fine. Why did you bother coming back? You were supposed to die out there. That was the plan, right?

Chu Zihang held your hand up and examined it. Little by little, the scales and black veins were starting to retreat, albeit, slower than he would have liked. “Stay in here, I’ll bring a first aid kit.”

"What the hell kind of fucking fish is this!" Lu Mingfei was screaming. You watch as he takes the fire extinguisher and sprays the fish still clinging to Caesar’s suit with it. Even though they were powered by Dragonblood, they still needed oxygen to live. The foam sapped them of that oxygen and they dropped off Caesar’s suit. Turned out that Raccoon Boy as good for something after all.

A bump attracts your attention. Through the inches thick glass, you see that the gold scaled mermaids are flying past you in a swifter river than before, streaming upwards. Chu Zihang returns, carrying a blanket and pulling on a roll of bandages with his teeth.

“Hey is she alright? Do you need help?” Lu Mingfei asks, with approaching footsteps.

“Stay out there! Tell me what’s going on outside!”

You finally look down and see that your clothes have been near completely shredded save a bit around your waist and neck.. Chu Zihang was kneeling in front of you to obscure you from Mingfei’s view.

A wall of flames rose slowly from the side of the Trieste, and the sound of thunder resounded in the depths of the trench. Rivers of magma erupted! Millions of tons of magma spurted out of the chasm! The magma was golden red when it was newly ejected, before gradually solidifying and turning black, rising to about half a kilometer before it completely solidified, forming a giant black wall, and the seawater next to it instantly vaporized, as if a million thunderstorms had exploded continuously at the bottom of the sea. The Treiste and the mermaid hybrids were only a few hundred meters away from the wall of lava, and there were still streams of lava spewing from below. The newly solidified volcanic rocks above had begun to fall. So the mermaids gave up the attack and started to flee again. Even these things can't help but be afraid in front of a huge disaster, and it's obvious that when the lava wall collapses, everything will be destroyed.

From the beginning, they fled not because they were afraid of the nuclear power module, but because they sensed the eruption of the volcano under the sea.

Chu Zihang finished bandaging your wounds and covered you with the blanket. He then picked you up and carried you to your seat to strap you in. "It’s already too late to call the Sumeru. We have to accelerate away. Mingfei, you control the rudder and stabilizing wing. In a few moments the nuclear power module will explode. We must reach beyond a safe distance!"

"But we have no power! We've already lost the nuclear power module! Just the lithium batteries aren't fast enough!" Lu Mingfei was dumbfounded.

"I'm an engine too." Chu Zihang strapped himself firmly into the seat.

His golden pupils burned up, and the four walls of the cockpit were illuminated in gold as heat waves reverberated through the air.

Royal Fire erupted! Swirls of black flame appeared in the seawater below the submersible. It was the most concentrated state of the Royal Flame, with internal temperatures of several thousand degrees, yet not a trace of heat was escaping. The black vortex slowly rotated in the seawater for a second and then collapsed. The heat leaked out. The huge amount of seawater was instantly vaporized. The swirling white steam stream roared in the deep sea. The water vapor and the flame were entangled and swirled together to create a flaming vortex!

You were all starting to rise! Even though the rock wall was collapsing around you, the Trieste brushed past the falling debris. You’re holding your breath hoping that you wouldn’t end up buried anyway.

You stared at the screen. The screen is an external camera shot of the Takamagahara. The scene was solemn and magnificent. The ruins are slowly sliding along the tilted sea bed into the lava river, the last buildings gradually tilting and crumbling, high towers snapped off, thousands of bells rolling in the streets of the city. You feel that at the moment they play sad music like the song sung by desperate birds. A small mountain of volcanic rocks fell from above, spewing out lava as they splashed in the ruins. Lava was converging into small rivers along the streets, as if cleaning the city with flames. Tides of magma from the fissures swallowed up more and more of the ground. Certain shattered pieces of land disappeared forever into the rivers of lava, and soon with the sun-bright explosion of the nuclear powerhouse, Takamagahara was lost to the world forever.

　　The Lenin slid along the tilted foundations, its huge hull collapsing countless buildings along the way and rolling into the magma. The embryo inside did not struggle, and the Lenin floated in the lava for a few moments before gradually sinking. The fractured metal tower rolled over and smashed into its middle, destroying its bridge. The high temperature burned the fleshy layer covering the Lenin, exposing the carbide red five-star of Soviet Russia on the bow, which was the last to sink. By now the Trieste was far from the depths of the trench, and the bright river of lava in view was fading.

It was just a ship, but it was one of the last remaining memories of your past. You remembered anticipating the visit of this ship every Christmas with its gifts of chocolate for Vera and vodka for Herzog, new clothes and shoes for you. Up until now, when you thought of your past, you thought of a terrible end. The blood and the fire and the smoke. You shed no tears then.

But watching the ship and the city sink irretrievably, it finally hits you that everything happy is gone. Gone is the ship and its presents, burned forever and it was never going to arrive again.

You hold the blanket against your reddening face and stain it with your tears, all your sorrow bursting out an a flood.

#Dragon Raja

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writercherub · 4 years ago

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c’mon take a shot - miya osamu

notes: fluff, smut, osamu x f!reader

warnings: masturbation, indication of past trauma

word count: appx. 1200

you were an angel.

what else could you have been?

your hair flowed so endlessly past your shoulders as you picked up tiny rubbles into your woven basket. the water gleamed bright beside you, and osamu could only stare at what now looks like a halo hovering above your head as the sun pours its light from higher up.

bent over the watercourse with your lips parted open and unaware like this, you look beautiful. impossibly so.

ouch, what’s this ba-thump in his chest? he rubs uncomfortably at it and wishes it would go away. but then you sat down, dipped your legs into the cold water and thinks that maybe, you’re someone who he doesn’t mind having stuck between his teeth. how could he not, when you’re a fairly bewitching girl? you run your hand through your hair before leaning back on your elbows to lift a leg; fluttering your baby pink toenails in the air. you notice that the hem of your dress is wet now, but you don’t mind.

unable to move, osamu watches — remaining silent and observant until the last few minutes where you rise onto your legs and brush away any dirt from your cloth.

the little picnic osamu’s having with his friends turn subdued as he watches you glide by, completely unaware of the little nibbles of rice stuck to the side of his mouth.

he flinches when suna bumps into him, trying to snap a few pictures of atsumu as the blonde shouts, “stawpf eet!” around a full mouth (he looks ridiculous — what is he, a rodent? osamu scowls).

quickly, you turn your head around at the commotion and there, past all the ruckus, past the hollers of his stupid twin brother, past the ribbons in your hair and the seraphic pout of your lips, you two lock eyes and he catches a glimpse of your mean, mean gleam. and maybe he senses something deeper, but it’s a gaze so utterly rousing that it devours and raises the little hairs on his arm. it taunts him, and glides its tongue against his ear.

‘come here.’

it was a quiet night, he made sure of it. because that night was for him to take the lecherous time to picture you; of your pretty face all lewd from him fucking you.

osamu should feel bad, really. he barely even knows you, yet lust emanates off him and broods into every single corner of his room. arousal pools in his lower abdomen and coaxes him into tightening the grip he has around himself. it’s throbbing, and it hurts. it hurts from osamu trying to dismiss its swollen presence earlier. and maybe he does feel bad, but he just can’t stop himself from pulling down his pants and touching himself for the night.

he parts his lips, groaning as he pictures his thick dick sliding in and out of you. he pumps his hand quicker as he imagines how utterly vulgar and wet his head would look as he circles it around your opening. he imagines going past your soft walls and feels the way you’d tighten around him — suctioning him in as he pulls out inch by inch, right before slamming into you again. now your toes are all curled and your face is flushed, just the way he likes it.

he replays the scene over and over again as he fucks his hand through the dark; and osamu finds himself unable to stop the continuous thudding of his heart when he comes on his hand ten minutes later — all sticky and wet.

osamu remembers that night and admittedly, he’s feeling a little ashamed to have you sitting right beside him.

you suck on a popsicle and pay no mind to the way it drips and stains your ivory dress blue. he catches the way it pearls on the bottom of your chin, and drops as you open your mouth to take another lick.

“look at that swan, isn’t it pretty?” you ask.

osamu puts his hands behind his head as he hums in agreement. a slight breeze whizzes past from where you two are sheltered beneath a large tree, and you hear a little duck cluck at the water where a passerby has thrown a piece of bread.

you brush your hair back, and he looks away from the now half-exposed rift of your breasts. you roll your eyes. he’s doing a damn good job at retaining his poker face but you’re not stupid, you can practically smell the stench of his dirty act from the night before — but you couldn’t care less. you have your fair share of stringed nights where you bring somebody home and kick them out the door right after. you know you’re desired, and you make sure to look the part too, but to move past longing and grant a person access to your soul in order to be loved all the way through meant opening a door to the abyss.

you’re not here to love.

a bite. and another bite.

he hands you all sorts of milkbread with a smile on his face, and chuckles every time you chomp down a mouthful. you find yourself softly swaying back and forth beneath the mammoth of a blanket osamu’s wrapped you in. he senses your motions, but continues to sit silently beside you as he eats his meal; a leg propped up as he rests an arm on it.

“you’re not cold?” you ask.

“nah. i saw how much you were shakin’ ‘cause of the ac.”

you bow your head. why’s he being so cute?

the room is still, yet comforting. and life’s kind of crazy, with the way it bent and molded itself until you and osamu kept bumping into each other. soon, your little occurrences by the park turned into warm café meetings and you felt your heart warm every time he insisted on paying for you, smiling as you stood beside him at the cashier.

all your prior convictions about him had been wrong. you were wrong thinking that he only sees you as a means to derive pleasure from when he held an umbrella over your head, making sure you were completely sheltered and completely shrugging off the fact that the other side of his shoulder was drenched from the rain.

he cooks for you, too. always filling up your tummy with something warm and feeds you strawberries that he’s slathered in sweetened milk, just because he thinks you look adorable munching on it.

and you still ache sometimes. the siren façade you’ve masked yourself with to hide your misery is still very much there. but even then, you continue taking tiny leaps from the black and into the blue. you’ve gotten better, and he’s held you through it; patching up your bruised little heart and peppering it with kisses to let you know that he’s here. he’s here and he always will be.

life had seemed like a long, horrible day and there’s no denying that it gets dark sometimes — you’re not always going to find yourself in a meadow of flowers, you know that, but you also know that you’ve got yourself. and having this boy by your side makes things much, much easier.

you tilt your head back, your full and rosy cheeks causing your eyes to scrunch from how hard you’re beaming. osamu shakes his grey head of hair as he reaches for his glass of water, “what’re you so happy for?”

a butterfly begins its tender sprout in your chest, “nothing.”

and if you were in love, then so be it.

-------

a/n: caught the lil lana (and marilyn monroe) reference there?

uh, osamu’s a hard character to pin down, isn’t he? lol but seriously, thank you if you’ve made it through this far. i really hope you enjoyed it <3

(also if you have any tips on writing dialogue, pls send them into my inbox xox)

#osamu miya #miya osamu #haikyuu!!#hq #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu x reader #osamu miya x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu smut #miya osamu fluff #miya osamu smut #haikyuu imagines #miya osamu imagines

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doorsclosingslowly · 4 years ago

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Your death is a number but I cannot count that high (12/16)

In which Death Watch take prisoners and make friends. Zombie Savage AU | 3.4k

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Clank, clank, clank. Rook kicks her armored boot against the main hold’s wall, again and again.

She can afford to lose control now. All prisoners are sedated and shackled, and Maul, Savage and Ventress are still mysteriously asleep. All prisoners: the Entralla encampment and ship are smoking rubble and most of Sidious’ five-hundred-strong battalion are tied up over on the second dreadnought, with only fifty of the soldiers wearing cheap fucking imitation beskar over on her ship, along with the unhelmeted red-bearded human man that might be a commander of sorts. Or he might be Sidious. But she’ll only find that out once the ‘Alor wakes up. Commander Sid or whoever is tied up extra carefully and gagged with the nozzle of a soporific weedkiller tank that’s turned up to full blast for good measure, and Gar has stationed snipers with slugthrowers all throughout the ship. That should suffice. Besides, Rook has bigger problems.

Savage’s injured. Horrifically maimed from the looks of him, tortured with techniques utterly unfamiliar to Rook—but he’s alive and he’s stable, Hens had reported after a short examination. She couldn’t tell Rook anything more: she’s a specialized battlefield medic, and besides—Hens just muttered that with the head injury alone he should be dead—besides, this reeks of weird force shit. Which means they need Lord Maul to tell them what’s going on, only, again, Maul’s still snoring quietly, half atop of Savage on the cot. (“Lord Maul does not like to be touched,” Rook declared when she gave the order to evacuate, after she’d stormed into the room two minutes after her Mand’Alor and eyed the weird way the plan had gone boots-up. Everyone asleep, really?

There was sedative gas everywhere, of course, but… Rook knew that Maul’s gas mask worked. She’d tested it herself. “Just put him on—I’ll heave him onto the cot next to Savage, and you’ll carry—I ordered you to leave the jetpacks on our ship, but I know some of you brought ‘em. That should give you the thrust to carry that cot. You! Take Ventress. I’ll take beardy. Hurry! Hurry out!”)

The ‘Alor is snoozing, and so is Ventress who Rook wouldn’t trust as far as she can toss her—not just because Rook’s sure she could get at least a few meters—but who knows about the force and the Republic and Sidious and all that crap, and in a pinch she would have done. It’s better than going in dark.

Rook has bigger problems than anger or sleeping Mand’Alors or tortured Mand’Alors’ brothers. She thought she could do this, but she knows nothing. She grew up on Concord Dawn and then she went to Mandalore to fight and she’s been flitting around Mandalorian space ever since, but life there made sense. The people made sense. They had honor. Clan rivalries, factions, battles for the soul of Mandalore—that’s what she knows, but she’s never even truly met any outsiders except for Maul and Savage, and they don’t count. Ventress is on Rook’s turf. There was that Republic jetii showing up for Duchess Satine—may her memory be a noon shadow—but Rook wasn’t even there for that, and all Gar would say is that the ‘Alor sure hated him.

Rook knows nothing.

She knows about the Republic from her mother’s songs and an old man’s stories. She knows about the Annihilation, and she remembers. She knows Mandalore will rise again.

She knows to hate the Republic for its past atrocities.

But how earth could she have predicted the presentones.

Those soldiers—the soldiers that Ventress recognized as Grand Army of the Republic when they touched down—those soldiers are wearing armor made to look like beskar’gem.

Beskar.

Cheap fucking plasteel fucking imitation fucking beskar.

The Republic dressed their soldiers up in the armor of Rook’s ancestors.

The Republic that shelled and annihilatedMandalore seven-hundred years ago is dressing its mooks in a mockery of sacred armor. Rook would have preferred it if they’d pissed on her mother’s corpse.

They’re dead. All of them, they’re fucking dead.

Jagrub’s hand is tousling Rook’s hair, but where usually it would be a conscious act to keep Rook from more committing grievous bodily harm than necessary, right now her hatred burns just as hot. Neither of them can bear the sight of the defilement of Mandalore. They’re not the only ones either.

Discipline in the face of a dangerous mission and the life of the ‘Alor’s brother hanging in the balance had kept the Death Watch commando on the ground tightly focused on their objective. The need for speed had made them manacle the armored pretenders and move on. The order to evacuate, including prisoners, had made them carry their bodies onto the dreadnoughts.

Now, though—right now adrenaline-fueled Death Watch commandos are pacing all round unconscious Republic mooks adorned with a hateful mockery of Mandalorian beskar, and there’s only one thing left stopping them—stopping Rook, too—from tearing them apart limb by plasteel-clad limb.

Gar keeps his bleeding heart well-hidden. He’s strong and dependable and a great fighter and a lummox and a massive pain in Rook’s ass on a good day, and on a bad day—

On a bad day Gar faces down livid supercommandos and says, “It’s for the Mand’Alor to decide what we do with these prisoners. We started the mission on his lead, and so we will end it.”

On a bad day Gar sends his slick-haired boytoy Ja Goos over to the second dreadnaught and gives him command, promotes him to Mand’Alor’s Counsel, parsecs above his current rank, on a whim, except Ja Goos is charming enough that he might just make it work… Might be the one time when it’s actually useful, as much as Rook dislikes charm. It’s cheating. But Ja Goos commands the other dreadnaught now, just because he listens to Gar implicitly and is therefore the only one who’s also hell-bent on those fake-beskar soldiers surviving, and even if he was as angry as the rest of Death Watch—if he wants the chance to keep wooing Gar with wine and late night athletics, Goos needs to follow Gar’s lead. And he’s got his heart stolen real bad…

On a bad day Gar pulls Rook aside and whispers, “Trust me, please, if you calm down you’ll admit I’m right,” before he swans off to instruct his anti-Sidious snipers.

So now Rook is here in the main hold of the stolen ship, with Jagrub and twenty other pissed of Death Watch supercommandos, and fifty Republic soldiers in white cruel plasteel styled after the armor generations and generations and generations of Mandalorians fought for the right to wear, and an unconscious Ventress, and a mysteriously asleep Mand’Alor clinging to his sleeping, tortured, should-be-dead-according-to-all-info brother, and a Republic commander who may or may not be a demagolka Sith Lord. Rook’s in command here, and this isn’t just a battle anymore. It demands careful strategy. Rook’s in command, Rook who made Mand’Alor’s Counsel three months ago, and only because the most seasoned members of Death Watch followed Bo-Katan to the Nite Owls and her and Gar were the first ones to stand up and swear allegiance to Maul as Mand’Alor. She’s never left Mandalorian Space except for incursions like this one, and all her knowledge of the Republic is from seven hundred years ago. She’s got more intel about the Sith, at least, but all she learned was from Maul’s traumatized recollections. She knows nothing.

This is more than a fight to the death now.

Rook’s a brawler playing at general only because no-one else was stupid enough to volunteer.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

If only Lord Maul would wake up.

He doesn’t, though; instead it’s one of those ancestor-besmirching Republic troops startling awake and tensing their arms and legs against the manacles. Well, Rook promised Gar she’d let them live… but she never said anything about venting her horror, just a little. Besides, as Mand’Alor’s Counsel she should interrogate these impostors. There, she even has an excuse ready.

It’ll be hard to keep her cool staring at that monstrosity of a fake beskar helmet, though. Rook pulls it off, and… “Fett?!”

Jango Fett blinks up at her, most of his head shaved clean with only a stripe of dark hair running from his forehead to the nape of his neck. He has twin tattooed lines in semicircles under his eyes. He looks weirdly young, but still, it’s definitively Jango Fett, Jaster Mereel’s son, claimant of the Mand’Alor title, enemy of Death Watch, last survivor of the True Mandalorians. He disappeared twenty years ago, occasionally surfacing as a bounty hunter far from Mandalorian Space, and now he’s working for the Republic? A True Mandalorian, wearing plasteel armor?! And who then are all the others… It can’t be true. But Rook’s seen holos from just before he left. Jango Fett looks exactly like this. He… he looked exactly like this, twenty years ago. What—

“Fat’s over in the Wolf Pack,” Jango Fett says after a long pause. He shakes his head, as if he can’t believe what he’s saying.

Well. That makes two of them. “But you’re Fett,” Rook says. “You look like Fett.”

Jango Fett stares at her. Rook gets the distinct impression that he wants to call her stupid, but also doesn’t want to die. “I’m not Fat,” Jango Fett says. “I’m Taxi.”

“You look exactly like Fett.”

Not-Jango Fett swallows a series of what must be incredibly strong expletives, because his reply to the heavily armed Death Watch supercommando who drugged and captured him is still, “Gold star, fucking genius! That’s how it works when you’re kriffing cloning!”

“Clones?!”

“For fuck’s… Take off Eel’s helmet it you don’t believe me,” Jango—Taxi explains, still looking at Rook as if he’s never met anybody as dense as her.

Rook does as instructed. The unconscious Eel looks exactly like Taxi, except for his full head of hair and three scars on his left cheek, two small and round and the middle one long and curving to the ridge of his nose.

“There,” Taxi says. “Clone troopers. The Clone army of the Republic. Clones versus clankers. That’s us. Glad you caught up.”

It doesn’t explain half as much as he obviously thinks it does, and what little Rook can glean from his answer is bad. Horrifying. Worse than the fake armor on its own. Much, much worse. “The Republic cloned Jango fucking Fett!?”

Taxi nods.

“Jango Fett, last Man’Alor of the True Mandalorians?! Remade his beskar in plasteel to dress you up?! Just absorbed you into its army?”

“We are the Grand Army of the Republic. There’s no-one else, except some Jedi.”

“The Republic is using cloned Mandalorians to fight its war,” rumbles Jagrub from behind Rook’s shoulder, loud enough for every supercommando in the hold to hear and freeze in shock. “Cloned Mandalorians in imitation beskar’gem! The Republic is using Mandalorians!”

Taxi smirks. “There’s a war on, haven’t you heard? Clones versus clankers. Didn’t know there were rocks so large a whole gang could live under them.”

Rook studies his face. “You’re not at all scared, are you?”

“You went through the hassle of tying us up,” Taxi says. He sounds bitter. “We’re not usually taken prisoner.”

If she wasn’t already furious enough to die of a stroke immediately, this would have done it. “The Republic is using Mandalorians as discardable fighters?!”

“Don’t have a choice.” Taxi shrugs. “They make and train us up on Kamino, and then we get shipped to the Republic and sent to the front and die.”

No-one has ever survived as high a blood pressure as Rook’s currently sporting. She breathes in and out and in until she can be sure not to scream in anguish, because Taxi deserves better. Eel does, too and so does Fat and all the other Mandalorians enslaved by the cruel Republic. She silently thanks Gar’s instincts. She could have killed this brother. But she didn’t. She’s seen him as he really is. And now… “You have a choice, now, Taxi. You are Mandalorian. We are Mandalorians, too. We are Death Watch. We leave none of our siblings behind, ever. We fight to the death for every single one of us. We do not rule over each other, either—we give our trust to the Mand’Alor and if we deem it necessary, we fight for a new leader. We work together, but we are equal. We’ll fight the Republic for your freedom. Join us. Join Death Watch. You are a child of Mandalore. Join us.”

Rook looks back down, expectant, but Taxi has shed the angry ironic detachment that characterized his mien thus far. His eyes are wide, slightly glassy, and he’s breathing too fast.

Panic attack.

Jagrub’s recognized it as well, and she hands Rook one of the paper bags she keeps stowed in her hip pockets. Then, she carefully unbinds Taxi’s hands and legs, while Rook kneels and holds the paper bag over Taxi’s mouth to prevent hypocapnia.

Slowly, his breathing evens out. He doesn’t regain his control straight away: he clings to Rook and she runs her hands over his hateful plasteel armor, over and over, vowing not to let a single building in the whole Republic stay unbombed if this is what they would do to her brother. If a single offer of free choice and equality could melt him down. They would use children of Mandalore as disposable weapons, and if Death Watch wasn’t already at war with the Republic over what this Sidious did to Savage they would declare it this second, a thousand times over.

“I—yeah,” Taxi whispers eventually into her ear, still completely sagged against her. “I want—I don’t want to desert my brothers, but I want that.”

“We’ll make the same offer to your brothers,” Rook promises. “All of them. You don’t have to answer now, either, Taxi. Free association. We’ll let you leave if you don’t join Death Watch, you’re free to become a Nite Owl or even… even a True Mandalorian if you must, though we might have to rescue Jango Fett first to revive them. New Mandalorians are history, but you wouldn’t have liked them anyway. Sanctimonious pricks.”

“I don’t—”

“I’ll tell you what they are. I’ll tell all of your brothers, or one of my friends will. They’re all Death Watch, like me. They want you to be free.”

“Yeah,” Taxi mumbles, his young angry bravado all used up, and he stays wrapped up in Rook’s arms.

“If you feel comfortable, you should tell your brothers when they wake up. They’ll trust you more than us.”

“Yeah, okay, yeah, yeah,” Taxi mumbles, and Rook just keeps running her hands over his shoulders and down his back. She’s a brawler who made Mand’Alor’s Counsel three months ago because there was no-one more senior left in Death Watch. She knows nothing. The depravity of the Republic, to clone and use Mandalorians as cannon fodder, is so much above anything she expected to face, but she owes it to Maul and to Taxi and to Jagrub and to Gar and to Death Watch and to Mandalore and to herself not to give in now.

“You’re free now, Taxi, you’re Death Watch,” she keeps repeating, gently butting her helmeted forehead against his bare one. She keeps repeating her words, only pausing to whisper orders—“Comm Ja Goos and inform him the soldiers are enslaved Mandalorians,” and “Tell Bo-Katan Kryze what the Republic did. We have a common enemy. Death Watch wants to parlay”—until the tell-tale scuffle that informs her Ventress is finally awake.

She looks unnerved, is all Rook can deduce from her vantage point kneeling on the floor, still holding up Taxi. Something about the way she’s uncuffed and the way Savage’s chest is rising and falling faintly over on the cot seems to displease her greatly. But Rook’s got bigger problems.

“Do you know when Lord Maul will wake up?” she shouts at Ventress.

“What—how would—no, I do not.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is this Sidious?”

“How would I—” Ventress glances at the red-bearded unhelmeted commander that Rook’s pointing at. “Kenobi?!”

“So you do know him!”

“Obi-Wan Kenobi’s a Jedi Knight. Great flirt, decent fighter, regrettable morals.” Ventress is exaggerating her grin, as if she’s worried about something.

Taxi, though, mutters, “Yeah, that’s General Kenobi. He’s decent,” and that’s all the corroboration Rook needs.

“Let’s wake him up then! I have questions. Turn off the soporific, Lerl. Stick him with that antidote, and bring him here,” she shouts, with a manic burst of energy that should probably worry her. Just in case, though, she asks Jagrub to prod the muzzle of her slugthrower against the back of his skull. Maul’s paranoia has been rubbing off on Rook, even if the strategizing hasn’t. Can’t have everything.

Kenobi blinks and groans in pain, and then his eyes focus travel up Rook’s stolen armor and come to rest on her face. He grinds out, “Obi-Wan Kenobi. General, commanding officer of the 7th Sky Corps. Krill-Esk-Nern-Osk-quadruple zero-one.”

So he agrees he’s Kenobi, then. But the answer… “Save your serial number, we’re not at war.” Not formally. Not yet, anyway.

Kenobi stays quiet, though his expression probably intends to tell Rook something.

Absent-mindedly, she runs her left hand down her right vambrace. If she was less stressed, she might be better at this interrogation lark—if she was less stressed, it would be because the Mand’Alor’s awake and in control and she’s only running support for him, but Maul’s still asleep… She traces her fingers down to fiddle with the familiar shape of the backup ignition of her whistling birds, but it’s not there. The vambrace is wrong. Of course it is. It’s the stolen disguise vambrace, after all. “Shit,” Rook mutters, “Shit. Shit. Shit.” The ruse. They can’t lead Sidious or the Republic back to still-weakened Mandalore. They’re dressed up and pretending to be Separatists, and Rook just kriffed the plan. “I mean—yes, we are at war, yes. We’re totally Separatists. Absolutely. Thanks for the identifiers.”

Kenobi’s eyebrows are climbing. He doesn’t seem to believe her. Why is Ja Goos never there to smooth things over when Rook needs him?

To Rook’s relief, Ventress comes swaggering over, sans helmet now. She doesn’t bother hiding her amusement, but she also immediately distracts Kenobi into shouting out her name.

“Let me take this, Rookie. You’re atrocious. Yes, it’s me. Strange times, strange bedfellows.”

Kenobi quirks up an eyebrow. “You’re slumming it with the Separatists again, I see.”

“This? No, this is just a disguise.” Ventress stretches languidly in her CIS armor, cheerfully, as if she hadn’t just mocked Rook for inadvertently revealing the same thing a second ago. “To keep Sidious off our trail when we went after Opress. Only if you’re there, it’s not Sidious after all, is it?”

“You know about Sidious?!” Kenobi looks utterly shocked.

“Maul’s Sith Master?”

He sighs. “Dooku’s, too. And… and ours, in a way.”

“Kenobi—”

“Palpatine,” Kenobi says. “Sidious is Palpatine.”

Several things happen then. Ventress starts laughing hysterically, Taxi just howls and curses and howls again, and Rook is just utterly lost. “Hey! Hey!” she shouts, but no-one reacts. She starts poking Taxi. “Hey, Taxi, calm. Calm. You can do it,” she mutters until he settles back into her arms, eyes wet but responsive again. “Hey Taxi. Who’s Palpatine?”

“Who’s—the kriffing Chancellor of the fucking Republic!”

Rook shudders. She knew the Republic was evil, but… “The Chancellor of the Republic enslaved and tortured Lord Maul?!”

“The Chancellor of the Republic is Dooku’s Master,” Taxi howls back at her. “Dooku leads the Seppies. Which we’ve been fighting. For the Republic. In an… in an utterly pointless fucking meatgrinder.”

“Yes,” Kenobi says. “All of that is true.”

“I’m going to kill him,” Rook bites out.

Kenobi laughs tiredly. “That is the plan. I was about to return to Coruscant and challenge him when you interrupted. I wouldn’t mind a lift. Ventress?”

“He killed my sisters.”

“Lord Maul wants to kill Sidious, too,” Rook says. “We can plan our course of attack while we fly.” Maul will join them. He’ll join them, definitely—he hates Sidious, and besides, just as Death Watch joined his quest to retrieve his brother, so will he help them rescue their enslaved kin. She’s still in over her head, but this alliance feels right. He’ll agree.

As soon as he wakes up…

#rook kast #death watch #obi-wan kenobi #asajj ventress #clone trooper oc #zombie savage au #dimtraces makes things

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