#anyway @ past me what the hell were you planning with this armor what is this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

Text

A FRESH START [21]

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Warnings: description of injuries, language, spoilers for S3 The Mandalorian, death of minor original character, self defense leading to homicide, groping of reader by stranger (not described in depth)

Word Count: 10k+

Updates every Thursday

Summary: When you made plans for your future they never involved being hired by a Mandalorian to baby-sit his adorable, green gremlin of a child. However, after your life fell apart in the span of one disastrous night, you found it to be the only feasible option you had left. Nevarro was a far cry from Coruscant, but the thriving community turned out to be exactly what you needed. Every day you spend in Nevarro you fall more and more in love with your new life, but when your past rears its ugly head you find that perhaps peace wasn’t meant for everyone.

[a/n: i am so sorry this took so long i know y'all have been waiting all day for it. work was so hectic and i was so frazzled and it's been a long day hah. i know the tags at the bottom aren't all working right and i'm sorry about that but tumblr kept being a bitch and i was gonna lose my mind. speaking of taglists, i am closing AFS's taglist. anyways, hope y'all enjoy!]

#21: MADE OF THE RIGHT STUFF

"no one ever told me that grief felt so much like fear." -c.s. lewis

The Armorer had been a constant in Din’s life. She was a staple piece of the covert⏤ a figure of mentor ship in his upbringing. He had always greatly admired her, and her opinion meant a lot to him. It was why hearing her call him ‘Apostate’ had stung so badly. Coming from anyone it was a blow, but having the Armorer cast him away had been devastating. Being able to come before her, prove his redemption, and have her reinstate him had been a sweet moment. If Din were a smart man he would’ve left it at that and been on his way. However, Din was a stubborn man. A stubborn man who would not leave this rock until he got what he wanted come hell or high water.

“She is an outsider.” The Armorer spoke in Mando’a.

“Yes, but⏤”

“An outsider that you ask me to stoke the forge for?”

Din kept his entire body still to hide his nerves. “Yes. That is what I am asking.” The Armorer did not reply further. She stayed silent, seated by the forge with her hands laid in her lap. Din spoke up again, unable to resist. “She is made of the right stuff. The virtues of a Mandalorian. She may not follow the Way, but she understands it⏤ respects it.”

“You wish to court her?” The Armorer asked and Din gave a firm nod. “Have you presented her with a token of intention?”

Din thought to the blaster he had gifted you. Typically, a token of intention would be a weapon of some kind created for the intended. However, the blaster had once been his and it did not have his signet on it. Plus, it had been given to you while he was an Apostate. It did not count. “No. I have not.”

“This forge is for beskar, and I do not make weapons⏤”

“I am not requesting a weapon.” Din said firmly. He knew beskar was for armor. It was part of the reason his spear had been melted down to create Grogu’s chainmail. Din already had a plan for his token of intention. That was of no concern to him. “I am requesting a set of bracers with my signet.”

The Armorer’s head gave a slight tilt and he wasn’t shocked by her surprise. She rose from her seat and her hands clasped behind her back as she spoke. “You have yet to present this woman with a token of intention, yet you are requesting a token of ridduurok?”

“Yes.” Din replied. He knew how it sounded. Din was not blind to the weight of his request. However, it wasn’t as if he planned to present this to you the moment he returned. He was going to take his time, court you properly, and let you control the speed at which this relationship would move. Din was a man who was sure of what he wanted though, and he knew that was you. He had known that for quite some time now. There was no one else in this galaxy for him. People were constantly referring to you as his wife, and he always corrected them, but more than anything he wanted to be in the position where he did not have to. Din wanted it to be true. “I am sure of my decision and wanted to bring this decision to you sooner rather than later.”

“And if I refuse?” The Armorer pressed.

“I…” Din swallowed the lump in his throat. His hands clenched tight as they rested on top of his thighs. “I would be disappointed, but it would not stop me. She is who I want. She is… She is who I love.”

The Armorer hummed in response and it gave him no clear picture on where the figure head stood on this decision. She made the motion for him to rise from his seat. Din pushed up and tried to hide the tension in his frame. She finally spoke, but it was only to motion to the door and speak on a different topic. “Take your boy to the training yard. We will speak again.”

Din bit back a sigh and gave a tense nod. Well, it was better than an outright no. He turned on his heel to go find Grogu. As he walked, he lifted his vambrace to try and call you. Hours earlier you hadn’t answered, but Din assumed that meant you were busy in the clinic. It happened sometimes. Just as before, the signal did not pick up on your end and his steps came to a slow pause. An uncomfortable feeling settled in his gut. You were busy. His mind was jumping to the worst case scenario, but you were probably just busy. He forced himself to keep walking. Din would try again soon.

Your ears were ringing, and you felt like you were trapped in a fog. There was a tugging on your arm. You lifted your gaze to try and find the source. Nima. It was Nima. She stood by your side, eyes wide in panic, as she screamed at you. She screamed but there was only the ringing. With a final tug, she dragged you up to your feet and the world snapped into focus.

Sirens. A siren was blaring and it mingled with the sound of explosions as fire rained down from the Corsair in the sky. “We have to go!” Nima screamed and your eyes snapped to her. “Come on! Move!”

Nima was pulling you down the road as the two of you got lost in the crowd of other panicked citizens. The smell of smoke burned your nose and you could feel the heat of various burning buildings as you passed. Your head was throbbing and with every step your vision would blur for a second before shakily coming back into focus. The flow of the running crowd picked up speed and panic as another bomb fell not too far away and your hand slipped out of Nima’s. You heard her scream out your name, saw a flash of her pink skin as she tried to jump and spot you, but she was swept even further away.

Someone slammed into you from behind and you went sprawling. Get out of the way. Get out of the way. This was a stampede and you needed to move. Unable to get to your feet quick enough you threw yourself to the side beside some rubble so you weren’t trampled.

While leaning against the rubble, you tried to catch your breath. Your arms were covered in the dust being kicked up into the air, but no immediate wounds. Hesitantly, you probed at your hairline and winced when you found a tender spot. Pulling your hand back your fingers were coated in a shine of blood.

“Shit.” You breathed. That explained the concussion.

Most of the crowd had passed and you glanced around to figure out where you were. The school house was up ahead which meant if you kept pressing down the street you’d reach the lava plains. With a grunt, you tried to jog forward⏤ in the distance behind you, the sounds of deep, excited yelling spurned you on. As you were passing the school the sound of a muffled scream brought you to a screeching halt. You paused, trying to ignore the pounding of your heart and the excited yelling getting closer. After a beat, there was another scream. Fuck, the schoolhouse.

Your eyes darted to where you could see the edge of the city. Din would be so mad at you. You could almost hear his voice at the back of your mind barking for you to get the hell out of Nevarro. The scream came again and it sounded young. All you could picture was Grogu, scared and hurt, trapped in the rubble. That made your decision for you. If this had been your boy you’d want someone to stop for him. You sprinted into the school house and scanned the destroyed classroom. The back corner had caved in from a bomb.

“Hey!” You yelled. “Can you hear me? Where are you!?”

“Here!”

That was Wynn’s voice, Grogu’s teacher, and it sounded like it was coming from the space behind the pile of rubble. You hurried over and scanned the pile for a spot you could pull away. Wynn was making calming noises to a sobbing and hysterical child⏤ that’s who had screamed. You wrapped your fingers around a block and pulled it back. The large chunk of concrete shifted just enough that you could get down on your knees and crawl through.

All of the rubble had blocked off one of the small back cubbies where the children would keep their bags. There you found Wynn, uninjured but covered in dust, clutching a familiar child in her arms. Elodie. You tried to bite back the gasp that threatened to leave you.

“Hey, sweetie, it’s okay.” You said softly and crawled closer. “Do you remember me, Elodie?”

She sniffled, “You’re⏤ You’re Gro⏤ Grogu’s mommy.”

“That’s right.” You nodded and shifted so you sat right beside them both. Elodie’s blonde hair was covered in soot and you could see bright red blood on her shirt. Jaen and Dayen were probably out of their minds with worry. Maker. “Can you tell me what hurts?”

“Her arm.” Wynn mouthed.

Elodie was crying once more, and you reached forward to carefully touch her. Elodie let out a scream of panic and you tried to whisper reassurances. “It’s okay, it’s okay, sweetie. I’m gonna make it better.” You pulled her right arm away from her body as it had been cradling and covering the left one, and as soon as you did you felt the blood drain from your face. Still, you kept your features neutral. Her left arm was broken, her pale skin discolored in ugly shades of purple and red, and the bone itself had pierced out of her skin. That’s where the blood had come from.

“The other kids were out for recess. My assistant got them out, but Elodie had come back in to use the bathroom.” Wynn shook her head. The gentle woman was trembling. “I couldn’t move the rubble and hold her.”

You gave your pockets a pat, but the only item you had on you was some medical tape. “Dank farrik.” You muttered. “Wynn, where’s the school’s first aid kit?”

“Out by my desk.”

You spun and crawled back out of the rubble to find the kit. If the kit was up to date then you’d have the supplies you needed for a temporary patch job. It didn’t take you long to dig the kit out of the desk, but it was then you noticed the explosions had stopped. Everything had stopped save for the hooting and hollering in the distance. Shit. You raced back to where Wynn and Elodie sat.

“Alright, sweetie, I want you to look at Ms. Wynn, okay? Just her.” You said. You met Wynn’s gaze and she seemed to understand what was about to happen and nodded.

“Hey, honey.” Wynn spoke softly and shifted so she could hold Elodie’s head to face her. You dug through the kit while the teacher spoke calmly and kindly to the little girl who was still crying. The first thing you did was grab the medgun which was loaded with pain meds and punched the needle into her arm without warning. Elodie’s crying grew worse and you hit her with the needle twice more. Three doses was just below what would be too much for a girl her size. Then you grabbed the bacta spray and began to coat the open wound with it in thick layers.

The numbing pain meds seemed to be working as her sobs turned to hiccups, but she was not going to like this next part. However, the sound of the attackers was growing closer which meant you were running out of a window to do this. You set one hand behind Elodie’s elbow and grasped her left hand with your other. Wynn saw the motion and held onto Elodie tighter. You gave her hand a sharp tug, drawing the bone back into place, and the scream that left Elodie’s little lips was haunting. It only lasted a second before her eyes rolled to the back of her head and she went limp.

“Elodie??” Wynn cried.

“She’s okay.” You checked her pulse and breathing. “The pain just overwhelmed her.”

Quickly, you grabbed the gauze and wrapped it around her arm along with the collapsible splint to keep it from moving. The sound of a deep laugh while someone kicked around items made you and Wynn freeze. You carefully closed up the kit and motioned for Wynn to pull Elodie to the side and even deeper into the pocket you were trapped in.

“I liked this place better when it was a bar!” A voice barked out and other men laughed. You were hearing at least four voices. “Look at all this shit!” The sound of furniture being tossed around made you wince. “Where’s Beetl with the liquor!?”

It sounded like they were settling into place and you mentally cursed.

The three of you were going to be stuck here for longer than you liked, and you just prayed Elodie stayed unconscious.

Din was getting nervous. So much so that he couldn’t even enjoy watching Grogu beat Paz’s son in a sparring match with darts. All he could think about was the fact that he wasn’t getting in touch with anyone from Nevarro. You still weren’t picking up his calls, and now he couldn’t get in touch with anyone else either.

He had to go back.

“And you’re going to take Grogu with you?” Bo Katan questioned.

“He goes where I go.” Din replied. Grogu grunted in agreement from his arms while Bo Katan shook her head in disagreement. He had told her a quick good-bye and to explain to the others where he was going. Din had a sinking feeling since this morning that he just couldn’t shake.

“Djarin⏤”

His vambrace chirped as a message came through and Din let out a breath of relief seeing Mayfeld’s name. Din shifted the call to his helmet. “Mayfeld! What the hell⏤”

“We got trouble, boss.” Mayfeld blurted. His voice strained. “King Gorian Shard is here. His Corsair is raining fire down on Nevarro. We evacuated the city and⏤”

“Soran.” Din blurted your fake name, the one you still went by. “Where is she? Is she alright?!”

“I’m sure she’s fine⏤”

“You’re sure??” Din barked. “You have eyes on her?! Mayfeld! Do you have eyes⏤”

“I saw her and Nima running out of the city when this all started.” Mayfeld snapped, the sound of blaster fire filled the other line before he spoke again, “We’re trying to keep the pirates away from the citizens, we’re out in the lava plains⏤” Din felt like he was going to be sick. That wasn’t enough. That wasn’t enough reassurance for him. “Mando!? Mando, are you listening!?”

“I’m coming. Just keep them safe. Please get Soran to call me when you see her.”

“It might be tough. The Corsair is jamming our communications. We’ve been trying to get in contact with you this entire time but⏤”

The call cut out and Din was already moving. Bo slid into his path and he nearly bowled her over to get past. She held her hands out and forced him to a stop.

“What is happening?”

“Nevarro is under attack. Gorian Shard brought his Corsair and his men have infiltrated the city.” Din snapped. “Now move⏤”

“You can’t just go there alone.”

“Get the hell out of my way.” Din’s hand drifted to his blaster.

Bo let out a slow sigh and tilted her head. “Think, Djarin. What do you think you’ll be able to do on your own? You’re out gunned on this. You need back up.” Logic told him that she wasn’t wrong, but every fiber of his being was screaming for him to shove past her and get to the N1. “You’re wasting time here with me.”

“I know!” Din yelled, frustrated. “So get out of my way, Bo.”

“The covert is a community, is it not? A family?” Bo questioned. “You have some of the finest warriors in the galaxy here, yet you want to go to Nevarro alone?”

Din was shaking. A mix of anger and fear. Grogu tilted his head up to gaze at him, wide eyes filled with concern. His son may not have fully understood what was happening, but he knew something was wrong. Grogu chirped, “Ma?”

“I get it. I do. But how much can you help this girl of yours if you run in blind and get yourself killed?” Bo pressed. She shook her head. “You drive me up the wall, Djarin, but I know you’re not a complete idiot. Think for a second here.”

With a frustrated huff, Din spun on his heel to find the Armorer. With every step he took, Bo on his tail, Din prayed to the Maker, and any other deity that may be listening, that you were somewhere safe. He was coming for you. Din would tear through any person who stood in his way. He just needed you to hold on a little while longer.

Apparently, the pirates had decided to make the schoolhouse their new cantina. Never mind there was literally a cantina filled with drinks right in the middle of the city they could use. New voices would come in and out, laughing loudly and blindly firing their blasters, while you and Wynn stayed silent. Hours had passed. As unlucky as this entire situation seemed, you were thankful that Elodie was still out cold and that not a single one of the attackers was curious enough to dig through rubble.

You leaned your head against the wall and tapped on your communicator uselessly. It was dead for some reason. Maybe the attack had something to do with that. None of your calls were going out and if someone was trying to call you then it wasn’t coming in. You let your arm fall to the side and glanced over to see Wynn gently running her fingers through Elodie’s hair in a soothing pattern.

Poor Jaen and Dayen. You hoped they were alright and out in the lava plains with everyone else. If you were in that situation, stuck outside the city while Grogu was trapped Maker knows where? There was nothing that would keep you from racing after him. You’d claw the face off anyone who tried to stop you from searching for him. Despite knowing that fact, you still hoped someone was holding them back. The last thing you wanted was for something terrible to happen to them.

A loud crash made you and Wynn jump. You shifted so you sat between the only opening out into the main room and the little girl. Wynn wrapped her arms tighter around Elodie. Laughs followed the crash and it seemed like you were still safe⏤ for now. This wasn’t going to last. You couldn’t just sit here and pray a miracle happened. All it would take is one noise from the three of you or one of the pirates getting nosy and that would be it. Game over.

The light that had been streaming through the hole in the ceiling, created from the rubble, had disappeared hours ago. As night settled over Nevarro this could be good or bad news. If you were lucky then with the darkness the pirates would drift away to sleep and give you three a chance to make a run for it, but if you weren’t lucky then even more people would drift into the school house to drink. Based on the setting, you were not having a lucky day and so far it seemed none of the men drinking were slowing down quite yet.

A soft whimper made you stiffen and you saw Elodie begin to squirm in Wynn’s arms. Wynn’s gaze met yours in a panic and you began to quietly dig through the first aid kit again. You couldn’t expect the young girl to stay completely quiet with an injury like that. There were a few more doses of pain medication. You hated the idea of giving her more than the recommended dose, but as long as you kept an eye on her vitals. Risk versus benefit. In this scenario, there was more benefit than risk currently.

You pressed the needle into her upper arm and moments later her features evened out. You let out a breath of relief and leaned your head against the wall once more. This was a waiting game and that was your least favorite situation to be stuck in. With a slow breath, you let your eyes close for just a moment.

“Soran.”

A soft hiss made your eyes snap open, to see Wynn trying to grab your attention. You felt dazed and you were now lying on your side. You had closed your eyes for only a second, but the lighting had changed. It was still dark, but the dim glow of dawn could be seen through the ceiling’s hole. You pushed up and winced at the headache still lingering behind your eyes.

“Shit.” You mumbled quietly. “How long was I out?”

“Through the night?” Wynn whispered back. “I was worried. You were out cold.”

“Elodie?”

Wynn shook her head. “Still sleeping.” You turned your head to try and listen out for the main room. It was mostly quiet now, but there was still an artificial glow peeking through the rubble’s cracks. “I think most fell asleep, but they’re still out there.”

You shifted and reached out for Elodie. “Take a break, Wynn. Get some sleep.”

She nodded without much argument and you could see the exhaustion in her eyes. You wished you had woken earlier. It didn’t take long for Wynn to lay down and fall asleep herself while you curled Elodie in your arms⏤ careful not to jar her arm. Holding her made you miss Grogu, but you were thankful he wasn’t here. If anything ever happened to him you don’t think you’d survive it. Him or Din. That was a comfort you could take in this. Neither of your boys were here to possibly get hurt.

They were worlds away⏤ safe.

Maybe an hour had passed when Elodie began to murmur and move against you. You held her tighter to your chest and whispered that she was safe with you. A whimper left her lips and you winced. “Elodie, sweetie, you’re okay. I need you to stay quiet for me.” You whispered. Her bleary eyes blinked open and you ran a hand through her hair. “It’s me. You’re safe with me and Ms. Wynn. Everything is okay.”

“I want my mommy and daddy.” Elodie began to cry. You buried her face into your shoulder to muffle the sounds of her sobs.

“I know.” You mumbled into her hair. “I know, sweetie.”

Elodie cried for a while, but it slowed to harsh and tired breathing. She was awake and clinging to you with her good arm. You continued to run your hand through her hair and murmur how brave she was and how proud her parents would be. This seemed to marginally calm her.

The sound of shuffling grew closer to the rubble and you felt your entire body stiffen⏤ on edge. It didn’t seem like he was looking for anything and moments later you heard the sound of peeing off to the sound of the rubble. Your nose scrunched in disgust but you supposed it could be worse. The man began to talk to some others and you listened as closely as you could to try and count the number of people in the room. As the glow of dawn spread across the sky, you really needed to get out of here. Elodie was stable, but she needed proper medical care.

Wynn woke up when you hissed her name and you shifted the little girl in your arms to her. They both stared at you in alarm as you crawled slowly and quietly toward the rubble blocking you in. As you got closer you laid on your belly and shuffled closer. You were low enough to be able to peek through the entrance, but you stayed as far back as you could to remain out of sight just in case one of the men was facing the rubble.

“How long do we gotta stick ‘round here?” A man scoffed. Someone threw a bottle and you heard the glass shatter with a wince. “Can’t we go?”

“You wanna tell the King what to do?” Another snorted. “Be my guest, idiot.”

A third man chimed in and they seemed to go in circles. Three in total then? Unless one was quiet, but you sincerely doubted that. It seemed like every soul that swung through here couldn’t keep their mouth shut. You crawled back deeper into the pocket to settle beside Wynn and Elodie.

“We need to get out of here.” You whispered. “I have a plan. I’m going to distract them⏤”

“Wait⏤”

“⏤and while I do that, you’re gonna take Elodie out the back and use the alley to get Elodie to the lava plains. It’ll be a straight shot. Just stay off the main street.”

Wynn shook her head. “This is dangerous. You’re putting yourself in an awful situation. Maybe we should just stay.”

“We’re tempting fate just by sitting here, and Elodie needs further medical care.” You argued. “This is our best bet.” Wynn still didn’t seem convinced, but you had already made your decision. In your career, you needed to rely on gut calls. Instinct. No time for hesitation. It was best if you did this now before more men showed up. “I’m gonna make them chase after me, and as soon as they follow you need to take Elodie out the back door. Do you understand?”

Wynn nodded after a moment. “I do. Just please be careful.”

Before you could lose your nerve, you crawled back toward the rubble entrance and tried to listen and figure out where each man sat. If you had to guess, you’d say they were on the other side of the room which worked in your favor, and the front door was a straight shot. The issue would be going from on your knees to running without tripping over or being shot. Once again, you heard Din at the back of your head telling you what a reckless and stupid idea this was. That was always a good sign, right?

You sucked in a sharp breath, waited until you heard the men burst into laughter, and then pushed out. It all moved in a blur. You stumbled over your feet, trying to get off your knees, you heard the men shout in alarm, but you kept moving. They were jumping up, yelling at you, but you pumped your arms to sprint faster toward the door. You took a sharp turn right out the door and ran down the street towards the city’s center⏤ away from the direction Wynn and Elodie would need to go in.

Glancing over your shoulder, you saw three men following. Good. Your plan fell apart when you turned your head to see where you were running only to collide into a firm body that sent you sprawling to the concrete ground with a grunt.

You tried to jump up, but a boot pressed down on your chest keeping you pinned on your back. A thickly built Twi’lek stared down at you with a sickening grin. His skin was a dark shade of purple and you could see an injury on his side that stained his clothes with blood.

“Well, well,” The Twi’lek hummed, “Aren’t you just adorable?”

“Oh, come on, Kiff.” One of the men who had been chasing you complained. “We saw her first!”

The Twi’lek, Kiff, shook his head and glared at the men. “Is there a reason you left a civilian alive? You had strict orders.” He drew his blaster pointing it at the men first who shuffled back a step and then he pointed it down at you. You stiffened, your hands gripping his boot, and he just smirked down at you. An excited anticipation glowing in his dark eyes. This man was looking forward to killing you. “Any last words?”

“You’re going to die.” You blurted the first thought that came to mind. His face furrowed at the threat, but you shook your head and pointed at his side. “That injury. I’d guess you have an hour at most.”

“It’s nothing. I was just grazed. Not even bleeding anymore. Nice try.” He huffed.

You were lying through your teeth, but he didn’t look like a man who knew much about anything. You kept your voice calm and firm. “I can see the bruising from where your shirt is torn. It’s not bleeding externally anymore, but you are bleeding internally. That’s where all the bruising is from.” He swallowed once and you kept on. “Right now, I bet you feel fine. Barely hurts. Give it another half hour and you’re gonna be in agony. Look at me.” You motioned down to yourself. “You think I’m wearing these scrubs for the fun of it? I’m a doctor, you ass.”

“Then I guess that means you know how to fix it.” He spat at you. Kiff put his blaster away and reached down to snatch you off the ground. You were barely on your feet when his hand clamped around your throat painfully tight. You clawed at him, trying to loosen the grip, but he didn’t even flinch. “Fix it. Now.”

“Clinc.” You gasped. “I need⏤ Clinc.”

Kiff threw you aside and you sucked in as much air as you could while trying to stay on your feet. The other pirates were still watching as Kiff buried his hand in your hair and held on like a leash. He leaned forward to press his lips near your ear. “Lead the way, bitch.”

It had taken hours too long to get to Nevarro. Din was thankful for Bo, thankful for his covert, as they agreed to help, but as his ship entered Nevarro’s atmosphere and his eyes landed on the smokey and still burning city beneath a monstrous Corsair, Din lost his breath. You were down there. You were in that mess.

“Ma? Ma!” Grogu was slamming his hands on the N1’s window. Din scooped the boy up to bring back to his lap and tucked him under his bandolier as a makeshift seat belt.

Bo’s voice came over his comm unit, checking in to see if Din was still on board with the plan, and he was forced to agree. She was going to drop a unit of Mandalorians down to the city streets to fight, but it was up to him and Bo to take care of King Gorian Shard’s ship. As he got near, he saw a group of civilians nestled out in the lava plains. Were you there? You had to be there. Din could not wrap his mind around any other situation.

“Let’s get this done.” Din barked gruffly over the communication line.

The sooner he burned Gorian Shard’s ship to the ground, the sooner he could find you.

The clinic was in shambles. Most of the structure itself looked intact, but a group of pirates must have ran through to scavenge for supplies because everything was sloppily tossed around. The hand tangled in your hair was roughly pulling, making your scalp ache, as you let him shove you forward into the main clinic space. You had a plan. It was a very, very bad plan, but that seemed to be the theme of the last 24 hours.

“Well, get to work then.” Kiff threw you aside before climbing up onto one of the cots. You straightened your posture and tried to steel your nerves as you approached him. He stared at you, eyes following your every moment, as you reached out to peel his shirt up. You pretended to examine his skin. “How long is this gonna take?”

“Depends.” You muttered⏤ your throat felt raw from his grip earlier.

Kiff’s hand trailed down your side until it reached your backside. He kneaded his fingers over your ass, groping and pulling you closer, and it took all your strength to keep a steady face. You knew he was looking for a reaction.

“I think you just wanted to get me alone.” Kiff hummed arrogantly.

“I need to grab the cautery.” You said and turned to walk toward your desk. He slid off the cot to grasp your hips and you felt a terrifying chill run down your spine as your skin crawled in disgust. “You should stay seated.”

“I think I’ll follow along.” Kiff leaned forward and you tried to ignore him as you continued toward your desk. He follow only half a step behind, large hands groping where he could reach, and you felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. When you reached the desk, your shaky hand reached for the top drawer. Kiff leaned into you, pinning you between his hips and the side of the desk, as he chuckled. “I could fuck you right here, right now. How’s that sound?”

A while back, Din tried to convince you to carry the blaster he gave you on your person at all times. You argued that a doctor shouldn’t be walking around locked and loaded. Din didn’t love your argument, but the two of you settled on a compromise. You wouldn’t wear the blaster on your hip, but you’d keep it within reach at the clinic.

Your hand wrapped around the blaster’s grip, your finger clicking off the safety as Kiff was distracted by feeling you up, and without pause you spun and fired. He was so tangled around you that the shot only clipped his side, but it was enough to make him grunt in pain and stumble back.

“You bitch!” He roared.

Not giving him the chance to say anything further or even to reach for a weapon, you fired again. And again, and again, and again. Your finger pulled the trigger over and over. Even after the fourth and fifth burned through his chest and he lay on the ground with blank eyes, you fired more. In fact, you didn’t stop until the blaster overheated and slipped from your shaky hands. If anyone deserved to die it was a piece of shit like him, but you had taken an oath to do no harm. You had lost patients before, that was the nature of medicine, but you had never deliberately taken a life before.

Nausea rolled through your body as the stench of burning flesh met your nose. It was familiar to you, but only through procedures and operations. Never like this. Never caused by your hand. Panicked, the voice at the back of your head, the one that sounded like Din, pleaded for you to pick up the blaster and run. You wondered how hard you had hit your head yesterday to be hearing his voice like this. You picked up the blaster with trembling hands and hurried out of the clinic.

Lava plains. You needed to get out of this city.

The sound of a firefight was filling the air as you began to sprint down the street, but a very familiar sight sped by overhead in a blur. The N1. Your feet came to a screeching halt. Din. Din was here. Din had come. Hot tears rolled down your cheeks in relief. You were still in the midst of a war zone, surrounded by fire, smoke, and danger, but just knowing that Din was in the vicinity came as an incredible comfort. Stumbling forward again, you tried to send out a call through your communicator once more, but it still seemed dead.

Just keep moving. Din was here now which meant everything was going to be alright. Just keep moving.

You had made decent progress down the road when the sight of a familiar body filled your view. Wynn. It took a beat before you rushed to their side. Wynn was lying on her chest so you cautiously flipped her over and a soft groan left her weary lips. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the significant wound decorating her abdomen. A blaster shot. Her dress and skin were charred from the heat of the blaster fire, but it clipped deep enough to hit an artery. That was the only explanation for the amount of blood you were seeing and the continued steady ooze. You applied pressure to the wound, to try and stop the bleeding, and Wynn didn’t even whimper in pain. Her just fluttered.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay.” You said, trying to convince yourself more than her.

“Elodie…” Wynn gasped.

“Reinforcements are here. You just gotta hang on⏤”

“She ran. I told her to run.” Wynn pushed the words out. “They ambushed us. I⏤I tried⏤ I tried to hold them back.” You pressed down on her abdomen harder. The blood seeping through your fingers. You bit down hard on your lower lip and tried not to cry out at how useless you felt. You knew the odds of this injury, you were fighting fate currently. “Find her⏤”

You shook your head. “I will. I will, but I have to take care of you first. You’re bleeding⏤” Wynn’s shaky breaths came to a stop as you watched the life leave her eyes. “No, no.” Frantically you felt for a pulse and when you didn’t find one, you began CPR. Desperate. Was this your fault? Maybe you should have stayed in the school house. Had you made the wrong call? After three short rounds you fell back on your heels with a shaky gasp. “Wynn?”

Her unseeing eyes stared blankly up at the sky. Tears were rolling down your cheeks again and when you tried to swipe them away you felt her hot blood, still fresh on your hands, smear across your cheek and you gasped. You tried to use your scrub top to wipe it away.

Elodie. You had to find Elodie. Wynn’s blood was on your hands, figuratively and literally, but you had to save Elodie. You gently closed Wynn’s eyes, whispering an apology, and stumbled away. The blaster was back in your grasp and you were desperate.

“Elodie!” You yelled. Not giving a single damn if the pirates heard you. The sound of blaster fire echoed down the streets just as it rang in the air overhead. “Elodie!” You were weaving in and out of buildings as you were able and peering down any alley you passed. “El⏤”

The heat of a blaster bolt screamed past you only narrowly missing you. You threw yourself to the ground as more fired in your direction. The pile of rubble you hid behind took most of the blows, but you could hear the yelling of your attackers growing closer. Shit. Shit. Shit. Blindly, you lifted your hand to try and fire a few shots of your own, but if it made contact with anyone you didn’t hear it do so. You tried to scan the region, looking for an escape, but the two paths you saw involved running out into the open. You wouldn’t survive that.

Right as you began to try and force yourself into accepting the terrible decision of making a run for it. Louder, rapid blaster fire filled the air and the attackers screamed briefly before it all fell quiet. Someone had killed the men firing at you. The enemy of your enemy was your friend right? Hesitantly, you peered around the rubble and the sight of Mandalorian armor made you jump back out into the street.

The Mandalorian, a large man in armor decorated in shades of blue, carried a black turrent and it swiveled toward you at the sound of your approach. You held your hands up in surrender. “Please! I need help!”

“The path is clear.” The man barked out in a deep voice and motioned down the street. The direction you knew would take you to the lava plains. “Go.”

“No, I⏤ There’s a child lost here.” You rushed to stand in front of him. His broad frame towered over you. You had always thought Din was a large Mandalorian, but this guy may as well have been a building with legs. “I need help finding her.”

“I will seek out the child. You leave the city.”

“I’m not leaving her behind.” You glared at him.

He stiffened and maybe you had just gotten good at reading Mandalorian body signals from Din, but you could tell this man was glaring at you through his helmet at your disobedience. “This area is not fully secured. Leave the city and I will⏤”

“You can’t kill pirates and search for a little girl at the same time.” You snapped. “I’ll stay and we can⏤”

“You will go⏤”

“Look at me!” You barked out with the same confidence you used to command any other emergency you had encountered. The Mandalorian looked taken aback at your tone. You kept your shoulders tight, solid, then spoke in a firm voice that gave no room for argument. “I am going to find Elodie, and you are going to mow down any pirate that gets in our fucking way. Do you understand? This is a team effort. I am not leaving that little girl behind. So either you help me, or I do this on my own.”

The Mandalorian was fuming at you. At least, that’s what you were assuming based on the silent gaze he was burning down into you. This was not debatable. You lost Wynn. You would not lose Elodie. Over your dead body would anyone hurt that little girl any further. Finally, the Mandalorian blew out an irritated sigh and bobbed his head down the street.

“Move then.” He ordered.

You pointed down an alley to the left. “I’ve already been down that way. We need to cut here to search further.”

Without waiting for his response, you marched down the alley. Only a second passed before a heavy hand clamped down on your shoulder and roughly dragged you back. The Mandalorian scoffed. “I have the weapon. I stand in front. Understand, wero’ika?”

“Fine.” You replied. You recognized the sound of Mando’a but didn’t know the word he used. It didn’t linger long in your mind though. The two of you were pushing down the alley and despite the Mandalorian telling you to keep quiet you continued to yell out Elodie’s name. More blaster fire, getting closer, made your heart pound even harder in your chest. “Elodie!”

“I said you need to⏤” The faint sound of a response only barely reached your ears and you shushed the Mandalorian. “Did you just⏤” You shushed him again and tried to listen. His next word came out in an irritated growl. “Wero’ika.”

“I hear her. I hear Elodie.” You blurted and sprinted past him.

His thundering footsteps stayed only a step behind you and the Mando’a words he was spitting out under his breath were all the curse words you had heard Din use a time or two. You came to the edge of an alley, right where the blaster fire was loudest, and the Mandalorian shoved you behind him once more just in time for a bolt to bounce off his beskar covered chest. Your eyes frantically scanned the street and it took you three times before your eyes found the little blonde girl tucked in a ball and sobbing as people fired over her head.

“There!” You took a step forward to try and peer out but the Mandalorian yanked you back barking something out in Mando’a. “I wasn’t gonna run out there yet! I was trying to see if there was a path I could use to get to her.”

“I will lay cover fire and you will use that time to get to the girl. Do not,” He emphasized the command, “Leave that spot until I come to you.” You nodded once, but he did not budge. “Speak. Do you understand me, wero’ika?”

“Yes! Yes, alright!”

The Mandalorian grunted once in approval then he stepped out of the alley. The black turrent he was holding open fire and the red bolts leaving it rapidly was a sight to behold. So shocked by the weapon’s range of destruction you paused until he barked out at you. Elodie. Right. You sprinted out of the alley and made a beeline for her hiding spot. The Mandalorian was firing to your right, where the pirates stood, but to your left was a wall of Mandalorians. At least three of them. Had Din brought an army of his kind?

You slid to your knees beside Elodie, setting the blaster down, and wrapped your arms around her. She screamed and squirmed, but you held on tight. “Elodie! Sweetie! It’s me! You’re safe!” You yelled over the loud blaster fire. “You’re alright!”

Her wide eyes, filled to the brim with watery fear, landed on your face and she began buried her face in your chest with sobs. Elodie’s injured arm was still wrapped up with the splint but blood was seeping through the bandage once more. You could barely understand her through her cries.

“Ms. Wynn⏤ She⏤ We⏤”

“I know, sweetie. You’re okay.” You tried to reassure her even as your stomach flipped at the mention of her teacher’s name. “Come on.” You scooped her up into your arms and she wrapped her right arm around your neck in a death grip. “Keep your head down, Elodie. Alright? Don’t look up. Just close your eyes and keep your head down.”

You felt her nod against your shoulder and shifted so you’d be crouched down, out of range, but ready to go when the Mandalorian got to you. Big Blue, as you were so kindly referring to him in your head, was still firing at the pirates but was making steady steps in your direction. The other Mandalorians continued to drift up to add to his onslaught and when they stepped side by side with him, Big Blue peeled off to rush to you.

“Up!” He grunted, and you didn’t hesitate to listen to him then. With Elodie in your arms, you rose up and Big Blue spun you around to march toward the city’s edge and away from the battle. He kept his body pressed close to your back and every once in a while you’d hear him grunt as blaster fire pinged off his beskar.

The three of you shifted around a mess of debris when suddenly a pirate jumped into your path. Big Blue reacted quicker than you did and he spun the both of you around so his back was acting as a shield once more. You fell to your ass, with him draped over you in protection, as the pirate rained blaster fire onto the man. On more instinct than thought, you let go of Elodie with one arm to grab the blaster tucked in Big Blue’s holster and after flicking off the safety you rapidly pulled the trigger blindly. It took multiple bolts before you heard the pirate cry out in pain and the attack ended. Big Blue glanced over his shoulder and once pleased with what he saw he shifted off of you.

“Mirdala, wero’ika.” Big Blue grunted with a nod of approval. You held his gun out to him which he took and re-holstered then he reached down to bring you back onto your feet. The sound of an explosion made you both jump in alarm, but it came from the Corsair overhead. You watched in shock as the smoking vehicle began to careen into the side of the mountain Nevarro City was nestled against and go up into fire and ash. “Come.” Big Blue pulled you to his side to try and get you moving again. “We still need to get you both to safety.”

As Big Blue guided you through the streets and the sight of the lava plains came into view, a breath of weary relief left you. The Mandalorian next to you caught you off guard by setting his hand on your shoulder and giving it a small squeeze.

The fight was over. Your brain supplied familiar words that Din had said to you once before.

The danger has passed.

Din was frantic. After landing the N1, and leaving a crying Grogu with Peli, he began to rush through the throngs of civilians looking for a familiar face. Looking for your face. As the seconds ticked by fear gripped him tighter and tighter. What if he had been too late? What if you were still in the city? Shoving past people, more roughly than he probably should have, he finally spotted someone who could point him in the right direction.

“Vanth!” Din barked and rushed to where the man was seated on a makeshift cot. He looked worse for wear. One arm was wrapped in a sling and dried blood was splattered in his hair on the right side of his head where a line of staples held together an ugly gash.

Vanth’s bloodshot eyes glanced up and at the sight of Din he shakily rose. “Hey, brother. You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

“Are you alright?” Din asked and after Vanth nodded, in the same breath, he added, “Where is she?”

Din didn’t need to clarify who. Vanth swallowed roughly and let out a haggard sigh, “I don’t know, Mando.” His blood ran cold. “Last I heard, Mayfeld is on the search for her. I got put out of commission pretty early in the fight.” Vanth winced with every breath and word spoken. “Little doc junior, Aayla, has been patching everyone up best she can since…”

Since you were missing.

“The fight is over now. Anybody hiding in the city will start coming out.” Vanth tried to reassure him but it fell on deaf ears. “Mando⏤”

“Sit. Rest.” Din carefully pushed Vanth back onto the cot before moving on.

He’d scour the entire city if he had to. Din would tear down any remaining buildings left standing if it meant finding you. This was what he did, right? He hunted. His rushed steps were nothing like the calm and collected image he tried to uphold as he hurried towards the city. All his worst fears seemed to be crumbling down on him and the beskar he wore felt suffocating. Din pushed out of the crowd, nearly broke out into a sprint, when he hard your voice. Faint. It really made no sense that he’d even be able to hear it over the lively crowd and the pounding of his heart in his ears.

However, as if drawn to it, his feet came to a stop and he turned. There you were. The parents of Grogu’s friend from school were sobbing hysterically as they held a little girl in their arms. You stood right in front of them with Paz a step behind you. It was an odd sight that left Din with more questions than answers, but all his mind could focus on was you. The rest of the world may as well have grown blurry and dim.

You were in a pair of your scrubs but they were dirty and torn. Dried blood stained the front and sides. Your hair was a mess and even from the distance he was at, he could see the exhaustion radiating from your frame. Din was moving before his mind was even aware of his body’s choice. It was you. You were right there. You were standing. You were breathing. You were safe. Maker, Din felt his heart leap up into his throat as he struggled for a gasp of relief.

Din couldn’t find his voice to cry out to you, but as if you were drawn to him as well you turned and met his gaze. His feet stuttered at the sight. Dried blood covered your features, mixed with dust and soot, and there was a wound on your hairline he could see clearly. The skin around your neck was darkened with bruising. You looked like you were in shambles, but that fire he loved still remained in your gaze. Your pretty eyes burned with life and energy and determination.

“Din!” You cried and he didn’t even register the fact that you called out his name in public. He was too thankful to hear it in your voice once more. You broke out into a sprint, to meet him halfway, and as soon as you were close enough Din snatched you into his arms in a bruising grip. Your arms wrapped tightly around his neck as your face buried into his shoulder and if Din wasn’t so worried about jarring any of your current injuries he would’ve crushed you even tighter in his hold. “Din, I⏤ Din. Din.” Your body shook with sobs as you struggled to find words. For a beat all that could spill out was his name, but every time the sound left your lips Din felt the tight coil of fear in his chest loosen. “You’re here.”

“I am. I am, ner kar’ta, and I’m never leaving again.” He murmured to you. A promise. Din’s gloved hand buried itself in the back of your hair to pull you even closer. It took all of his strength to not rip his helmet off right now. Redemption be damned. “Ni ceta, ner kar’ta. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I should have been here.”

The only reason he was able to tear himself away from you was to examine your wounds. The injury at your hairline had scabbed over and it seemed the only other injury you had were the faint bruising around your neck. It would worsen before it got better and it was not lost on Din that the darker shade was in the shape of a hand.

“Who?” The word left his lips in a near growl. Din cupped your face and tried to swipe away tears, dried blood, and soot. His hand trailed down to lightly brush against your neck. “Who did this?”

“One of the⏤ One of the pirates. It’s a long story, I⏤” You took in a shaky breath and Din could see how close you were to crumbling. “He’s dead. I… I shot him. With the blaster I keep in my desk. I shot him.” Good. Din could see the heartbreak in your eyes, the pain, and he hated more than anything that responsibility had fallen onto your shoulders. That you had been forced into that position. Truly, you had done the pirate a favor⏤ shown him mercy. Because if he were still breathing, Din would tear the bastard apart limb from limb. “I lost your blaster. I’m so sorry⏤”

“Don’t. Stop.” Din leaned his head down to press his forehead against yours. He took in a slow breath. You were here. You were safe. You were in his arms. Din’s heart finally began to calm. “All that matters is you.”

Your hands had found his neck and the way your fingers dug through his collar told him that you were as desperate as he was for skin to skin contact. Din just needed to reassure himself that you were fine. He wanted to run his hands over every inch of you to ensure that nothing was wrong. That you were fine. It was a craving not born of lust, but concern.

“Grogu.” You breathed out in a ragged gasp. “Where’s Grogu? I need to see him. I need⏤” Din’s eyes darted over your shoulder where Elodie’s parents were still smothering their child. Something had happened in the city, you had obviously saved that girl in some way, and Din knew your desperation to see Grogu had something to do with that. “Din?”

“He’s alright. He’s safe.” Din wrapped his arm around you tightly, not willing to let go quite yet, and began to lead you back through the crowd to find where Peli was. People called out comments of relief and comfort to you as he led you through. It seemed he hadn't been the only one worried about you.

The sound of Grogu’s cries could be heard and you rushed out of Din’s arms to find the source, “Grogu!?” Din paused as he spotted Peli holding the boy as you rushed toward them. Grogu’s cries were halted and replaced with panicked wailing as he squirmed out of Peli’s arms to jump into yours. You collapsed to the ground with the boy buried in your chest. “Hey, baby. I’m here. I was so worried about you.”

Grogu continued to cry as you whispered reassurances to him. A small smile pulled up the corner of Din’s lips. For the first time in hours, he felt his shoulders relax. He took a step forward, to join his family, when familiar steps settled beside him. Paz crossed his arms and watched the reunion between you and Grogu as well.

“She saved that little girl.” Paz spoke with a hum. “She’s brave. Reckless, but brave.”

“I know.” Din replied, beaming with pride. Everything he had said to the Armorer had been true. You may not have taken the oath, walked the Way, or adorned a helmet, but you were Mandalorian through and through. It was in your spirit and soul.

Paz nodded. “That is the one you spoke of? The woman you plan to court?”

“Yes.” Din didn’t add that you were the woman he planned to marry as well. It didn’t need to be said now or like this. Just knowing was enough for him.

“But you have yet to present her with a token of intention?”

“Not…yet.” Din turned his head to look at his brother with suspicion. .

“Hm. Perhaps, I’ll offer her a token first.” Paz chuckled. Din barked out a curse and it only made Paz laugh harder. You had risen from the ground and glanced over at the noise. Paz slapped his hand roughly against Din’s back, making him stumble, and then gave you a firm nod. “Good work, wero’ika. I was proud to share the battlefield with you.”

Din continued to glare at Paz’s retreating figure, but at the sound of your approach his gaze softened. You were still holding Grogu close to your chest as if you were afraid someone would come and snatch him away. Din understood the irrational fear. It was why as soon as you were in reach he pulled you and Grogu into his own arms. With another sigh, Din let his eyes flutter close as he rested his head on top of yours while you leaned into his chest. You were safe. His family was back together.

What more could he ask for?

mando'a translations

Ni ceta: I'm sorry Mirdala: clever Wero'ika: little problem Ner kar'ta: my heart

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #a fresh start #mando x reader #mando x you #reader insert #mando #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #female reader

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defectivevillain · 5 months

Text

this winding labyrinth

chapter 1: suffocation.

pairing: Hannibal Lecter/Reader (reader is not gendered, race-ambiguous, and no physical descriptors are used)

summary:

You wish you never met Hannibal Lecter. But you yearn for his presence. You want to forget him. But he never truly leaves your thoughts. Now, you’re left to pick up the pieces of a broken design. A battle of instinct rages on in your mind—one of bittersweet relief and cloying grief, fearless resolve and poignant regret; a clashing between affection and antipathy, pride and pain. What will win, in the end? Only time will tell.

this is act 2 of this broken design. if you haven't read that, this won't make too much sense.

ao3 version | Spotify playlist

warnings: canon-typical blood, violence, gore, mutilation, death, & animal death. the animal death is pretty detailed, so please don't read this fic if you're triggered by that kind of topic.

author's notes: This first chapter is a little bit of a mess imo, but I wanted to post it to assure you all that I don’t want to abandon this fic. It may take me longer to post and update chapters, especially since I graduated from uni (mwahahah) and my schedule may get busy. Still, I really enjoy writing this story—and you all seem to enjoy reading it. Both of those things are enough to keep me going.

Something extremely ironic happened around the time I was writing the last few chapters of Act 1. So… if you remember, in Chapter 6, Hannibal and the reader go on an opera date (of sorts). During that date, the reader remarks that they “don’t know the first thing about opera.” Those words were pretty much taken directly from my mouth. Fast forward to about mid-fall, I get a call for an interview for an internship. I end up doing the first interview, then a second interview… Then I get the internship. The irony? This internship is at an opera house. (What’s even more ironic is that I’m now getting to the point where I do actually know things about opera—I know different productions and directors and technical terms… It’s absolutely crazy. The universe is making me eat my words, lol.

To make matters even stranger, I was in the office for the internship one day and caught a glimpse of a television, which broadcasts what’s happening on the stage. Imagine my absolute surprise and fear when I look up at the television screen with absolutely no expectations and see a single man in a beige jumpsuit with something over his face standing on stage, his shadow silhouetted against the wall behind him. Imagine my surprise when I see that, not only is he standing in an enclosure with iron bars (just like the ones at Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane), but it also looks as if he is staring right at me—and he looks exactly like Hannibal Lecter in captivity. It was simultaneously scary as hell and weirdly reassuring. Anyway, I’ve taken these experiences as cosmic confirmation that I should continue writing this fic. Lol.

Anyway. Back to the important things… I’m planning to borrow elements from both Silence of the Lambs and Red Dragon, but, similarly to the first act, there will be canon divergence and canon non-compliance. Also, as you probably discerned in the past act, there is some plot armor. But, this is fiction.

Your life currently takes two forms: before the Chesapeake Ripper… and after.

Before the Ripper, the leaf-stained pavement of the Bureau filled you with hope. Walking through the agency’s halls was a testament to the hard work that brought you there. Each assignment was an invaluable opportunity to further develop your interrogation and combat skills. You went to classes, completed assignments, trained, slept, and repeated the cycle the next day. Over and over and over again. But you were happy.

Life doesn’t feel so simple anymore. You feel like you’ve been fading for a while now, slowly deteriorating as you invest more and more energy into catching criminals. Your work has morphed into an exhausting mutual exchange, one in which you take murderers’ freedom and they take your restful nights. You can’t remember the last time you rested unencumbered by the horrors you’ve seen in the field.

By some miracle, Jack manages to keep the press relatively uninformed about the happenings behind the Ripper case. Everyone is too absorbed with the fact that Hannibal’s in captivity to remember to ask just how he got there, and you’re very grateful for that lapse in memory. You can just imagine the interactions you’d have with paparazzi. Is it true that he stabbed you? Is it true that he purposefully left you alive, only to surrender in your front yard and torment you with the constant knowledge that he will remain in the same place, lying in wait until the moment you will inevitably need him? You shudder.

Even with all the chaos that comes from the Ripper case—the media coverage of Hannibal and the attention the FBI gets—life goes on. Back at the Bureau, you occasionally lecture the new recruits and you take on assignments along with the rest of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Jack is still wont to call on you at the most ungodly of hours; Beverly still trades lighthearted taunts with you; Brian Zeller still seems to hate your guts, for reasons you’re not quite sure of; Alana and you are back to a steady friendship, albeit with occasional beats of unexplained tension and awkward silence.

Criminality continues to occur in the Ripper’s wake. You’re not surprised: the imprisonment of one criminal doesn’t beget the imprisonment of another. Even so, it’s difficult for you to proceed as if things are normal. You see traces of Hannibal in each of the monsters you apprehend. Your emotions are starting to eat you alive from the inside. You don’t have a therapist to assist you with those emotions anymore. And, while you think therapy would be helpful, you also know that there’s no way in hell you’d be able to actually be honest with a therapist without being imprisoned yourself. The things you’ve done and the urges you’ve felt… Neither is even close to a semblance of normality.

You take a deep breath. You have no issue stopping other criminals, sending them to empty white walls and thin mattresses. Why was Hannibal Lecter any different? You suppose you shouldn’t fool yourself—you know the answer to that question already: you got to know him. Beyond the mask of the Ripper, beyond the bloodied skin and cruel smile… You started to see him as a man, perhaps even a friend. Perhaps, even-

You tear yourself away from that thought process before it gets too far along. The semantics don’t matter now. All that matters is that you’re back in the field, back popping pills for your headaches and blinking fresh horrors from your eyes. All that matters is that the memory of Hannibal Lecter begins to fade away in the face of work— so much so that keeping busy helps you forget the pain.

Meanwhile, a hundred miles away, a veterinarian walks into a stable under a farmer’s guidance. The two stand over a dead horse and the veterinarian frowns. The farmer explains the horse’s death before stepping aside, letting the professional work.

The farmer quickly becomes lost in their thoughts. They hadn’t expected the horse to die in the middle of her pregnancy. The farmer swallows past the tightness in their throat and tears their eyes away from the horse. They were looking forward to the birth of the foal, looking forward to helping the mother raise her offspring. The stable air suddenly feels suffocating and they take a look at the veterinarian’s turned back before stepping outside to get some fresh air.

Moments later, the veterinarian rejoins them. The doctor’s lips are drawn in a tight line and there’s a troubled expression on their face. The farmer feels any remaining composure promptly seep out of them, as the veterinarian suggests they come back into the stable.

“It feels like there’s something here,” the veterinarian says, their expression conflicted. They touch the horse’s womb with a gloved hand and frown.

“She was pregnant,” the farmer chokes out, their throat feeling tight again. It hurts to utter the words aloud.

“With twins?” The veterinarian asks, turning around to look at them.

“No, just one baby,” the farmer shakes their head. Why would they ask about twins? Surely, they don’t feel another baby in the womb. The thought of two deaths is morbid and distressing enough, but three? The farmer inhales shakily.

“There’s… something else here.” The veterinarian remarks, their face contorting as they feel the horse’s womb once more. They turn back to look at the farmer for assistance. The farmer feels a horrible, inexplicable sense of foreboding crawling up their skin. Despite that feeling, they nod to the veterinarian. The doctor nods in response and turns to the horse’s womb, before making an incision.

The veterinarian unearths the dead foal and places it on the nearby hay with infinite gentleness. The farmer’s chest begins to hurt as they come to terms with the sight before them. Their pain doesn’t end there, however. The veterinarian continues slicing along the skin before stopping and glancing back at them inexplicably. It’s as if they’re waiting for permission to continue. The farmer appreciates the gesture and they nod in affirmation. This mystery needs to be put to rest.

The veterinarian inhales sharply, sending the farmer��s heart racing. The farmer prompts them to step aside, revealing the horse’s womb. There’s… something there. The farmer squints at it, a gasp ripping its way from their lips as they realize just what they’re looking at. A human corpse lies on the stable floor, a stark shock of muted crimson against the golden strands of hay. The farmer brings a shaking hand to their pocket and calls the police.

Unaware of these occurrences, you slowly exhale and pinch the bridge of your nose, feeling a headache coming on. You busy yourself with grading your students’ papers, and you don’t learn of the corpse until a few hours later, when the medicine begins to kick in and you’re foolishly convinced that you’ll be fine. Before you can leave for the day, Jack is walking up to you and beckoning you to the lab. The two of you grab Beverly along the way, which leaves the three of you to enter the laboratory that Price and Zeller are currently situated in. When you walk in, you’re immediately assaulted with the scent of formaldehyde. Price explains the situation behind the corpse, how a veterinarian found the body within the womb of a horse. The notion is strikingly similar to the other deaths by suffocation that have been eluding the BAU for several weeks. Jack seems to think the same thing, as he rattles off what he knows so far about the killer. You add things here and there—small things you can notice from the state of the corpse itself—before Price gets the group back on track.

“I called you here because…” Price trails off, frowning before readjusting his stethoscope and placing it on the victim’s chest once more. The room is deathly silent as he concentrates. “...There’s a heartbeat.”

“That doesn’t come with the onset of rigor mortis—we all know that,” Zeller continues, looking down at the corpse with a somewhat puzzled expression. He seems to sense you staring and looks up, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze meets yours. “She’s dead.” He announces with complete certainty.

“She was found in the womb of the horse?” Beverly asks. Everyone else nods and she pauses for a moment. “Make an incision and check the chest cavity.” There’s an unshakeable certainty in her voice and it throws you off for a moment, before you realize what she’s getting at. It’s not unfathomable that something was buried within the victim’s chest cavity. Suffocation seems to be a common theme with this killer. Did they put some sort of dead animal in the corpse? The thought makes your stomach turn.

“Alright,” Price acquiesces, after glancing at Jack for approval. Crawford nods, evidently attributing value to Beverly’s suggestion. The four of you—Crawford, Beverly, Zeller, and you—watch as Price leans in and makes a careful incision in the chest. For several moments, there’s nothing but a tense silence in the air as Jimmy works. The quiet is broken a few seconds later when Price takes a sharp breath. “I saw something.”

“Keep going,” Jack demands, bringing Jimmy’s attention back to the task at hand. Price nods and makes the incision a little bigger. All of you are watching in anticipation, waiting for something you’re not quite sure will appear.

All of a sudden, there’s a flash of motion. A yellow blur flits about the cavity, before reaching upwards and extending its wings to fly out. You watch in disbelief as the bloodstained bird stretches its wings and flies about the lab, colliding with the sheen of the fluorescent lighting and sending shadows flickering along the floor.

Jack is the first one to respond. He quickly paces over to the small window located near the ceiling and opens it, allowing the bird an escape. For a few moments, the bird doesn’t seem to notice: it’s too overwhelmed with the sudden change in environment to comprehend that it has just been granted an escape. It has a chance at true freedom, but it’s too busy taking in the laboratory’s flimsy promises to notice. The bird eventually notices the open window and flies out of it, before Jack closes the laboratory off from the outside world once more.

The group begins discussing what just occurred, but your mind is elsewhere. You feel a strange sort of kinship with the bird: suffocated beneath rows of ribs and walls of tissue and skin; banished to the space between; too taken with the small allowances to notice freedom within reach. You pinch the bridge of your nose. Your headache is returning, as pressure builds up in your temples and constricts your very skin. It’s significantly harder to breathe. Every time you blink, you’re greeted with the memory of that bright yellow bird bursting from its confines, greeting the stale laboratory air with beating wings. You step outside the lab to get some fresh air, trading your smaller prison for a bigger one—just as the bird did mere moments ago.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to find you. After all, you’re not hidden—you’re simply leaning against the wall in the hallway that leads to the laboratory. Jack strides up to you, his hands in his pockets and that familiar tight line drawn across his face. You suspect he’ll get wrinkles a lot sooner than everyone else his age—sheerly because of all the responsibility he holds and the pressure he’s forced to perform under. It must be exhausting to be the one calling the shots in these horrible situations. You had always assumed Jack had the easy job, but looking at him now, you think that assumption must be incorrect. He is suffering, just as you are. Perhaps… Jack has just grown better at hiding it.

The thought makes Jack’s remark slip in one ear and right out the other. You ask him to repeat himself and he sighs. “We need to go to the stable where the corpse was found. There are several police officers there already, but…” But we need to do a more thorough investigation , he doesn’t say. You hear him anyway and nod. Jack walks past you and paces purposefully down the hall, not even bothering to look and see if you’re following him. Perhaps he already knows you will follow him.

What follows is an awkward car ride. Neither of the two of you attempt to break the tense silence, leaving a suffocating air of uncertainty and indecision. You don’t know what to say to Jack, so you instead busy yourself with looking out the window. You resolutely pretend not to notice your boss’s gaze repeatedly flitting over to you and, after a painful amount of time, Jack is driving up the gravel path that leads to a modest farmhouse and a beautiful wooden stable.

The place is already crawling with police officers and FBI agents. Unfortunately, the police were the first ones to be informed of the case, which means the FBI is forced to share jurisdiction with them. You know Jack isn’t too happy about that, especially once you see the frown on his face as he watches the police officers clumsily investigate. They don’t have the right training for a situation like this and Jack is delighted to inform them of that fact—albeit with much more sugar coated wording than you would have utilized. A few minutes later, the cops are gone, leaving Jack, you, and the set of agents that Jack requested to follow after your car on the drive over. The other agents are quick to secure the crime scene, while Jack and you decide to explore the premises a little first.

The property features a small, rather unremarkable house with slightly dirty bricks and a well-loved bench swing on the porch. The front door is agape, revealing hardwood flooring and items strewn about. Jack and you exchange a glance before walking into the home. You don’t see any sign of life until you reach the kitchen and come across an older woman sitting at the table, stirring a cup of tea. You’re quick to show your badge and explain the situation to her. She doesn’t seem to have a great idea of what’s going on, so you eventually decide to leave her be and keep looking about the property.

Next to the house is a rather large stable, complete with several different stalls and a wide variety of tools. You have no idea what half of the tools could possibly be used for, but the majority of them look as if they’ve been used at least once. There are bales of hay in the corner of the room and various accessories hanging near the post of each horse’s stall. There are only a few horses in the stable—you think you could’ve seen a few in the pastures out back earlier. There’s a horrible stench pervading the air, and it’s not the typical odor that comes from a farm. It’s the smell of death. You look at Jack and he nods, inclining his head and gesturing for you to continue exploring the stable. It isn’t until you reach the last stall—one that is inexplicably larger than the rest—that you find the source of the stench. The rotted corpse of the horse rests at the back of the stall, the womb flayed open. The organs have been removed, but the smell of decay remains. Surprisingly enough, you’re not alone in this stall. A brown-haired man sits cross-legged on the floor next to the horse, a blank expression on his face.

“...Hello?” You decide to try. There’s no response. “Excuse me?” Still no response.

You glance at Jack and he raises his eyebrows, before turning to the stranger. “You must be Peter Bernardone,” Jack remarks. The mention of the man’s name seems to be enough to get his attention. On second thought, you remember Jack offhandedly mentioning that there may be a stablehand on site. It seems you’ve found him.

“That’s me,” the man replies flatly, staring ahead with glassy eyes. He looks as if he’s on an entirely different plane of existence, as he looks at the wall ahead of him with enough intensity to melt it.

“Jack Crawford, FBI,” Jack answers with an introduction of his own. He flashes his badge for a moment before putting it away. You can’t tell if Peter is even paying attention, but you do the same to make him more comfortable. “We’re just here to ask you some questions.”

“I want to talk,” Peter murmurs quietly, just barely loud enough to be heard. He pulls his knees up to his chest; his eyes haven’t strayed from the corpse of the animal in front of him. You feel your chest constrict a little at the sight.

“Good,” Jack responds with a nod.

“...To you,” Peter finishes with a gesture. To your complete surprise, he doesn’t point at Jack—he’s pointing at you. Jack blinks in equal surprise, looking at you for answers. You send him a helpless look. At first, you’re not sure why you seem more trustworthy than Jack. Then you remember Jack’s position and the intimidating aura he tends to give off. You think you’d want to talk to someone like yourself too, were you in Peter’s situation.

“Alright,” you agree. You don’t see the harm in having a conversation. You need information and, more importantly, answers. Jack stares at you for a long few seconds, before exhaling in evident exasperation.

“I’ll be outside,” Jack promises, before walking away. You wait until Jack is out of sight before you take a step closer to Peter, placing your hands in your pockets.

“What do you do here, Peter?” You hear yourself ask. Your voice sounds foreign to your ears.

“I volunteer here,” Peter responds, still facing the corpse. His voice sounds hollow, empty. “Sometimes.”

“Did you… know this horse?” You ask hesitantly, looking down at the corpse.

“Yes,” Peter answers without hesitation. There’s a hint of emotion in his voice now.

“Ridden her before?”

“I don’t ride the horses,” Peter replies, “I just like to brush them.”

“Okay,” you acknowledge. You begin pacing around the stall in an attempt to calm your restless nerves. “Peter, were you here on the day that the veterinarian visited?” Jack had briefed you on the circumstances of the horse’s death, how a veterinarian had been called to investigate before the corpse was found in the womb.

“I don’t remember a veterinarian,” he stares ahead with a frown.

“That’s fine,” you answer. He may not have been there that day. “The veterinarian was the one who cut open the womb and found the corpse… Did you know this horse was pregnant?”

At that question, Peter turns around and stares at you. His hollow gaze is enough to send a shiver down your spine. For a moment, he just stares at you, before huffing in amusement. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” you echo. You suppose that was a rather dumb question on your part. “Were you… sad about the foal?”

“Of course,” Peter huffs again. “Why do you think I’m sitting here?” This discussion isn’t getting you very far.

“Fine,” you acquiesce. You take a deep breath. “This doesn’t seem to be getting anywhere. I’m going to give you my extension, and if you ever feel like talking about what happened, you can call me, okay?” Thankfully, you know for certain that Peter isn’t the killer—the psychological profile you built on this murderer tells you that much. Jack clearly doesn’t think Peter is the killer either, and those two facts are enough for you to rule him out as a suspect. However, you’re still contemplating the possibility of him tampering with the crime scene.

Peter clears his throat pointedly and you remember what you were supposed to be doing. You grab a notepad from your jacket pocket and quickly scrawl down the Behavioral Analysis Unit’s phone number, followed by the extension to your office phone. You take a step closer and hold it out to Peter. For a fraction of a moment, you think he won’t take it. Just before you can pull your hand back, he takes the paper and slips it into his pocket.

You turn on your heel and take a step towards the door of the stall, fully intent on leaving, when the door falls open of its own accord. Jack Crawford stands in the doorway, staring at you.

“Good, Agent,” Jack remarks. This must be important. “We have a lead,” he says vaguely, his eyes falling to Peter. You can’t discuss confidential information here—the details will have to wait until you’re both in the car.

“Excellent,” you remark in relief. “I’ll meet you at the car?” You can sense that Peter’s attention is piqued. Maybe you can still get something out of him. Jack nods and walks away once more. You then turn to Peter, who has turned his body away from the horse to face you. Somehow, he’s intrigued now. Something has caught his eye. “Sorry, Peter,” you apologize, taking a step backwards and emphasizing that you’re a moment away from leaving, “I have to go.”

“What is it?” Peter asks, “Did you find him?”

“It’s classified, I’m sorry,” you respond, ignoring the inexplicable sound of alarm bells blaring in your head. Peter isn’t the killer. “But we’re tracking down this killer. I promise he’ll be put away.”

“You promise?” Peter asks, a dangerous conviction in his eyes.

“Yes,” you respond without hesitation. You don’t have the authority to make that kind of promise, but you do anyway. The sincerity in your expression must convince Peter, because he takes a slow breath and the tension seems to fade from his form. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Peter. It was nice to meet you.” Peter says the same and you turn to leave the stable.

“Price and Zeller found soil in the corpse’s throat,” Jack recounts to you as he drives along the highway, moving at a comfortable speed. His eyes are fixed on the road, but he recalls his conversation with Price with perfect consistency. “We traced it to a burial site about thirty minutes from here.”

“Great,” you remark, relief coursing through you. To your surprise, Jack doesn’t respond. Instead, he simply nods ever so slightly and continues staring ahead. Now, it seems as if he’s avoiding something. “What is it?” You ask. Something seems off about him.

“You may want to brace yourself,” Jack warns vaguely.

“Why?” You hear yourself question. Jack doesn’t answer, and he’s quiet for the rest of the car ride. When the two of you pull up to the supposed burial site, you’re filled with trepidation. This job always comes with the knowledge that blood and gore could be waiting at every corner. That’s the normal day for an agent. So… why does Jack feel the need to warn you? You grapple with the prospect as the two of you leave the car and join the group of agents circled around something.

It isn’t until you get closer that you recognize the familiar stench of rotting death. Sure enough, the group of agents is clustered around a hole in the ground—one that houses a woman’s corpse. You stare at the marks around her neck, the dirt caked under her nails and staining her fingertips. She was on the brink of death when she was buried. She was trying to escape. You stare down at the body for another moment, searching for any more abnormalities, before taking a step back to let the other agents resume their investigation. You exchange glances with Jack.

“She’s not the only one,” Jack says. You stare at the field around you—the grassy, open expanse. It seems to stretch on for miles now. You feel your heart steadily thudding in your chest, at a rate slightly faster than normal. Your head begins to ache.

“How many of them are there?” You murmur. The question is quiet, as you practically whisper it against the wind. For a moment, you think Jack doesn’t hear it. You then realize that he has comprehended it, but is simply declining to answer. Indeed, your boss stares out at the field with a conflicted expression. “Jack?”

“Sixteen,” Jack responds, turning his attention back to you. You feel something in your stomach twist and pull.

“That can’t be right,” you remark. It sounds as if the wind is picking up. It takes you several seconds to realize the sound is being conjured by your own mind, and that the air is damp and still around you. You swallow hard and take another look around at the field, suddenly understanding why the agents are now evenly dispersed across the space. They all have shovels and each sound of metal hitting dirt is enough to send a bolt of pain down your temple and through your cheekbones. Your teeth hurt as you watch the unearthing of sixteen different victims. They’re uniformly dispersed across the field. This is no happy accident—the killer meticulously planned for their graves to be close (but not too close). The thought brings a burning feeling to your throat and you feel your knees suddenly buckle. You place a hand on the ground, feeling the familiar horrible feeling of nausea climbing past your throat until you’re vomiting on the killer’s ground. It takes you a few minutes to stop, and even longer for you to fully recover. Your eyes sting and you can’t tell if you’re going to cry or pass out. There’s an overwhelming clarity in your vision and a rhythmic pounding at your temple.

This graveyard is a gruesome display, even to someone who has spent their entire career surrounded by carnage. You’ve seen your fair share of murder victims. You’ve never seen sixteen of them lined up in two neat rows of eight, buried in a nondescript field under layers of muddy soil. Moreover, you can sense the killer’s feelings—and it makes you sick. This was not a gesture born out of respect for the victims. The murderer did not dig up these graves to give these women a final resting place; he buried them to trap them, so that even in death, they would never truly be free. Their existences would be tied to him forever. They would never be allowed to breathe again. It’s nothing short of sickening. There’s nausea stewing in your stomach again, revulsion prickling across your skin, and sweat trickling down your neck.

You can’t seem to push yourself up to your feet. You’re grounded to the damp soil, to the wrong side of the earth. What deems you worthy of living? What deemed these women worthy of dying? Your hands are twitching at your sides. A deep breath causes your chest to hitch and you nearly vomit again. You look down on your body as you claw at the grass and tear it up, shakily pulling at the dirt and plants and grass and rot and death and injustice and horrible, terrible guilt and indescribable anger and vengeance -

There’s a hand on your shoulder. You instinctually tense, your movements beginning to slow. It feels as if you’re suddenly catapulted back into your body, forced to inhabit the itchy, dirt-stained skin and the endless remorse that wants to eat you alive from the inside.

“They’re dead; there is nothing left for them here,” Jack says. It’s his strange way of comforting you. It sort of works. After a moment, he takes a step forward and extends a hand to you. You take it, allowing him to pull you up. Jack seems to be fighting against the urge to say or do something, because his eyebrows are furrowed and his lips are pulled taut in a thin line. There’s dirt all over you, yet you are still privileged with life.

You don’t remember how you get back to the Bureau. All you remember is staring blankly ahead as you’re half-led through the halls by Jack himself, his hand on your shoulder providing equal support and increased pressure. All you remember is the worry on Alana’s face as you walk past, the way she gets up from her desk and walks over to you, how she leads you towards the far restroom with a gentle hand. It ends up being the same restroom where Zeller accused you of killing Franklyn. The memory of that encounter is far fresher than you want it to be.

Alana leads you to a sink and guides your hands towards the water.

“Allow me,” she remarks, turning on the sink. She steps away for a moment and you stare at the water dripping from the faucet. Alana returns moments later with a washcloth. She pumps some soap on your hands and helps you wash them clean. Your head aches. You don’t know what to think, what to say. All you can think about is the graveyard. It haunts your vision every time you blink, forcing you to think of suffocating under piles of dirt and debris. You inhale sharply, gasping. Regaining your breath is a chore. “I’m worried about you,” Alana soon admits. You hate that her concern makes you feel appreciated. Your relationship with Alana ended years ago. You don’t want to be hers again, but this very moment reminds you of the intimacy you no longer get to see.

“You shouldn’t be,” you remark. Alana laughs under her breath. You both know that’s not how it works. Emotions don’t bend to logic.

“What did you see?” Her hand on your forearm keeps you tethered to reality. You shake your head, unable to begin describing the scene that will most certainly haunt your nightmares. The two of you are silent for the remainder of your time together under the flickering fluorescent lights, as you try to come to terms with the terrible regret, revulsion, and rage threatening to spill over your frame and inhabit your every waking moment.

next chapter

endnotes: thanks for reading! i'm very excited to continue this story, mwahhahahha

here's a lil sneak peek for the next chapter: “Peter,” Clark practically coos. You hate him, more than you’ve ever hated anyone before. He is a bundle of contradictions: a fine-dressed man with a fine-dressed smile and fine-dressed lies and cruelty and violence and- “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

hannibal taglist <3: @its-ares @tobbotobbs @xrisdoesntexist @gr1mmac3 @tiredstarcerberuslamb @yourlocalratwriter @kahuunknown @atlas-king1 @pendragon-writes @slipknotcentury @cryinersaved @the-ultimate-librarian @starre-eyes @pendragon-writes @peterparkeeperer @gayschlatt69

#Hannibal Lecter x reader #hannibal nbc #hannibal x reader #Hannibal Lecter x male reader #Hannibal Lecter x gn reader #transmasc reader #male reader #gn reader #hannibal x gn reader #hannibal x male reader #gotta cover all the bases

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zoomzooml · 9 months

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Rewatched Bumblebee movie so Alert: random thoughts of sleep deprived person go--

Bumblebee has hella powerful legs. Not only when he uses them in fight, but also when he jumps.

I just love how Bumblebee uses his legs in combat, like hell yeah dude! They may catchin' those hands but they ain't catchin' those legs (they actually did couple of times but shhhh).

Fight sequences are muah. Love them, the best ones in Transformers movies I think. I'm not sure but I also think they were storyboarded/planned by animator so if it's truth it does explain things lol.

Bumblebee is smaller and weaker than the Decepticons he has come to fight, and he doesn't just use their weight or size against them, but all the time seems to be looking for an advantage in his surroundings. This is likely not very unique to him, but it clearly stands out when his opponents the moment they realized their advantage wanted to simply overpower Bee.

Also love how everyone is trying to use their alt-mode during combat.

They could have done more with the fact that G1 Bumblebee was said to like swimming, and Charlie was swimmer in the past (specifically was in school's dive team if I remember correctly). Like some kind of bonding scene? Whatever, it was just such an opportunity. (And I know we had this seconds-post-end-battle scene but it is not what I'm talking about at all if it makes sense???)

Shatter often folds her hands behind her back in a gesture that I personally associate with a business woman (also in base scene she and military man both hold hands that way when talking so yeah). I feel that this reinforces her image as the leader/representative of the duo when Dropkick maintains a looser posture. Just cool body language.

I didn't pay attention to this in the movie, but I was reminded of how someone noticed the Autobot symbol on Shockwave's arm. If that's true, they could make it cool to pull it up under Senator Shockwave's MTMTE-style backstory, or maybe some variation of the spy (before he was known as a Decepticon, especially a high-level one) in TFA style. As far as I know the entire thing was because of recycling model parts but still.

I don't like Bumblebee's camaro root-mode. Idk, he was all round and huggable almost the entire movie, even when he had jeep as alt-mode, and then he is all blocky :((. Maybe it's because even as jeep he still has his chest mostly flat and as camaro it moves so much forward. His Cybertronian root-mode also has chest moved forward a bit but it's a lot more aerodynamic (you know what I mean) so he still looks round. Like, he is huggable all the time and then his camaro-boob looks like it would cut you. Idk how to say it, hope you get what I'm trying to communicate anyway :')

I really like how Decepticons were casually showing off that they are Triplechangers. I understand why they were doing this from storytelling point of view but it's still funny from in-universe one. ("Look how cool and badass we are.") I'm probably turning it up but oh well.

Also this will be a bit off but I never liked the idea of hammer as Bumblebee's weapon. Like his thing almost always was being small, kinda fast and not very strong and boom. They give him one of the weapons that is most effective welded by someone big, strong who doesn't loose much fighting weapon that kinda slows them down a bit (I think hammer does but you can correct me lol) because damn, this thing is big, at least in his serwos.

Plus, still on the hammer's topic, actual war hammers had this spike on the one end of the head so you could actually pierce armor of your opponent or just your opponent but not this one. This one is just for smashing like your mom's meat mallet. Ok, I'm done with this saltyness lol

But really, hammer as weapon doesn't fit Bee at all. Or it's just me.

#sorry for bad english #transformers #shitpost #maccadam #bumblebee #shatter #my thing #very random #may delete later #sleep deprived post #analysis #kinda????#all those things propably were told before but oh well #also next TFCheesy comic is almost finished wow #and i think I actually got better at drawing cars?? so profit

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hollandorks · 1 year

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saved

matt murdock x original female character

chapter six

Summary: Fleeing from an abusive relationship, Grace St. James goes to the only place she still has a friend: Hell’s Kitchen. She’s forced to live in her car and beg for a job from the law firm Nelson, Murdock, and Page all the while making sure her past doesn’t catch up to her. Enter Matt Murdock: cocky, handsome, and willing to let her live with him for free until she can afford to get a place of her own. Grace is drawn to Matt in a way she’s never been drawn to anyone, causing sparks to fly as they inevitably grow closer and closer.

a/n: After a lot of googling, I have come to the conclusiong that no one really knows what the inside of Matt’s bathroom in the Netflix show looks like. However, I do know that there’s only the door into the living room so I’ve created another door for reasons that will become known in the future. Is this important? No. But these are the things I think about and research. Anyways, tangent about floor plans aside, hope you enjoy this chapter!

Series Masterlist

word count: 5464

Grace had a feeling she was in more trouble than she thought.

Grace’s POV

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” Karen asked as Matt and Foggy walked ahead of them to Grace’s car. She wasn’t sure why all four of them were going to pick up her car, but they were. It didn’t matter that it was only being moved a few blocks to the parking garage by Matt’s apartment. All four of them were going.

“Why? Is Matt actually a serial killer?” Grace asked lightly. But all day she’d had a bundle of nerves weighing down her gut like a stone. Not because she was scared of Matt, per se, but because it was inevitably going to be awkward. Because she hadn’t been roommates with any other man besides Dean.

“No, nothing like that.” Karen laughed. “Matt’s actually a really, really decent guy. Probably one of the best ones, actually.”

It hit Grace then, a ton of bricks that almost made her trip, the way Karen was speaking about him. “You guys aren’t–you’re not–”

“Me and Matt?” Karen said. She laughed and flipped her hair over one shoulder. She had linked their arms like they were friends. And maybe they were–or at least getting there. The thought warmed Grace as much as the fact that they were all tagging along with her. “God, no. Not that he’s not a good guy, like I said. But no. We aren’t.”

Grace blew out a relieved breath. God, would that have been awkward. “Trust me, Karen,” she said as they walked. “I’m okay with this. I mean, I currently have to run through a dark alley and up the stairs just to go to the bathroom.”

Karen winced. “Yeah, that sounds like it sucks. And hey–Matt’s pretty clean, too. We’ve spent a lot of time at his apartment catching up on work and preparing for trials and depositions and stuff. It’s always really neat.”

Grace dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “But it is kind of weird, isn’t it?”

Karen pressed her lips together. Her blue eyes sparkled. “Yeah, it’s a little weird. I know we all just met. But like I said, he’s a good guy. And anything has to be better than living in your car.”

“You have no idea,” Grace said. Up ahead, Matt’s phone started ringing. He stopped as he talked, allowing them to catch up with them.

“The landlord has your parking pass,” Matt said when they were close enough to hear. He slipped his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll go get it and meet you in the parking garage, save some time.”

“You don’t have to–” Grace started, but Matt was already striding away, cane tapping confidently across the uneven sidewalk.

“Don’t worry,” Foggy said. He linked his arm with her free one, bracketing her in between him and Karen. “There’s no stopping Matt when he gets something in his head, especially if it lets him be a knight in shining armor. I’d say it was the Catholic thing, but really it’s just Matt.”

Karen snorted but Grace flushed. She told herself Matt wasn’t pitying her, but she still couldn’t shake that embarrassment. No matter how grateful she was, part of her still hated that it had even come to this. She’d let her life be so controlled that in order to break away, she had to lose everything. She had to start completely over, a small child again with no life experience, relying on others to care for her and look out for her.

Ryan and Jess were waiting outside their apartment for her, a squirming Max in Ryan’s arms. She had texted them earlier in the day to say that she had been offered another place to live with one of her coworkers.

“Foggy Nelson,” Ryan said with a blink of surprise. He balanced the baby in the crook of one arm and held out his other for Foggy to shake. “She’s staying with you?”

“Hey! Good to see you again,” Foggy said excitedly. He started cooing over the baby. “Matt, actually,” he said distractedly as Max grabbed his finger in one tiny fist.

Ryan narrowed his eyes, but then his expression cleared right as Jess said, “The blind one?” Grace had a feeling they were both having similar thoughts to what she’d had earlier that day–it was harder for a blind man to be a creep.

“The very same,” Foggy said, not seeming to care that that was how Matt was characterized. Grace had already seen Foggy’s protective side come out when it came to Matt and Karen, but particularly Matt’s disability. It was another of a long list of reasons she really liked being around him. But either he was too distracted by the baby to care, or he knew Jess hadn’t meant it as an insult.

“I’m Karen Page, by the way,” Karen interjected with her hand outstretched. They exchanged pleasantries for a minute before Jess cut in.

“It’s almost little man’s naptime,” she said in that blunt way of hers. Right on cue, Max let out a small wail. Jess sighed and exchanged a lovingly exasperated look with her husband.

“I won’t keep you,” Grace said. She opened her mouth to say something else but Jess interrupted her with a bone-crushing hug. The woman was tiny, barely up to Grace’s chin, but hugged with the strength of a bodybuilder.

“Take care of yourself,” Jess said sternly. She pointed a finger at Foggy. “Don’t you let anything happen to her, or you’ll answer to me.”

Foggy’s eyes widened. “Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry, Matt’s a good guy.”

“We’ll all look out for her,” Karen added with a smile.

Grace gave Ryan the best approximation of a hug she could manage with a crying baby between them.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “Really. You guys saved my life.” She swallowed back the threat of tears.

Ryan kissed the side of her head. “Call us if you need anything. And feel free to stop by anytime.”

“Or babysit,” Jess said with a wink as Max let out a particularly loud wail.

With their goodbyes said, Ryan and Jess took Max upstairs for his nap, and Foggy and Karen slid into Grace’s car.

“Spacious,” Foggy said as he stretched a little from the backseat. She watched in the rearview mirror as he not so inconspicuously looked around.

Grace laughed as she pulled out of the parking spot. “I let the backseats down and sleep half in the trunk.”

Foggy flushed, caught in the act of mentally measuring the space out. “Oh. Yeah, that’s better than stretching out back here.”

He gave her instructions on where to go, intimately familiar with his best friend’s building, and guided her into the parking garage. There was an area for the sixth floor–Matt’s floor–and a spot marked 6A that she pulled into. Matt was leaning against the wall next to it, cane clenched in his hands.

Foggy got out and immediately started talking about how cute Max was, then took it upon himself to place the parking sticker on her car. Then they each took a bag and Matt even insisted on carrying her backpack. All Grace was left with was her pillow and her purse.

Was this what it was like to have friends? Real friends? She and Dean had friends, sure, people they’d grown up with and people they’d met in college and after. But all of those relationships seemed…almost fake compared to what it was like to be around the three people currently helping Grace. The people in her and Dean’s life had always wanted something–connections, money, power. But the three people in front of her were helping her only because they wanted to. They weren’t expecting anything in return, and Grace had to admit it felt…nice.

Foggy and Karen did most of the talking while they walked to the elevator. Karen was teasing Foggy about his reaction to Max and asking when he and Marci were going to have a baby, which led to a whole discussion about Marci terrorizing him with wedding planning.

She caught a hint of Matt’s smile as he listened to his two friends talk. That smile brought a whole new onslaught of butterflies into her stomach.

Matt’s apartment was stark, as promised. There was a lot of exposed brick, exposed beams, and neutral colors. There were huge, arched windows filled with mismatched panes of glass and minimal furniture throughout the space. Everything was neat and in its proper place. She supposed all of that made sense–less stuff meant less he could run into as well as less maintenance.

But there was only one bedroom. Grace frowned a little. She supposed Matt had never told her there was an extra bedroom, after all. Just that there was plenty of space. And there was. The place was wide open and twice the size of Ryan and Jess’s apartment. It was nicer than she’d anticipated, that was for sure.

The couch looked comfortable enough, though, so that’s where Grace put her pillow and purse for the time being. She didn’t care if that’s where she was sleeping. Anything was better than her car.

There were also steps leading up to a roof door–locked and secured, Matt assured her, but he could have a key made for her if she wanted one. No one used the small space except for him, he said, though there was a door out in the hallway too.

There was also a set of double doors with a padlock on it. Storage, apparently. And there was a firehose next to those doors, oddly enough, which Matt had no explanation for. Foggy said he was pretty sure the building had been a fire station, which then started a good-natured argument between him and Karen because she insisted that six floors up would not have been a good fire station.

Grace had to admit, she loved the near-constant chatter. It was a comfort to her, simply observing the playfulness the three friends shared.

“I made space in the wardrobe for you,” Matt said quietly as Karen and Foggy argued and laughed. “Your stuff on the left, mine on the right. And there’s plenty of space in the bathroom, I don’t have much.”

Her body flushed all over again. “I…Thanks. And I promise I won’t move anything,” she said, because she was sure that he knew exactly where everything was and had gotten accustomed to it staying that way. “If I do, I promise it’s okay to yell at me.”

He smiled. “I won’t yell at you. I might end up wearing women’s deodorant or something, though.”

She laughed and the nerves faded away again.

“Pizza!” Foggy said, jolting them from their conversation. “We’re having a housewarming for this…unconventional arrangement!”

“I have to go, actually,” Karen said with an apologetic wince. “I’m moving into Ellison’s today.”

“Right. Your place has…rats. Roaches. Whatever.” Foggy sighed. “Fine, no housewarming for you. Did you need help moving?”

“No, I’m good. Call me if you guys need anything,” Karen said with a little wave. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you,” Matt said, head tilted in her direction.

“Have fun at your fancy new dad’s place!” Foggy half-shouted after her. Grace could hear Karen’s laugh echo from the hallway outside. Foggy turned back to them. He opened his mouth, but his phone started ringing. He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Marci’s ringtone.” The words were a sigh.

Within a minute, it was clear Foggy’s idea for pizza wasn’t going to work. There was some sort of wedding planning emergency, and he had to bring Marci dinner so she could juggle that and her prep work for a deposition at the same time. He apologized profusely as he left, promising a proper housewarming “mostly for Grace but also because I don’t think I ever did one for Matt either.”

And then they were alone.

“We can still get pizza,” Matt said as Grace made her way to the windows to peer outside. “I’m not…I don’t usually have time to cook, so I don’t really have anything here.”

“And I’m a terrible cook, I should warn you,” Grace said with a laugh. “Pizza sounds nice. My treat, for letting me stay.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Please,” she said, and Matt stopped. He nodded.

They had a short debate about what pizza place was best and which toppings to get, finally settling on something. Grace called and ordered for delivery.

Then they were alone again. The silence between them grew and stretched.

Matt sat on the edge of one of the armchairs. Grace took that as her cue to sit, too. His back was straight, palms on his knees, his head tilted just slightly.

“Um,” she said, acutely aware of the silence in the apartment. He didn’t even have a TV, she realized, but then mentally smacked herself for the thought. “I usually shower at night. You?”

Matt did that thing he did where he went totally still. “Yeah, me too but–Usually late. I don’t…sleep well.”

“Right. Okay.” They lapsed into silence again. Grace had to laugh after a moment. At Matt’s quizzical look, she said, “Doesn’t it feel like college all over again? The whole awkward new roommates thing?”

He grinned at her, the sight making her breath hitch a little. God, how was she going to survive living in close quarters with a man who looked like that?

“Did I tell you that Foggy and I were roommates? One of the first things he asked me was if my eyes had been knocked out. And then he complimented my looks.” Matt spread his hands wide in a shrug and chuckled.

Grace couldn’t help but laugh. “That does sound like Foggy, yeah.” Then she frowned. “Your eyes aren’t knocked out, are they?” she said teasingly, even though she knew they weren’t. “I’ve never seen them, you know.”

Matt laughed again and took off his tinted glasses. He fumbled with one hand for the coffee table and set them atop it. Grace had to catch her breath again. His eyes were brown, a really pretty shade, and aimed somewhere over her left shoulder. He looked…different without the glasses. Softer. More open.

“That proof enough?” he said. He raised one dark brow.

“For now. I may ask you one day to prove they aren’t fake eyes, like in–Damn, you probably haven’t watched that movie.” She winced. “Sorry. Faux pas.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m used to it. Though I do listen to movies.” After a second, he grinned again and said, “Also, my eyes are real.”

“Sounds like something a guy with fake eyes would say.”

He laughed again and Grace wanted to bottle the sound. He was different here, in his own space. Despite how awkward it was between them, he was more relaxed than he was at the office. She supposed she ought to get used to it.

“So we both shower at night,” Grace said. Matt fiddled with the end of his tie, then seemed to think better of it and took it off. She forced herself to not look at the slice of skin that was revealed at the top of his shirt as he undid one button. “Are you a morning person?”

“Definitely not,” he said quickly. “Perks of being my own boss–I can come in late if I want.” He absently wrapped the tie around one hand.

“But you’re always there early,” she pointed out. Despite her silent command, her eyes disobeyed and trailed to his neck. She blushed, grateful that he couldn’t see it or the direction of her gaze.

“Like I said, I don’t sleep much. Besides, just because I’m at work early doesn’t mean I like it.” He shrugged.

“Fair enough. I’m not a morning person either. I’m actually a pretty deep sleeper, according to–people I know.” She almost said my boyfriend. Dean wasn’t her boyfriend, not anymore. There was a knot in her chest all of a sudden, one she quickly ignored.

“Ah–about that,” Matt said. “Foggy already mentioned the neon sign, but I figured I should warn you. Apparently there’s a huge sign across the street and it’s really bright at night. I’m…sorry about that, if it bothers you. I could maybe get some curtains or–”

“So that’s how you afford this place,” she said with a snap of her fingers. “And don’t worry about it. I really am a deep sleeper, it shouldn’t bother me. If it does, I’ll just buy one of those eye mask things.”

Matt relaxed. “Yeah, I definitely don’t make enough to afford this place regularly. And I doubt my landlord would like to get paid in chickens.”

The conversation devolved into whether or not they’d actually gotten paid in chickens, which in turn led to a story about Foggy chasing a chicken around the office one day. As Matt described the utter chaos that was a loose chicken in the workplace, a knock sounded at the door.

Matt showed her where all of the plates and things were as they divvied up the pizza. Grace silently noted all of it so she could be sure to put everything back in its proper space. Matt also opened his startlingly bare fridge and offered her a beer and whatever fridge space she wanted.

Grace had to admit, it felt nice to have fridge space again. It had only been about a week since she’d left, since she’d been living in her car, but already it felt like a lifetime had passed. Things were so utterly different now, and not just because she was technically homeless.

As they ate, they talked about groceries and fridge space.

“I can at least help pay for utilities,” Grace argued as Matt obstinately refused to let her pay for any of his groceries. “It wouldn’t be fair to–”

“I told you rent free, and I meant it,” Matt said, a note of steel entering his voice. “Besides, I’m one of the ones who pays you, so technically it’d just be giving me back my own money.”

“Well…when you put it that way.” Grace shifted in her seat. “I can at least wash these plates, then.”

Matt smiled up at her as she stood and gathered the remains of their dinner. The corners of his eyes crinkled as she bent to grab his plate. Her breath caught for a moment. “Now that’s something I won’t argue with,” Matt said softly. “I hate doing the dishes.”

Grace straightened and laughed. “Fair enough. I’ll do all of the dishes then.”

She went to the sink and turned the hot water on. From behind the counter, she could see Matt rubbing absently at his chin.

“I don’t want you to feel like you have to be my maid,” he said as she poured soap on a sponge and started scrubbing.

“Matt, I promise I don’t. I want to pay you back in some way. I can’t–I can’t tell you enough how grateful I am. Even if I turn out to be the world’s shittiest roommate and you kick me out in two days, I’ll still be grateful.” She ducked her head to hide the way her voice cracked.

“I wouldn’t kick you out,” Matt said. He sounded so serious it was almost angry. “I doubt there’s anything you could do to make me, either.”

Grace bit her lip as she rinsed a plate and set it on the drying rack. And, as she always did, she decided to make a joke to cover up the swell of emotion in her throat. “Even if I swapped out all your work shirts for pink ones?”

Matt laughed, a loud, surprised sound that had her grinning automatically. “Well, if you were careful about it, I’d never find out.”

“Careful, Murdock,” she said as she set the other plate to dry. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

She dried her hands with the world’s softest dish towel. Matt was gathering some papers out of a briefcase and arranging them on the kitchen table.

“I’ve got some paperwork to catch up on,” he said as she gathered their empty drinks and set them in the recycle bin. “I’ll be up for a while. But the sheets are clean whenever you’re ready for bed. And there are clean towels in the bathroom already.”

Grace paused. “I–Matt, I can’t take your bed.” Something at the thought of sleeping in Matt Murdock’s bed–even without him in it–set her heart to racing.

“Of course you can,” Matt said with a small frown.

“Matt, no. I’ll sleep on the couch. I’m the guest here.” She wiped her sweaty palms against her pants. “Besides, you’re too tall for the couch.”

Matt waved her away. “I sleep on the couch sometimes already. Like I told you, I don’t sleep well.” His voice softened. “And you’ve been sleeping in the car. You should have a real bed.”

She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “Absolutely not. I promise you, the couch will feel like a real bed to me.”

“Take the bed,” he said, that note of hard steel in his voice again. It pitched his voice lower, made it more gravelly. She shivered a little at the sound of it, almost tangibly rough against his skin.

“Fine, I’ll take it tonight and then I’m sleeping on the couch the rest of the time I’m here.” She crossed her arms and silently dared him to argue.

He scoffed lightly. “We’ll see.”

She narrowed her eyes at him even though he couldn’t see it. “Like I said earlier, don’t tempt me. Your shirts might turn mysteriously pink if you don’t sleep in your own bed.”

Matt laughed and shook his head as he shuffled through his papers. “I’ll take my chances.”

Grace went to where she’d left her things and took them into the bedroom. She decided she wouldn’t unpack everything just yet–mostly because, well, the bed was looking really inviting and unpacking took time.

Just one night, then the couch, she swore to herself as she gathered everything she would need to shower and get ready for bed.

The bathroom was pretty big, with a long counter and large shower stall with the toilet between them. Like the rest of the apartment, it was sparse, clean, everything in its own spot. She laid out her stuff carefully and made sure to keep it all away from anything of Matt’s so he wouldn’t accidentally grab the wrong thing.

She also might have snooped, just a little. There were the typical toiletry items–toothbrush and toothpaste, an unscented deodorant, shaving cream, a razor, a small comb. There was also a hefty looking first aid kit underneath the sink, not a speck of dust on it and its interior well stocked. She wondered if it was because Matt bumped into things a lot. Or maybe he was the type of person who was always prepared for the worst.

There was a door leading into the living room, as well as into the bedroom, so she locked both before she started to undress. She almost laughed at herself–it didn’t really matter if he walked in on her, after all.

The shower was luxurious. He had one of those expensive-looking showerheads that mimicked rainfall, the pressure not too hard or too weak.

She groaned as she stepped into the hot spray. After luxuriating there for a minute, she snooped there, too. He only had a bar of soap and a bottle of shampoo, both unscented. When she uncapped the shampoo though, it still smelled distinctly masculine. It made sense, she supposed. She’d always heard that being blind made the other senses stronger, and strong smells were probably too much for Matt.

As she washed, she mentally noted not to put perfume on until she was outside the apartment, and not to use scented candles. She also washed with his bar of soap instead of her body wash, which was scented. She would buy her own soap or unscented body wash if it bothered him.

After she put on her pajamas and finished her nighttime routine, she stepped out into the living room where Matt was still at the kitchen table working. However, sometime while she’d been showering he’d changed into a tight black shirt and sweatpants. She tore her eyes away from the strong swell of his biceps and shoulders.

“Your shower is awesome,” she said cheerfully as she toweled her hair. He’d also made up the couch with a pillow and blanket and even a spare sheet. She briefly debated just laying down on it and refusing to get up but…the bed was too inviting an offer to give up, even if it was only for one night.

Matt didn’t look up from where his fingers were skating quickly over a paper. “The showerhead came with the place. Feels fancy, doesn’t it?”

“I’m starting to suspect that you lead a secret life,” she mused as she folded her damp towel over her arm. Matt went still. His head was tilted towards her. “How else do you manage to pay for such a huge apartment and fancy shower?”

He huffed a laugh. “You caught me,” he said, fingers moving once more.

“Anyways, I–I just wanted to say thanks again before I went to bed.” She shuffled awkwardly. “I know I said it already, but this…means a lot.”

“It’s no trouble,” he said softly. “Any one of us would have done it.”

“Yeah but–you did. So, thanks.”

He gave her a soft smile. “You’re welcome, Grace.”

She smiled back at him, hoping he could hear it in her voice as she said, “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

She slid the giant bedroom door closed–it didn’t so much as squeak–with one last glance at his muscled torso in that shirt. God, she was in deep shit living here, wasn’t she?

She muttered a curse as she pulled back the covers on the bed and pushed all of Matt’s pillows to the far side to make room for her own.

He hadn’t been lying about the sign across the street. None of the lights in the bedroom were on, but it was still relatively well lit in shades of blue that quickly shifted into a dark green. It wasn’t too bad, though, high up enough that only the far half of the bedroom was illuminated. She didn’t mind the light, and even welcomed it. It felt…safe, somehow. Comforting.

She climbed into the bed with a small sigh, then froze.

Did Matt Murdock have….silk sheets?

She rubbed her fingers across the material in the dark, and then her legs, then even rubbed her cheek on one of his pillows.

Good God, he did. She groaned a little as she sank into the bed.

Who knew Matt was secretly so…spoiled?

She wasn’t complaining though, because damn, the sheets felt amazing. She was pretty sure they would feel just as amazing if she had been sleeping in a real bed for a week and not in the back of her car.

Grace rolled over and buried her face in one of his pillows, hoping he wouldn’t mind that she was basically molesting his bed. When she inhaled, her nose filled with a subtle but undeniably masculine scent that sent a flutter through her belly. She inhaled again and closed her eyes.

As she laid there, she let herself remember all the things she did miss about Dean. She’d genuinely enjoyed sharing a bed with someone, sharing her space, knowing that there would always be someone there in case something happened. She’d missed the soft sounds of his breathing, his deep, slow snores. The way he’d sometimes smile at her when she woke up.

But it was the rest of it that she didn’t miss.

She didn’t miss the nights spent laying in fear, waiting for him to come to bed, hoping he would be in a good mood. She didn’t miss the nights spent awake because of some pain or another inflicted by his hands. She didn’t miss how he’d sometimes make her change her pajamas, telling her that some of them weren’t flattering, or that some would make the bed too hot.

She missed some things about Dean, and she finally let herself admit it. She had loved him, once upon a time. It was why she’d stayed for so long.

But the longer they had been together, the more the monster within him had come out, and the more frequently she saw reasons to be afraid of him than to love him.

Grace fell asleep all at once, lulled into dreaming by the soft bed and silk sheets, her mind full of monsters hiding in shadows.

Matt’s POV

Matt was an idiot.

He should have known sharing his space wasn’t going to be easy. But that part of him–the same part that ached to protect people, that drove him to the streets every night in order to do so–hadn’t given it a second thought when he’d offered Grace a place to stay.

There were several things that hadn’t crossed his mind, however.

The first of them was how…almost intoxicating her scent would be as it mingled with his. She’d washed in his soap, and he grudgingly admitted it did little to temper his attraction to her. Some base, animal part of him reacted to her smelling like him.

The second thing he hadn’t considered was, stupidly, his other life.

Of course he had to sleep on the couch, because there was no other way he’d be able to sneak out every night like he had to. If she was on the couch, he’d inevitably wake her up as he stumbled back inside from a fight. Even with him sleeping on the couch, he still might.

He had to figure out a way to balance it, her living there and his life as Daredevil.

For the moment, he really did have paperwork to catch up on, even as the sounds of Grace settling into his bed in the other room distracted him. She had apparently discovered his silk sheets and liked them. She had groaned a little. There were unmistakable sounds of her rubbing her skin against them.

He smiled to himself as he read and listened to her breathing even out into sleep.

She deserved a bit of luxury, he thought. Even if those luxuries were intended for himself, he didn’t mind sharing them. She’d had a rough time recently and he wanted her to feel comforted for once.

Matt sighed and stretched.

It was getting late, and the devil needed to get to work.

Matt quickly gathered his things and strode over to the storage room, one ear cocked towards the bedroom the whole time. He opened the doors and the trunk as quietly as he could before dressing quickly and half-running up the stairs. Up on the roof, the night air cool and refreshing, Matt listened in case he had woken her up.

But, as she’d warned him, she was still sleeping as deeply, if not more so, as when he’d first gotten up.

Matt breathed in the night air, inhaling the familiar smells and tastes of his city.

He felt infinitely better knowing Grace was under a real roof for the night. He’d worried for two nights straight about her sleeping in that car, exposed and in a dark alley. He’d meant what he’d said about her needing a real bed, too. His nighttime activities aside, he wasn’t going to make her sleep on a couch. He was at least somewhat of a gentleman, even though Foggy would likely laugh outright at the sentiment.

Matt darted across rooftops, his thoughts full of Grace. He told himself it was only a harmless crush. That she was an employee, a coworker, and now a roommate. It had only been about a week, and she’d already wormed her way into his life.

Matt thought back to his conversation with Foggy after hiring Grace. He had warned Matt not to touch Grace, even with a ten foot pole, so that he wouldn’t mess up the office dynamics. And then Matt had gone and invited her to live with him.

Why Mr. Murdock, you sure work fast. Not even going to take me out first?

Matt grit his teeth as he remembered her teasing tone.

No, he wasn’t going to go there. He liked her, respected her, but he had a tendency to bring ruin to everything he cared about.

So he would keep Grace safe in his apartment until she found her own place and he would work alongside her, nothing more.

He knew he was lying to himself, but he pretended he wasn’t.

He was in a lot of trouble, having her there, but there was nothing to do about it now.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@zaminoo @yanna-banana @bellal1 @thetrinitytest @harry-bowie-mercury

#matt murdock x oc #matt murdock x ofc #matt murdock x original female character #matt murdock x original character #daredevil x ofc #daredevil x oc #daredevil x original female character #daredevil x original character #daredevil #netflix daredevil #matt murdock #saved #saved fic #saved daredevil #daredevil fic #matt murdock fic

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workingchemistry · 8 months

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It’s been a while since I’ve done a character playlist so! Here are five songs that are really giving me the Fox vibes right now.

Up first a Hozier song. All of the clones have complicated feelings regarding personhood and culture but I think Fox is probably one of the more conflicted. He and his brothers have stolen a language word by word and phrase by phrase. On the front his brothers at least get to paint their armor, but Fox and the Corries are forced into a sea of sameness and surrounded by more cultures than anyone else. I have feelings on cultural erasure as I live somewhere where eugenics was practiced until fairly recently and my grandmother’s dialect is dying out because it’s being deliberately stolen from the younger generations by parents who don’t want their children to face discrimination. It’s not as overt or serious as what other people face but I have complicated feelings on culture/assimilation and I’m projecting them onto Fox via a Hozier song.

Listen Fox is one of millions copy pasted on repeat to be slated specifically for death. Literally every line hits me personally but then when I extrapolate it to the idea of Fox and the other Corries trying to put on a good show for all of the front liners when they’re crumbling? Like this song really hits the “surrounded by people who love you and can’t see though the front you’re putting up and you don’t want them to see though it but that means you’re so incredibly isolated and it’s hitting crisis levels while on the outside you’re laughing and dancing” vibes.

I feel like this one is pretty self evident but… the clones were made to die. Like they’re canon fodder in the war yes, but beyond that the war is entirely pointless. They are not only made specifically to die, they’re made to die pointlessly. There is no meaning to their birth, their life, or death. Being on the home front means they’re fighting a slower war. They’re still dying but it’s slow and agonizing. They don’t get the adrenaline fogging their higher thinking, they aren’t forced into just reacting. They have time to plan and mitigate and it doesn’t work because they will all die anyway. Fox pulls away from his batch not to protect them, there’s no protecting them when everyone is going to die within years of discovering they can be people, he pulls away so they can die without ever questioning their purpose.

In the same vein of everything else on this list, it’s definitely got the vibes of Fox holding back hell through the worst coping mechanisms and putting a good face on it. It’s so bouncy but the lyrics are pretty hopeless. I feel like that’s who Fox is until maybe a year or so in. Eventually he just starts crumbling completely and can’t even put up the front anymore.

This one is from the POV of the ones who knew Fox on Kamino who are desperately trying to hold onto him while he pulls away. They know he’s falling apart but they can’t figure out why and they’re desperate and trying to hold onto hope so they can give it to him.

#commander fox #spotify #playlist #clone culture

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dallysnecklace · 2 years

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“Protect Him, Please”

Steve Harrington x Henderson! F! OC!

Part 2

I just rewatched Stranger things and felt inspired. This is set in Season 2! My OC Is based off my close friend and I love her so I hope you love her aswell!

This needed a part 2 since it got REALLY long so sorry about that! Part two will be done ASAP. Anyways I don’t think any warnings except that there’s spoilers for season 2! Much love! Rose 💌

P.S in part two there will be feelings admitted! Part two should be out by June 2nd at the end of the day so if u wanna be tagged dm me :)

October was a breath of fresh air in her mind. It showed her that Mother Nature was able to move on from things, as could she. She was walking home from her favorite coffee shop, run by an old couple she was quite friendly with. She walked up the steps of her home, hearing an abundance of curses coming from none other than her little brother.

“Hey Dusty? What’s up? Is everything okay?” She was always very close with her brother and his friends, and she cared a lot for him. He was her best friend.

“Miranda do not come into my room.” Dustin declared. Of course she followed his voice to right outside his room.

“Where’s Mews Dustin? He always greets me at the door.” She looked at her brother, who looked incredibly stressed. Although he was short, she was a little bit shorter than him. She got the short genes from her Mom, which she always complained about.

“Look I don’t know how to break this to you, but I’ve been keeping Dart in my room for the past few days and he might’ve grown.” He felt very guilty, and knew he was about to get yelled at.

“Dustin, I swear to god I told you to fucking throw away that thing when you got it. How big is it? And where the hell is Mews?” Her face grew red as she poke.

“Dart might’ve eaten Mews, but I didn’t know it was a demogorgon!” He walked into the kitchen and Miranda followed, still trying to grasp the situation.

“Okay so let me get this straight. You kept this weird Lizard that I told you not to keep, it molted, and it’s a baby demogorgon, and it killed my cat?!” She screamed at him.

“Yes!! Okay? Jesus Christ. We need to get it out of my room, now will you help me?” He pleaded.

“Fine, but if I get killed I will kill you.” She gave in.

“I don’t think that’s how that works.”

Miranda went outside while her brother looked in the kitchen for meat to lure it. She looked around her house, observing any areas they could keep it. She decided upon the basement, knowing that the doors were heavy and the downstairs was surrounded by concrete, there was no way that anything could get through that.

She let Dustin know of her idea, and he agreed to keep it in the basement. Dustin threw on his old hockey armor and Miranda stood with an old steel baseball bat of hers, ready to protect her brother. He started to lay out meat in a line to the basement.

“You ready Dusty?” Miranda asked.

“It’s now or never.” He responded.

They walked over to his door, ready to open it and sprint to the shed.

“Alright Dart, breakfast time!” Dustin called into his room. He quickly opened his door and the two started to run to the shed.

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my-“

“Dustin gods not gonna help you if you run that slow holy shit move!” She screamed as she pushed past him and ran ahead.

They ran outside the house, Dustin’s mouth still unleashing a chorus of “shits” and stumbled into the shed. They peeked through the cracks of the wood, hoping that their plan worked.

“Come on, come on I know your hungry.” Dustin whispered.

“Oh my god Dustin there it is!” Miranda whispered as she spotted it creep out the front door.

It followed their path, and Dustin was very happy it was working, “yes! Yes yes yes!” He exclaimed.

As it got right to the edge of the basement doors, Miranda thumped her bat against Dustin’s armor accidentally, making Dart turn to look at them. They hit against the wall of the shed, breathing hard.

“Ready?” Miranda whispered.

“Wha-“

She ran out of the shed screaming and swinging her bat at Dart, making him back off. Dustin then raised his stick and hit it into the basement. Miranda ran to the doors and shut them quickly before he got out, laying on top so they wouldn’t move.

“I’m sorry. You ate my cat.” Dustin apologized to Dart through the doors.

Miranda grabbed the lock out of her pocket and quickly wrapped it around the doors. Dustin and her both decided they needed help from the Party, or just anyone who could. Miranda went to bury her beloved cat, and even set up a little gravestone for him in memory. As she did this, Dustin called his friends on the radio and cleaned up the house, but none were answering.

Dustin ran up to her, letting her know that Erica shut off Lucas’ radio, meaning they had no one else to go to.

“How about we bike to Mike’s house? Maybe they are there?” She suggested.

“You are a genius! This is why I love you my wonderful sister!” Dustin called as he ran to get their bikes.

As Miranda and Dustin biked to Mikes, her thoughts wondered to her childhood best friend, Steve Harrington.

In highschool he became a douchebag, and left her in the dust. She was seen as a weirdo, and someone that no one wanted to hang out with. Steve made it clear that he agreed with everyone else when he started to hang out with Tommy and Carol, her long time bullies. She didn’t even say hi to Steve in the halls anymore. He started to date Nancy, and that was what pushed her over the edge.

She had been in love with Steve since third grade, when she was being bullied and he ran up to her and told the bullies off. She hadn’t ever been treated that kindly, especially by another classmate. She was used to taunts, especially about how she looked. She had the same condition as her brother, and for some reason people thought she made the choice to have that, meaning they could bully her. But, quickly Miranda and Steve became inseparable, and they cared deeply for the other. He knew everything about her, except for her feelings for him. Although she told herself that she was over him, her heart still aches whenever she sees him. She doesn’t even wish for a relationship with him, she just wants to be his friend again.

What she didn’t know is that he had felt the same since third grade. He saw this small girl with beautiful curly hair, bright green eyes, and weird teeth, and he thought she was one of the most uniquely beautiful people he hd ever seen. He loved her. In highschool he succumbed to the peer pressure, and started to ignore the girl. But, he just couldn’t ignore the feelings he had for her. They were deeply rooted inside of him. He feels so guilty, and when he agreed to go out with Nancy, he mainly thought that it would be a distraction. When it became serious, he became nervous and scared.

When she broke up with him at the party, he was hurt, but not for the reason you would think. He was hurt that he spent his time with this girl, that thought he was bullshit just to try and get over the girl he was in love with.

Miranda and Dustin ran to the wheelers door, and rang the door bell multiple times. She observed the house, wondering if she lived In this house maybe she would be loved by Steve aswell. She snapped out of her thoughts when Mr.Wheeler came to the door.

“Your line has been busy for over two hours, Mr.Wheeler do you realize this?” Dustin stated.

“Oh I do realize.” He replied in a monotone voice, annoying Miranda. She always hated him.

“Is Mike home?” Dustin asked.

“No.”

“No? Well where the hell is he?” Miranda stepped in. She always had a dirty mouth, and she knew this. Her and her brother always were being yelled at for this flaw. But, they enjoyed using that language.

“Karen where’s our son?” Mr. Wheeler yelled into the house.

Mrs. Wheeler replied back, “Wills!”

“Wills.” Mr. Wheeler stated to the siblings, starting to close the door.

“No one’s picking up there. Nancy! What about Nancy?” Dustin replied.

“Karen where’s Nancy?”

“Ally’s!” She yelled.

“Ally’s.” Mr. Wheeler replied to Dustin, in the same tone as before.

“Our children don’t live here anymore, you didn’t know that?” He continued, looking down on Dustin.

“Seriously?” Miranda stated.

“Am I done here?” Mr. Wheeler looked at she short girl, rolling his eyes.

“Son of a bitch! You know you are really no help at all you know that. Dick!” She replied in a sassy tone, walking back to her bike with Dustin.

“Hey! Language!” Mr. Wheeler yelled at her, and disappeared behind his door.

As Miranda picked up her bike, Dustin noticed Steve’s red BMW pull in. She looked at Steve step out of his car with a bouquet of roses, and she sighed. She hadn’t spoken to him a long time. She missed him, and secretly wished the flowers were for her. Although, before she could hide from Steve, Dustin walked over to the boy.

“Steve!” Steve looked over at Dustin, hearing his voice.

Dustin eyed the flowers, “Are those for Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler?”

“No?”

“Good.” Dustin replied, grabbed the flowers from Steve and started walking to the car.

“Nancy isn’t home.” Dustin said. He was still slightly annoyed with Steve for being a dick to his sister. Dustin was the only one who knew Miranda’s feelings for Steve.

Miranda was still standing a few feet away, happy Steve hadn’t noticed her yet.

“They aren’t for her, god, they’re for your sister.” Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Then why are you here?” Dustin stated confused.

“Your mom told me that she was supposed to Tutor Mike tonight, and that she was leaving to come home now.”

Miranda cursed at herself. That was 20 bucks down the drain.

“Well my sister is right there and we have bigger problems.” Dustin said, annoyed.

Steve looked around with a light pink blush on his face, making eye contact with Miranda. She only looked back for a minute, embarrassed and scared. Steve looked back to Dustin.

“Do you still have that bat?” Dustin continued.

“Bat? What bat?” Steve flew his hands by his side.

“The one with the nails!” Dustin said.

“Why?” Steve stood there.

“I’ll explain on the way. Now your driving us home.” Dustin confidently said.

Miranda walked over to the car as Steve did aswell, hopping in the backseat. She hadn’t been in this car before, and it was nice. It smelled like leather and Steve. She missed his scent.

It grew dark as Steve drove the siblings to their house. As he drove, he kept looking at Miranda threw the mirror. She looked stressed. He couldn’t help but feel like he caused this. The only time she spoke so far in the car was when she asked for the radio to be turned down a bit, but even that was quiet. He felt so guilty. It was so unlike the Miranda he knew. He felt like a stranger was in his car.

Dustin explained the situation, and Miranda only added in small comments. Dustin knew she felt uncomfortable, but he secretly hoped that putting the two together for a while would make the two admit their feelings. Steve had told Dustin a while ago about his love towards the girl, and he felt although it was his duty to put get the two together.

Steve interrupted his line of thinking, “Wait, how big?”

“First it was like that,” Dustin showed about and inch with his fingers, “now it’s like this.” He moved his hands much farther apart.

“It’s bigger than Mews that’s for sure.” Miranda said, starting to return to her normal self. Steve once again looked at her through his mirror.

“I swear to god man it’s just some little lizard, okay?” Steve retorted, secretly hoping Dustin was wrong.

Dustin defended himself, “It’s not a lizard!”

“How do you know?” Steve asked

“How do I know if it’s not a lizard?”

“Yeah! How do you know if it’s not just a lizard.” Steve raised his voice.

Miranda was getting fed up and yelled, “Because it’s face opened up and it ate my fucking cat! Okay?? Jesus fucking christ.”

Steve looked back at the girl, who blew a curl out of her face, and he smiled a little bit. He felt like she was back.

They pulled up the the Henderson household, and got out of the car. Steve opened up his trunk to reveal his beloved bat with nails sticking out of it. The trio walked to the basement doors, in the silence of the night.

Steve flashed his flashlight onto the lock, “I don’t hear shit.”

“He’s in there.” Miranda said. He looked to her and they made eye contact. She couldn’t help the butterflies that flew around in her.

Steve poked the door with the bat, trying to provoke some sort of noise from within, but receiving nothing. He licked his lips then hit it harder, stepping back afterwards.

“Alright listen kid I swear if this is some sorta Halloween prank, you’re dead.” Steve shone his light in Dustin’s face.

“God Steve it’s not a prank! I understand him doing that but me?” Miranda stated pushing down the flashing in Steve’s hand, their hands touching. “And don’t do that. It can hurt his eyes.” Steve looked to the girl, and sighed, knowing she was right. He couldn’t help but realize her hands was still on his grabbing the flashlight. She noticed and quickly brought her hand away. “Here’s the key.” She handed Steve the key, placing it in his hand then closing it for him.

Steve opened up the doors, peering down into the darkness. Dustin held the flashlight right next to him. Steve grabbed the flashlight from him, and looked down into the cement room. “It must be further down there. I’ll stay up here in case It tries to escape.” Dustin said, very slowly and unsurely.

Steve looked up at him, an annoyed expression present with the excuse. He sighed. “Miranda, you stay up here too just in case there is something. I can’t have you getting hurt.” She nodded, and Steve made his way down the stairs. He turned on the light to reveal a molten skin on the ground, which he didn’t know was a molten skin.

Steve had been quiet for too long and Miranda got even more worried by the second. “Steve?” When, he didn’t respond, she bounded down the stairs to find him. When she did, she let out a sigh of relief. She followed his gaze, revealing a hole in the cement wall. I guess she was wrong for thinking nothing could break out of her basement. “Dustin come here now.” She called.

As Dustin looked at the skin, he exclaimed, “Oh shit.” When he followed Steve’s flashlight, and looked at the wall, he let out an larger, “Oh shit!”

“No way. No way!” Miranda said.

Miranda talked to the boys and decided that Steve should stay over for the night. Her mom wouldn’t be home and they needed to stick together. Unfortunately, the only place Steve could sleep was in her room, on her bed. Dustin was taking the couch due to cat blood in his room, and it smelled horrible in there.

She slipped on an old huge tee shirt and some pajama pants and called Steve into the room.

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“You can come in now.” She replied.

“Oh- okay.”

He walked into her room, it was decorated with posters and she had a huge bookshelf. It wasn’t really that different since when he had last been in here. Miranda walked up to him, holding a pile of clothes.

“Uh- these are yours that you’ve left here. They’re clean and everything. It’s a shirt and sweats.” She shyly handed the boy his clothes and he went to go change in her bathroom. She laid down in bed, turning on her bedside lamp, and shutting of her main light. She picked up her book and her reading glasses, and put her curly, brown hair into a bun, with multiple pieces sticking out. She hoped that reading would calm her down a bit after today, and before she had to sleep in the same bed as Steve.

He walked out of the bathroom and spotted the girl in bed, reading. She had a pen in her bun, that she had just placed back. She adjusted her glasses which kept falling off the bridge of her nose, and looked up at Steve. She felt vulnerable, and ugly. She hated how she needed glasses, and she hated her teeth. Although Steve looked at her and thought she was beautiful. The beauty marks that were on her chin, cheekbone and lip made him swoon. He thought her teeth made her look unique. He loves her messy hair and the way her glasses fell down her face.

“I guess they still fit.” She smiled and set her book and glasses down on her bedside table, but not before marking her place in her novel. She patted the space next to her, as an invitation for Steve to join.

“Yeah, they do.” He smiled back and joined her under the covers.

She went to turn out the light and say goodnight, but Steve interrupted her.

“Look, Miranda please wait.” She stopped at turned to look at him.

“The flowers I bought today, I meant to give to you. And I was just going to come and apologize for everything.” He made eye contact with her, his gaze softening at the sad look on her face.

“I have been a horrible friend the past two years. And not an excuse but I always felt like I needed to fit in. I thought that maybe people would like me better if I hung out with them. I was just insecure. You know my parents don’t care about me, and so I tried to fill that emptiness with other people. I realized the other day, when Nancy broke up with me is that all these people do is hurt you, and they don’t truly care about you like how a friend should. I miss you so much, and I really care about you a lot, and I totally understand if you hate my guts and never want to speak to me ever again after this but I just want you to know all of that.”

It was silent for a moment. Miranda needed to process it all. When she did, she started to cry and flung her arms around Steve. “I could never hate you Steve.” She said.

Seeing the girl he loved cry made him cry and she pulled away and the two started to laugh about their crying.

“So you finally realize how much of a dick you’ve been?” She wiped her eyes. Her face was now puffy and her eyes were red.

“Yes. God I missed you so much.” He pulled her into another hug, and she felt so safe.

“I missed you too Stevie. So so much. But I have my best friend back.” She smiled and looked up at him.

Although they were incredibly happy at the moment, they couldn’t help but have their hearts both hurt at the term “best friend” they both wanted more.

He just held her tighter and she buried her head into his chest, smelling it. He smelled clean, and safe. She pulled away from the hug, and told him to go to bed, and that they can see eachother in the morning. While adjusting, she felt Steve turn towards her and grab her waist. She laid her head on his chest, while one of his hands moved to her back, and the other stayed at her waist. She fell asleep feeling happy, knowing that Steve, not “the hair” but Steve, her best friend was holding her tight.

The next morning they all woke up, and Dustin could tell the situation between the two changed. He wasn’t sure if they’re dating now, or what happened, but all he knew is that they talked about something, and they are friends again. He was so happy.

The trio walked to Steve’s car with three buckets of meat and yellow gloves when Dustin finally got a call back from Lucas.

“Well well well look who it is” Steve and Miranda heard. She made eyecontact with Steve as he pulled the gasoline out of his truck and they both shared a small laugh. Dustin and Lucas continued to talk, and Dustin let Lucas know to meet him, Miranda and Steve at the junkyard.

“Alright, let’s go” Steve said. Dustin shut off his radio and followed Steve and his sister to the old train tracks. As they walked, they threw meat on the ground, hoping to get dart to follow it. Dustin was ahead of Miranda and Steve while they walked.

“Alright, so let me get this straight, you kept something you knew was probably dangerous in order to impress, a girl, who, who you just met?” Steve said. Dustin had been explaining to Miranda and Steve why he kept Dart even though his older sister told him not to.

“Alright, thats grossly, oversimplifying things.” Dustin replied.

“I mean why would a girl like some nasty slug anyways?” Steve said.

Miranda hit his elbow and said, “because it’s an inter dimensional slug and it’s fucking sick!” She defended her little brother.

“Well, even if she thought it was cool, which she didn’t, I just, I don’t know I feel like you’re trying way to hard man.” Steve exclaimed. At this point, Miranda and Steve had caught up with Dustin, and now they were all in line.

“Well not everyone can have your perfect hair alright.”Dustin replied.

“It’s not about the hair man. The key with girls is just acting like you don’t care.” Steve shrugged.

Miranda scoffed from beside him.

“Even if you do?” Dustin said.

“Yeah, exactly It drives them nuts.” Steve replied.

The short girl scoffed once again, making both the boys look at her.

“I disagree with you.” She said, eyeing Steve. “Although I’ve never had a relationship before, I think all girls can agree that they want somebody to show they care about them. I want someone who holds me at night, knows the way I like my coffee, can tell when I’m scared or nervous. That’s really what make a girl fall in love with somebody I can tell you that. All girls want somebody who isn’t afraid to show how much they care.”

Dustin looked at Miranda with questioning eyes.

“Why would I believe my sister who hasn’t even had her first kiss yet?” He retorted.

“Well, maybe, only like two people show me they care and that’s you two. Of course you don’t have to believe me, but trust me that’s what works.” She looked at Steve for a second, then looked back to Dustin.

“Okay whatever, then after that step what do you do?” He asked Steve, the only one who would know the next part.

“You just wait until, uh, until you feel it.” Steve hit Dustin on the arm.

“Feel what?” Dustin asked, completely lost.

“It’s like before it’s gonna storm, ya know? You cant see it but you can feel it. Like this, uh, electricity? You know?” He tried to explain.

“Oh like an electro-magnetic field when the clouds in the atmosphere-“

“No no, like a, like a, sexual electricity.” Steve tried to explain better to the younger Henderson.

Miranda stood between the two, feeling quite awkward. She felt a bit strange having the guy she’s hopelessly in love with give girl advice to her younger brother.

“You feel that,” Steve pointed at Dustin, “and you make your move.”

Dustin looked to his older sister, “have you ever felt that?”

Miranda was surprised by the question. She had only felt electricity from one person, and that person being Steve. Although she was nervous she wanted to be as honest with her little brother, without revealing who the guy was.

“Yeah, I guess. Years ago. It feels like the air around you shifted in a way. But the guy never did anything, and I was to scared to.” She shrugged and looked up at Steve, who was looking away. She threw another piece of meat down on the ground.

“So when you feel that, that’s when you should kiss her?” Dustin asks.

“Woah woah woah slow down Romeo. Sure okay, some girls, yeah. They want you to be aggressive, you know, strong, hot and heavy, like a..” he paused. “Like a lion! But others you gotta be slow. You gotta be stealthy, like a… like a ninja.”

“What type is Miranda?” Dustin asked, fully curious.

The two older teenagers stopped walking, and both blushed.

“How would he know that?” She asked, in a angry tone.

“I don’t know.. sorry.” Dustin said.

“If you want to know I don’t want a man to compare getting into a relationship with me to hunting an animal. I am a human being. I would rather the guy just talk to me about his feelings than treat me like some sort of game.” She sighed.

Steve shifted uncomfortably, and continued to walk. She walked ahead of the two boys, just out of hearing range.

“Look man, Miranda, she’s, she’s different than the other girls. She’s actually looking for somebody loves her. I’d say eighty percent of the girls in this town are just looking for a hookup. And even the girls who aren’t still would go for that. And, Miranda, she deserves someone who cares for her. And if you really care about this girl, you take your sisters advice.”

Steve looked ahead at the short girl. Her hair was down, which is very rare. She wore a maroon cable knit sweater and a pair of jeans. She wore her silver chain, and her knife earrings as she always did. He really did love her. He probably should be taking her advice, and just admit his feelings. He was scared though. He had just gotten the friendship back. He didn’t want to lose so soon again.

“Are you still in love with my sister?” Dustin boldly asked.

Steve paused for a second, and then continued walking. “I always have been. Probably always will be.” He sighed, looking at the girl almost trip on the wood of the train track.

“Then why did you get with Nancy?”

“Because I was scared man, okay? It’s scary. That’s why I hope your not falling in love with this girl. Love takes over your brain. All you can think about is how much you care for her. You always worry about her, always want to make sure she’s safe. Although it can be really beautiful, it’s scary as hell.”

“You know that she loves you back right?” Dustin said.

“Wha- what are you talking about man?” Steve replied, not believing what he heard.

“My sister, she’s in love with you. She has been since the third grade. I thought you knew? You’re literally all she talks about. Thats why she doesn’t go out with anyone. She’s waiting for you.” Dustin says, very quietly, praying to god that Miranda doesn’t kill him if she ever figures out he said this.

Steve stops in the middle of the Train tracks. Frozen. The realization dawns on him that Miranda had seen him get with so many girls, while she was in love with him, and she didn’t get with any guys. He felt so guilty. He looked ahead at the girl, who turned around, yelling at them,

“Why are you standing still? We have to keep moving come on!” She ran up to them, taking each of their hands, and started to walk faster. After a while of silence, Steve speaks up.

“Faberge.”

“What?” Dustin replies.

“It’s Faberge organics. Use the shampoo and the conditioner, and when your hairs damp, not wet, okay? When it’s damp, you do four puffs of the Farrah Fawcett spray.” Steve admits.

“Oh my god!” Miranda squeaks out, laughing hard and clutching her stomach.

“Farrah Fawcett spray?” Dustin chuckles.

“Yeah. You two tell anyone I just told you that, and your asses are grass, you’re dead Hendersons you understand?”

Dustin nods quickly as Miranda stands up, tears her gloves off, and runs her hands through Steve’s hair, giggling.

“Hey! Miranda I swear!” He takes her hand off.

“But it’s so soft!” She pouts.

He couldn’t help but love the feeling of her hands in his hair.

“Fine. Your the only one who can touch it.” He smiled. She laughed and ran her hand through his hair once more, and skipped ahead of the two boys.

“Oh my god.” Dustin whispered to Steve.

“You are so fucking whipped.” Dustin finished his thought

Steve laughed, “yeah. I guess I am.”

The trio continued to walk towards the junkyard as Steve and Dustin met up with Miranda.

They finally made it to the junkyard. Steve threw on his sun glasses and looked around.

“Oh yeah. Yeah this’ll do. This’ll do just fine.” Steve walked into the year.

The siblings laughed at the language being used, and smiled that the other.

“Good call dude.” Steve called to Dustin, making the younger boy smile.

They dumped their meat in the middle of the yard, and heard Lucas, “I said medium well!” Miranda looked over to the boy who had become like another brother to her, ran over and gave him a hug. She also greeted the new girl, and introduced herself as Dustin’s older sister.

Miranda and Steve began to clean up the yard with the new girl, who introduced herself as Max, while her brother and Lucas talked.

While helping Steve with a piece of scrap metal he asked her a question.

“Do you think the girl Dustin likes is this one?” He looked over at her.

“Oh one hundred percent. Did you see how he looks at her? He’s like a lovesick puppy. It’s adorable.” Steve thought it was actually adorable how much Miranda cared for her younger brother. Steve looked over at the two boys, and yelled at them.

“Hey! Dickheads! How come the only one helping me out is Miranda and this random girl? We lose light in forty minutes let’s go!”

“Come on you two let’s go!” Miranda called out

The two boys replied, “Alright!”

“Assholes.” Dustin added.

“I heard that dickwad!” Miranda called back to her brother.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington one shot #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #eddie and dustin #dustin henderson #dustin and steve

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hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall · 9 months

Text

The Fight isn't over yet - part 1

Pairing: Rex x F!OC

Words: 2,1k

Warning: None for this chapter

Summary: Rex is sent on a mission, where he meets an unexpected someone from his past.

A/N: So this story has been on my WIP list for a while... I am kind of excited for it, so let's see how it goes ;) I don't know how long it will be, but this is defo a multi-chapter story.

Tags are open.

Rex didn’t like places like that. Dark, unknown, dangerous. One of his hands was resting on his DC-17 hand blaster ready as always. He was focused on any weird noises, movements from that dark forest ahead of him and whatever the hell this place would bring at him. When Organa told him he has a mission for him, he wouldn’t expect to be in a place like this. On a planet so secluded that even he didn’t know about it before. There was no one leaving here. Except some monsters forgotten even by the Maker himself. But apparently Rebel’s informant lived here and had some interesting things to talk about. Things that couldn't be transferred through the holo-call. And so Organa sent Rex, the most trusty of the soldiers, to retrieve the message and help in whatever this forsaken informant needed him to do. He didn’t like it, but hell, he didn’t like most of the missions Anakin took, but he did them anyway.

It still felt weird to act on its own. It wasn’t that long ago when Order 66 happened. Ahsoka left not that later on, mentioning something about finding her way back. He didn’t ask, knowing that it wasn’t his place to. Not like she wouldn’t have told him. They were friends, but he just didn’t want to force her into relying on something she just wasn’t comfortable with.

And so they parted ways. She went somewhere…and Rex was picked up by Organa to work with him on saving those that still believed in the Republic. And save his brothers from under the influence of the Empire. The Captain was thankful to the senator for what he did, knowing well how dangerous it was for him and his family. Especially, after he just adopted a little girl. And yet, Organa was a shadow that the Republic needed. Someone powerful enough to help them, but not power hungry to get in the way of their success.

“You are distracted, Captain”, he froze in place hearing a mechanical voice behind him and a knife pointed straight at his neck. That one place that was not protected by his armor. He cursed under the nose. He didn’t know how the figure was able to surprise him like that. He didn’t hear anything, no movements, no actions, no breathing. It was like whoever it was, was a well-trained agent. “Don’t stop now, let’s keep on moving.” And so he kept on walking with a knife still pointed at him. He tried to turn just a bit to look at his attacker, but it was stopped before any real action would happen. The figure was no one to trick or play around with.

“Who are you?” He asked, after a while, when they kept on moving. They turned enough times to make Rex lose any signs of direction. It was definitely the stranger’s goal. No to mention that he really did not like the fact that whoever it was, they knew who he was. He made sure to be dead to the Empire, which was very convincing in the work he did now. “Just so you know, killing me will not be as easy as sneaking up on me.” He raised his brow and the figures deep, mechanical chuckles. The Trooper was sure that the stranger was using some kind of voice modifier.

“Not too far now, Captain. I promise you, my plans for you are much worse than that.” Despite the words the figure spoke were dangerous, Rex did not feel at risk. It was something about the way they spoke that put him almost at peace. It was absurd, he knew, but the irrational part of him felt… comforted.

They stopped at once in the middle of nowhere and before he was able to ask yet another question, the figure clicked something on their arm and the ground just opened. A base. An underground base of some sort. If they themselves weren’t weird enough, this definitely was. If no one was living on that forsaken Planet, then why a base like that. “Cool, right?” He raised his brow at the figure and sighed, not answering at all. The stranger pushed him forward slightly and the moment they entered, the ground closed itself and he was met with a long corridor of…. Nothingness. The stranger clicked something on the code system and there was light.

“I hate that damn cloak, not to mention that stupid modifier!” It was the second time this weird someone made Rex freeze in place today. This time, however, because Rex knew that voice. Why did he know that voice? Not feeling the blade of the knife on his neck anymore, he turned around, stuck with a face he was sure not to see ever again in his life.

Almost 4 years before:

“I’ve never met a princess”, Fives smirked at his twin, making Rex roll his eyes. He knew that tone already. And this was what he was afraid of, when he decided to take his two new troopers for that mission. Fives and Echo were incredibly talented soldiers, and as much as Rex did not have to worry about the latter one, the first one on the other hand was a handful.

“Senator Amidala was a Queen”, Kix pinpointed making Anakin smirk at his soldiers. He never expected that he would ever be sent to a mission like that. But considering he just got his new Padawan, maybe something like that would be good for her. A small mission with just a couple of soldiers along.

“Yeah, but I met her when she was a Senator, doesn’t count.” Fives muttered and Ashoke snickered at the boys, looking at his Master. She was surprised Skywalker was accepting this kind of mission. It seemed so out of place for the 501st. But she did remember Master Windu’s words how the mission was “as important as any other on the battlefield”.

“Fives”, Rex started, turning towards the soldier. “Do me a favor and do not speak when not asked to, understood?”

“Yes Sir!” he muttered, trying to ignore the snickers from his brothers, elbowing Echo who was the closest to him.

“It is a different mission than what we are used to, but Yith may become a strong ally to the Republic and we need to make sure that they will join us.” Anakin muttered, stopping in front of the castle, hearing Ashoka’s whistle under her breath. Yes Yith despite being a small planet, their king was a smart ruler that used what was the best in the Planet and made it an important player in any economical and political aspects. Yes, Yith was important for both the Republic and Separatists.

“You must be the Jedi Master that the King expects!” He looked at a soldier in a gray, light armor, with a blaster and some kind of blaster on his side. He looked young, but who was he to judge someone by their age? Ahsoka was still a kid and yet she was a force to be reckoned with.

“Yes. I’m Jedi General Anakin Skywalker. This is my Padawan Ashoka Tano, and my soldiers from the 501st with my right hand Captain Rex.” The soldier looked around and smiled softly at all of them and nodded.

“Thank you for not bringing too many of your people, Master Jedi.” He countered, asking them to follow him. “Yith is a small planet that doesn’t want to get too much negative attention.” Skywalker nodded, knowing that the planet didn't really have a huge army on its own. Their King was far from being a pacifist, but he did want to rule differently to his father and grandfather who believed that the army is the most important thing. “The King and the Princess are already waiting for you.” He showed the throne room and opened the door. The room was big, but as big as he expected from the size of the whole castle. It was also decorated specifically in any way. But there were two thrones in the end of the room. The bigger one where a middle-aged man was sitting and another one with a Princess.

Rex glared at Fives, after hearing him whistle. But if he was being honest, he couldn’t blame him. The rumors that the Princess is a beauty were true. Her long auburn hair was tight into a plait that flew down her shoulders. She wore a dress that automatically screamed Princess. She wore some make-up but not enough to hide her natural beauty. Before he could, however, stare any longer, his eyes caught the figure behind the Princess. A hooded someone, with a bow on their back and the same kind of spear, the soldier that greeted them had. They just stood there, not even looking up when they walked in. He frowned but didn’t say anything else.

They all bowed, kneeling in front of the King, who stared at the group. Anakin once again introduced them all and Rex felt someone’s eyes on him, but he couldn’t decipher who’s eyes they were. He looked to their brothers and relaxed a bit, seeing them stiff as well. Apparently it wasn’t just him being paranoid.

“Please stand up, my friends!” The King said, smiling at them all. “You have my thanks for coming all this way to our small Planet”. Rex read that the ruler was loved by almost everyone, except his own brother who was doing all he could to take over the throne, which was also why they were here. “Master Jedi, you probably know why I called in here?”

“You need help with your brother”, Anakin answered, smirking slightly at the brushing Princess, who couldn’t help but look at Fives, who not caring about anything was just staring right back at her. “We will do what we can, but I need to ask one thing, Your Majesty.”

“Why didn’t I ask the Separatists first?” The Jedi nodded. “I do not go along with their ideologies. I am not saying that I agree with everything the Republic does, but if I have to support a side, I am definitely by your side.” Hearing this made everyone relax a bit. “And just so you know. We would gladly support you, even if you decide not to help us.”

“We would be honored to help with whatever there is for us!” Ashoka interjected, ignoring the glare from her Master.

“Oh, your Padawan, does speak her mind, doesn’t she?” The KIng chuckled, looking softly at the girl. “Then she would find a common ground with my daughter, then.” Anakin’s eyes landed on the Princess, and he could not imagine that timid girl speaking her mind. He noticed a small smile sent to FIves and he stopped himself from rolling his eyes.

“Yes, just like my Padawan” Anakin started, underlining Ashoka’s rank, “was nice enough to mention, we would be honored to help with whatever you have us to do.” The King smiled and he looked at the four soldiers behind the Jedi. Rex realized that despite the warm and welcoming nature, there was something about the King that brought respect. His eyes shined with knowledge and natural intelligence. And something else that Rex later on realized was fear for his own daughter.

“I think we can trust them, my sweet girl. Don’t you think so?” They all frowned when he spoke to the figure standing behind the Princess, who stopped smiling at Fives and her stern face of a monarch was back. Rex’ eyes widened, when the figure took their hood off and they were met by a beautiful, red headed, young woman. Her hair in a high ponytail, a mask covering half of her face. She took it off and they were met with the real beauty of Yith. The real Princess of the Planet. “Apologies, Master Skywalker, Padawan Tano, dear soldiers of 501st. But to ensure the safety of my only daughter, I hope you understand why that was necessary.” They all were still looking at the girl, who now changed place with the girl, who they presumed to be the Princess. She put her bow and spear away and sat next to her father, smiling welcomingly to the group. “Please meet, Nia Ganila, the Princess of Yith.”

The Presence:

“It’s good to see you, Captain!” the girl, no, not anymore a girl. A young woman smiled at him. Her long, red hair falling from her hooded clock onto her shoulder, her cat-like green eyes staring at him.

“You’re alive!” Was all Rex was able to say.

#star wars #the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfiction #tcw rex #captain rex #clone captain rex #clones #fives #echo #kix #ashoka tano #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker #rex x oc

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rottingmanifesto · 1 year

Text

Pre-Fire Part 2 + Fire

-It’s interesting to see how awkward Lincoln is at the country club. Understandably so, considering he’s never been and the connotations of the time, but I wish we saw more to that side of him. It wears off by the time he meets Sal (despite the numerous micro-aggressions), but still, I wonder.

-I want to know more about the event Giorgi talks about with Lincoln. It was likely in 1964, maybe September or October before he went to boot camp. Regardless, I want to see/hear more about that night!

-“You make him sound like a goddamn lawyer.” Oh if only

-Ah. Sal.

-eyyy Vito! I love how skeptical he is of everything, especially when Sal starts talking.

-WHY DID HE SAY “it’s pretty fuckin’ ballsy” TO SAL. LINCOLN YOU ARE SO STUPID

-anyway.

-Ow this hurts. I think even if he said yes Lincoln would’ve been manipulated.

-“But you know, even after we’re all evened up, you’re still gonna be sloppin’ around in the ass end of this city. Not much of a future in that.” Why does this line remind me of The Outsiders by SE Hinton? No clue, but still, interesting line.

-This also reveals a bit about Lincoln— not only is there that loyalty, but he also doesn’t think far into the future. He has general ideas of how things might go, but otherwise? He goes off of the past to shape his present. I don’t know, I just like that characterization.

-I bet Giorgi suggested Lincoln take over, and feels shame when Lincoln says no.

-John’s part is fascinating to me. What exactly did he mean? My interpretation is mostly that Lincoln just went with things with some plan but not much, he wasn’t bogged down by details when he had a goal in mind. But that’s my theory, I’m not quite sure what he meant.

Heist

-“Fuckers!” That line is so funny to me I don’t know why

-I love how Giorgi is the voice of reason here: Lincoln says nothing and both Danny and Ellis want to use the TNT. How the hell does this friend group even function

-the vault falling is so funny to me, looney tunes ass hijink

Burke’s Place

-DANNY MY BELOVED

-I wanna know how Lincoln got the Casanova nickname. Like I can deduce what it means, but I want to know the story

-“yeah. Unfortunately.”

-The banter between these four is great, I wish we saw more of it

-Danny switches accents with his dad. Little details like this make the characters feel human to me (even if it sounds more Scottish than Irish)

-they never cleaned the car :(

-NICKIIIIIIII my favorite (fictional) lesbian

Mardi Gras

-I want the lore on the underground tunnels. It looks so cool! NOLA doesn’t have any so I wonder where they got the idea

-the ass joke. Enough said

-what kind of building has a ladder to the underground canals? That’s what I want to know

-“fuck you pig!” Best line in the whole series 10/10 no more games needed

-look, I know plot armor and all that, but how did they not get caught? You’d think the police would be looking for them even above ground before they even got up there

-Danny, hon. You’re an awful actor

-“We all got a friend in Jesus.”

-the graveyard looks so cool ngl

-“I’m sleepin’ on a bed of tiddies” yeah if only man

The Fire

-I love Sammy and Ellis’ banter. Again, wish we saw more, like a prequel DLC or something

-“It’s freedom. Real freedom.” The cost of freedom is buried in the ground.

-Sammy’s suspicions were right, but he couldn’t warn anyone

-ah the kiss of death

-the dramatic irony of “ain’t no one standing over me again” and his death being, well, someone standing over him.

-Lincoln’s hallucinations are interesting. It would’ve been nice to know the lore (if it was fumes, or PTSD, or something else)

-What would’ve happened if he didn’t make that call?

-“You’re goddamn right I did.”

Recovery

-This is where the timeline confuses me. We see Robert Kennedy’s assassination (in June of 1968), but we also see Anna’s death around the same time despite Lincoln allegedly being (partially) incapacitated. So either RK’s assassination happened earlier in this world, or there was an accidental retcon.

-John falling asleep next to Lincoln reveals a lot about his motivations. If he really were there just to help with revenge, then why stick around? All he has to do (technically) is the setup, but instead, John chooses to help and keep watch over his friend. I really do believe John cares deeply for Lincoln (whether that be romantic or platonic is up to the player).

-The conversation between Lincoln and FJ is sad to me— the beginning of the end.

#live slug reaction -

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pixelizedgrace · 2 years

Note

"...It's remarkable to see someone worse than wear in this place for once. You look like you've been through very unpleasant several days, young one. Perhaps, a wash in a nearby river would invigorate your spirit, but who am I to direct your actions?"

"What brought you here, aimless one? No certain way to go, clinging against anyone you could find... as if purposeless. Tell me, do you have some sort of plan? Do you at least remember if you are here for a certain purpose? Surely, you couldn't be here without a reason."

"Do you have a purpose?"

-@hidden-lorechambers

"Ok first of all—"

"Nobody bothered to tell me there are zombies in water AND land."

"I really wish I had a definitive goal... Otherwise I wouldn't be scrambling for my livelihood for so long. What's it been, a year? Half a year since I forgot everything before this place? Maybe two years?? I also wish there were calendars around here—"

"A-Anyway. It's given me lots of time to think. And for the past month or so, I've been actively prepping for what I got planned. I'll admit there's a lot of beauty in this world, and I appreciate its decieving simplicity. But there's so much more to this world than that, so much in fact, I don't think I can handle it any longer."

"I guess I could focus more on settling down and getting used to living here, but... I always get this faint ache in my chest whenever I think about it. Like homesickness for a place I don't even know, or don't remember. Plus, there's the villagers; they're kind enough to tolerate my residence, but communication and trading is so. Damn. Difficult. Might be imagining things for all I know, but I'm pretty sure most of them talk about me behind my back. Keeping their children far from my presence. Going out of their way to avoid and ignore me."

"I don't belong here. It's odd, this feeling... it's so familiar. Maybe I was an outsider in my other life, but at least I still have a sense of longing tied to it, unlike here, where I can't connect with anybody. So I need to find where I do belong."

"When I'm ready, I'm heading off into the great unknown. I've read about ruins, temples, and dungeons from the library, implying there used to be civilizations around. Hopefully within them and whatever else I come across, I'll find the answers I'm searching for. Where I'm from. How I got here, and why. How to get back home. I've already got a full set of leather armor and a damn good shield I built, and a map I just started sketching out. There's still more to do, but it's progress nonetheless."

"... And I'll leave just as soon as whatever the hell that is goes away. It's also kinda familiar, but not in a good way. It's approximately several miles, maybe even regions away, but... I really genuinely don't like it..."

#answered #grace #that last part referencing sigma's jailbreak event :3 #gala's gallery #lore

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imma-write-stuff · 2 years

Text

YuuriVoice x Mortal Kombat Crossover

Alphonse and Seth reacting to Kombatant!Reader Part 1

@yuurivoice

- Alphonse wasn’t the only one who had secrets and an interesting past. Hell he wonder how you managed to handle everything that happen during the events of Bittersweet so well.

- Apparently you had a few secrets of your own. You did admitted to Alphonse you were a martial artist/ fighter.

- You let him watch you spar with friends and practice with training dummies. He was amazed and impressed with you’re skills.

-This made him wonder Alphonse knew there’s more then it meets the eye, he always found you quite mysterious. He had a feeling there’s something about you he’s doesn’t know especially your fighting side.

- You wanted to reveal your past too but you didn’t know how to confess. Alphonse told you everything and trusted you. Naturally you wanted to do the same. You contacted your friend Liu Kang and ask him for advice.

- It was a difficult situation if you want to tell Alphonse about the realms and Outworld and show him. However its possible for your past enemies, from Shao Khan, the Black Dragons, to Shang Tsung find your whereabouts and hurt everyone you loved.

- One day you were summon by Raiden, it wasn’t good news. Shang Tsung discovered you’re location and has made plans to send someone to kidnap Alphonse and Seth.

- This scared you, it was clear you need to get back to your old ways and spill some blood on your hands.

- But as soon as you get to Al’s home you saw the house was in a wreck and you couldn’t find your boyfriend.

- You called Seth to let him know what just happen and explain to him about the people you believe that took him.

- You quickly went to your house and grab your “secret”chest that contains your armor and weapons.

- Y/N: “And to think I would finally retired from this...”

- Seth open your bedroom door.

- Seth: “Hey Sugar I got here as fast as I can, dammit I can’t believe this is happening again,”

Y/N: “Tell me about it...”

Seth: “So who are these guys anyway and- Wait... what is that?!”

Y/N: “It’s a long story, remember that I said I have fair share of secrets?”

Seth: “Does these secrets have something to do with Alphonse’s kidnappers?”

Y/N: “Sadly yes, Seth this is the type of secret that I need to show you words alone won’t cut it. I ask a friend of mine if he can take you under his wing for your protection. This situation will make the time we have with Derrick a walk in the park. You guys protected me I’m going to return the favor.”

- Seth was really confused but he trusted you and was willing to take your word.

- As determination grows you takes your things. With a strike of a lightning Raiden summons you two to come to Outworld.

Author’s note: I’m turning this into a series! Part 2 will come soon!

#yuurivoice #Alphonse #Pastel Punk Boy #Mortal Kombat #Crossover

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nocturnalswarehouse · 2 years

Text

Chapter 22 - Meeting Nocturnal

Fic Series: At Long Last

Pairing: Brynjolf x Female Dovahkiin|Dragonborn (Adranelle Rolaine)

Premise: Eight years after being declared the Dragonborn, and three years after Alduin is defeated, Adranelle (Adi) Rolaine finds herself back in Riften to help Brynjolf with the Thieves Guild’s reputation.

Masterlist

Taglist: @thequeenofthewinter, @oblivions-dawn

Word count: 1,866

A/N: The past two weeks have been absolute hell on my mental health, but I'm here for another update! Hope you enjoy and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist.

Adi made her way to the standing stone Karliah was waiting at on her own, Brynjolf quickly saying Karliah wanted to discuss something with him in private. The Dunmer, pacing impatiently in front of the stone, stopped and faced Adi when she approached. Brynjolf took place next to Adi, kissing her cheek in greeting.

“I'm glad you're here.” All business, no play. From her time with Karliah as they made their way back to Riften, that wasn’t a shock to Adi.

“What's the significance of this place?” she asked, gesturing to the door adjacent to them.

“This is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind. We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey.” Karliah’s words were laced with poison at the mention of Mercer. What he did was unforgivable, and she was out for blood.

“What kind of an edge?”

“If you'll follow me, I'll try to explain on the way.”

Karliah led them into Nightingale Hall, patiently answering Adi’s questions and telling the two initiates about the Nightingale Trinity - herself, Mercer, and Gallus. “Brynjolf’s father was a Nightingale as well but hated it. He tried to find a way to unbind himself to Nocturnal. Mercer felt that was reason enough to murder him.”

“My father was sick, not murdered.” Brynjolf snapped, almost too defensively.

“He was poisoned,” Karliah broke the news, turning around to face him. Pity filled her eyes, she’s had twenty-five years to plan revenge on Mercer for what he had done. Brynjolf has been sheltered from the truth his whole life. The Dunmer could only imagine what he felt at the moment. “Mercer used small doses, made it look like a sickness. He wanted to make sure you wouldn’t notice. I’m sorry, Brynjolf.”

“I-” Adi grasped his hand and squeezed it, giving the Nord a sense of comfort He would dwell on it later. Right now, he needed to focus on why Karliah brought them here. “That’s a matter for later. Let’s focus on why we’re here.”

Karliah nodded and moved on, leading them into a larger room.

“So, this is Nightingale Hall.” Brynjolf looked around in wonder. “I heard about this place when I joined the Guild, but I never believed it existed.”

"The assumption that the Nightingales were just a myth was seeded within the Guild on purpose. It helped avert attention from our true nature. What's wrong, Brynjolf? I can almost hear your brow furrowing."

“I'm trying to understand why I'm here, lass.” He said truthfully. “I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?”

“This isn't about religion, Brynjolf... it's business.” That’s how Karliah saw it, anyway. She never felt as though she worshipped Nocturnal. It was more like a transaction. They were partners, and that was it. “This is Nightingale Hall. You're the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside in over a century. Now, if you'll both proceed to the armoury to don your Nightingale Armor, we can begin the Oath.”

“This is enough to make your head spin, eh?” Brynjolf joked with Adi, who agreed. She was already overwhelmed with all this new information, on top of being worried about Brynjolf. She could see it behind the mischievous gleam in his eyes. The news of Mercer’s second murder cut deep. Brynjolf was as ready to murder him as Karliah, if not more.

As the three of them approached three stones with the Nightingale emblem on them. Adi stood in front of it, unsure of what to do with the stone. “You appear hesitant to don your Nightingale Armour. What’s troubling you?”

“Do we just touch the stone, or…?”’

Karliah chuckled lightly and nodded. Adi turned back to it and, with reluctance, put her hand on the smooth surface. As soon as her fingers brushed it, black tendrils grasped her skin and started to snake up her arm. It formed a fabric that felt unusual on Adi’s skin, melding in with the civilian clothes she wore underneath. Shadows engulfed her vision for a brief moment as the tendrils snaked up her neck and head, the hood and mask making her eyes look like black beads and the world have a purple tinge. As soon as the armour settled into its full form on her body, there was a whispered hiss.

“Okay, lass. We've got these getups on... now what?” Brynjolf checked Adi out in the armour, not at all being subtle about it. Adi did the same with him, admiring how it fit against his body. The black-as-midnight armour followed the contours of his muscles, making her grateful it covered as much of the face as it did. The last thing Adi needed was for him to see that she was as red as snowberry.

“Beyond this gate is the first step in becoming a Nightingale.” Karliah walked to a hallway, Brynjolf and Adi following.

“Woah there, lass. I appreciate the armour, but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed.” Brynjolf stopped in his tracks, the uncertainty radiating off him. Adi didn’t want to say anything, but she felt the same way. Why should they pledge themselves to a Daedric Prince? She knew firsthand that nothing good came from that.

“To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs,” Karliah explained. She seemed almost… defensive of Nocturnal. “If she's to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck.”

“What sort of arrangement? I need to know the terms.”

“The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf.” Karliah sighed. “Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, both in life and in death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher.”

“Aye, there's always a catch.” there was a pause before he continued. “But at this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose. If it means the end of Mercer Frey, you can count me in.”

“What about you? Are you ready to transact the Oath with Nocturnal?” Karliah turned to Adi. She eyed the half-Breton, almost challenging her.

“Yes, I'm ready.”

“Good. After I open the gate, please stand on the western circle.”

Making her way to the gate, Karliah pulled the chain on the right wall and continued on as the spikes retracted. Adi made her way to the western circle, as Karliah requested, and Brynjolf made his way to the Eastern one. Karliah stood in the circle between the two and knelt down in a genuflect.

“I call upon you, Lady Nocturnal, Queen of Murk and Empress of Shadow... hear my voice!”

The air in the room changed as something ethereal entered. In the center of the room formed a large ball of light, surrounded by black and blue shadows. The room grew cold as it did with any Daedra but cold with power. Somehow… Nocturnal’s presence wasn’t as intimidating as the others. It felt more like a disappointed parent entered the room. A woman’s voice came from it, mature and indifferent. “Ah, Karliah. I was wondering when I'd hear from you again. Lose something, did we?”

“My Lady, I've come before you to throw myself upon your mercy and to accept responsibility for my failure.” She remained in genuflect as she spoke, Karliah sounding disappointed in herself.

“You're already mine, Karliah. Your terms were struck long ago. What could you possibly offer me now?”

“I have two others that wish to transact the Oath; to serve you both in life and in death.” Karliah herself wasn’t certain that her companions wanted this, but it had to be done. She hoped they wouldn’t speak out against it.

“You surprise me, Karliah. This offer is definitely weighted in my favour.” While they couldn’t see her corporeal form, Adi could practically hear her thinking.

“My appetite for Mercer's demise exceeds my craving for wealth, Your Grace.”

“Revenge? How interesting…” there was a brief pause, then, “Very well, the conditions are acceptable. You may proceed.”

“Lady Nocturnal, we accept your terms.” The Dunmer spoke for everyone, but it wasn’t completely true. Adi and Bryn weren’t at all keen on this deal but had no other choice. “We dedicate ourselves to you as both your avengers and your sentinels. We will honour our agreement in this life and the next until your conditions have been met.”

“Very well. I name your initiates Nightingale, and I restore your status to the same, Karliah. And in the future, I'd suggest you refrain from disappointing me again.”

Before Karliah could say one more word, Nocturnal’s essence disappeared. The three Nightingales met back in the middle, Karliah stopping to address them both.

“Now that you've transacted the Oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime,” Karliah revealed how Mercer was able to get through the Vault - and Adi realized that was out they got into Snow Veil. If he had a hold of the key for any longer… it could be catastrophic. “If the Key isn't returned to its lock in the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never be the same for the Guild. As time passed, our luck would diminish to the point of non-existence. And whether you know it or not, our uncanny luck defines our trade.”

“First time I ever set out to return something…” not entirely the truth, but not entirely a lie either.

"Very true. In our line of work, it's quite rare we set out to return a stolen item to its rightful owner." Karliah laughed. “Now, before we depart, Brynjolf has some business to discuss. I suggest you listen to him.”

“What’s up?” Adi turned to her partner. Karliah began walking away, giving the two some space.

“It’s about the leadership of the Guild.” he was hesitant. Brynjolf knew Adi wouldn’t be interested, but Karliah insisted. The Dunmer had become quite taken by her, just like everyone else.

“Bryn, no.”

“I thought you would say that.”

“Then why ask?”

“Thanks to your efforts, Mercer’s treachery was exposed,” he explained. “Not only that, you’ve been a huge help in rebuilding the guild. After he’s dealt with, we need to find a new Leader. Karliah and I agree that you would be a good fit.”

“I don’t lead, Bryn,” Adi shook her head. “It’s not something I like to do and not something I’m good at. You would be better in that position.”

“I’ve been at this game a long time, love. A long time.” He shook his head. “I’ve stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I’m good at what I do, maybe even one of the best. But it’s all I know. I’ve never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it. Don’t want it.”

“May I think about it?” Adi sighed. Brynjolf agreed and put a hand on the small of her back as they left Nightingale Hall. Karliah went ahead of them, telling the couple that she wanted to take some time alone to plan their next move. Until they heard word from Vipir and Rune, they had to stay in Riften and sit duck.

#tes #tes: skyrim #brynjolf #brynjolf fanfiction #brynjolf x oc #fanfiction #the thieves guild #riften #nocturnal #daedric prince #karliah #mercer frey

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clone-whore-99 · 2 years

Text

Troublemaker

Chapter 8: Echoes of the Past

The Bad Batch x Reader

Warnings: Descriptions of panic attacks!, angsty as always, the boys fighting, the boys being soft, the boys being protective, wrecker being a cutie, we learn more about Readers past LMK if I need to add anything else

Authors Note: This was hard to write. Not because of the topic or the events, since that's been planned for weeks now, but just because brain the brrrr. And because Tumblr made a stupid update in the middle of the fic, making writing harder. Oh well ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

If you like it, please do let me know by liking and commenting and maybe even reblogging, it would mean a lot to me 🥺👉👈

Chapter 1: Arriving at Kamino Chapter 2: Work, Armor and... Clones? Chapter 3: Let it out Chapter 4: You shouldn't have done that Chapter 5: Talk about it Chapter 6: The 20 Questions Game Chapter 7: Crosshair - Chapter 9: The FightChapter 10: A Nice Change of Air Chapter 11: Sore Muscles

Chapter 12: Heavy Rain Weights the Mind

Chapter 13: Waste of Time

"Where the hell have you been?" Echo asked the second Crosshair opened the door to their barracks.

"Taking a shower," Crosshair replied as nonchalantly as always.

"No, we were in the showers, where were you?" Echo probed, not willing to let it go so easily.

You stepped into the room, nervously attempting to cover yourself with your arms. Crosshair had helped you pick out a shirt that covered all evidence of your shower, but you were still nervous they somehow knew.

Because, well, if Hunter could know when you were turned on, then what else could they tell just by being around you? It's not that you were embarrassed that it had happened. Nor were you ashamed. But that didn't mean you exactly wanted to flaunt it to everybody you met.

You were pulled out of your train of thoughts, when Crosshair was suddenly all up in Echos space, poking his chest with the tip of a toothpick. "Why do you care, reg? So you can keep pestering me with your protocols?"

Echo slapped Crosshairs hand away, before stepping closer to the sniper so their chests were basically touching. "I know you guys don't exactly do things by the book, but what you pulled back there was suicide!"

"If it hadn't been for how we do things, you would still be feeding the enemy information. Or, have you already forgotten that?"

"ENOUGH!" Hunter yelled, as he ran from the door behind you to the two men, grabbing both of their shoulders to pull them from each other.

"In case you've forgotten, we're all on the same team here! Yes, the simulation went terrible, but that's why we got it. To make sure those mistakes won't happen out on the field." Hunter scolded the two men, his voice stern and demanding respect.

If looks could kill, both Crosshair and Echo would've been obliviated from existence, by the way they were staring at each other. Crosshair seemed like he was about to make a snarky remark, but opted to head towards the crates by his bunk instead.

Echo ran a hand over his bald head, before heading out the door and accidentally bumped into you on the way - or, at least you hope it was an accident.

You must've looked like a huge questionmark, your eyes drifting from one man to the other. You ended up deciding to run after Echo and check up on him.

"Don't bother," Hunter said, stopping you before you could head out. You turned to look at him, now even more confused than before. "He just needs some time alone. All of this is a big adjustment for him."

"What happened?" You asked, as you finally stepped further into the room. Your arms were still covering your upper body and your steps were rather careful. The mood in the room was tense.

Hunter sighed. "With Echo or just in general?" he asked with a playful tone and a smirk, though the expression in his eyes were tired and worn out. "Doesn't matter. Anyways, I'm hungry, let's go grab some grub."

With a hand on your back, Hunter began leading you towards the door with Tech and Crosshair following suit. You looked at the soldier skeptically. "What about Echo and Wrecker?"

"Like I said, Echo needs to be alone right now. He'll come when he's ready," Hunter gave you a look that clearly expressed, that you probably should leave it be. "As for Wrecker, well.."

"Wrecker said he wanted to make you a surprise." Tech quickly appeared by your side with his index finger raised as always.

You raised an eyebrow at Tech. "A surprise? For me?"

"Yes. Though he wouldn't tell us what it is, which is not comforting."

You gave Tech a small and confused nod, before turning your attention back to Hunter, not willing to let the topic go that easily. "So, Echo you'll leave alone, but when I want to be alone..."

Hunter looked at you with an annoyed smirk. "A good seargant knows what his men needs. Echo needs to be alone right now, you didn't."

"But I'm not one of your men, though."

"And with how you're acting, be glad that you aren't." Hunter gave your shoulder a small squeeze, before letting you go so he could enter the mess hall.

"Hey! What's that supposed to mean?" You yelled after him.

It was odd being in the cafeteria at this hour. Not many clones were around, most probably having gone to bed by now - according to Tech.

Besides that, it felt weird being there without Wrecker. He always carried the conversation with jokes and stories and although your arm were thankful for not getting a friendly punch every other minute, it just wasn't the same without his chaotic energy.

At least you weren't sandwiched between two men this time. You were sitting next to Tech, who was reading up on something on his datapad. In front of you sat Crosshair and Hunter.

"Are you guys really sure it's okay I'm staying with you?" You asked for what was probably the hundredth time.

"Not if you keep asking." Hunter replied and let out a small chuckle when he saw the horrified look you that appeared on your face. "Relax, I'm joking. We wouldn't have asked you if we weren't okay with it."

You let out a low sigh mixed with relief and embarrassment for constantly asking. "Sorry I keep asking. It's just, wouldn't you rather have this time for yourselves? I mean, how often do you get a break from the battlefield?"

"We're soldier, cyar'ika," Hunter reached over the table to grab your hand in a comforting matter. "We were made for the chaos of the battlefield. We'd go crazy if things went too quiet."

You gave Hunter a weak smile, though his choice of words did leave a sour taste in your mouth. They were made for the chaos. What an awful thing to be made for.

You didn't have much time to stay in your thoughts though, since Hunter frowned while running the pad of his thumb across your hand. "Are those... Bitemarks?"

It felt like all the blood from your body was drained, when he asked that question. Crosshair just glanced sideways towards your hand, whereas Tech suddenly straightened up and adjusted his goggles to get a better look.

"Yes, it would seem so." Tech answered for you and Hunters grip tightened before you could pull your hand away. "It appears to origin from human teeth, though not from any clones. And..." He adjusted something on the side of his goggles. "It's not infected, fortunately."

"Oh..." You muttered under your breath, not realizing a bite mark could be infectious even if it didn't penetrate the skin. Wait, Crosshair also bit you. Could those be infected? You really didn't want to show Tech those marks - or anybody else for that matter.

"Y/N!" Hunters voice was stern and loud enough to snap you out of your panic spiral. You hadn't realized until then, that your heart was beating way too fast and you were barely even breathing.

"Who bit you?" He asked, his eyes filled with murder for the culprit and his grip on your hand was protectively tight.

"No one!" You all but yelled, as you violently yanked your hand free from his grasp, nearly causing you to fall backwards if Tech hadn't caught you.

"Well, that's obviously not true." Tech stated.

Out of all the men in the galaxy, you just absolutely had to become friends with the ones who noticed everything. "I did it! I-I was trying not to be too loud, so I bit my own hand to keep my voice down. Now, can we please just let it go?"

They were all giving you a worried expression, even Crosshair. Though, you had a sneaking suspicion that his was for another reason.

Hunter looked like he was about to say something, when you noticed that behind him was -

"ECHO!" Your grumpy half droid/half clone savior had come to your rescue. He just didn't know it.

Echo gave you a greeting nod, before taking a seat next to Hunter. "Sorry I took off like that. I just needed some fresh air."

"It's okay soldier," Hunter put a comforting hand on Echos shoulder. "Rather we get all of the issues out of the way here, than on the battlefield."

"I believe I might have to share some of the blame here as well," Tech held up his index finger - a signature move to proof he had something to say. He then grabbed his datapad and adjusted his goggles once more. "I should've gone over Echos files from when he was a cadet and from when he was a part of the 501st. That way, we would've known he has always been rather accustomed towards following protocol and repeating orders. However, I believe I've found a way to prevent the failure from todays training, from repeating itself in the future. Well, at least part of it."

Never had you ever been more grateful for Techs long rants, than you were at this moment.

You were trapped. And no one was coming to your rescue this time.

The boys had spent the rest of the dinner talking about their usual battle plans, strategies and formations, helping Echo into their work through that. You had just nodded along throughout the conversation.

Once they were done though, you made the fatal mistake of asking Tech about plan 7. Hunter and Crosshair had dramatically groaned at this, before abandoning you to your own demise. Echo stuck with you, right up until Tech changed the subject again and began explaining the importance of agriculture and all of it's benefits. Then he abandoned you too.

And there you were. Trapped. With Techs endless stream of information. Abandoned by the very men who swore they'd protect you.

Echo was sitting on the other side of the table in their room, going over the files that Tech had given him. Hunter was lying in his bunk, reading something on his datapad. Crosshair was chewing on a toothpick while cleaning some equipment - something you had noticed he frequently did whenever there was time.

Your good heart was going to be the end of you. Not wanting to discourage Tech from talking about things he found interesting, you just nodded along with a couple "uhu"s and "ahh"s and even some "you don't say"s while only half listening to what was told.

And just as you were about to break and tell Tech off, Wrecker entered the room and saved you from his brother.

Not even acknowledging his brothers, the large man crossed the room in a hurry, so he could sit down next to you on the couch. His arms lounged across the backrest, as he let out a defeated sigh.

"I'm sorry ad'ika, I wanted to make you a surprise but I couldn't find the stuff I needed for it." He sweetly apologized to you, not caring that he had interrupted his brother.

"Wrecker, I was in the middle of explaining Y/N the core value of -"

"Eh, no one cares!" Wrecker interrupted again, waving a dismissive hand in his brothers direction. You gave Tech your best I'm-so-sorry-I-promise-I-care look, before turning your attention back to Wrecker.

"I wanted to make you your own place to sleep here, kinda like what Tech did for Echo, but with more privacy since, you're a, you know..."

You raised an eyebrow at him. "A.. girl?"

Wrecker chuckled. "Yea... But I couldn't find any of the things I needed for it! Everything was either in use or being shipped off or was dirty and I did think about using the dirty stuff, but figured you deserve better than that."

"Ahww," You sat up on your knees, so you could reach Wreckers cheek and give it a small kiss. "That's so sweet of you, Wrecker. But, you really didn't have to go through all that trouble for me."

A hint of blush appeared across Wreckers tan face after you had kissed his cheek. He rubbed the back of his bald head nervously. "I know, but I wanted to! So you wouldn't have to choose between sharing bunks with someone or sleep on the couch..."

"-Or sleep in your own bed," Echo added, a slight tone of bitterness hinted in his voice. "Why exactly is it you won't stay in Laquans apartment? Do you really hate your own father so much?"

"I don't hate him." Your answer sounded more like a question than a statement, but stayed defensive all the same. "You got it wrong. He's the one who hates me... Spent the last I-don't-even-know-how-many years trying to avoid me at all costs."

Echo frowned at your response. "That's simply just not true, you can't actually believe that. For as long as I've know Laquan, he's always been more than eager to talk about his daughter and show off holos of you. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but you can't actually believe he hates you."

"You're right!" You stood up from the couch, suddenly needing to make yourself feel bigger than you were. "You don't know what happened between us."

You stepped away from the couch, - away from the part of the room you were most trapped in. Echo was starting to get on your nerves and you needed an escape in case it would get worse. Like it usually did.

"Then explain it to me, mesh'la. Help me understand." Suddenly, Echos voice was a lot less hostile and a lot more careful.

You shook your head, already pacing back and forth in the room to calm yourself down. "You wouldn't understand even if I did. You... You've never had a parent or a normal childhood or anything like that, it would be like trying to compare a nuna to a jorgan fruit!"

"Y/N," Echo stopped your pacing, by placing his flesh hand on your shoulder. He bent down slightly, so he could be at eye level with you. "I'm not trying to compare our lives here, because, you're right, it would be impossible. I'm just trying to understand what went wrong in your relationship."

"What went wrong?" You snorted. "What went right? He was never around! All of the school events, the birthdays, the 'next time's that he never showed up to, no matter how much he promised he would and got my hopes up. All of the times I got yelled at by a teacher for not doing my homework, because I needed help with it but had nobody around to help me!"

You took a couple steps away from the men around you, who were all looking at you with such compassionate eyes. You needed air, it was getting harder to breathe and yet, you couldn't stop yourself from continueing.

"All of the excuses, the empty promises, the false hope he'd give that he really was going to be there that time... But at least he was there," you quickly glanced up at Echo, before looking away again. "At least I knew where he was, at least I could get a hold of him, talk to him, get in contact with him in case of an emergency, at least I still had him!"

Your voice finally broke, your shoulders slumbed and the tears started streaming down your face. "Until he wasn't. He left us, Echo..."

For a while, there was no sound in the room but your silent sobs. Your nails were digging into your own flesh, trying to prevent this anger inside of you to rise again, trying to prevent another violent outburst from taking place.

Tech was the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry to hear how hard it must've been for you, but you must understand that your father is an important asset to the Republic and was greatly needed in-"

"I NEEDED HIM!" You screamed, incapable of stopping the words before they erupted. "MOM NEEDED HIM! There's over a trillion people in the galaxy and you're telling me the Republic couldn't find one other person who could do his job!? That, that, that..."

You couldn't breathe. Your chest was collapsing in on itself, your skin was too tight and all clammy, the room was repeatedly getting smaller and smaller and...

A distant voice could be heard over the ringing in your ears, but you weren't sure who it belonged to. Two strong hands grabbed tightly onto your shoulders, trying to pull you back to reality.

More distant voices. You couldn't focus on what they were saying, all you could think about was how hard it had suddenly become for you to breathe.

Then you were picked up, causing you to go into a full blown panic. You hadn't even realized you had fallen to your knees.

You writhed in the holders grasp, trying to desperately free yourself, so you could get as far away from whatever was happening as fast as possible, before it'd be the end of you.

Everything was spinning, was too tight, you couldn't breathe, you couldn't see, you couldn't hear, you -

The next thing you knew, you were lying on a bed. Techs goggled eyes were blocking your view. His elbows were resting on your shoulders so you couldn't sit up, and he gently held your head in his hands.

Someone must've been holding onto your legs, because you couldn't move them either.

"There you are," He said after staring into your eyes in what felt like an eternity. His voice was gentle and low and a faint smile was displayed across his lips. Gently, he let his thumbs caress your cheeks, much like he had done on your first day on Kamino.

"What happened?" Your voice was barely even a whisper.

"A panic attack." For once, Techs answer was short and incorrect.

You squirmed underneath him, silently asking to be let go and he happily obliged. Crosshair, who had been holding your legs, also let go and you sat up to hug your knees to your chest.

"I don't panic," Was all you could muster to get out, too tired to really talk.

It seemed like Tech was about to correct you, as he began lifting his finger again. But something must have changed his mind, because instead he just let out a sigh and patted your shoulder.

"Wrecker is on his way with a hot beverage to help calm your nerves. Do you think you can talk about what happened?"

You shook your head. In fact, you much rather wanted to forget what had happened.

Dividers by: @djarrex

Taglist: @zoeykallus @rain-on-kamino @thebadbatchscyare @thebahdbitch @salaminus @mybigfatspoonielife @tararosebloodthorn @chxpsi @coffeeandclaws @timothyshousefire @tazmbc1 @nunanuggets @rexandechosandwich

Please do not hesitate to ask, if you want to be added to the taglist of the series ❤

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unfoundhoney · 3 years

Text

a sister’s sacrifice ; part three ↠

↠ platonic!c!sleepy bois inc x fem!reader , platonic!c!tubbo x fem!reader ; angst just angst

↠ masterlist

↠ part one ; part two ; part three ;

↠ @leafyturtle @basheverythingyesterday @terribletoothbat @bestioe @junoblad3 @machiebach @ok-honey

when considering the deaths of the people on the dream smp server, yours is the hardest

schlatt was detested by all when he’d died

few people still truly cared for wilbur when he met his end; the man he once was was long gone by then

but you

you never changed

you were a constant for so many & immovably kind to the rest

selfless, giving, caring

even when you just wanted an escape, you came to the aid of your brothers

you gave the ultimate sacrifice & paid the price

everyone mourns you

when the battle is won & dream locked away indefinitely

once everyone has come down from the high of freeing themselves from dream’s reign, the server goes into a state of grieving

there’s no denying your death

they all saw the message in chat

you’re dead

those that were close to you took it hard

niki was narrowly stopped from burning down the bakery you encouraged her to open and helped build

eret put her emotions into work on a memorial in their museum for you

even under the egg’s control, bad & ant put the eggpire aside for you

of course, those who took it the hardest is your family

when ghostbur learns of your death, he’s distraught

he doesn’t quite know how to handle the information

he protects your home & only allows people to enter when he supervises them

tommy took a while to move past his anger & deal with the fact that you’re gone

tubbo ran off to start snowchester

he chose to distract himself rather than truly process his emotions, even if you’d always done your best to break that habit of his

now that you’re not around, who’s to stop him from letting himself be numb to it all?

techno is another one of your family members who chose to barely acknowledge your passing

he became somehow more monotonous & emotionless

and phil

...

there’s no word for a parent who loses a child

wilbur was gone & of course it messed phil up to be the one to take will’s last life but by that point his son was gone

but you

you’d always been such a genuinely good person

phil did so little for you as a father

he was so absent

he never apologized to you for that

he never told you how much he loves & appreciates you & everything you’ve done to keep their family together when he couldn’t be bothered

it’s a few hours after he received the news from ranboo that all the guilt for everything he had ever put you through hit him

he broke down in his kitchen while trying to distract himself by organizing his cupboards

but all he could think about was you

you & your never ending kindness & compassion

he was never a father to you

yet you never hated him

why couldn’t you have hated him?

it would hurt less to lose you if you hated him; it’s what he deserves

he’s unworthy of your love

but he can only dwell so long on you

you are given a proper funeral

you’re buried by the seashore, somewhere between l’manberg and tommy’s abandoned vacation homes in an open field

the sever members plant so many flowers, your gravesite becomes a flower field

but soon, life goes on

it will only hurt for longer to draw out the mourning period

it would do no good for anyone

besides, you wouldn’t want the server to be sad for your sake

techno supposes it’s for the best that you died

he does his best to move on, filling his days with resource gathering and upgrading his tools, weapons, and armor while trying to think through his emotions logically

as much as he liked you

as much as everyone liked you, you were too good

you were the best of them

fate is not kind to heroes

“hello!”

technoblade is not an easy man to sneak up on, let alone scare

the greeting itself isn’t want startles him

it’s turning toward the voice to lock eyes with you

you who is dead

techno is not proud of the sound he made when he saw you but you of all people wouldn’t make fun of him for it

he just stares at you, slowly realizing what’s happened

you look desaturated, the color drained from your clothes

your skin is grey & almost translucent

you’re a ghost

“y/n.”

“hello! who are you?”

techno tells no on one of your ghost form

he even keeps the rest of the server a secret from you

he leads you to your old home & leaves you there w/ ghostbur

he hopes your and ghostbur’s combined amnesia will keep you out of harm’s way i.e. the rest of the server

he visits you occasionally but mostly leaves you be

you live happily with ghostbur for a while

he is very glad to have you back

his memory is nearly as bad as yours, so the story of the server & what happened to you when you were alive is only given to you in bits & pieces that are near impossible to fit together

it was only a matter of time before someone came to visit your house

“...y/n?”

it’s tubbo who finds you first

or he finds your ghost

(tubbo) y/n! oh my god! you’re a ghost! you’ve come back!

(you) hello! *whispers* ghostbur, who is this?

(ghostbur, whispering obviously) that’s tubbo, one of your other brothers i’ve told you about

(you, whispering) oh, right

(tubbo) how long have you- oh, this is incredible! i have to tell tommy! he’s been so sad since you died; he’ll be so glad to see you!

tubbo messages tommy, who is skeptical but reluctantly comes to your house anyway

but there you are

your ghost anyway

which is good enough, honestly

(tommy) y/n!

you catch him in a hug easily, even if you’ve never met him before

(tommy) you’re alive!

(you) no i’m not. i’m a ghost!

techno happens to check in on you when tubbo & tommy are there

bad news for technoblade: you’d told them about techno leading you here

meaning: tommy knows techno hid you from him & everyone else

needless to say, he is not too happy about that

(tommy) you hid her! you kept her away from us!

(techno) tommy, you have to understand-

(tommy) i don’t have to understand shit! you hid her from us! you lied to us!

(techno) tommy-

(tommy) you kept her from everyone! you’re selfish and you’re a liar and you’re horrible and-

(techno) i did it to protect her! she’s been hurt enough protecting others; it’s our turn to protect her. the only way we can do that is by leaving her alone

(tommy) she’s my sister

(techno) your sister is dead, tommy. for once in her life, let her have peace

tommy gives up on techno & goes to you instead

(tommy) y/n! y/n, we can bring you back. we can revive you. well, dream can revive you but he’s in prison so he has to do what we say so we can bring you back. we can be a family again. don’t you want to come back?

(you) ...no

that

...

that isn’t what tommy was expecting

(tommy) what?

(you) if alive y/n comes back, i won’t exist anymore. and i’ve only just got here. i don’t want to go yet

(tommy) don’t you understand how much y/n means to me? y/n has to come back. she has to. she’s so important. not just to me but to, um... tubbo as well! right, tubbo? don’t you want y/n back?

tommy looks to tubbo for some backup but the shorter boy looks away

(tubbo) i think we need to let y/n go, tommy

the betrayal that fills tommy’s chest is soon gone as he locks eyes with techno

tommy knows techno is right

you’re too much of a good person

you’re too willing to sacrifice yourself for others

even as a ghost your kindness is blinding

this server will only drain you of everything you have yet again

he will drain you of everything you are

he’s just tried to convince you to cease to exist to bring back the former version of yourself

(you) i’m sorry. it’s just- i’ve heard there are these really pretty blue flowers in the swamp biome that i haven’t got to see yet-

(tommy) no. it’s fine. i’m sorry. i-... i should go.

tommy leaves your house & tubbo goes with him

even if tubbo caught on a bit sooner to techno’s reasoning, he’s still concerned at his friend’s sudden change in character

(tubbo) tommy... are you alright?

(tommy) ...i really want her back

(tubbo) i do, too. but she’s gone

(tommy) she doesn’t have to be

tubbo can’t argue with that

(tommy) but... maybe it’s for the best

(tubbo) really?

(tommy) yeah.

(tubbo) but just earlier you were telling me about your plan to get the revive book from dream

(tommy) techno’s right, tubbo. all everyone- myself included- has ever done to y/n is take. and she’s given everything

(tubbo) because she loved us

(tommy) as much as she loved us and as much as we loved her... the only thing we’ve ever brought her is pain. i think now... now is her time to rest.

(tubbo) ...that’s very pog champ of you, big man

tommy had planned to visit dream as many times as it took to get the revive book location off of him so he could revive you, but now he’s accepted that he needs to move on

he needs to move on from you & dream & everything dream has put him through

he decides to pay one last visit to dream, put him behind him, & never look back

he’s ready to start a new chapter in his life, one without dream

and the first one without you

but then he’s locked in the prison

two weeks pass

nearing three weeks & tommy still isn’t allowed out of dream’s cell

he’s irritated and annoyed and most of all he’s scared

but he can’t let dream know he’s still afraid of him, that’s why he pisses dream off enough to the point of being beat to death

tommy begs him to stop

but then he’s gone

everything is dark

black

empty

nothing

is this what death is?

conscious in absolute nothingness?

tommy’s feet feel the ground beneath him

his senses come back to him

it’s still dark but he feels as though he can see again

where is he?

heaven?

no, probably hell

or maybe neither?

both...?

what the hell happened?

the first thing to break the silence is the voice tommy has known since he was an infant

the voice of the person who raised him

the voice of the person who has always been there for him

the voice of the person who he has finally let go of

your voice

saying one simple word

“tommy?”

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moonlight-frittata · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Need a Mechanic

Overwatch: Dva and Brigitte (a few others make appearances)

Word count: ~5500

My take on when Dva meets Brigitte and the first month or so of them getting to know each other on base.

---

Six months Hana Song had been a part of Overwatch, and during that time she set a very strict precedent that no one, not even Winston or Athena the AI was allowed to touch her mech, Tokki. So seeing the back of someone inside the cockpit as she entered the Watchpoint Gibraltar hangar made her blood boil.

“Excuse me!! What the hell are you doing??”

The person’s body jerked, their head banging against the low roof of the cockpit ceiling they wedged their torso inside. Hana heard a short mumble of something incomprehensible and a long, thick ponytail of red hair retreated from the mech in a hurry. A very tall, buff young woman around Hana’s age emerged blushing with a sheepish grin.

“Ah! I’m so sorry, I couldn't help myself. I’ve always wondered what these Korean models looked like up close. But in hindsight I really should have asked first.”

Her accent was European, but it was hard for Hana to place with any real certainty. Could have been Scandinavian, remembering some of the players from Finland she competed against back in her pro days.

“Yeah, you should have fucking asked.”

The crimson hue on the tall, possibly Finnish trespasser’s cheeks faded and she held her ground, not scared off yet by D.va’s harsh tone.

“Right. Won’t happen again, I promise,” she said.

Dva scoffed a bit and pushed past the buff intruder to look inside the mech to inspect if anything was out of place. A moment of stuffy silence passed between the two and Hana hoped the other girl would get the message and leave.

“I’m Brigitte Lindholm by the way.”

Hana let out an audible huff as a familiar freckled face appeared looking through the glass on the other side of her heads up display.

“Oh. Yeah, Fareeha warned me a new girl was joining,” Hana replied from inside the cockpit while she busied herself checking Tokki’s systems.

“And you’re Hana Song, right?” Brigitte continued lightly, clearly unperturbed. “Or do you prefer to go by D.va?”

Hana paused at the mention of her gamer tag turned call sign.

“It’s Lieutenant Song, actually.”

Brigitte raised an eyebrow at the curt reply, her smile fading to a neutral expression. It only dipped for a moment though as she extended her hand.

It was an awkward gesture to shake hands from inside the mech, even though the front of the cockpit was partially open near the joysticks. Hana looked at Brigitte’s outstretched hand and gentle smile on the other side of the glass. Was this a joke? She pursed her lips and sized Brigitte up for a few tense seconds before reaching out. The grip was firm and Hana’s hand practically disappeared in Brigitte’s large palm.

“Lieutenant Song. It’s an honor to meet you.”

Hana sighed and rolled her eyes, a little of the bluster going out of her at the sincerity in Brigitte’s tone. Satisfied that no harm had come to the mech, she backed out of the cockpit.

“Just call me Hana. That rank doesn’t really mean anything here anyway. Lena will probably make fun of me if she hears you calling me Lieutenant.”

Brigitte walked back around Tokki to join her, a lingering hand tracing over the pink exoskeleton as she moved. “I’m surprised she doesn’t make you call her Captain.”

“Oh, she’s tried.”

Brigitte laughed.

“Sounds about right.”

D.Va chuckled for a moment, briefly disarmed by the new stranger, before she remembered how this person was rudely poking around her stuff only moments before, and snapped back into her gruff demeanor.

“Lindholm, you said? Like Torbjörn Lindholm?”

Brigitte sighed, clearly used to this connection.

“Yes. Genius engineer of Overwatch 1.0, founder of Ironclad Industries, husband to Ingrid, and father of way too many children, including yours truly.”

“So, you grew up in an Overwatch family?” Hana asked as her full attention focused on Brigitte for the first time in their conversation.

“You could say that,” Brigitte said. She picked up a silver ratchet resting on a nearby worktable, spinning the head around between her fingers and levering the handle back and forth, testing the weight distribution of the tool in her hand.

Hana could tell there was more to the story than her new teammate seemed willing to let on. She found it interesting that Brigitte, who had been all candid smiles a moment ago when she was caught somewhere she shouldn’t be and oversharing to someone she just met, was now hand waving around the subject.

Overwatch kids are pretty up their own asses about 1.0 normally. Wonder what her deal is...

This was what Hana was known for back in her pro days. Seeing a flaw in an opponent’s defense and breaking it wide open. But she needed to remember she only just met this girl, who would soon be her teammate. Maybe save that for another day.

“Well, Lindholm. As long as you stay clear of my mech, I don’t see a reason we should have problems working together. What’s your specialty?”

Brigitte perked up at the change of subject.

“Support. Both base level engineering support and in the field. I've got my bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering, and I’ve been working on Reinhardt’s gear for over a year now. Angela - I mean, Dr. Ziegler, is training me to be certified as a field medic.”

“Tough job. Think you can handle the gore?”

A wry smile pulled at Brigitte’s lips, her head shaking back and forth in a small, bemused gesture as she placed her hands on her hips.

“You don’t pull any punches do you, Lieutenant Song?”

D.Va crossed her arms, holding eye contact with Brigitte who matched her gaze with amusement.

“The best shot caller in the world is just a loud piece of shit if her team isn’t up to the same standard. So yeah, I like to know who has my back and if she can handle herself.”

Brigitte regarded D.Va for a moment, her jaw working back and forth as if chewing on the approach she wanted to take in response.

“I’ve been patching up Reinhardt for a while now. If I’m honest though, I’m scared it’s not going to be enough one day. But that’s not what I need to focus on, and instead I’ll do the best I can to support the people here.”

The plain way Brigitte shared her apprehensions left Hana uncomfortable. She couldn’t imagine telling someone out loud she was afraid, especially on her first day. Though in truth, she herself felt scared shitless half the time while doing this work.

Brigitte’s smile was back. Did it ever leave that pretty face? It did suit her though, framed by the freckles and warm brown eyes. If this girl wasn’t built like a literal tank of 6 foot something muscle, Hana might have more apprehension about sending her out to fight Omnics and Talon.

“Well Lieutenant Song, I think I’ve taken up enough of your time with my intrusion. Fareeha and Winston will be missing me very shortly for the rest of their planned orientation schedule,” Brigitte said as she carefully placed the ratchet she previously picked up back on the workstation, breaking the spell of awkward silence.

D.Va smirked, feeling tension leave her shoulders to match Brigitte’s playful demeanor.

“Mmm, well now I understand why you were hiding down here.”

“Yes they are indeed quite enthusiastic and thorough with their material.”

She gave a wink and started to walk away, turning briefly to call over her shoulder.

“I noticed there was a small coolant leak under the left fusion cannon. Might get a bit sticky on the left hand.”

“Bye Brigitte, enjoy your 300 page orientation manual quiz.”

Brigitte waved once more and turned around, already so sure and familiar with the layout of the hangar and the base.

She’s just another Overwatch kid, and just another nosey engineer trying to get in my mech.

Hana lingered by her workstation, picking up the ratchet Brigitte had been fiddling with and thinking over their brief encounter again.

Would this girl be a liability on the battlefield? Brigitte looked strong on the exterior, but then, so did Tokki. If you took away the mecha armor, inside was just a squishy human target bullets and fire could cut through like paper the second she was exposed and vulnerable.

Hana took a deep breath.

She walked around to the left fusion cannon and did indeed see the signs that a coolant leak was backing up inside the casing. Pretty subtle to spot with minimal visible damage to the exterior.

Not bad, Lindholm.

D.Va pulled her headphones on, turning to her latest loop of pop songs to blast while she went to work removing the panels on the cannon to replace the broken coolant line. The task felt good, and helped her mind drift to thoughts other than her conversation in the hangar.

---

Hana didn’t see much of Brigitte the next few weeks. The new recruit was busy with training and learning mission protocols expected of field agents in addition to shifts with Mercy in the clinic to fulfill the certifications Brigitte was required to complete. Hana would see her sometimes at dinner, often in a spirited conversation with Reinhardt or Lena. It seemed to take Brigitte no time at all to fit in amongst the old guard, but it seemed that’s what being the favorite niece of pretty much every person here would get you.

Hana would half listen to their stories, always feeling awkward and out of place amongst their banter. Overwatch was like a family, but she was more like the stranger invited as someone’s plus one. Everyone seemed to have an ingrained familiarity with each other. A single word could trigger a whole series of anecdotes every person around had some personal insight to add on to.

Remember this!

Oh how is so and so?

Damn, that was 5 years ago already?

Even on her squad in Korea, she never had what they people here seemed to have. Dae-hyun was a close childhood friend and followed her into the MEKA squad, but the other pilots were a different story. There was always a bit of friction and distance with the rest of her teammates because of their history as pro-gamer competitors forced into an arrangement as teammates. It never really gelled beyond cordial coworker relationships. Hana’s celebrity status didn’t help either, only adding another barrier between herself and the others. The fame of D.Va closed her off in access to most people unless they were on the other side of a screen, and then they only saw a polished up version of herself.

Not exactly the best way to get close to people.

Sometimes she was curious to learn more when she heard the Overwatch stories, but she always stopped herself before saying anything. It was easier to pull out her phone and queue up a game. Easy to pull back and ignore them, and usually they left her alone to do it.

She was okay with that. She was okay with keeping Hana and D.Va separate. She was okay with only polite greetings and trite platitudes. She didn’t need to know about the times from before, or what her Overwatch teammates did on the weekends. She just needed them to listen to her in the field and leave her room to make her plays. Like every time she started a new game, she didn’t have to focus on the past, or what others thought, she just had to focus on the objective in front of her. It’s what got the job done and what kept her alive.

---

Brigitte kept her word to stay out of Hana’s mech. She set up her own work station on the other side of the hangar where she worked on Reinhardt’s gear as well as her own. Hana would sometimes see the blue flash of a shield out of the corner of her eye over the hum of diagnostic scans or smell the burn of sparks from welding.

One day curiosity got the best of her when she heard the loud, repetitive pounding of a hammer on metal and she wandered across the hangar.

“You’re doing that by hand?”

Brigitte stopped working when she heard the voice behind her, the deafening echo silenced on the metal shoulder guard she was beating against.

“On this armor I do. Reinhardt’s gear is special from the time it was made. It has to be maintained with some older techniques.”

“Why?”

Brigitte looked at her surprised for a moment then laughed, loud and warm.

“You know, I wondered the same at first. It’s a bit of the way this armor is made, modern techniques can be too harsh on it, interestingly enough. Too precise and it becomes too fragile.”

“That doesn’t sound true,” D.va said.

“Oh, questioning my methods huh? Well, maybe the truth is more I didn’t originally have the right gear out in the field, and Reinhardt didn’t have much modern tech either, so the only way to do it was by hand. But it’s nice actually to keep doing it this way, I like getting my hands dirty with it. Helps me relax.”

“See that I believe.”

“Well, I’m glad I have your approval, Lieutenant Song.”

D.Va rolled her eyes, but smiled a little.

“I told you before, you can just call me Hana. Although, I do like the respect of authority.”

“Lieutenant suits you.”

Hana smirked a little at the complement, turning to pick something up on a nearby table. She picked up one of Brigitte’s gauntlets, slipping it on her hand. Her arm sagged under the weight, the glove coming up well above her elbow.

“Is it exhausting wearing all this armor? How do you run around with it on? I can barely lift this thing.”

“There’s movement assist when the unit is turned on. But I mean, I think I can handle it.”

Brigitte smirked as she made a show of flexing her well defined arms, and Hana couldn’t help but gawk a bit before she turned back to fiddling with the glove.

“Um, yeah I uh, noticed you seem to be in good shape.”

“Oh yeah?” Brigitte was smirking, clearly enjoying the slight fluster she was causing in her new teammate. Hana put the glove back on the table and gave Brigitte a light shove on the arm.

“Oh give me a break, you know you’re buff. Do you even own a shirt with sleeves?”

“I’m very familiar with OW 2.0’s handbook, and the dress code is quite lax about on-base personal attire. But, mostly I just like hearing you complement me.”

Hana rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m glad you’re strong enough to move your ass around in this armor so you can protect my blindspots while I’m doing all the real heavy lifting.”

Brigitte laughed again. Hana couldn’t help but smile too at the warm sound. Brigitte’s whole face lit up, and her eyes crinkled around the edges. No wonder she was the favorite niece.

“Fair. I’ve seen your battle footage and some news clips when you were back in Korea. You’re so strong, I doubt you even need me.”

“Ah, another fan of D.Va. Well, who can blame you,” Hana said with a flick of her hair. She continued to walk around Brigitte’s workstation, picking up random pieces of armor. Brigitte didn’t seem to mind.

“Actually Reinhardt was the real die hard D.Va fan. We used to always have a stash of the instant noodles with your face on them in our rig. Great shelf life. I’m surprised he hasn’t asked you for an autograph yet.”

“Well he’s one to talk! Did you know, when I was a kid there was a Reinhardt special edition line of noodles? I remember I tried them once and they had such a weird flavor. It was like ketchup and curry powder or something. He had a pretty big fanbase in Korea actually.”

“Hah! I didn’t know that, but I’d believe it. There’s been so much Overwatch merchandise over the years, I’ve lost track. They were such celebrities back in the day.”

“Yeah.”

Hana knew a thing or two about having her image used for propaganda. She wondered for a moment what it was like for Brigitte, growing up amongst the same environment, but removed from the center of it. An image of her laughing in the cafeteria with the old guard flashed through her mind. She decided it must have not been too bad, and refrained from asking the question.

“Okay well, I’ll leave you to your meditative, hammer time. I need to get back to my mech anyway, I’ve got a mission tomorrow morning,” Hana said, turning to leave. Brigitte let out a long sigh, slumping into a chair.

“Oh, it must be nice to leave the base.”

Hana stopped in her tracks, curious again, hearing such an outburst from Brigitte. She turned around and poked one of Brigitte’s large muscles near her shoulder.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. You’ll be done with your training block soon. Fareeha is just, really particular before she lets anyone out on a mission. It took almost two months, and me breaking every score in the simulators for her to let me out in the field.”

“I know, I know. It just sucks sometimes feeling like everyone is being overprotective of me. I can handle myself, I’m not a little kid.”

Hana couldn’t help but give a little hmphf sound, her lips pulling down at the corners.

“Yeah, I get that feeling. You can’t speed up time though, you just have to grind it out.”

Hana wasn’t normally one for listening to whining, but she thought Brigitte looked quite cute while she pouted, her arms crossed tight against her torso and her lip jutted out. It was hard not to laugh at the sight a bit, but Hana held her tongue. She really did know how it felt to want to prove yourself.

“Hey come on, there’s plenty of work you’re doing here that’s valuable. And when you’re ready, you’ll get called up and out there with the rest of us.”

Brigitte took a deep breath, seeming to blow out the negative feelings in one dramatic sigh. When she straightened up in her chair she seemed to be in better spirits, smiling at Hana again.

“You probably know better than anyone how to do that. Thanks Lieutenant, I’ll try. Let me know if my hammering gets too distracting. I can always go find something else to do.”

“It’s fine. I hardly noticed.”

“Well in that case, I’ll just be over here until dinner time.”

---

A few days later Hana almost threw her computer across the hangar.

“Why is this piece of shit so useless!”

The MEKA diagnostic program she used to keep Tokki up to date was crashing every five minutes when she tried to run a scan of the system. It had slowly been degrading the last few weeks and after the latest mission it apparently decided it had enough. She tried every trick she knew, both from working on the mech for years and everything she could think of on her personal gaming rig, but she only had rudimentary coding skills and was vastly out of her depth.

“Everything okay?”

Brigitte’s gentle voice called out from a few feet away as she had stopped her own work to come see D.Va’s meltdown.

“Everything’s fine. Except I’m going to have to go throw this piece of crap, and then myself, in the ocean.”

“Sounds like a costly solution. What’s going on?”

“It’s fine. I’m fine, I don’t need anyone’s help.”

She could feel Brigitte’s sympathetic look burning into her cheek and hated it.

“Okay no problem. I’m around though, just let me know if you want an extra set of eyes.”

Hana stared at the email she had sent to Dae-Hyun the day before that still had no response. She knew her mech’s hardware inside and out, but he was the one who really handled all the intense computer program internals. She was out of her depth here and needed him to call her so she could get this thing working again, but he wasn’t answering. Maybe he was deployed somewhere or too busy with a social life now that she was gone.

She had decided to come here for Overwatch. So maybe she should trust Overwatch.

“Brigitte, wait a minute.”

The other girl paused and turned, only having walked a few feet away from D.Va’s workstation.

“I could probably use some help here, if you’re still offering?”

Brigitte smiled, but it was more muted than her usual mega watt grin. Hana appreciated that she wasn’t making a big deal about it.

God, why is this girl so nice.

“Definitely.”

Brigitte walked around the workbench where Hana set up her computer station and listened to the general description of the problems. As Hana started clicking through screens to show the protocol she usual ran, Brigitte held up a hand to make her stop.

“I understand what you’re saying, but looking at the text, I can’t read Korean. Does it have a translation setting?” “I doubt it. This thing was only meant to be used by the Korean MEKA squad.” Hana felt her stomach drop at how quick her hopes of getting this programming running were already dashed.

“Well lucky for us, Overwatch has some very robust translation tech we can utilize.” “Really? It’s not the AI is it? I’ve been so resistant to letting her in my computer.”

“That would be one possibility, but there are some more localized options we have. I’ve had to do this once or twice on one of my papa’s projects.”

“How long will it take?” “Don’t know! Could take a while, I’m not going to lie to you, especially with your program already acting buggy. But don’t worry Lieutenant, we’ll sort you out.”

Hana groaned, already having major doubts about letting Brigitte mess with her tech. But she didn’t have a lot of options, and this was probably the least embarrassing choice on the table at the moment.

Brigitte moved back and forth between D.Va’s workstation and her own across the hangar, gathering cables and a laptop she would use to debug the system. Hana watched over Brigitte’s shoulder for a while, monitoring her work to get the translation program working on the MEKA diagnostic software.

“Where’d you learn to do this type of thing?”

“Back in college. I had to learn a certain amount of coding for my major, but I helped out Winston some in his lab on campus and he taught me a lot of tricks too.”

“Jesus, is there literally anyone on this fucking base you don’t have some personal connection with?”

Hana stepped away from the computer and dropped down into an empty chair with a huff, spinning the chair on its axis in erratic circles.

Brigitte stopped typing and watched Hana’s tantrum. “It bothers you that I’ve got a close connection to Overwatch?”

Hana did not reply, but crossed her arms and let out a frustrated sigh. Brigitte’s gaze held her for a moment but eventually shifted back to the computer screen as she seemed to weigh her thoughts on how to respond.

“Why did you leave the MEKA squad to join Overwatch?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t have the best history as an organization, you know.”

Hana stopped spinning to look at the side of Brigitte’s face, who’s eyes were still trained on the laptop screen. “Well it’s better to actually be in a fight than on the sidelines.”

Brigitte stopped what she was doing and turned to face D.va. “You’re the best pilot in the MEKA program. Why would you be sidelined?”

Hana let out a bitter laugh. “Best pilot? I was more than that. I was the face of the fucking Korean army! Which eventually meant I was too valuable to be an actual soldier.” Hana stood up walking to the end of the workbench, reaching out to touch one of her mecha’s guns. She couldn’t see Brigitte, but she could feel the other girl watching her.

“I got real banged up in a fight with the Gwishin. Like, probably should have died kind of banged up. I was out of action for months. After that, the army realized they couldn’t let the poster girl for their success stories die in an actual fight. So they moved me off the Busan base and deployed me to lead baby fights happening inland, but whose sole purpose was really just a photo op.”

Hana balled her fist in anger at her side, remembering how awful it hurt seeing images of herself on television in all those epic battle sequences, reporters singing praises of heroism, only to know the real truth that it was all a fabricated lie. She couldn’t stand it.

“So when Winston and Lena came to my apartment and asked me to join the new Overwatch, it was a no brainer. My piloting skills are too valuable to just be sidelined in a studio with a green screen.”

The MEKA squad team was fairly understanding when she told them. The same couldn’t be said for her commanding officers, but as D.Va, the amount of influence and money at her disposal proved sufficient for a smooth enough transition.

“I believed this was my shot to get back in the fight. So even if there’s some bad history there, this is a new chance for me, and I am ready to deal with any fallout.”

Text whizzed by in the background of the computer screen as the console spat out a continuous stream of logs from the program Brigitte fired off as she listened in silence.

“I never liked Overwatch. I still don’t,” Brigitte finally said.

Hana turned to face her, very confused.

“Really? But, you’re like, one of the legacy kids.”

“All that means is I know more of the gritty details and seen firsthand the way people I love were chewed up by this place.”

Hana’s brow furrowed in thought, crossing her arms as she focused on Brigitte. Hana had been so taken in by all the happy scenes in the mess hall and around the base, she hadn’t even thought about the implications and complications that must have been a part of Brigitte’s life. She was so good at always putting on a bright face, how could she have known?

Brigitte took a deep breath, looking weary as she took a moment to gather her thoughts.

“When I was a kid, it was like I was one of those audience members you talked about. I was told all the best stories about heroes and villains, and it so happened that my family were literally starring as those heroes. But when I was a little older, I started learning more about history, and the other side of things. The PETRAS act. In fighting and war crimes. Blackwatch. Angela’s medical tech weaponized against her wishes, by my own father it turns out. Winston and Tracer buried under so much red tape, I’m honestly surprised they were ever allowed to leave a military base of their own free will. And Reinhardt... He’s a lot like you, I think. Brave, loyal, too stubborn to be just the face of a movement without putting his own skin on the line. Not when there’s something bigger than himself he believes in.”

A deep sigh, and an almost painful expression crossed her face.

“So no, I don’t like Overwatch. But I also can’t sit on the sidelines while they risk their lives, knowing I can help them. They’re my family. So here I am. Family can be complicated, ya know?”

Before Hana could come up with something to say, the computer dinged behind them. Brigitte tapped on the keys, reading quickly when a smile crossed her lips.

“Look at that, perfectly legible Swedish.”

“It’s fixed?” Hana hurried over to look at the computer screen.

“Well, the translation program is running. Now I need to actually debug your diagnostics program.”

“Ughhhh, I’m never going to leave this place.”

Brigitte chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll get it done. Feel free to go get some dinner if you want. This will take a while.”

“No way I’m going to leave you here all alone!”

“I promise I won’t touch Tokki.”

“It’s not...it’s not that, Brigitte. I just don’t feel right strolling off to dinner while you’re stuck here fixing my shit.”

Brigitte smiled.

“Okay. I definitely don’t mind the company.”

---

Hana tried to keep up with what Brigitte was talking about as she debugged the code. And she could follow along, for a while. Eventually she was way too lost to feel useful, and didn’t want to distract Brigitte while she was fixing the issues, so she retreated to a nearby futon against a wall. It was well past midnight, and Hana’s eyes were starting to droop. Brigitte drank one of the Dva branded nano cola energy drinks a while ago and seemed to be completely in the zone.

The next thing Hana knew there was a strip of bright light in her eyes as the sun started to stream in through a window in the hangar. Hana stretched to pull out the discomfort her back protested with from not being in her bed, but it was really not that unfamiliar, considering some of the positions she’d fallen asleep at her gaming computer before. A blanket was draped across her body she didn’t remember picking up when laid down on the futon. She was all alone in the hangar and her watch told her it was just after 5am.

“Brigitte?”

No one answered.

She sat up, noticing an unopened water bottle and energy bar laid out on the ground beside her futon with a little sticky note.

“Give it a go, Lt - Brig”

Hana scooped up the rations and dropped in front of the dark screen of her laptop. When she started up the terminal screen, her diagnostic programming kicked off like it normally did. All in Korean.

The screen showed exactly where an electric circuit was tripping in the defense matrix grid of the mech, which had been glitching in the field the last few days. Hana noticed the parts and tools needed to complete the fix laid out on the workbench neatly, but when she poked her head in the mech, it remained untouched.

She smiled to herself.

“Kept her word to stay out of Tokki. These Overwatch kids are too much sometimes.”

D.Va pulled the panel off her mech and got to work.

----

At dinner that night, Hana spotted Brigitte in the mess hall with Reinhardt, Tracer and Winston. Brigitte gave her a wink when she noticed her. Hana got her meal and sat beside her, leaving her phone in her pocket for once.

“Thanks for the help with Tokki, Brigitte. Works like a charm now.”

“It was my pleasure, Lieutenant Song.” Brigitte’s smile was kind, her expression gentle and warm. Hana noticed this close up Brigitte’s eyes were lighter around the edges, and she had a few more freckles on her left cheek than the right.

“Did I just ‘ear you call ‘ana Lieutenant?” Lena cut in. “She’s ‘Lieutenant’, but I can’ get none of you to call me Captain? Double standards round ‘ere, I tell ya what.”.

“Well, Hana was a more recent officer in her respective position, while you have been discharged from the RAF for several years now.”

“Who’s side you on Win!? Those ranks don’t expire!”

Brigitte chuckled, whipping her head around to look at Tracer’s shaking her hand dramatically in the air, eyes downcast in an over acted, scandalized look. Hana also let out a small giggle.

“Your rank on the flight simulator scoreboard sure did,” Hana said, poking her tongue out with a playful smirk at Tracer. Brigitte, Reinhardt and Winston all laughed.

“She’s got you there, Lena,” Brigitte said.

“The youth of today. Ruthless.” Tracer grabbed a fist over her heart as if shot in the chest by a bullet.

“You know, back in my days of Overwatch…”

Reinhardt started in on one of his specially tailored stories for whatever situation was at hand, this case a very detailed recount of the first time he granted a field promotion in the Crusaders. Brigitte sighed, correcting inaccuracies she heard along the way, giving a wink to Hana when Brigitte’s presence in the story was pulled into the story much later on.

Lena took up the torch after that, remembering a time she accidentally flew into restricted airspace and managed to sweet talk her way out of being shot down. They all took turns sharing more elaborate one ups from their time before Overwatch. Hana even volunteered a story, sharing the time she convinced Dae-hyun to set Tokki up to stream a battle with the omnics. She broke her single day subscriber count in under one hour.

They all laughed well into the night, and for the first time Hana really started to feel like part of the team.

---

Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment if you enjoyed!

#overwatch #mekamechanic #dva #brigitte lindholm #laura writes #man I've been poking at this for ever finally time to just put it out in the world so I can think about something new ahaha #hope you like!#hana song #(also there was no 300 page onboarding manual until Pharah wrote it)

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duuhrayliegh · 3 years

Note

Hello, darling! I was wondering if you could right some Bucky x reader, where the reader worked along Sharon during Civil War and she meets Bucky. Then she runs always with Sharon and meets Bucky again in Madripoor and continue their story. I hope that makes sense. Thank yooouuuu✨✨✨

hey babes!! yes i absolutely can! i kind of gave more background than i meant to making it way longer, but i hope you enjoy it anyway! i do want to continue this story and most definitely will be so be on the lookout for the other parts of it lovie <3. i hope you still enjoy it even though it isn’t quite what you asked for yet :)

A Friend of Yours

FATWS SPOILERS

warnings: not much, canon lvl violence, some suggestive stuff closer towards to end, language, i think that’s it

word count: 6140 i went a bit overboard, it’s fine i’m totally fine

a/n: i got this request and then didn’t stop writing all day. i didn’t get anything else done all day. i got home at like seven-ish? and i’ve been sitting on the floor of my bedroom just writing this fic (for context it is now 12:47 pm where i’m at)

check out A Friend of Yours - pt. 2 and A Friend of Yours - pt. 3

p.s.: this is the first fic that i’m writing with an actual ‘x reader’ i’m so proud

xoxo ray

ray’s m.list

******************************

You grew up with Sharon, the two of you were best friends from birth it seemed. Honestly, Peggy raised you more than your own parents did. When Aunt Peggy got Sharon her first thigh holster, she got you one too. You enlisted together, moved up the ranks together, everything. So, it was of no shock to anyone that after the fall of SHIELD, you both moved together into the CIA’s Joint Terrorism Task Force.

You were inside the hotel with Sharon, Steve and Sam when the bombing on the UN took place. The look of unbridled fear that fell over Steve’s face as they announced Barnes as the primary suspect was heart wrenching. You weren’t able to watch it for long because your phone was already ringing off the hook.

“Look, you need to get me more information, and now.” You gritted into your phone speaker before quickly hanging up the phone and turning to a crestfallen Steve who was still watching the news casting. Sharon ended her phone call and turned to you.

“We have to go to work.” A few short hours on a jet later, you and Sharon were coordinating the operation. Close by, Steve and Sam were awaiting new information. Steve had this insane plan to find Barnes before the whole rest of the world did. Like that’s going to happen, it took the world 70 years to find Barnes. Of course, Steve and Sam are going to find him in about half that time.

You followed the blonde woman into a busy coffee shop and up to the counter. She slid a manila folder over to a well disguised Captain America. “Tips have been pouring in since that footage went public. Everyone thinks the Winter Soldier goes to their gym. Most of it’s just noise, except this.” Sharon was talking quietly, trying to not draw attention to the fact that she was committing a serious offense.

“We have to give the briefing, like now Shar, so we have to go.” The two of you pushed off the counter and you turned quickly to say one last thing. “And you better hurry. They’ve given the order to shoot on site.”

You left the shop quickly and made your way back to the white tent, passing the redheaded spy who was watching you like a hawk. A look of understanding crossed her features as you kept a calm facade. She fucking knows, how the hell could she read you that easily?

*********************************

The next time you saw any of them, they were exiting the back of an armored prison van. It was no surprise that his eyes flitted over to his best friend from childhood. You glanced over at Barnes, who was strapped in all different ways, and your heart hurt for him. You tried not to pity him, you know you would’ve gotten a slap on the wrist from Aunt Peggy about it.

Bucky must’ve felt you looking at him because his steel blue eyes locked with your pair. This was the first time that you’ve ever actually seen the man in person. It was startling, in a good way. You grew up going to the Smithsonian and hearing Aunt Peggy’s stories about the great James Buchanan Barnes. You never thought that you’d get the chance to meet the man you did a history report on your freshman year of high school.

“Y/N?” Sharon’s voice cut through your thoughts, recalling you to reality and out of your past. “We have to go. We’ve been assigned to monitor Steve and Sam while they’re here.” Sharon was clearly not a fan of this, which made you laugh loudly.

“Oh, score! We get to babysit Captain America and the Falcon!” You spoke in an unnecessarily upbeat voice and then clapped your hands together. “Our dream job! Let’s go, Shar!” She stared at you for a millisecond before slapping a hand on your shoulder.

“Let’s go, you fucking dork.” You followed her through the office building into the control room where you observed Tony talking to Steve. Apparently, the conversation was not going well because both their faces held angry glares. Eventually, Tony left the room, leaving Steve alone with his thoughts and that can never be good.

“How you doing, Cap?” You asked as you less-than-gracefully plopped yourself into the chair across from him. He looked over at me and released a heavy sigh.

“Honestly, Y/N, not that great at the moment.” He looked at you with his iconic mom Steve stare. Wow, so that’s what it’s like to be on the receiving end of that. Sam walked in and sat next to you. You drowned out their conversation as your gaze focused on screens outside of the glass office.

The video feed of Barnes in his metal cage was displayed on a TV screen. How is this considered humane? Obviously you knew that the CIA had pushed boundaries in the past, but this was just insane. “Are those restraints really necessary?” Sam seemed to be just voicing his thoughts, not expecting a response back.

“Well, he is considered an international terrorist, so yeah, they’re kind of necessary.” You said quickly and then muttered under your breath, “No matter who thinks that it’s excessive.” Steve’s gaze met yours and he was about to speak when Sharon walked in and dropped a paper in front of Sam.

“The receipt for your gear.” A scoff sounded from Sam as he glared at Sharon.

“‘Bird costume’? Come on.” Always quick to defend your best friend.

“Hey, we didn’t write it up.” It came off snappier than you had meant it. Sharon shot you a look, signaling you to back off. You raised a brow at her as she leaned over the table to the intercom buttons.

The audio from Barnes’ evaluation echoed through the glass room. Everyone around you was unsuspecting the four of you listened in. The psychologist was talking to Barnes, who seemed incredibly closed off. Who could blame the guy though?

“I’m not here to judge you. I just want to ask a few questions. Do you know where you are, James?” The psychologist paused for a second, looking down and off to the side. “I can’t help you if you don’t talk to me, James.” The caged man spoke for the first time.

“My name is Bucky.” His voice was rough from not being used. A look crossed Steve’s face and he turned to Sharon.

“Why would the Task Force release that photo to begin with?” Sharon’s body turned to face the man speaking to her. Her brows furrowed while she answered.

“Get the word out, involve as many eyes as we can?” Your head tilted, trying to follow Steve’s train of thought.

“Right. Good way to flush a guy out of hiding. Set off a bomb, get your picture taken. Get seven billion people looking for the Winter Soldier.” Oh shit.

“You’re saying someone framed him?” You wanted to believe it with every fiber in your being.

“Steve, we looked for the guy for two years and found nothing.” Sam reminded in a calm tone.

“Yeah, you didn’t bomb the UN though. That turns quite a few heads. Especially if prominent people like King T’Chaka end up dead because of it.” You made a good point, but there were still pieces missing.

“That doesn’t guarantee that they would find him. It guaranteed that we would.” Sharon and Steve began examining the room around them. Your attention returned to the audio emitting from the intercom.

“You fear that,“ the doctor paused, “if you open your mouth, the horrors might never stop. Don’t worry.” He glanced down again and moved his hand to swipe something away.

“Guys?” You pointed to the screen as the doctor held up his pointer finger.

“We only have to talk about one.” All of the sudden, the screens went dark and the lights flickered off. Secretary Ross was yelling at technicians to get his video back. Tony was speaking to his AI, Friday, about locating the source of the outage. Steve and Sam tensed at the thought of what could be going on with Barnes.

“Sub-level five, east wing.” was all Sharon said as the pair ran off. You looked at her and threw your hands in the air.

“What the hell do we do now, Shar?” She glared at you as she started reasoning with you.

“They’re stronger than we are. If they can contain whatever the hell is happening down there then great. In the event that they can’t, we’ll be up here with Natasha and Tony to deal with it.” You nodded quickly as you both ran out of the room.

You quickly followed Natasha, Tony and Sharon to the main level of the building. Clearly Steve and Sam were unsuccessful in containing the situation because Barnes could be seen through the glass, fighting his way to his destination.

Tony stunned Barnes with a previously concealed Iron Man glove. Barnes started towards Tony and quickly attacked. After Barnes bested Tony, it wasn’t long before Natasha rushed the man alongside Sharon. It wasn’t hard for Barnes to throw Sharon across the room. Natasha took the opportunity to launch herself onto his shoulders, which caused Barnes to slam her into a table with his metal hand wrapped around her neck.

She mumbled something to him as you kicked his ribs, releasing his chokehold on her. He stumbled backwards, his hard gaze landed on yours as he approached. Your eyes locked on his as the two of you traded blows.

They weren’t the same eyes as before. Those eyes were soft and remorseful, these were hard and unattached. There was no emotion behind the pair staring at you. The fraction of a second that you were analyzing his eyes in your head was enough for him to catch you off guard. His metal fist landed in your rib cage. The opposite hand jabbed at your face, busting your lip and sending you flying backwards.

You hit your head on the concrete below, making your eyes roll back. The wind left your lungs and you gasped to get it back as Barnes and T’Challa fought in the background. It was a few minutes later that a concerned Sharon made her way over to you.

“Are you okay?” You looked her over as she did you, checking for any severe injuries. You offered a small nod, not wanting to shake your head too much in fear of a concussion. “Let’s go check in with Ross.”

******************

“And how the hell did Rogers and Wilson even know where to find Barnes?” Ross’ voice boomed through the office. No one said anything, not wanting to incur the wrath of Secretary Ross. “I’ve already allowed Stark 36 hours to find them and bring them back here.” Ross turned to you and Sharon standing in the corner of the room. “If they contact any of you, report it immediately.” Rounds of ‘yes, sirs’ bounced around the room, then chaos ensued as everyone got back to trying to clean up this mess.

“Carter. Y/L/N. Elevator now.” He raised two fingers to point toward the elevators before walking into one. It was just the three of you in the enclosed space. He clicked the button for the ground floor. “I know you have some kind of connection to Rogers but do not let that cloud your judgement. The both of you are CIA agents first.”

“We understand, Secretary.” The elevator doors opened again and you went to step out when Ross stopped you again.

“I mean it, girls. This is your job on the line here.” You and Sharon shared a look before continuing walking. Did he just call us girls?

“Do you think that was supposed to be intimidating?” You laughed under your breath as you went out to the parking lot. Sharon sighed and shrugged her shoulders.

“Probably.” She looked at you over the top of her car. “You don’t have to come with me.”

“Where do we start?”

****************************

Getting that fucking shield and bird suit wasn’t easy. They had moved it from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre to the US Embassy to await transport back to the States. It made it easier but still damn near impossible to get. Thankfully, you and Sharon are good liars. Skills of a misspent youth.

The two of you walked in the front door and displayed your badges. “We’re here to pick up Captain America and the Falcon’s effects.” The man behind the counter didn’t even question it. Man, they need better people at the Embassy.

“You’ll have to sign some paperwork saying you picked it up.” There it is. You both flicked a brow and Sharon held her hand out for the clipboard. Small scratches from the pen in her hand were echoing throughout the empty building.

She handed the clipboard back to the man behind the counter. “Okie dokie, just pull your car around to the side of the building and we’ll get you loaded up.” He shot them a small smile and turned around to file the papers.

“That was easy enough.” You whispered to Sharon as you left, not wanting your voice to carry. You walked to your car that was parked in front of the iron wrought gate. Pulling your car around to the side of the building, you popped the trunk. The gear clad Embassy soldier carelessly tossed Sam’s suit inside before gently placing the shield on top of it.

“Hey, if there’s a scratch on that suit, it’s coming out of your paycheck buddy.” You held your pointer finger up to the man’s unimpressed face.

“Y/N, let’s go. We’ve got to get these to the jet or Ross will have our heads. Remember it’s our job on the line here.” What Sharon said made you laugh big while hauling yourself back into the driver’s seat of the car. As you pulled out into the street, Sharon was typing away on her phone and pushing it to her ear.

“This is a secure line but I don’t know for how long, so don’t talk just listen.” She took a deep breath and then continued. “We want to help. Meet us under the bridge on Route 6. We’ll be there in two hours.” She ended the call quickly and threw the phone outside the car. Glancing over at you, she nodded and sighed again.

“We’ve gotten this far.” You had one question burning in your throat that you were afraid to ask.

“Where do we go after they’ve gone?” She looked at you and she was biting her lip, something she only did when she was incredibly stressed.

“I don’t know yet. Do you have any ideas?” You smiled and thought of the one place that you wouldn’t be followed.

“Yeah, I’ve got one, but it’s rough.”

***************************

The drive to the underpass wasn’t a hard one. You had beat the boys there so you and Sharon were sitting in the car. You had the radio playing softly in the background.

“Who the hell do you know in Madripoor?” You laughed and shrugged.

“I’m supposed to tell you all my secrets for free?” You shook your head and shifted in your seat to face her fully. “I was tasked with tracking some artwork down there. One of my assignments when we went through initiation for the Agency.” You picked at the holes in your jeans. “I thought it was just all fake stuff, but I researched it more and more. Turns out, the underground artwork dealing is really lucrative over there.”

Sharon stared at you in amazement. “What did you do, Y/N?” You smirked.

“I haven’t done anything.” You held her gaze, “Yet.” She released a small laugh and her mouth hung open a bit. “I may have a warehouse out there.” You squinted one of your eyes, and leaned forward. “And the apartment above it.” She was going to say something when an old ass blue Beetle pulled up behind you.

“Now how the fuck did they all fit in that tiny ass car?” You both laughed as you stepped out of the car with big smiles on your faces.

“Not sure you understand the concept of a getaway car.” Steve walked up to Sharon and they began talking as she popped the trunk, revealing their gear. Your attention was on the men in the car behind them. Barnes was stuck in the back away from cameras and Sam was lounging in the passenger seat. Your eyes met Barnes’ again, they were back to the remorseful pair you saw the first time.

“You know he kind of tried to kill us.” You waved your hand in gesture to the man in the car.

“Sorry, I’ll put it on the list too.” He glanced back down at Sharon, who had migrated closer to him. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

She nodded, “I know.” Then the most awkward kiss in all of kissing history took place. Your brows shot up then furrowed quickly, a small wince overtaking your face. They pulled apart and traded more words. Sharon began walking back to the passenger side of the car.

Steve turned around and you looked back at the two men in the car. Both of them were wearing proud, smug grins. Steve threw his head back as if he was berating them.

“About damn time, Cap! She’s been pining over you for God knows how long now.” The windows were down in the Beetle so the other two heard you shouting at their friend.

“Y/N!” Sharon was a bit embarrassed.

“What? It’s the truth, Shar!” The two of you began bickering like an old married couple as you started the car again. Steve got all he needed from the trunk and shut it quickly, slapping it twice. You began driving off with Sharon giving you directions to an airport on the opposite side of the country.

***********************

That was the last time you saw Steve. Last time you saw anyone for a while. You had been dusted in the Blip. Sharon had followed you to your apartment in Madripoor. The two of you were able to figure the city out pretty quickly. Learning the ins and outs of the island, where to go, who to sell to. One afternoon, you and Sharon had been surveying a Van Gogh piece for your gallery when you flew away. In the middle of a fucking deal, what perfect timing.

Five years later, you were reunited with an even more successful Sharon. “I kept your room the way you left it.” She said as she led you through your shared home. “I figured that you’d be back and you’d be pissed off if I fucked with anything.”

You smiled at the woman gratefully and hugged her. Neither of you let go for a while. When you did, she started filling you in on everything. She had continued to split all her profits and had been depositing the money into your account. “Even if you didn’t come back, I could’ve used it if I needed to bug out. Win-win.” She explained with a smile.

The two of you had about six months of getting back into the groove of things. It was quickly cut off by a ping of your phones one day. A look of confusion and anger crossed her face, “Are you fucking kidding me?” She locked eyes with you and told you to get your gear.

“Where are we going?” She threw her phone at you and you looked at the screen. As soon as you read the notification at the top of it you understood. Repeating your question from before, you tied the knots on your Converse. You followed Sharon to the Low Town side of the island.

“Now what the fuck are they doing here, do you think?” The two of you camped outside of the Brass Monkey nightclub, ready for whatever came your way. Deciding that you were too visible to everyone else, you moved to the building across from the club. Something is bound to go wrong and the first place they're going to get ran to is this dead end alley.

Sure enough, not even ten minutes later, Sam, Barnes, and Zemo got cornered in the alleyway. Sharon had decided to stay on the ground floor next to the door. You shot two of the assassins following the group of three and Sharon took out the final one.

You made your way back down to Sharon, who was still holding her gun up. “You cost me everything.” She focused her gun on Zemo.

“Sharon, wait. Someone recreated the super soldier serum and Zemo had a lead.” Sam remarked calmly, trying to diffuse the situation.

“Explains why you guys are here and Selby’s dead.” Your brows shot up at that, must of been new information that she got while you were upstairs.

“Why are you here, Sharon?” Sam questioned.

“She was one of the ones who stole Steve’s shield, remember?” You stepped forward, raising your gun to gesture to the men in front of you. “And the wings, so your ass,” you waved at Sam, “could save his ass,” at Barnes, “from his ass.” You lowered your gun and stepped in front of Zemo, staring the man down. Your fist balled and you launched it at Zemo, landing a solid hit to his cheekbone.

Barnes grabbed your hand, twisting your body to slot against his with your arm bent behind your back. He leaned close to your ear, breath making shivers trickle down your spine. “I only let you do that because I’ve wanted to for a while now, so don’t get any more ideas.” Your breath hitched because of the proximity of the man behind you.

“Alright, give me my Y/N back.” Sharon said, lowering her gun to holster it. Bucky held onto you for a few more seconds than necessary and then pushed you towards Sharon as he released you. You scoffed, then shoved your gun into the waistband of your jeans. Sam and Sharon had already started their own conversation by the time you calmed down enough to face Barnes.

Sharon bobbed her head to you, an unspoken language between the two of you. After bringing them into your home, Sam began admiring the artwork in the first floor gallery. “Looks like breaking the law is treating you two well.”

“Before even graduating into the Agency, I had a place over here. Never had any intention on using it, but here we are.” You started, “Then, after having to flee Berlin, for you,” You shot a look at Bucky, “we figured if we had to hustle, might as well enjoy the good life. Do you know how much we can get for a real Monet?”

“Deactivate your hustle mode. You sell fake Monet’s.” Sharon shot him a look, about to defend us when Zemo cut in.

“No. She means real. This gallery is specialized in stolen artwork. Monet. Van Gogh. All the classics.” Sam made a face of disbelief.

“It’s true. You know, half the artwork in museums like the Louvre is fake. Real stuff sits in places like this.” Bucky gestured to the gallery. Sam pulled his phone out of his suit pocket.

“Okay, guys, I see what you’re doing. You’re more worldly than good old Sam.” He was typing furiously as he spoke. Bucky passed him, soundlessly following you and Sharon to the upstairs apartment.

“Yeah. What’s Google say?” Once the five of you got upstairs, Sharon began walking them into her office, telling them that they needed to change because we were hosting clients. It didn’t take long for the men to switch outfits. It was refreshing to see Barnes in something other than combat gear or a torn Henley. Sharon followed you in the office, making a remark at Sam while he apologised.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? The way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.” She said as you plopped yourself on one of the plush chairs across from the couch, holding a clear glass full of whiskey.

“He knows. And not so deep down.” Zemo added quietly, since when is Zemo informed? Sharon glazed over his comment, opting for asking about the new Cap while filling a glass for herself.

“Don’t get me started.” Barnes spoke for the first time since being downstairs. You narrowed your eyes at the man.

“Please. You buy into all that stars and stripes bullshit.” You swung your glass to Zemo, “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.” His gaze darted over to you, nose wrinkling at your comment.

“Do you know who I am?” He tried to be intimidating but it was just funny to you. You were taking a drink to moisten your throat to fire back a witty comeback, when Sharon spoke for you.

“Oh trust me, she knows. She did a report on you freshman year of high school.” You started choking on your drink as Sharon smirked from the couch next to Barnes. His brows raised and a smug smile graced his face.

“She did now?” Clearly he was a different man from the last time you saw him. Meeting his eyes for the fourth time ever, you were surprised with what you saw. There was almost a hunger lingering behind his eyes.

“Most definitely. I don’t even know how many times she went to the Smithsonian to see the exhibit about you.” You glared at Sharon, who continued to talk, unbothered by you. She raised her own glass to her lips, speaking into her cup, muffling her words. “Honestly, think she developed a little crush.” Barnes’ eyes never left your face, his mind racing.

“Wait, so the entire time you were helping me and Steve, you had a crush on Tin Man?” Sam interjected, wanting to be included in the conversation. You rolled your eyes and gave a subtle nod to Sam. The action wasn’t missed by Bucky.

“Which is why I think it must’ve been really hard for you to ask him of all people for help. They comin’ down real hard on you out there?” You asked Barnes with a smirk and a head tilt towards Zemo. “I know he fucked you up real good, triggering the Soldier, Barnes.”

Sam laughed beside him. “Dude, that’s basically what you told Walker.” Barnes threw a glare at Sam, who had clapped a hand on his metal shoulder. The conversation dissipated after your comment, guess you killed the vibe.

Sam turned to a relaxed Sharon, “We need your help.” Her body tensed, neither one of you was ready to throw yourself back into enemy territory. “I can get your name cleared.” He dangled a huge bargaining chip in front of her face. You knew Sharon was eager to get back to the States. She misses her dad. It was unfair of Sam to use that as a way to gain her favor.

“Haggling with someone’s life like that isn’t okay, Sam.” You said quietly, focusing your gaze on the glass in your hand.

“It’s not like that, Y/N.”

“Yes, it is, Sam.” You said firmly. “You can’t just say something like that. I know you’re an Avenger. That’s great shit, but you need to realize that if you can’t deliver on your word, we go to jail or worse. You know that.”

“I don’t trust charity, Sam.” Sharon said from beside Barnes.

“All right, a deal then. You help us out, and I get your names cleared.” Your nostrils flared and you shook your head. Sharon agreed, blinded by the possibility of seeing her family again. You don’t doubt that she thought through all the outcomes, it just wasn’t the route you would’ve taken.

“We sell to some pretty connected people. Lay low, blend in, and enjoy the party.” She got up, exiting the office.

“Try to stay outta trouble, boys.” You said placing your glass on Sharon’s desk as you left. “We’ll see what we can find.”

*********************************

You were standing next to Sharon when the three men joined the party. Leaning over to Sharon, you told her you were going to get a drink from the bar. You pushed your way through the crowd, planting yourself on a stool in front of the countertop. Nodding your head at the bartender, they passed you a bottle of club soda.

“Not drinking tonight?” A raspy voice questioned over your shoulder. You turned to face the owner as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Already had my fill. And technically, I’m supposed to be working, Barnes.” Your eyes met with his again. You couldn’t tell if it was the light in the room or if it was just him, but they were a deeper shade of blue than before. He leaned his weight on his elbow that was resting on the bar top next to you. He was so close you could feel his body heat rolling off him in waves.

His eyes roamed your face, stopping on your lips as he spoke. “You know you can call me Bucky, right?” You made a face, bringing your bottle to your mouth. He watched intently as your lips wrapped around the opening.

“We’ve never had a single conversation before today. And the first time you actually met me, you twisted my arm behind my back because I punched the dickwad standing next to you.” You took another sip and his eyes drifted down to your throat. He watched as it bobbed when you swallowed.

“So, yeah. I’m going to call you Barnes.” You leaned closer, “I’ve never been given permission to call you anything else.” You could tell you struck something. Something that he didn’t even possibly know about. His face heated and he had to clear his throat before speaking.

“Um, okay. Well you can call me Bucky or if you want, James.” Your brow quirked and you pulled back to take him in fully.

“How many people have you let call you that since you got your free will back?” Your tone was serious, but your face held a smile.

“None, doll.” His eyes ran over your face again. “I just want to hear how it’ll sound coming from your mouth.” One of his metal fingers came up to rest on your bottom lip as your smile grew.

“James.” You whispered, just for him. What he was giving you was a privilege, one you were going to revel in. One corner of his mouth tugged upwards.

“Again.” He growled as his finger remained on your lip.

“James.”

“Again.”

“James.” The party around the two of you faded away. In your reality, it was just you and the man in front of you. A peaceful place, where nothing could change what was happening right at that moment.

Of course, reality is a bitch. And you never got what you wanted. Your jaw clenched as soon as your phone pinged. James dropped his hand from your face as he read the text with you.

Found Nagel. Meet us outside and if you find Bucky, tell him too.

You scrunched your nose and bit your lip. James’ hand was quick to pull your lip from your front teeth, before resting there for a second as he studied your face. He stepped back quickly, nodding his head for you to follow him.

**************************************

You don’t know how the hell Sharon managed to find him, but she did. You were in a shipping yard for storage cars. “Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam said as the five of you weaved your way through the containers.

“With a bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” She glanced down at her phone in her hand. Nodding toward a red container, “Alright, he’s in there. Container 4621.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out five earpieces.

“We’ll keep watch while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on borrowed time.” You said as you watched everyone situate their pieces. Sharon turned around and began walking down an aisle not far from the container Nagel was in. You stopped James before he could go anywhere.

“Hey, be careful.” His eyes met yours and they were back to the normal steel blue. “Don’t forget who you are, James.” Something flashed behind his eyes, but his face showed no change.

“You too, Y/N. Don’t make me come out here and save your ass.” His eyes flicked down quickly and a smile spread quickly. “I mean, not that I would mind.” You rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder, turning and walking down the aisle Sharon did.

“So,” She was leaned against a rusted container with a smug smile. “You and Bucky, huh?” You groaned and stood next to her.

“I don’t know, Shar. Neither one of us should be in a relationship. Especially since we’re both Enemies of the State, well one of us is, the other one was.” You turned your head to look at her. “What do you think about all of this?” She opened her mouth to speak when you both heard something ricochet off a metal wall.

She raised a finger to her mouth and crouched down before pressing that same finger to her earpiece. “Guys, we have company.” She took off down one end of the aisle and you down the opposite, ready to attack from both sides. There were three men walking towards Nagel’s container, you shot a look down to Sharon and she nodded.

She came from the back with a baton, whacking the last guy once in the knees and once in the head, disarming him. When the front man turned to help his comrade, you did the same move to him with your own baton. You both continued trading blows with the men. You had effectively taken out the first man, using his thigh to latch yourself to the third man’s shoulders. Situating yourself to use your body weight to flip him over, definitely knocking him out.

“Every bounty hunter in the city is here. We gotta go now, boys!” You yelled to your earpiece as you watched Sharon fight off another opponent.

It wasn’t until the gunfire started that Sharon said something else into the piece. “Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” You both split off, out of each other’s view, battling your own demons. You were currently dealing with two of those said demons, when a third approached from behind. Locking you in a chokehold as the other two continued punching your ribs.

One of the hunters was suddenly ripped away from you. Punches were landing and groans were echoing through the alleyways. You threw all your body weight forward, throwing your assailant over your shoulder. Two gunshots rang out and then a third one, which landed a bullet hole between your aggressors eyes. Your head whipped around to face James, whose arm dropped back to his side.

He walked towards you, putting a hand on your back leading you to where Sharon and Sam were standing. Zemo pulled up in a blue convertible car, “Supercharged.” was all he said. Sam pointed his finger at the man in the driver’s seat.

“You’re going back to jail.”

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” James sighed heavily, his shoulder sinking with the action.

“He’s right. We need him. And there’s two of us, and at least twenty of them.” James got in the front seat, leaving the door open for Sam.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again--”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” Zemo raised his hands in surrender. Sam turned to Sharon.

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” You leaned over the open door to talk to James. He looked at you with a sad face.

“Why don’t you come back to the States with us?” He tilted his head. “We could clearly use your help, doll.” You smiled at that and licked your lips before responding.

“You know we can’t. Not yet anyway.” He placed his finger back on your bottom lip, maintaining eye contact. “This isn’t the last you’ll see of me, James. That I can promise you.” He smiled and dropped his hand back to his lap.

Sam climbed into the seat behind James. “You’re not going to move your seat up, are you?” James smirked before replying.

“No.” You watched as they drove off, desperately wanting to see James again already.

You turned back to Sharon and the two of you began walking back towards High Town. “I think you should go for it.”

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