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oliviajdjarin · 3 years

Text

Chapter 16: An Understanding

Warnings: this one really isn’t bad, just a droid death and sappiness.

Author’s Note: Thank you to anyone who has supported this. We are almost there!

(If this is your gif please lmk!)

The sweet moment between the three of you was quickly ruined by a distant explosion, so the Mandalorian woman quickly rushed you all out after she quickly gave Mando a gift.

A Mandalorian jet-pack.

You had seen other Mandalorians use them in the past, and Mando seemed incredibly honored to have one, so if Mando was happy, you were happy.

The team followed the tunnel towards the smell of sulfur, trying your best to track the lava flats. You didn’t have much of choice. That was the only way out.

As you walked down the tunnels, you held the sleeping child in your arms, keeping him close to you. Mando walked next to you, stealing glances at you as you walked. You would glance back, but he would always face forward once more, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t starring. You would always smile at him when he would turn away, obviously embarrassed.

Who knew you could make a beskar covered warrior like that be embarrassed?

You felt at peace. At home. For once you actually had one. You didn’t even know how to describe the feeling. It’s like your anxious brain and beating heart finally subsided. Like your body relaxed, and you had nothing to fear. Sure, the team was still stuck in these tunnels and the exit would be swarming with stormtroopers, but you had backup. A team. A clan.

It felt like a new start.

Once you finally made it to the river’s edge, a boat was leaned up against the land. It had obviously seen better days and the droid inside hadn’t been used in a long time.

Great.

Mando and Karga tried pushing the boat, but that did no use, so Cara raised her rifle and shot the boat free from the hardened lava.

You smiled at her and chuckled, thinking about the fact she had outsmarted a Mandalorian and a well known Guild member. You were not surprised in the slightest.

You could’ve sworn she laughed back.

Everyone climbed into the boat, and by some miracle, the droid inside sputtered to life. It stood up, raising its paddle and dropping it into the orange liquid beside it. It then said some droid gibberish, which IG-11 presumed was a request.

“I believe he is asking where we would like to go,” IG said.

“Downriver. To the lava flats,” Karga said, and the droid set to paddling.

Mando was to your left, while Cara was at your right. The child had woken up once more, using his energy to chew on your thumb. Mando brought his hand up to his helmet, activating the thermal scanners.

“That’s it,” Karga yelled, pointing to the growing light coming from the end of the tunnel.

“We’re free!”

It had been a long time since you had heard something like that.

“No,” Mando said, squashing your elated mood.

“Stormtroopers. They’re flanking the mouth of the tunnel. They must know we are coming.”

“Stop the boat,” you said sternly to the ferry droid. The droid, however, gave no sign that he actually heard you.

“Hey,” Cara said firmly, walking up to the droid.

“She said stop the boat,” she said before shooting the droid’s head off.

You appreciated Cara’s act of defense for you, you really did, but it didn’t do any good. The boat kept moving.

There was no other way. You had to stand and fight.

You pulled your longspear from your back and tucked the child deeper into your arms. You had fought stormtroopers before, why would this time be any different?

“They will not be satisfied with anything less than the child,” IG said, and you turned your head to look back at him. Your confused expression accurately represented the feelings of the rest of the group as well.

“This is unacceptable. I will eliminate the enemy, and you will escape.”

“You don’t have that kind of firepower pal,” Mando said in reply.

“You wouldn’t even get to daylight.”

“That is not my objective,” said the droid. “I still have the security protocols from my manufacturer. If my designs are compromised, I must self-destruct.”

“What?” you asked the droid.

“I am not permitted to be captured. I must be destroyed.”

The droid looked at Mando and said, “Sadly, there is no scenario where the child is saved in which I survive.”

“No,” Mando said, moving closer to the droid.

“You’re not going anywhere. We need you.”

“Please tell me the child will be safe in your care,” the droid said, now looking at both you and Mando.

“But you will be destroyed-” you began to say.

“And you will live,” IG said. “I will have served my purpose.”

He looked to Mando and said, “There is nothing to be sad about.”

“I’m not…. sad,” Mando said, but you were no where near convinced. His voice was the only way for you to humanize him, and emotions were very easily traced on the voice. When you can’t see someone’s face, the voice is all they have. You had gotten good at that.

It seemed IG had gotten good at it too.

“Yes, you are. I’m a nurse droid. I have analyzed your voice,” IG said before coming to the child and brushing his hand along his forehead.

No matter how little Mando wanted to deny it, the droid was your saving grace.

The droid then stepped into the boiling lava, and started making its way down towards the exit.

You watched the droid with wide and curious eyes. You had never seen a droid be so… selfless. You had always seen droids as mindless robots who only acted out of survival, but this one gave its life for you.

You wished you could repay him somehow.

When the detonator on the droid finally exploded, the child in your arms lifted his ears and watched. Even though the droid had been there for a small time, he was still the reason you and the child were alive. It seemed like the kid was loosing a friend.

You could see the pain in his eyes, and you wished you could take it all away from him and put it into your own.

Once the boat finally drifted into the tunnel, you saw the bodies of the stormtroopers on either side of the bank.

Maybe this actually… worked?

But, like many… many… times before, the scream of a tie fighter ruined all chances of an easy departure.

“Moff Gideon!” Cara shouted before raising her blaster and shooting at the aircraft. Mando and Karga immediately joined her, while you used your longspear to shield you and the child from any blaster fire.

The ship’s canons rained fire on the group for a couple seconds before the ship went roaring completely over your heads.

“He missed,” Karga said in relief.

“He won’t next time,” Mando said. The ship was already starting to turn back around.

“He mentioned he knew you,” Mando said to you, referring to when he was trapped in the town not even an hour before this.

“Yeah….” you said.

“I’ve pissed him off,” you chuckled out, and Mando looked at you with a breathy laugh as well.

“Hey,” Karga said suddenly. “Let’s have the kid do the magic hand thing.”

Oh great, you thought to yourself.

“Come on baby! Do the magic hand thing,” Karga said to the kid while wiggling his fingers.

The child only giggled in your arms and waved back, and you let a light chuckle come out of your nose.

“I’m out of ideas,” Karga said.

“I’m not,” Mando said, turning around to get the jet-pack from the boat.

You watched him walk away with a slight smirk on your face. You believed in Mando more than anyone, and you prayed he had enough training to know how to use that thing.

You saw the tie fighter making its way back to you through the corner of your eye, but you continued to watch Mando. He attached the pack to his back and then locked eyes with you before shooting into the sky like a rocket.

You watched him with a beating heart as he flew right in front of the tie fighter, allowing it to go under his feet. He then hooked his grappling cable onto the wing and used the jet pack to propel himself onto the cockpit window.

Even though you were scared out of your mind, you still managed to smile at the sight above you.

Your Mandalorian was incredible.

Mando’s blaster did almost no damage to the cockpit door before Moff Gideon jerked the ship to the left. The ship was starting to spiral, and your awe quickly turned into worry.

Mando was holding on with everything he had.

He all of a sudden let go and went soaring through the air. The left side of the ship completely exploded, which sent the ship careening to the ground. It burst into smoke on impact.

Barely a second later, your Mandalorian landed before you in a slight crouch, before standing to his full height.

The smile on your face said it all.

He chuckled slightly at your shocked and happy expression before taking the child from you and holding him in his arms. You walked to stand beside him and stare up to his face, proud and joyful.

You got a Mandalorian.

Karga and Cara stood before you two with equally shocked expressions

“That was impressive Mando,” Karga said. “It looks like your Guild rates have just gone up.”

You grinned at Karga, enjoying his little tease.

“Any more stormtroopers?” Mando asked.

“I think we cleared the town,” Cara said with a laugh. “I’m thinking of staying around just to be sure.”

“You’re staying here?” Mando asked, equally confused as you were.

“Well, why not?” Karga asked. “Nevarro is a very fine planet, and now that the scum and villainy have been washed away, it’s very respectable again.”

“As a bounty hunter hive?” Mando asked, and you once again giggled at his bluntness.

“Some of my favorite people are bounty hunters,” Karga said with a bit of a chuckle.

“And perhaps”- he said while placing a hand on Cara’s shoulder- “this specimen of a soldier might consider joining our ranks.”

“And you, my friend”- he said while turning his attention back to Mando -“will be welcomed back into the Guild with open arms.”

Mando looked to the child in his arms, beaming up at him with utter adoration. He then looked to you at his side, and you gave him a smile that said I’m with you. With whatever you choose.

“I’m afraid I have more pressing mattors at hand,” he said, turning his head back to the child.

“Well you better keep watch of this one,” Karga said to Mando while gesturing to you.

“She could take your place at the Guild in a second,” he says, while snapping his fingers for emphasis.

“And she would do a damn good job,” he says, and you laugh in reply.

Mando gives a slight nod in agreement which only makes you laugh harder.

You can’t recall ever laughing this hard.

“Y/n,” Cara says, and you divert your attention back to her.

She is trying to look at you, but she just can’t meet your gaze.

“Listen… I… I’m really sorry. The Empire hurt me a lot and I just couldn’t…” she chokes out.

You could tell she was trying to apologize to you. For when your identity got revealed, for doubting your loyalty, or anything in between. She was obviously struggling, so you decided to help her along.

“Cara,” you said, and her eyes met yours.

“Your reaction was perfectly understandable. Truly. There is nothing to be sorry for,” you say, and a flash of relief skates over her eyes.

“I just saw how you were with Mando and the kid today and I…. I owed you an apology,” she said, and you smiled at her.

“Thank you, Cara. I’m glad we could come to an understanding,” you respond, and she smiles back at you. A genuine, relieved smile.

“As am I,” she says while leaning forward to caress the child’s ear.

“Take care of this little one,” Cara said to you and Mando. You gave her a respectful nod, acting as a promise that you would.

“Or maybe,” Karga added, “it will take care of you.”

You looked to Mando with a light smile, and you could tell he was grinning too.

The weight of guilt and shame had been lifted off of you. The people you cared for most forgave you. They looked at what you did right in the eyes, but looked past it, and saw you. You were sure it would take some time for them to completely trust you, but they were willing to try.

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

Tag list:

@leahkenobi @pinkninja200 @farfromjustordinary @440mxs-wife @bookloverfilmoholic @impala1967666

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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masterjedilenawrites · 3 years

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What about a reader that is drunk, going to do some nonsense, so both Tech and Crosshair stop her, and in the next day there’s a climate btween them? Pretty please 🥺

I wasn't sure what you meant by the last part of your request so I just let the scene play out in what felt like a natural direction, I hope that's okay! I'm happy to write something else if you'd like!

Tech & Crosshair & Reader | 1.8k words

You tried to hold back your giggles as you gathered up as many helmets as you possibly could. This was going to be great. You couldn't believe you hadn't thought of this before, it was probably one of the best ideas you'd ever had in your life. Your whole body seemed to shake with excitement. Or maybe that was just the alcohol. Nah... you hadn't had that much to drink. This was a genuinely good, smart idea.

You stumbled out of the closet and down the hallway, dropping a few helmets along the way but not even noticing. It was like the edges of your vision were out of focus but surely that was just the dim lighting of 79's. It'd always been hard to see in here.

"What are doing?"

The voice came out of no where, even thought its owner was practically standing right in front of you. Arms crossed, scowl on his face, eyes studying you as you juggled a half dozen clone trooper helmets in your arms for seemingly no reason.

"Back off, Crosshair," you slurred, trying to push past him quickly. Why was he always in your business?

The sniper was too quick for you even on your good days. He took hold of your arm and pulled you back before you entered the main bar area, keeping you in the relative privacy of the hallway.

"Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he rephrased his question.

"It's not stealing, it's a prank," you protested, trying and failing to get your arm out of his grasp. Another helmet tumbled to the floor in the effort.

"Oh there you are," came a new voice. It was almost as if you were moving in slow motion as you tore your gaze from Crosshair and over at the newcomer.

"Tech, tell this jerk to get out of my way," you thought you said. But whatever actually came out was apparently not as understandable. Tech looked between you and Crosshair, confused.

"Um, okay. Why are you stealing the 501st's helmets?" he asked the same question as his brother.

As if on queue, another helmet slipped out of your grasp, though you hadn't moved. At least, you didn't think you did. You huffed and ignored Tech's question, turning back to Crosshair with pleading eyes. Both men were standing between you and your chance to pull one over on the 501st, a battalion infamous for their clever pranks. And you were not going to be stopped.

"Come on Cross," you drawled. "I'm pranking the regs, you should be proud."

Even through your crazed senses, you were still able to pick up the amused twitch of his lips. But he quickly suppressed it and turned back to his usual grouchy grimace.

"Normally I would," he said, "but not like this. Not tonight."

He took a pair of helmets from you and handed them over to Tech, ignoring your whiny sounds of protest.

"He's right," said Tech, placing the helmets on the floor in the corner. "Wrecker already upset some of them tonight, I don't think they'd find this very humorous. Besides, in your drunken state..."

"I'm not drunk!" you exclaimed, probably louder than you intended judging by the flinch both men gave in response.

"Your cheeks are flushed and your eyes are bloodshot," said Tech matter-of-factly.

"And I saw exactly how many drinks you had," added Crosshair.

Tech nodded at him. "Yes, we could go on, but that should be indication enough that..."

You cut him off again, this time with tears. You couldn't help it. The whine that had almost been perpetually eking out of you during this whole conversation grew into actual cries and whimpers. Before you knew it, your cheeks were wet and your lips trembled uncontrollably.

"You're both so mean, you never let me have fun, the one time I come up with a great idea and you shoot it down like I'm an idiot, it's not fair, all I wanted was to show you that I belong here with you guys, but none of you let me, you don't care about me at all, you're such fun-busters..."

You babbled on and on, only barely making any sense to the two men who'd now freed you from your armful of stolen helmets and were gently guiding you out of the bar. You clunked along between them like a baby learning to walk for the first time, unaware of where you were going or what was happening. You could only focus on your emotional speech, and then after a few minutes, your focus was redirected to the queasy feeling in your stomach.

Thankfully the boys got you back onto the Havoc and into the refresher before you spilled your guts. Crosshair held your hair back and rubbed a hand soothingly along your spine until the worst of it passed. You fell limp next to the toilet, unable to form any coherent thoughts in the aftermath.

"Come on," Crosshair said softly by your ear. He tried pulling you up, but when it was clear you weren't going to stand on your own, he picked you up altogether and carried you over the to bunks.

Tech had pulled out one of the cots, the one everyone on the ship agreed was more comfortable than the others and thus fought over the right for almost every night. He had it set up with blankets and pillows, and he stood nearby holding a bottle of water as Crosshair laid you down.

"Just small sips for now," Tech said, holding the bottle up to your lips and helping you get down a few quick swallows, enough to calm the burning in the back of your throat. You were vaguely aware of his thumbs wiping away the remnants of your earlier tantrum from your eyes.

"Fun-busters," you muttered before curling up on your side.

Tech looked over at his brother, who only rolled his eyes at your stubbornness.

"Good-night to you, too," he said just before you lost consciousness.

* * *

The next morning was... rough, to say the least. You'd been tipsy a few times in your life, but never full-on drunk, which meant you'd also never had to deal with a full-on hangover.

Your head was splitting open, you were sure of it. Every turn of your neck made you feel sick. There was a pressure behind your eyes and a lightness to your stomach. You wanted to stay in bed forever. But even more painful than your hangover symptoms were the memories of your behavior the night before, and the urge to make amends eventually propelled you to get up.

You found Tech first, fiddling with his holopad in the cockpit. He eyed you as you carefully lowered yourself in the chair next to his, keeping a hand up to shield your eyes from the rays of morning sunlight that crept through the windows.

"I'm sorry," you said in a low, raspy voice, getting right to the point. You knew Tech appreciated when people did that. He wasn't a fan of small talk and segues, not when there was clearly something important to discuss. "I was kind of a dumbass last night, wasn't I?"

Tech set down his holopad with a shrug. "You had too much to drink. You weren't in control of your mental faculties."

You smiled at his uncomplicated way of viewing things. But then came a cough from behind, from a particularly unamused sniper leaning against the doorway.

"You were a dumbass," he said just as plainly as his brother. Well, at least they were both honest, even if it was in contrast to each other.

"I'm surprised you remember," said Tech, quickly trying to move past his brother's more negative comment. "From what I've read, memory loss is common after heavy intoxication...."

You shook your head, immediately regretting the action as it made your head ring. "I don't remember a lot, just enough to be embarrassed. If I said anything nasty to either of you, I really didn't mean it, I swear. I was just...."

You trailed off, not sure what it was you were really trying to do. You'd wanted to pull a prank, but there'd been something else driving you forward, some other motive to want to do something so stupid.

"You called us fun-busters and cried because you didn't think we cared about you," said Crosshair through the customary toothpick in his mouth.

You looked at Tech, who gave you an apologetic look that confirmed his brother's words were true. You let out a little groan and slumped into the chair. A part of you was glad you didn't fully remember.

"Do you really think that?" Tech asked. "That you don't belong here?"

You shrugged. You still weren't sure about your feelings.

"I dunno... I guess, maybe sometimes... it does feel like you treat me the way you do the regs." You spoke slowly, discovering your own thoughts as you said the words. "Like I'm just along for the ride. Just a normal person who doesn't matter. I thought if I did something to them, you'd see I wasn't part of them. At least, that's what my drunk alter ego thought, anyway."

You gave another shrug and tried for a laugh but it didn't feel quite right.

Tech looked thoughtful for a moment. "You do realize most of the regs in that club were inebriated, too. But we didn't carry any of them to bed for the night."

"Or watch as they puked their guts out," added Crosshair with a slight wrinkling of his nose.

"Yes," Tech nodded at you. "We knew you've been feeling down lately, that's why Hunter suggested we all go to that bar in the first place, to give you a chance to have some fun. Crosshair and I kept an eye on you, and Hunter and Wrecker made sure those regs didn't get upset over your, ah, attempt at a prank."

Tech let his words linger for a moment as you finally raised your throbbing eyes up to meet his.

"You belong here. And we do care. We care because, well..."

He looked over at his brother and you followed his gaze. Crosshair took out his toothpick and pointed it at you.

"Because we're your family."

He put the toothpick back in his mouth with a wink and then turned to leave, showing that that was the final word on the subject. Tech looked at you with a soft smile, one that made you finally feel at peace. You hummed as you laid back against the chair and let the feeling really take hold within you.

You belonged with the Bad Batch. They were your family.

It was a very nice feeling.

#star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #the bad batch #tech #crosshair #tech & crosshair #tech & reader #crosshair & reader #my easy breezy beautiful nerd boy #my emotional support grumpy toothpick man #cw: alcohol

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themangolorian · 3 years

Text

Pairing: Mandalorian x Reader

Request for @the1maddest1hatter my absolute love who has been so completely and totally patient with me and understanding and i’m so glad i was able to finally finish this and post it for you finally, and i hope it’s everything you were hoping for and more. thank you so much for not giving up on me - this was so fun to write and i’m glad i finally got it to somewhere i’m happy w/ it. i love you! 💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜💜

Warnings: some slight violence.

You weren’t often in the habit of getting yourself involved in the business of others. But when you’d seen imperial guards chasing the cloaked and armored figure across the square, you figured you had no choice.

The fleeing culprit looked more than capable of taking care of himself, but the enemy of your enemy was your friend. So, interrupting the elaborate dance you’d been performing in the middle of the market, you twirled and flipped expertly until you were between the guards and whoever it was they’d been chasing. The distraction was enough. Still dancing and trying to suppress a smile, you saw the end of the figure’s cape disappearing around a corner.

The guards cursed violently your way but shouldered their way roughly past you in pursuit of the disappearing figure. What was more, your ruse had drawn the attention of the crowd of shoppers in the square, most of whom assuredly also had no love for the Empire. Before long, the cylinder you’d put in the square was full of credits.

But then-

Someone gripped your elbow painfully from behind, someone else your shoulder. Striking out to escape, you accidentally turned over the cylinder, spilling credits everywhere.

Loud shouts, haranguing from the crowd, assaulted the imperial guards who had returned empty-handed, the figure no doubt having escaped.

“What kind of dancer do you think I am?” You lilted sarcastically with more confidence than you deserved considering you were being detained.

“Keep your conniving trap shut, scum.” The trooper at your back rammed his baton into your lower back and you could hardly suppress the yelp of pain as you crumpled.

The protests from the crowd were easily deterred when the guards drew their high powered blasters and before you knew what was happening, you were being dragged away in durasteel binders. You cursed under your breath at the imperial guard who scooped up your hard-earned, now easily lost credits.

That was when the Madalorian had swooped in and, helped by the element of surprise, along with what was clearly immense skill, had taken out the guards - freeing you.

“What are you, a trooper gone good?” You’d joked, gesturing at his armor, though you knew it bore little resemblance to a trooper’s. He’d only grunted, focusing instead on freeing you from the binders.

But inevitably the guards had been almost instantly replaced with another unit who’d wasted no time in opening fire. The Mandalorian had dragged you along by the binders you were still trapped in. He managed to dart out of the way of every blaster shot aimed your way, hauling you with him as he went.

By the time you found yourself ensconced in the safety of his ship and as he blasted away from the planet you’d briefly called your home, your heart was beating too fast and you were laughing too hard, out of both panic and glee at the escapade, to question the new reality you found yourself in: on the ship of a stranger whose face you’d yet to see.

But that had been long ago enough by now that it was but a distant if happy memory. The Mandalorian, a man you’d thought so strange at first, had offered to drop you off on any planet of your choosing. And you’d truly meant to leave, but event after event had transpired, all revolving around the Empire’s chase for the child in the Mandalorian’s care, someone you’d also found strange but had now come to care for excessively.

You’d kept putting off leaving and then one day it had just stopped coming up. Though neither of you spoke of it, it now seemed a given that you were a staple in their strange little family.

“This is a good place to set up camp for the night,” the Mandalorian was saying, pulling you out of your reverie as you stared at the suns setting distantly in the sky past the horizon of the sea spread out beneath the cliff just beyond where you stood.

You turned absently and smiled at his visor. You had yet to see his face, even now, but by now he knew just how much you loved the seas, as few of them as you’d gotten to see in your lifetime. The choice of campsite was intentional, providing you with a breathtaking view of this particular planet’s suns-set.

Your heart stiffened painfully as you smiled sweetly his way. The man you’d gotten to know had been nothing like you’d thought he would be when you first met him, as intimidating as he’d seemed. He was gentle and generous to a fault, kinder than most souls you’d ever known.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat, breaking you from your stupor once more, but when he spoke, he too sounded emotional. “I’ll build the tent. Do you want to see how many rations we have left?”

You’s meant to answer but several things happened in succession. Din flinched then unholstered his blaster faster than you could blink. For one staggering moment of horror, you thought he was aiming it at you. But then the cold bite of metal was sharp at your throat, a strong arm coming around your middle firmly before you could react to any of it. A strangled cry left Din’s helmet.

“Where’s the target?” A raspy voice hissed at your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried to struggle, despite the idiocy of that act. Your hands shot to the man’s wrist around your neck and you threw your body back in the hopes of escape. But he was like a brick wall and did not budge, did not even react to your attempt as if you were little more than a bug beneath his shoe. It took you a long moment to process the fact that you were in danger of losing your life.

“Let her go,” Din spoke in a cold, threatening voice, “and I’ll let you live.” The blaster in his grip did not waver.

Your blood ran cold when your captor only chuckled. “Give me the location of the child, and I promise her death will be painless.” He flicked the sharp blade at your throat and you gasped involuntarily at the pain, felt a warm trickle of blood running down your neck.

You saw Din’s grip tighten around his blaster, knew he was calculating the odds of shooting your captor without harming you. But you knew Din too well now, knew what conclusion he would reach. But if you were a lost cause, you were free to do whatever it took to ensure that Din was not. To ensure both his safety and the safety of the child.

Thoughts of the craggy, rocky surface at the bottom of the cliff just behind you nearly made you shudder; your fear of heights was almost blinding, but you fought through the distress that would have paralyzed your entire body with fear. Din and the child were, after all, more than worth it.

The standoff continued as if the world had come to a standstill though the breeze continued to blow past you, the chirping of animals continued in the jungle you’d emerged from and, distantly, the breaking of waves on the rocks below did not stop.

Just as you meant to make your move, your captor was yanking your arm back and up until- a sickly crunch sounded and you screamed in pain, trying to muffle your own hurt so Din would not be goaded, but you saw only black for several seconds and your knees almost crumpled beneath you. The slight sliver of brainpower you had left in the moment told you to propel yourself backwards. Your captor, off balance from the movement of breaking your arm, staggered back with you, now just at the edge of the cliff.

“No,” Din shouted, his voice strangled, his blaster faltering now. If he shot, he ran the risk of hitting you. And the knife was still clutched at your throat.

Your captor hissed and tightened his grip around your throat in retaliation, and you struggled to breathe for a few moments. “Move one more muscle and I’ll throw you over the ledge,” he barked at you before loosening his grip. The knife had cut into your neck again, drawing more blood.

Your eyes never left Din’s visor. You could not, of course, see his eyes behind it, but you could will your thoughts and feelings into your own gaze, directed as it was at him. In the brief second you had left, you tried to express with your eyes alone everything you’d never had the courage to tell him before.

Then- you pretended to crumple in your captor’s arms, ignoring the way the knife cut at you again in your new position. He cursed, trying to straighten you. You used the moment in which he was caught off guard to propel him backwards with all the strength you had left in your body. At the same moment, you heard the sound of a blaster.

There had been the smallest part of your brain that had been sure you might be able to catapult him off the edge without going with him. But that had been a fool’s dream.

You lost your breath as you tumbled backwards off the cliff’s edge, unable even to scream.

Your captor had already lost his grip and distantly you heard his scream behind you as he fell. Though you were falling fast to the rocky depths below, you felt suspended in the air, suspended in time, trying to cherish only the last sight you’d had of Din as he’d surged forward hoping to catch you before you fell. You closed your eyes before you hit the icy surface of the unforgiving waters below.

******

Din had seen your intent the moment it had entered your eyes and had immediately been filled with nothing but pure dread. He ran through the possibilities as quickly as he could, but it hadn’t been fast enough. He’d shot the blaster only a second too late. And though the shot had found its mark in the heart of your captor, you’d gone over the edge anyway.

Another strangled, inhuman cry left Din’s lips as he leapt forward towards the cliff’s edge. He reached the peak just as your body disappeared beneath the surface below. This time he took no time to think. He dropped his blaster and dived gracefully off the cliff’s edge, trying to use his momentum to fall into the same area of choppy water where you’d disappeared, blessedly far enough away from the rocks that would have killed you instantly.

The icy temperature of the water barely registered beyond Din’s suit as he flipped his helm’s light on. Din tried not to panic when he saw nothing but empty, rough waters. Cursing within his helmet, he propelled himself further downwards, searching desperately for the sight of you. He began to breathe unevenly as water filled his helmet and knew he would soon have to surface. He could not, he knew, surface without you and expect you to live.

That was when he saw a flash of the bright skirt you almost always wore. He could have laughed with relief that you dressed so flashily. Then he was propelling himself through the water. His heart began thundering again when he saw your face blank, your eyes closed, unconscious.

His arms came around your chest and then he was battling the rough water upwards, breaking the surface and pulling you along with him. The water immediately drained from his helmet, allowing him to breathe. The weight of his armor and the strain of holding you aloft made the journey back to the rocky surface difficult, but adrenaline at the thought of the mere possibility of losing you drove Din faster.

He pulled you along with him up onto a rock above the breaking waves. He ripped his gloves off, one hand fluttering down to check your pulse, the other at your nose to see if you were breathing. When he realized you were not, he did not hesitate-

Din wrenched off his helmet and dropped it carelessly on the rock beside him. He fought the feelings of panic wrenching through him as he leaned down, pinched your nose between his fingers and put his lips to yours. He’d dreamed so many times of your lips on his, but never like this. He cursed himself distantly for never acting on his desires before, for letting his fear dictate his feelings for you, which were clear here at the possible end of it all.

Then he was pumping his clenched hands down on the center of your chest before putting his lips back to yours, trying to breathe you back to life.

“Come on,” he was saying roughly, “come on.”

***

Suddenly, you began to cough and heave, water trickling out of your mouth; your eyes fluttered open briefly. They closed again but not before you’d seen the stranger bringing you back to life. A beautiful, chiseled face. A man with plush lips, dark stubble and a mustache. Deep soulful brown eyes.

You struggled to breathe in, struggled to hack the remaining water from your lungs as you half sat up. The stranger held his arm sturdily at your back.

“The Mandalorian,” you managed to speak through racking coughs, “is he alright? Where is he?” In your panic, you had not stopped to think who the stranger might be or how you’d arrived in his care.

The man did not respond, only clapped you on the back several times, trying to help you cough the water out.

When your eyes fluttered open again briefly, they landed on the soaking cape, hanging over the stranger’s shoulder, seemed to finally see the beskar shoulder piece. You gasped, choking briefly on the water still trapped in your throat.

“What-“ But then he was fitting the helmet swiftly back over his head. But not before you had seen the anguish in his gaze.

Immediately, you berated yourself inwardly. You should have kept your eyes closed. You should have- but you could not have known.

“Din,” you tried, but you silenced yourself, knowing he must be kicking himself.

Quiet and stoic as the day you’d met him, he lifted you into his arms, letting you hitch yours around his neck. Despite what had happened, you cherished being in his arms, curling into his chest, your head pounding from the fall, from your near death.

You were weaker than you’d realized and lost consciousness in Din’s arms again barely registering that he’d activated his jetpack.

When you awoke, you were cozy and warm and wrapped up in a swathe of blankets, your wet clothes gone. You blinked at the ship’s hull above you. You were back on the Razor Crest.

“Grogu,” you managed through your drowsiness.

“He’s alright,” Din’s voice came from the alcove just to the side of his bed, which you were now laying in.

You breathed a sigh of relief, but your breath hitched when you remembered what had occurred, what you’d seen, what Din had done.

“Din,” you breathed against your will. Likely he wanted nothing more than to be left alone, as remorseful as he no doubt was. His creed for your life? What a paltry exchange.

The thought brought tears to your eyes. As well as the thought that Din could only hate you now. How could he not?

But then he was at your side, his gloved hands hovering over you. “Are you alright?” Concern so deeply evident in his voice that it only made you want to cry harder.

“I-“ you managed, your voice choked. You grasped his hand since he held it there just at your eye level, and he sunk down to one knee, tightening his grip around your own. “Din, your creed.”

For just a single moment, he stiffened, but then took a shaking breath and relaxed. His other hand came up to stroke your forehead, then your cheek. “Don’t think about it. Just rest.” His voice was more gravelly than usual.

You swallowed through the dryness in your throat, distantly noting the bandages he must have applied to the wounds you’d sustained at the hands of your captor. Your eyes fluttered closed under his touch, worried if you kept them open, he’d leave your side. But his gloved hand continued its steady stroking of your cheek.

Tears threatened to spill from behind your closed eyes anyway. At the tenderness of it all. Of Din’s ability to forgive the unforgivable. Of what your presence in his life had caused him to forsake.

“You should have let me die,” you croaked before you could stop yourself. It was far from the right thing to say, but you meant it.

His breath hitched under his helm, and his fingers froze at your jaw, his other hand clenching yours tightly. “Don’t say that,” he muttered gruffly, his voice choked.

Din was more emotional than you’d ever heard him, but you were sure it was because of the betrayal of his creed; you could not fathom that his grief might have anything to do with the fact that you’d almost died.

You spoke through the painful tightness in your throat. “I’m not worth it- You shouldn’t have- I’m sorry I caused this-“

You stopped talking when he released your hand to cup your whole face between both his hands. You opened your teary eyes in surprise but, of course, saw only your weepy reflection in his visor.

Din’s gloved thumb rubbed just beneath your lips. “I…I couldn’t- let you die.” The words seemed a struggle and he let them out haltingly - not as if he didn’t want to say them, but as if he didn’t know how. “I…” You heard him swallow beneath the helmet as your eyes darted all around his visor, wishing you could see his current expression, wishing you’d never seen his beautiful face at all. But then- “I care…about you…more than I can-“ He cut himself off, as if fearing he’d said too much.

You merely stared, hardly able to believe your ears. He couldn’t mean… Could he feel the same… The thought was too unbelievable to truly consider.

His grip on your face loosened. “I…” He sounded suddenly uncertain. “I understand you don’t- feel…the same. I just…”

But then you were gripping his wrist before he could withdraw his touch. You heard a sharp intake of breath beneath the helmet and realized your fingers had met the skin of his wrist. Your eyes fluttered sideways, drinking in the sight of his perfect skin, scars and all, just there beneath your fingers. When you brushed his wrist with your thumb, he let out a sigh and his hand tightened around your face. Your eyes darted to his helm then back and then you were leaning sideways and pressing your lips to his wrist.

You felt his pulse jump beneath your lips as you pressed another kiss to the inside of his wrist. When you looked back up at him, his helmet was tilted as he seemingly stared down at you.

“If-“ You licked your parched lips, swallowed with difficulty. “If I close my eyes, will you- Can I-…” You’d never found yourself, chatty as you tended to be, at such a loss for words. “Can I kiss you?” You managed. He froze and you opened your lips to take it back, terrified you’d said the worst thing you could have in the moment. But when he shifted to move, you lost your breath, wondering-

He went to take off his helmet without waiting for you to close your eyes.

“Wait,” you gasped, shutting your eyes tightly, just as you heard the whoosh of air that must have meant he’d acquiesced.

“You don’t have to-…”

And it was your turn to stiffen. The modulator had always been a given, and you’d never really thought twice about what his voice might have sounded like without the digital disruption.

It was husky and crackly, soothingly deep.

You found your breathing going shallow again when his hand, now ungloved, was back at your cheek.

“My creed,” he started, his voice rumbling somewhere deep within your chest, affecting you deeply. “My creed dictates that I- protect….my clan.”

Your breath hitched again, impossibly so.

“The promises I made when I received the helmet,” you heard a heavy thunk as he apparently put the item in question down. “There is more to my creed than just the helmet. A Mandalorian who cannot keep…his clan,” Those two words again; your stomach flipped of its own accord each time he said them, at the thought of what he might be implying. “A Mandalorian who cannot keep his clan safe…is not worthy of the helm he would wear.”

You startled when his bare finger ran across your lips soothingly.

“Grogu…” he began again, slowly, as if weighing the words. “Has seen my face. Do you know why?”

“He’s your son,” you breathed against his fingers, reveling in the way your lips brushed his fingers as you spoke.

“Yes,” his voice cracked on the syllable, but only just, and when he spoke again, he’d recovered. “My family. My clan.”

You swallowed hard again through the lump in your throat, pursing your lips to speak, to deny what you thought he might next say, not because you didn’t want it to be true, but rather because it was the only thing you wanted to be true and were too afraid that it was not to even entertain the thought. But his finger hovered just over your lips once more, silencing your attempted protest.

“You didn’t make me break my creed,” he promised. “I’ve been wanting to- I’ve wanted to see your face…for so long.”

You made a noise of protest now. “You see my face all the time.” Indignant when he got what you didn’t every single day.

“Without the helmet. Not through a visor.” His voice was heavy again, emotional.

It was not until then that you realized what he’d said. He’d wanted to see your face too. He-

“You-“

“You can open your eyes,” his voice was soothing, encouraging even.

“Are- are you sure?” You managed finally.

He let out a low chuckle that set your heart to racing faster than it did even when you were dancing nonstop in city squares. “I’m sure.” It was a promise.

You opened your eyes and your sigh was involuntary. You drank in the sight of every sharp angle and soft line of his face hungrily. His eyes were tender, but as he leaned down, there was a kind of hunger in them too.

This time, when your lips met, it was a different kind of life you felt him breathe into you.

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction #my stories #request #the1maddest1hatter #the mandalorian #din djarin #mando #mandalorian #reader

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actress4him · 3 years

Note

can we see your choice of querencia character in "dragging themselves along the ground"?

I very rarely get prompts for my original stuff, so this was a pleasant surprise, thank you! Thought I’d mix it up by whumping Nari a bit. And we get to find out a little more about our main baddie!

Querencia 8 - The Warehouse Incident

@badthingshappenbingo

Fandom: Original work

Prompt: Dragging Themselves Along the Ground

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Warnings: typical superhero battle violence, implied broken ribs, implied concussion, brief emeto mention

Timeline note: This chapter takes place pre-Liliana’s arrival, earlier in the team’s superhero days.

So apparently they aren’t the only group of Supers who think an abandoned warehouse is a good place to hang out. Even though clearly their own warehouse is far superior to what Dagger and his crew have going on here. Doesn’t look like they’ve done any remodeling at all. Chances are this isn’t actually their secret lair or whatever, they’ve just been using it for storage and meetings and such.

Which is exactly the rumor that Nari and Alex had come out to verify. Unfortunately, they had not been prepared for Dagger himself to show up, Meltdown by his side as usual, and catch them in the act of scouting.

They really need to work on their stealth training. Assuming they make it back from this in one piece.

The good news about being inside the warehouse is that Dagger doesn’t really have room to fly. The bad news about that is when he’s not putting his energy into creating wings, he’s got plenty of it left for a multitude of weapons. And boy, does he have a repertoire. Nari has dodged swords, whips, arrows, maces, axes...and every time she throws something back at him, he turns all that glowing red energy into a nice little shield to protect himself.

Nari is not having a good time.

She’s pretty sure Alex isn’t faring much better. He’s a close range fighter, and Meltdown is long-range. From what she’s glimpsed, he’s doing a lot of dodging of his own. But the two of them have managed to not burn the warehouse down yet, so that’s nice.

Reaching out with her magic, Nari finds the computer she threw at Dagger earlier and picks it up again, launching it at the back of his head with a twist of her fingers. It’s one of the few hits she’s landed the whole time, sending him stumbling forward a few steps, but his helmet keeps it from doing too much damage.

While he’s recovering, she grabs the legs of the metal desk the computer had been sitting on - before she threw it, also, and broke it - and sends them flying like arrows. A wave of red energy knocks them to the side.

She reaches for them again, but he’s turned the energy into a claw that’s barreling toward her. With a yelp, she dives away, tumbling across the concrete. She comes to a stop on her back, and the claw is right over her. Right before it can grab her, she rolls over one more time and scrambles back to her feet, snatching up whatever random pieces of metal are lying around and tossing them backwards as she goes.

It doesn’t help. When she gets her feet under her again and spins around to face him, the claw is still there. In the blink of an eye it seizes her, crushing her arms up against her sides and lifting her feet off the ground.

“Nngh…” Her bones creak with the pressure. Somewhere in the background, she thinks she might hear her name being called, but she focuses on her magic, wiggling her fingers as she desperately tries to find something she can grab.

Just as a few shards lift off the ground, she’s raised, too, higher into the air before being flipped and slammed into the ground. Her skull and spine scream out in pain, and she would, too, if there was any oxygen left in her lungs.

Everything goes black for a moment. When her senses return, the claw is gone, but she can’t move. Every bit of her hurts. Even breathing hurts.

That voice is calling her name again, miles away, and somewhere in the corner of her mind she realizes it must be Alex. Alex. Is he...okay? Where…? I need...to get to him...need...to get out…

Slowly, groaning with the aches that flare into flames as soon as she moves, Nari rolls over onto her stomach and raises her head, narrowing bleary eyes in the direction of the other fight. Bright orange bursts of fire light up the two figures that dance around one another.

She needs to get there. Needs to get away from Dagger. If only her arms and legs would cooperate.

First she tries pushing up onto her hands and knees, but her back is having none of that and the motion sends her head spinning and makes her want to puke. She settles for bringing her arms in front of her and pulling, using one foot to push against the floor and propel herself forward. She only moves a few inches at a time, and her head throbs with each movement and her ribs screech with her huffed breaths, but each inch away from Dagger is better than staying still.

Until he turns that stupid energy into a whip again and lashes it around her ankle.

It barely stings through her leggings, but he immediately starts dragging her backwards, away from Alex, back toward himself and she can’t, there’s no way she can fight anymore, if he gets her back over there it’s over, he’s going to kill her.

Nari’s not ready to die.

With a scream she throws out her magic and latches onto the first metal thing it finds, yanking it toward her with all of her remaining strength.

It happens to be a support column. Rather than breaking off and flying through the air, it bends in half with a horrific shriek, and the roof of the warehouse starts to crumble.

The whip suddenly goes slack. Nari stares in dumbfounded fascination, unable to move, until a second column starts to give and more of the roof collapses, dangerously close to Alex and Meltdown. Her heart stutters to a stop.

“X!”

The next moments are impossible to track. Her throat hurts from screaming and from the dust in the air and she can barely keep her eyes open but she has to keep looking, has to find Alex in the midst of the destruction. She doesn’t know whether seconds or hours have passed, but suddenly he’s there, at her side, a hand resting gently on her shoulder.

“Fan! Fan, come on, we gotta go.”

“X...wai-...D-dagger, he…”

“He’s gone. They’re both gone. You scared them off.” Carefully he rolls her over onto her back, wincing when she grunts in pain. “Come on.”

“M’ head...hurts.”

“I imagine quite a few things hurt.” His hands slide up underneath her neck and knees and he lifts her off the ground with ease. Nari has just enough presence of mind to be glad that the guy with enhanced strength is with her before everything on her body screams in protest of being moved. Gritting her teeth, she tries her best to keep from doing the same, for Alex’s sake, at least.

“We really need a medic on the team,” he mutters under his breath, before adjusting her slightly so her head rests more comfortably against his shoulder. “Alright, Nar. Let’s get you home.”

———————————

Instructions for requesting squares here!

#badthingshappenbingo #dragging themselves along the ground #querencia #nari the hero #alex the hero #whump #whump writing #violence tw #broken ribs #concussion tw #emeto mention #prompt fill #anonymous #superhero oc #superheroes #heroes and villains #supervillains #original fiction

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blackswandancing · 3 years

Text

Snow Day Serenity

Summary: A rest day on a snowy planet gives you the opportunity to share a fun afternoon sledding with Din and Grogu as you try to figure out where your relationship with Din stands.

Pairing: Din Djarin (the Mandalorian) x gn!reader

Warnings: fluff (like sheer, shameless, I’m grinning-like-an-idiot-writing-this fluff), pining

Rating: T

Word count: 2.6K

After a few days of nearly non-stop travel, you and Din decide it’s time for a proper rest day. The Mandalorian finds a sparsely populated planet which should be far below the Empire’s radar. The name is unfamiliar and you’re not sure what to expect, but at this point, you’re too stir-crazy to care.

“Brace yourself, we’re coming through atmo,” Din tells you from the pilot’s seat. You sit behind him, holding Grogu in your lap as the ship descends from the darkness of space into a clear blue sky. When you catch a glimpse of the white hills sparkling below, you gasp in delight.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” you say, craning your neck for a better look.

“It’ll be too cold to be out long,” Din says, his tone apologetic, “but it seemed like our best option.”

“We’ll be fine if we bundle up, right, kiddo?” you ask Grogu, who peers up at you with his bright brown eyes and coos as though in response to your brimming excitement as you think of all the fun you can introduce him to.

Din finds a field nestled at the bottom of a hill, a spot he must consider strategically safe. As soon as the Razor Crest touches down, you leap out of your seat to find wrappings for yourself and Grogu.

“I hope these are comfortable,” you tell the child as you seat him on a crate and fit his feet into small felt boots you’d found in a market after crash landing on Maldo Kreis. Granted, he hadn’t seemed too bothered by the planet’s cold, but you had still worried. “You’re going to love the snow, Grogu. You’ll have a lot more fun with it here than we did last time. No spiders, only powder to play in. You can do all sorts of things with it. You can roll it into a snowperson, or make snowballs, or - ”

A wonderful idea comes to you just as Din descends from the cockpit, his boots thumping as he clears the lowest rungs of the ladder and swings to the floor.

“Din!” you exclaim. “Do you have anything around here that could double as a sled?”

Din’s visor locks with your eyes. “A sled?”

“Yeah! There’s a hill right by the ship. I think Grogu would get a kick out of it. You know how he loves speed and thrills.”

Din shakes his head a bit, and you coax, “Oh, come on. You know he’ll love it.”

“No, I’m sure he will,” Din says, and the amusement in his voice, evident even through the modulator, makes you realize you misinterpreted his previous gesture. “It’s a great idea. What sort of item do you think would work?”

“Maybe a spare tray or container,” you suggest as you shrug a coat over your clothes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Din says, climbing back up the ladder to check the storage area by the generator room. You watch him go, a stab of wistful longing piercing your enthusiasm. For some time now you’ve been secretly harboring feelings for Din, but you’ve worked to conceal them. While you know that Din views you as a close companion, neither of you have openly expressed romantic feelings. Din has made a few gestures which kindled your hopes that he perhaps returned your affections, but you weren’t sure if you were just projecting meaning onto his actions.

You pull on a pair of gloves and, plucking Grogu from his seat, lower the side access ramp. You have to squint at the scene before you as the sun reflects off the snow, and you wonder if Din’s visor protects his eyes from the glare.

Din had declared the coast was clear when the ship landed, and though you trust his assessment, out of an abundance of caution you carefully survey the area before venturing from the cargo hold. Sure enough, there’s nothing but plains of unblemished, glittering snow and clusters of swaying pine trees kissing the hillside. Grogu babbles his interest, tilting his head as he takes in the sights. You hop off the ramp, your boots sinking deep into the snow. The child might have some trouble navigating the deep powder, but that’s what you’re there for.

You set Grogu down and he squeals, immediately thrusting his hands into the snow and throwing a tiny fistful into the air.

“Look at that, you made it snow!” you cheer him on. You scoop up a handful and sprinkle it between the pair of you, causing Grogu to grab at the falling flakes. “It’s pretty, huh?”

Grogu waddles through the snow with no apparent objective, simply absorbing the beauty around him. You follow him, giving him a hand when necessary and ooh-ing over the snow he picks up to show you.

Din’s voice, crackling as it carries over the snow, steals your attention away from Grogu as he calls your name and asks, “Will this work?

You look back at the Razor Crest, where Din holds up a large tray for your inspection. “That’s great!”

You pick up Grogu as Din approaches and asks you, “Where do you want this?”

“Let’s take it to the top of the hill,” you say, taking a closer look at the tray and nodding in approval. “This should be perfect, it’s very sturdy. The bottom’s slick, too.”

The pair of you march up the hill. The sounds of snow crunching underfoot, Din’s armor clanking, and your breathing are the only disruptions to the serene silence blanketing the planet. It’s as though the galaxy has narrowed down to a contented little bubble with just the three of you. All the worries of everyday life slip away, leaving you to feel the full strength of your love for the man by your side and the child in your arms.

At the top of the hill, Din hands you the tray, and you set it in the snow. “Do you want to come with?” you ask Din, trying not to sound too hopeful as you situate yourself and Grogu on the tray. Sure enough, Din shakes his head.

“Looks like there’s not much room,” he says. You don’t argue, although privately you think he could squeeze on. You’re about to start scooching the tray down the hill when Din adds, “But I’ll give you two a push.”

Din lends down behind you, placing his hands low on your back and gently, but firmly, propels you and the tray forward with a few running steps. The tray zips away from Din and down the hill. Grogu begins squealing in delight, raising his tiny hands into the air. You lean back, trying to balance yourself as the tray whooshes along, and you find yourself completely lost in the nippy wind, glistening snow, and the child’s glee.

The tray holds up much longer than you’d expected and doesn’t lose steam until you’ve made it nearly to the bottom of the hill. “How was that, buddy?” you ask Grogu, who gives you a toothy grin, his wide eyes sparkling. You laugh and press a kiss to the top of his head before standing up.

As you begin to trek up the hill, Grogu in one arm and the tray tucked under the other, Din heads down toward you. You wonder if he thought you only wanted to sled down once, and you call to him, “Grogu loved that! We’re headed back up!”

“I know,” he calls back. “I’m just coming to help with the tray.”

You beam at that, although you assure him you’re having no problems managing both Grogu and the tray. However, that doesn’t stop him. He meets you down the hill and affectionately rubs Grogu on the head. “How’d you like that, you little womp rat?”

Grogu gives him the same toothy grin he gave you, and you hear Din’s smile as he asks, “And how’d you like it?”

“It was fantastic!” you exclaim as he takes the tray from you. “I haven’t been sledding since I was a kid, back on my home planet. My friends and I spent many happy days playing in the snow together.” You shake your head slightly, as though to ward off the nostalgia playing at your heart. “It was almost magical, really, how all of our cares disappeared once the snow started falling.”

“That sounds… very special,” Din says. His pace is slowed to match yours, and when you glance at him, the bright day reveals the outline of his jaw behind his tinted visor. “I’m glad you had that experience.”

“Did you ever go sledding as a child?” you ask. You used to worry about asking Din personal questions. He has always been so reticent, and you respect that. Yet you never want to deny him the option to share, especially when you care so much about his experiences. Over time, you learned both that Din would never share anything he didn’t want to and, for some reason, he opened up to you more than you would have expected.

“A few times,” Din replies. “It didn’t snow enough on the planet where I was born to sled, but it did on the first planet where I lived with the Mandalorians.” Din falls silent, and you’re about to reply when he continues. “I was excited about the snow. It was new, and I enjoyed playing with the other children. This was before the Great Purge, so the Tribe was more relaxed about letting its children wander in the open.”

The idea of a young Din playing with other foundlings warms your heart, and you want to know more. “Did you get up to any mischief when you played with them?”

Din cocks his helmet at you. “What makes you ask that?” The corners of your lips quirk up at the obviously-feigned innocence of his tone.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” you say, pointing your finger at him. “I’m well acquainted with your understated, sassy quips, so I’m willing to bet you were a playful child.”

“That’s not a bad place to put your money.”

Once you get back to the top of the hill, Din tries to hand you the tray again, but you say, “If you’re just going to walk down after us, you might as well take the easy way down.”

Din hesitates, and you second-guess yourself, worried that you’ve made him uncomfortable. But Din surprises you when he shrugs and says, “We can give it a shot.” He lowers the sled and climbs onto it. He fits, but barely, his knees hiked way up as he adjusts his weapons. His visor doesn’t meet your gaze as he says, “You can - um, here, I’ll hold you in front of me, if that’s okay.”

You nod, your cheeks warm. You can’t tell if the butterflies in your stomach are fluttering from nerves or from joy. Probably a bit of both. You crouch beside him and, still carefully holding Grogu, clamber over one of Din’s legs. Din places a large, sturdy hand on your side for support as you sit between his bent knees.

“Hold on,” Din says, twisting around and pulling his cape over the front of his body. “The beskar’s pretty cold. This should help.”

“Thank you,” you say, your heart squeezing. You gingerly press yourself against the beskar, trying to make yourself as small as possible on the squished tray. Din passes Grogu to you and then adjusts his own position, wrapping a hand around your waist and pulling you closer to himself. It’s all you can do to resist the urge to completely melt into his embrace.

“Is that okay?” he asks, his helmet hovering just above your shoulder. You fail to fight off the shiver that runs down your spine, and hope that Din didn’t pick up on it, although you’re perfectly aware that he didn’t become the best bounty hunter in the galaxy for no reason.

“Yes.” Your voice is strained with the effort of concealing how the feeling of his broad chest snug against your back is making your heart dance wildly. Of course, that strain is revealing in itself, which only flusters you further. In an attempt to wave aside the implications of your bumbling behavior, you clear your throat and reach over one of Din’s thighs to push off in the snow, forcing yourself to cheer, “Let’s get this thing flying!”

You and Din paddle the tray along until it picks up momentum and glides down the hill. You whoop in excitement, readjusting your grip on Grogu as Din securely wraps his free arm around the both of you. The gesture nearly shocks you out of the moment, but Grogu’s uncontrollable giggling brings you back to your senses, prompting your own laughter - and Din’s. You’ve never heard him laugh before, and his modulated chuckles in your ear send your heart soaring faster than the speeding sled.

The ride comes to an abrupt halt as the sled hits a snag and jerks to the right. The three of you tumble off into a pile of tangled limbs, Din’s arm still locked around you and Grogu. His efforts aren’t enough to keep you from getting a faceful of snow, but this only causes you to laugh harder, even as your cheek numbs from the cold.

“Are you okay?” Din asks, effortlessly pulling you up with him as he gets to his feet.

“I’m fine,” you giggle. “I’m better than fine, actually. I think the same goes for Grogu.”

You managed to keep the kid out of the snow, and the ride’s rocky end only seems to have fueled his desire for another trip. Eager to indulge him, you bend down to retrieve the tray, scrubbing your face with your glove, although it’s already soaked and does nothing to dry your cheek. Din grasps your elbow, arresting your movement.

“Your face is going to freeze,” he says. “Would it be okay if I - uh - ” He grabs a handful of his cape, a part where the fabric is still dry. Caught off guard, you stammer some sort of affirmative, and Din steps close to you, dabbing the melted snowflakes from your cheek. You can feel the blood rushing to your face, the heat strong against your chilled skin, and you fear Din will notice. Yet, in a moment of boldness - in a moment of hope - you fix your gaze on Din’s visor as you savor his gentle touch guiding the rough material of his cape.

“There,” he says, dropping his hand - only for you to catch it.

“Thank you,” you say softly, giving his hand a squeeze. He wordlessly but earnestly returns the gesture, and your nerves dissolve.

His voice is uncharacteristically thick with emotion as he breathes, “Anything for you, cyar’ika.”

You haven’t heard the word before, although you assume it’s Mando’a. “What does that mean?”

“It means… I’ll always be here to care for you. If that’s what you want.”

Still clutching Din’s hand, you raise your own, untangling your fingers only to rest your glove against the metal cheek of his helmet. He places his hand over yours, completely covering it as your fingers stroke the beskar.

“There’s nothing I’d like more, Din.”

Grogu pats his father’s breastplate a few times, breaking the moment and causing the pair of you to look down at him. He chirps and looks at the top of the hill with longing.

“It looks like someone wants another ride,” you say fondly, rocking the child in your arm before looking at Din again. “What do you say?”

“Whatever you two want,” Din says, and, despite his earlier concerns about the cold beskar, he doesn’t seem to be able to help himself from leaning his forehead against yours in a feather-light touch. “I can’t resist either of you.”

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #fluff

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homeformyheart · 3 years

Text

scathing - colt kaneko x mc (rod)

author’s note: first ride or die one-shot featuring colt kaneko! i picked him in my second playthrough and GEEZ the route changes near the end caught me off-guard but did NOT disappoint 😂. includes tiny callout to red carpet diaries. also, i know nothing about cars.

copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: ride or die – colt kaneko x mc (ellie wheeler) rating/warnings: 14+; swearing based on/prompt: title inspired by lyrics from “mad woman” by taylor swift word count: 3.8k summary: ellie drops in to surprise colt only to find that he is out with another woman.

scathing

ellie whacked colt with a large pillow with one hand while doing her best to punch his chest and stomach with the other to keep him from grabbing her, knowing she physically wouldn’t be able to do much to hurt him. colt tried to dodge as best as he could while looking for an opening that would let him stop ellie’s attacks without hurting her. he had to not only do this while half blinded by a giant pillow but while protecting his body – he had never seen ellie this mad before and did not want to find out if she was mad enough to knee him in the groin.

“you cheating motherfucker! how dare you, asshole!” ellie screamed, her face shifting between displays of rage and tears.

colt didn’t know which was worse. “god, ellie, stop! will you let me explain?!”

3 hours earlier

ellie weaved in and out of traffic seamlessly, her eyes trained on the inconspicuous white sedan two cars ahead. she had dropped in at the body shop to surprise colt a day early. she was able to convince her dad to let her leave her grandparents’ house early considering they had already spent the christmas holiday with them. she pulled up to the body shop and was told that colt had left for a job by himself, which ellie immediately knew was suspicious. colt was reckless, but he wasn’t stupid. he knew he should never work a job alone, which likely meant he thought this was one he could do in his sleep.

something didn’t sit right. ellie found out where colt was headed and got back in her car. she quickly got on the highway, heading toward the address of the downtown hotel colt was supposedly heading to, when she noticed the white sedan ahead of her. even though it was a completely standard white sedan, of which there were hundreds, if not thousands, in l.a., ellie knew it was colt’s. it was the car they had prepped for the upcoming koenigsegg job. this was even further proof that colt thought this job was brainless – he would never risk taking out their getaway car more than once.

ellie watched as the sedan pulled into the underground parking lot and she quickly found a spot on the street not far from the entrance to the hotel. it was definitely a high-end hotel and she would need to dress in something other than a tank top and sneakers if she was going to blend in. she quickly changed in the backseat into a glittery bodycon dress and flats, running her hands through her braid to loosen the curls to give it that “beachy” look. she swiped on pink lip gloss as a final touch and made her way inside the hotel.

she scanned the room and identified the parking garage elevators and ducked behind a pillar that gave her a good vantage point. she listened for the ding! that signaled the elevator doors opening and peeked carefully to see if it was colt. he was dressed in his crisp navy blue suit, with a white dress shirt but no tie. lucky for her, he didn’t seem to notice her as he walked across the room to the hotel bar. ellie darted over from the pillar to the other side of the doorway, relying on her peripheral vision to see where colt went. he was facing away from her, standing at the bar next to a tall, gorgeous redhead wearing a backless dark green halter dress that definitely showed off her assets.

ellie felt a little silly for spying on her boyfriend, especially when it was definitely clear he was working a job. this woman was not unlike others they had to deal with in the past but she was definitely the prettiest. she considered heading back to the shop when she noticed that they had switched positions – colt was sitting on a barstool with the woman between his legs. his hands were on her waist and she was gripping the collar of his shirt as they kissed passionately.

she felt her heart shatter and tears were quick to prick the back of her eyes as she ran as fast as she could out of the hotel. even through the tears, she pulled her car out of the street seamlessly and raced back to the shop. she let herself cry in the car, the sobs wracking her body. shoulders shaking, she grabbed her tank top from before and used it to blow her nose and dry her face. she was not going to let colt kaneko get away with this.

ellie told the rest of the crew to take off because she was going to need to talk to colt alone before she went upstairs and sat on the bed to wait.

colt sensed something was different when he got back to the body shop. he had been excited to see ellie’s car out front but noticed the backseat still had all her stuff. if she was back, she definitely would’ve brought her duffel bags up to his room. it was quiet in the shop, which was unusual, because he was expecting his crew to work at least a couple more hours. it wasn’t like them to take off without talking to him first.

“ellie! i didn’t know you were coming back early. i missed you, baby,” colt grinned, walking over to ellie to give her a kiss.

she stood up and grabbed one of his pillows. “oh, really? did you miss me while you were sucking face with that redhead? or are there other women i should know about?”

colt rolled his eyes. “don’t be so dramatic. it was for a job, it meant nothing. you know what it takes to get a job done.”

ellie felt her blood boil and started whacking him with the pillow. “no job is ever worth you cheating on me, asshole.”

colt’s eyes narrowed as if he was trying to calculate the likelihood that this was going to escalate. unfortunately, what he didn’t realize was that he was too late and his dismissive attitude already hit ellie’s escalate button.

“ellie, i know it looks bad but it was a job. i promise that’s all it was. i was playing a part and we got what we needed,” colt tried to appeal to ellie’s logical side.

“how stupid do you think i am? i saw you with my own eyes, colt. and even if i didn’t, you reek of chanel perfume, which only old women wear, and you have lipstick all over your face and your shirt.”

colt was starting to lose his patience but clenched his fists as a reminder to avoid saying anything that would nuclearize the conversation. “sweetheart, come on, we’re in this together. you know i only have eyes for you.”

“don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me. everything out of your mouth has been a lie,” ellie snapped. “tell me – was she good in bed? was it worth however much you got from the job?”

now this was getting ridiculous. “ellie, you know i would never sleep with anyone else. i would never cheat on you.”

“i clearly don’t know anything because you did cheat on me, asshole,” her voice dropped but retained the dangerously angry tone that kept colt from coming closer. “you know perfectly well how i feel about jobs that require you to hook up with someone else. clearly the only thing that matters to you is the job, even at the expense of our relationship.”

“el, come on –”

ellie shook her head and cut him off, “no, you’re not talking your way out of this. we’re done.” she bolted from the room and down the stairs toward the front door.

colt knew if he didn’t catch her before she got in her car, he’d never catch up to her. she was by far the fastest driver on the crew and if she left l.a., he might not be able to find her. he sprinted after her, jumping off the stairs recklessly and barely catching himself before he hit the wall, saving himself from a nasty concussion. he pushed himself up quickly and let the adrenaline propel him out the door just in time to see ellie slide into the driver’s seat.

the car squealed away from the garage and quickly out of sight and colt had no clue where she was headed. dammit, he cursed inwardly as he quickly grabbed his helmet and hopped on his bike to chase after her.

* * * * * ellie had managed to lose colt after half an hour, which she counted as a massive win given that he had the advantage with his bike in l.a. traffic. but she knew how to navigate every nook and cranny of l.a. having spent the better part of the last couple of years charting courses and back-up escape paths. she pulled into the underground parking lot near her destination, pulled on a blonde wig, fixed up her makeup, and changed into heels.

she stepped out of the car and took the parking elevator to the ground floor, walking as fast as she could in three-inch heels outside to flag down a cab. she gave the driver instructions and sat back, giving her appearance a once-over and spritzing a light perfume on her wrists and neck. she pulled up the discreet app on her phone, the one they used to message with their buyers and targets in a way that was untraceable, and texted her contact. he wanted to put a job before her? two could play this game.

when she arrived at the very expensive club, she gave her alias to the bouncer and was escorted quickly to the vip room, where her contact was waiting. aaron montmartre, the spoiled nephew of famed hollywood producer viktor montmartre, who was known for his extensive collection of expensive cars, spending sprees on viktor’s black card, and his weakness for young, attractive women. he was supposed to receive the newest koenigsegg model before it was even available to the public. and ellie was going to find out exactly when and where the drop would be.

* * * * * colt pulled up around the corner of the vip hot spot that was a known celebrity hangout. he knew ellie and knew she was pissed enough to want to teach him a lesson. he couldn’t help but be impressed with how seamlessly she drove through l.a. to get him off her tail and how she succeeded briefly. he prided himself on being able to handle any route with his bike and the fact that she was still able to lose him was beyond sexy. there was no one else that could compare to her.

although he didn’t know exactly what she was doing, he did know that he needed to be really careful not to give himself away too early. he shoved his hands in his pockets and walked casually up to the bouncer, giving him a curt nod. the bouncer gave him a long, scrutinizing look before letting him in. it took colt a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the dark, hazy atmosphere of the pulsing nightclub.

he walked toward the bar – it would give him the most unassuming vantage point to observe the club and he could do with a drink – only to notice a blonde wig and curve-hugging dress that looked all too familiar. he approached the bar slowly, making sure there were enough people between them that he wouldn’t get noticed; even though her back was to him, all she would need to do was turn to the right and she’d spot him in her peripheral.

colt ordered a glass of whiskey neat so that he’d have something to keep him occupied as he watched ellie flirt openly with their target. colt knew what ellie was likely up to and he was both angry that she would jeopardize the job by potentially tipping their hand early and furious that she would openly flirt with another man. most people didn’t understand the difference, but a furious colt was a jealous colt; the concept of jealousy was something he kept out of his vocabulary.

ellie knew. she knew the moment colt walked into the room. after three years, five months, seventeen days, and twelve successful jobs together, she had learned a thing or two about him. she knew that he would eventually get back on her tail and actually, she was counting on it. it was what she was good at. reading people. learning him. studying the ins and outs of the road and the job. memorizing the ins and outs of him.

and one of the things ellie knew was that colt was a jealous man, although he would rather shoot himself in the foot than admit it out loud to anyone. but if he could use his raw magnetism to get a job done, then she could use her innocent appearance to disarm a target and gain intel. she had already spent the better half of the last 30 minutes pretending to be a tipsy flirt and encouraging aaron toward drunkenness, knowing he’d be more likely to spill details that way.

what she expected but still wasn’t prepared for was how handsy and charming aaron could be. she actually found herself enjoying their flirty banter and perhaps realized that she was a little tipsier than she should be. ellie turned to lean against the bar so she could subtly inch closer to aaron, placing a hand carefully on his bicep as though to steady herself. she immediately felt colt’s eyes staring at the back of her head and had to make a conscious effort not to shiver. she barely registered aaron placing his hand on her hip and leaning in far too close to ask her if she wanted to leave with him.

“i just got the newest koenigsegg model delivered to me. we could take it for a test drive,” he murmured in her ear.

it took every ounce of willpower ellie had not to tense at the situation. her mind was reeling with this new tidbit of information that would put a wrench in their plans; they had assumed the drop would happen in the next few days.

she knew what she had to do but she also knew colt would be pissed, even more than he already was. ellie pulled back slightly and smiled. “i would love that,” she said invitingly.

that was all it took. before ellie could say anything else, she felt colt’s presence appear behind her, his hand hovering by her right hip.

“if you know what’s good for you, you’ll back off,” colt said through gritted teeth. ellie could feel the tension radiating off him as he sidled up next to her. “we’re together.”

aaron stood up slowly, taking out a wad of bills from his pocket and leaving a generous tip on the bar counter without breaking eye contact with colt. ellie instinctively took a step back away from colt only to have the wooden bar press into her back.

“who the fuck are you?” aaron said, casually inching closer to ellie so his shoulder was angled in front of her.

colt’s hand clenched into a fist. “someone you don’t want to mess with. now back off.”

“i don’t think we should be speaking for the pretty lady. leah, you know this creep?”

ellie blinked, slightly startled before remembering that her alias was leah. she slowly turned to give colt a pointed glare, raising an eyebrow and hoping he’d get the hint.

she turned back to aaron and gave him her best impression of an innocent smile. “no, i don’t think i’ve seen him before in my life.”

aaron turned back to colt. “you heard the lady. now i think you better leave before i have security escort you out.”

colt unclenched and clenched his fist a few times as though he was stretching it. ellie knew where this was headed and inwardly sighed; she could countdown from five at this rate.

right on cue, colt’s fist flew at aaron’s face, hitting him square in the jaw and sending him backward into the bar seat he was occupying previously. to his credit and ellie’s surprise, aaron seemed unfazed, picking himself back up and massaging his jaw briefly.

“why don’t we take this outside and settle this like men?” aaron said, challenging colt with his glare.

ellie’s brow furrowed. normally, colt getting into a bar fight with someone who had been flirting with her wouldn’t faze her, but they did need to figure out how to lift aaron’s car without him suspecting them or getting caught. she wasn’t sure how beating the guy up would help with that. and now she was stuck pretending she didn’t know who colt was.

“fine. after you,” colt seethed, stepping to the side so ellie and aaron could move away from the bar. aaron was a good head taller than him and ellie didn’t think this would be that easy of a fight given how quickly aaron had bounced back before.

aaron reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black fob. “why don’t you go hang out in the car, leah? this shouldn’t take long. it’s in one of the reserved parking spots in the garage, closest to the elevator,” he said, grabbing her hand to place the fob in her palm and closing her fingers over it.

ellie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she looked at him. “oh-okay,” she said, turning away from aaron. she gave colt a pointed side-eye as she passed him.

well, that was a freebie, she thought to herself as she made her way down to the car. it was exactly where aaron said it would be. ellie slid into the driver’s seat and ran her hands over the steering wheel, relishing the feel of the cool leather underneath her fingers. she grabbed her sunglasses and put them on as she drove out of the garage, quickly dialing toby on speakerphone.

“toby, i need you to ready the drop site off exit 54. i’ll explain later. if colt calls, tell him to meet me at our spot,” ellie said quickly, as she navigated the local roads to the drop site, taking extra care to avoid intersections and neighborhoods with traffic cameras.

once she arrived at the drop site, she checked with toby that the car stayed off the radar before emptying the glovebox, wiping down her prints, and shoving her wig into her purse. being methodical was ellie’s forte, even with the adrenaline running through her body, she knew she did everything right.

the dryve back to her car was uneventful, which did little to ease ellie’s nerves. she wasn’t worried about the job in actuality, but about colt. she knew he could hold his own in a fight, but she also knew how stubborn he could be. and despite still being angry with him, she was admittedly worried for his safety.

ellie felt like she was holding her breath the entire drive over to the cliffside. it wasn’t until she saw the familiar motorcycle parked near the railing that she felt a sigh of relief escape her body. she parked and stepped out, her gaze falling on the back of colt’s head.

she walked slowly over to him with anxiety in her stomach at the thought of how bruised he might be. it wasn’t until she saw that he was mostly unscathed, other than a purple bruise forming on his cheekbone and his knuckles, that her shoulders finally sagged, the tension she held all evening releasing at once.

“colt… thank god, you’re okay,” she said softly as she looked up at him, raising her hand hesitantly toward his bruised cheek.

instead, she closed her hand into a fist and punched him in the shoulder.

“ow— ellie, i just got out of a fight, seriously?!” colt yelped, angling his shoulder away from her.

ellie stepped forward every time he stepped back so she could punch him again and again. “you asshole. don’t you dare do that again, i was seriously worried about you! and you almost cost us the job!”

“i’m sorry, ow— will you let me, augh!” colt said, finally managing to grab her wrist and hold it in place while grabbing her hip with his other hand and pulling her close.

she made a half-assed attempt at struggling, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to break away. ellie did her best to glare at him, but as she looked into his eyes, she felt her anger cracking. her eyes softened and she found herself subconsciously leaning in. in a split second, colt’s lips were on hers, hot and desperate.

ellie almost forgot why she was mad at him to begin with as he gently bit her lower lip, eliciting a contented sigh that gave his tongue entrance. he pulled her hips as close as possible to his and ellie wrapped her arms around his neck. she gave back just as desperately, fighting him for dominance as she traced her tongue around his bottom lip, sucking on it gently.

colt let out a ragged breath and finally pulled back. “i’m sorry, el,” he said quietly, punctuating her name with a tender kiss. “i’m sorry,” he said again, giving her another kiss.

“if you ever cheat on me again—” ellie threatened quietly before colt silenced her with another gentle kiss.

“believe me, i won’t do that again. i did not like seeing another man put his hands on you, even if it was for a job,” colt said sheepishly, avoiding her gaze.

ellie grinned. “at least we got the job done,” she said.

colt smirked at her. “good, so i didn’t take a beating for nothing. now i don’t know about you, but i could go for a swim.”

“pretty sure you’re not supposed to go in the ocean with open wounds,” ellie warned as she watched colt strip down to his underwear.

“i hear the salt water is great for cuts,” colt grinned cheekily. “you gonna join me, sweetheart?”

ellie rolled her eyes and smiled. “okay, but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” she said, taking off her dress and shoes.

“hey,” colt said with a sudden seriousness just as she was preparing to jump. she turned to look at him and he pulled her closer.

“thanks for having my back,” he murmured, leaning in to give her a deep kiss that took her breath away.

“i’m still your driver, aren’t i?” ellie said affectionately.

colt smirked and gave a nod in response. he held out his hand for her to grab and they turned to look at the glittering horizon before they jumped, together.

* * * * * mentions: @choicesficwriterscreations; @lovehugsandcandy; @kat-tia801 choices permatag: @withbeautyandrage; @agentnolastname; @freckles-spangledvampire

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pigeontheoneandonly · 4 years

Text

Flotsam

Also on AO3.

For the first few hours, the sound of her breath, loud in her ears, and the slow slithery shiver of adrenaline draining from her body proved sufficient companions to distract her from hopelessness. Several hundred meters away, the wreckage of Normandy’s riven fuselage began to cool.

Shepard revolved slowly in the void. There was absolutely nothing to stop her. She suspected it would get old fast, but for now she had bigger problems. She tapped away at her omni-tool and projected a display of biometric indicators onto the inside of her helmet’s visor. Her suit wasn’t compromised or she’d be long dead already. Some percussive trauma from the explosion, and a hell of a welt where she hit the bulkhead on her way out. Her head and shoulders ached something fierce.

Nothing life-threatening. She moved down her list of priorities. Water reservoir: meager, but full. Food: none. (Technically, a bag of dried fruit in her pouch, but it might as well be on the planet below for all the good it did her now.) Carbon air filters: new, with seven full days of use remaining.

After weeks of moping about no action, scanning geth in the Terminus, Kaidan finally convinced her to tend her gear. Yesterday. It took a few long breaths to suppress the could-have-been panic, so tangible that her blood pressure spiked. The old gunked-up filters wouldn’t have lasted seven hours, let alone seven days.

She could only hope her shouting at him had returned the favor, that he’d boarded an escape shuttle and saved his life. The shuttles had streaked across Alchera’s thin sky while she sat here turning like a spit roast, hair floating in her helmet and getting in her eyes, trailing plasma until they vanished into specks, and then into nothing.

The spinning really was growing tired with nothing in reach to arrest it. Her gun would’ve been very useful about now, a slow and dirty method to propel herself. Shepard supposed she should count herself lucky it wasn’t faster, some dizzying speed meant to leave her unconscious.

A bubble of laughter escaped her mouth. Then another. It grew into a chuckle and then a full-grown hysterical cackle. Lucky. That was funny. She’d never heard anything funnier in her life.

Enough of that. Third priorities. Comms. Shepard began scanning all the frequencies, standard and emergency both, and winced as Normandy’s beacon screeched into her ear. It cleared the ship before the explosion. She closed her eyes; that was one worry down. However, no amount of fiddling would persuade her transmitter to work. She was on her own.

No remedy but to wait. The Alliance would respond, because there was no other option, and Shepard refused to accept defeat. She shut her eyes and folded her arms over her chest, intending sleep. Then spread them wide again as it only served to speed up that infernal spin.

* * *

By the second day, the silence bothered her as much as spinning without cessation. That, and the dark. When they were on the far side of Alchera and its bulk blocked Amada’s light, Shepard couldn’t see a hand before her face. She fought the urge to activate her headlamps. No pressing need for illumination existed, and it would only run down her batteries, which were much better spent on other trivialities like air circulation.

She sang, for a time, in the dark. Never had much of a voice. Never cared for music, if it came to that. But it was the only company she had.

* * *

Debris glittered in the twilight. They were headed into another night, all of them together, these slowly whirling fragments of her ship, all moving at slightly different velocities. Her only entertainment these long hours was watching them dance and collide and drift away again.

Her proximity alert began to sound.

Shepard was famed for her reflexes. Those instincts, that hair-trigger reaction time, had kept her alive through a decade of military service and every scrape that came before. They made her the pride of the navy, the first human spectre. Chosen by a turian of all people. She chuckled to herself. Her mother hadn’t believed it, at the time.

The alert continued to beep insistently.

That was important, wasn’t it? Had to be. When one second blurred into hours like this with no sign of passing, urgency ceased to exist, and thought became a fog. Like breathing through molasses.

Proximity alarm flashed on her HUD.

Proximity alarm. Proximity alarm!

Her eyes flew wide. She jerked instinctively, trying to look behind her, and that motion only added another axis to her tumble. But it did bring the offending object into few. A composite panel with a ceramic-slathered titanium skin, a portion of the upper section of the ship, stenciled part and serial numbers winking in the sunset. It traveled sedately in a straight path with no notable additional motion.

Directly towards her, in fact.

She flailed uselessly. Unsurprisingly, the bit of space junk did not care.

At the last second she braced herself, her forearms flying in front of her fragile visor and taking the brunt of the impact. All the air went out of her as her teeth clacked together. If it slowed even a fraction, she couldn’t tell. She thought her right arm might be broken. A blinking message on her HUD confirmed it.

Shepard took a heavy breath, and then another. No hiss of air accompanied the hiss of pain in her limb. No spiderweb cracks splayed across her vision, threatening to shatter. She got hold of herself.

The panel continued to push her along like a plow. They were in no immediate risk of further collision. And—

The spinning…

Oh sweet, merciful fate, the spinning had stopped.

And, to her delight after tentative experimentation, she could move. Really move, with purpose put her body someplace else, by pulling herself along the much heavier piece of her ship.

Curling her good arm around its rough edge, clinging to her driftwood like a child, she fell into her first restful sleep.

* * *

Her mouth was parched. No better than half-awake, she sucked instinctively at the tube in her helmet. She got down two whole mouthfuls before she realized and spat out the tube in a panic. Frantically, she cued up her monitor, and her face fell into her boots. Less than a quarter remained.

It was hunger, she decided. Over the past day she’d become increasingly lightheaded. The ache in her gut had passed, but that was hardly reassuring.

Normandy’s emergency beacon continued to blare. One had joined it from the ground, a counterpoint lasting approximately an hour out of each orbit. So some of her crew had survived. At least when she died here, that wouldn’t weigh on her conscience.

Shepard did not dare allow herself to wonder if Kaidan was among them. Down that path lay madness. Or at least a decent nervous breakdown.

Her head rested against the panel. It made for a comfortable enough bed in microgravity. Something solid to ground her. It had gotten colder, too. Vacuum turned her suit into a thermos but a little heat seeped, regardless; had to, or her suit would cook her alive. Kaidan liked to read. Always had his nose in his datapad, every minute of downtime aboard ship, at least when he wasn’t tinkering with his omni-tool. Shepard smiled fondly. What was that one he kept poking her to try?

Ah, yes. Her smile broadened. A Fire Upon the Deep. Also, loosely, about a shipwreck. It felt appropriate.

Hope grew thinner by the moment, not as a matter of faith, but of pragmatism. She might as well burn the power. A command to her omni-tool projected the first page onto her helmet visor.

Her eyebrows rose with every chapter. Shepard enjoyed a good genre novel as much as the next person, but this was ridiculous. Sometimes she couldn’t believe his affection for this sort of thing. He really was such a nerd.

* * *

It had gotten very cold, now. Frost crowded the edges of her visor, growing with every expelled breath and robbing her of what little moisture remained in her mouth. The pain in her stomach had returned.

A few bars of a song mumbled between her chattering teeth. Some asari pop hit. Tali had been singing it for days, getting it all stuck in their heads on loop. It had driven Shepard to distraction. She’d give anything for it to distract her now. Dying slowly wasn’t exactly in the marine handbook. More than once, her good hand had wandered to her helmet seal, and contemplated just being done with it.

But marines didn’t give up. Shepard didn’t give up. Even if it was the sanest thing she could possibly do.

Her thoughts had become near-solid sludge. Her oxygen saturation was declining, as her filters were increasingly expended. Doubtless at some point she’d be insensible enough from carbon dioxide poisoning to actually do it. She didn’t find it comforting, nor the right kind of distracting.

Or maybe she’d fall asleep first, slowly drift away into nothingness from lack of oxygen. That seemed… preferable.

It wasn’t like she hadn’t considered her options. Her raft failed to carry her in reach of anything. They continued to make their slow way towards the fuselage, the largest part of the wreck, but she doubted they would reach it before her luck ran out. She could jump, though she’d have to kick off and leave the raft, a small sacrifice for the greater shelter of her ruined ship. If she hit her target. And they were far enough away, this panel and her, that odds were she’d miss the fuselage entirely.

Shepard tried to remember the next line of the song. Something about crests backlit by twin suns…

Her comm blinked.

She blinked back, utterly confused. The emergency beacons had been filtered out days ago. But she activated the audio.

“—ormandy, Normandy, Normandy, this is SSV Cairo. Respond, over.”

Shepard responded without thinking. “Cairo, this is Normandy Actual, over.”

A long pause. “Normandy, Normandy, Normandy, this is SSV Cairo. Respond, over.”

Her transmitter. For a moment, she forgot.

She slumped in her suit as the message continued to repeat, searching the void for survivors. She raised herself up on the raft to peer over the lip. Now that she was looking for it, she could just make out the Cairo’s running lights through the frost, multicolored specks far too orderly to be stars. Maybe fifty or a hundred kilometers off the port bow, in as much as that applied to a wreck. It might as well be light years.

No rescue was coming for her. They had no reason to believe anyone still located at the wreck was alive.

The line crackled. “Cairo, this is Normandy. You don’t know how glad we are to hear from you.”

Her eyes flew wide. Kaidan. That was Kaidan. She clutched the side of her helmet as if it could bring his voice any nearer. Kaidan was alive. He was speaking to her now.

Well, not her. But she could hear him, and that was enough.

The Cairo asked for details. Kaidan delivered stark facts without any consideration for how they hit her in waves of misery and elation. Twenty-one of her crew were dead. But twenty-three had lived— twenty-four if she bothered to add in herself. They made it to the surface.

His voice caught when he explained he was the highest-ranking officer left alive. Shepard rested her fore-helmet against smooth curve of her raft and shut her eyes, resisting the urge to bang her head. I’m here. I’m right here. Damn it.

He sent their location, and the Cairo responded by scrambling shuttles. They moved towards her; she guessed from the strength of the transmission that the wreckage and herself with it hung directly over the survivor’s camp.

Every marine was issued a mirror as part of the standard kit, for signaling. Shepard slipped hers out of its pouch and angled it as best she could, trying to flash it into the video ports of the Kodiaks, without success. They dropped down to Alchera without a twitch of deviation from their course.

There would be one more chance when they came back up. She began to peer around the debris field, more awake than she’d been in days. Maybe she would live through this after all.

* * *

Shepard hung cantilevered off the Normandy panel. It had been her lifeboat, but if she stayed with it now, she’d drown. It should be massive enough to allow her a good kick. This idea had been considered and dismissed several times due to the high margins of error created by distance. But between the raft’s stately forward progress and her slim window of opportunity, its time had arrived.

Farewell, friend. She planted both boots and shoved hard.

It gave, ever so slightly, but sent her sailing towards the ruined fuselage, and at great enough velocity that she reached it after only five or ten minutes. Her aim was good. She’d worried about missing the target, for all of a few seconds, which was longer than she usually spent contemplating the risks or the odds once she acted. Her extended stay in this lonely wasteland was getting to her.

Catching herself on a twisted beam, once part of Normandy’s backbone, she carefully lowered her feet until the magnets in her soles caught. A giddy smile crossed her face. Part one— success.

She wandered the ruins at a crawling pace. Discovering the intact pack of air filtration cartridges in what remained of the ship’s armory nearly caused a breakdown. Nowhere left was or could be pressurized. And even if she somehow managed to stretch her one working arm far enough to open her suit while equipped, it would only vent her air. It felt like drowning in a fish tank; safety right before her eyes, and Shepard unable to reach through the glass.

The medical supplies presented similar challenges. Her suit material had enough self-healing to withstand a hypodermic prick or two, and it was a moot point anyway, since it relied on elasticity to provide mechanical counterpressure. Vacuum and cold, however, made a ruin of Chakwas’ stores. A crystallized vial of morphine mocked her from her palm. She clenched her fist around it and made a concerted effort to pack away the pain of her fracture, back where it belonged.

Shepard needed a comm.

No power remained aboard the ship. But power wasn’t her biggest problem. And eventually, she found what she was looking for.

The body turned over easily, if a bit awkward to manhandle. Shepard stared at her for a good long time. Longer, really than she could afford. Her name was Caroline Grenado. She’d been the off-duty co-pilot at the time of the attack, asleep in the hot bunks when the alarm began to sound. Judging by her kit and the fact that her body survived the explosion, she did everything right; got in her suit, ran for the shuttles. The massive storm of fire engulfing Deck 2 caused fluid lines in the hull to explode. One had almost hit Shepard herself as she made for the stairs.

Shepard removed her helmet with unusual gentleness. Blood clotted in her hair where her head had hit the inside of the helmet, confirming her suspicion about Grenado’s cause of death. Just bad rotten luck.

Angry, she turned away and squatted upside-down on the deck, peering into the helmet. Alliance wired all their personnel with internal comms. Those short-range devices in turn hooked into mid-range comms like those found in the helmets. But the helmet could also transmit just fine on its own. Fail safes upon fail safes was practically a spaceflight motto.

If her comm’s allegiance could be changed, it was beyond Shepard’s technical skills. So she did the only thing she could. She began tapping the mic.

Her own receiver confirmed the transmission. Harsh as shit on the ears, but every screech of white noise brought her closer to living another day. Morse code was not her strong suit, but hell, even kids knew how to send S.O.S.

* * *

Her wrist ached like her hand was on the verge of falling off. The distress signal staggered out, disjointed, trailing off. The shuttles had come and gone without slowing down.

It couldn’t end like this. The Alliance actually came to save them. She’d survived the explosion, somehow. She made it back to the ship and damn it, she found a way to communicate. She knew she had the correct channel. What was wrong?

In the distance, the Cairo’s lights shone, sparks of mocking hope. In a fit of frustration and a naked thread of fear, Shepard threw the helmet across the broken room. It sailed on unerringly and bounced off the burnt mass of the opposite bulkhead. Shepard made not even a token attempt to grab it as it ricocheted past her and off into the abyss.

Her head slumped forward until it was buried in her hands, palms covered her visor, fingertips digging into the tough plastic like they were trying to pierce it through. It couldn’t end like this. Not alone, frozen fast in the dark, fading away, breathing bad air.

It couldn’t.

She hadn’t cried. She didn’t, as a general rule, not to save face but because Shepard counted herself among nature’s stoics. The impulse rarely visited her. But now she took a great heaving breath through her nose, feeling her throat grow thick and hot.

If she ever gave it half a thought, and she really hadn’t, dwelling in the shadow of her own mortality for her entire career should’ve inured her to this moment, an inoculation against existential dread. And in truth, she’d never been scared to die. And she wasn’t scared now. This… this anxiety, this dismay, it concerned something else.

Death brought her no terror. She’d been happy. Just for a moment.

Her eyes squeezed shut. A drop of water slithered down her face and entered the corner of her mouth, a burst of salt.

At least Kaidan lived.

The attempt to self-soothe backfired. The dam burst. She hugged her knees up to her chest, rocking back and forth with only her mag boots to hold her down. Goddammit. Life never cared about what she deserved, but did it have to be this fucking unfair? Did this have to happen now?

The only sound in the universe was her sniffling and swallowed sobs. Somewhere behind them, a dim, chiding awareness that she could not afford to waste this water, and a louder voice answering that she couldn’t be paid to give a shit. Her one chance at survival hadn’t panned out. It was over.

Then a bit of light trickled between her knees. It took her a second to understand. She raised her head in utter disbelief.

A Kodiak, slowly nosing through the debris field. Following her signal.

Shepard rose, slowly, shaking with dehydration and mild CO2 poisoning. Tentatively, she waved her arms as the shuttle turned fully towards her.

* * *

Fifteen minutes for the Kodiak to reach her and maneuver into a “catch” position felt like fifty years. But eventually, the hatch lifted out and slid to the side. Behind it, faceless people, Cairo crew behind a mass effect field, gestured her to jump.

Even secure in the knowledge that if she missed, they’d circle back and get her, Shepard had no desire to spend another second exposed in space. She positioned herself carefully, disengaged her mag boots, and pushed off, floating as fast as she dared towards safety and life.

As her outstretched hand crossed the field, the nearest crew member grabbed her sore wrist and hauled her in. The sudden reappearance of gravity felt like an anvil dropping on her. She sagged, tugged off her helmet and threw it to the floor, filled her lungs with good clean oxygen in gulping breaths. Then Shepard was yanked upright as someone threw their arms around her and pulled her tight.

Her broken arm twisted. Shepard screamed, that jolt of white-hot pain so unexpected she couldn’t brace herself against the reaction.

Her assailant let go, fast, and stepped back. She saw his face. Kaidan. Kaidan!

He seemed to be suffering the same tongue-tying hesitant joy, as if speaking a single word would reveal the trick.

Words were overrated. She put her good arm around his neck and hugged him close. His arms folded around her, more gently this time, and whispered into her ear. “I knew you were alive. I knew that signal had to be you.”

She pressed her face into his cheek, and let that be enough.

#mass effect #femshep #shenko #fshenko #fanfiction #still not totally happy with this but i'm ready to move on

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red-daddy-riot · 4 years

Text

Cheer For Me - Bakugo Katsuki

Overview: After finding out the devastating news that use of his explosive quirk has damaged his hearing, Bakugo believes he has failed as a hero in training. However, a certain support class student isn’t ready to give up on him yet.

Pairing: hard of hearing!Bakugo x support!reader

Warnings: partial loss of hearing, angst from a grieving Bakugo.

Author’s note: Hi lovelies! This is my first ever BNHA fic. THe idea came to me a while ago and I just couldn’t rest until it was all written out. Let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoy!

———

He never though that this would happen to him.

He was Bakugo Katsuki. He couldn’t possibly be suffering from damaged hearing. No. That was impossible. Illness and other handicaps, those were incidents that happened to all those other extras in this school and the world, not to him. He was a hero in training. He had to be at the top of his game, dammit.

“I’m afraid all those loud explosions you’ve let off in close proximity to your ears has provided extensive and lasting damage to your hearing. I’m sorry Bakugo”. Recovery Girl gazed up at him, leaning on her cane with a glimmer of pity in her eyes.

Bakugou gritted his teeth and balled his hands into fists, feeling a sheen of sweat stain his palms as he tried to contain his damaging explosions. “You can fix it though, right? You’re the best healer in Japan. I need to be perfect, you understand? I’m going to be number one”.

Recovery Girl sighed and shook her head. “Cuts, abrasions and physical wounds. All those I can fix, but even there is a limit to what I can heal. Sometimes the human body just can’t be repaired. I can’t fix your hearing young Bakugo”.

A wave of shock slammed into him, followed by shards of ice that pierced deep within his gut as effectively as if bloody Icy-Hot had just unleashed his right side. He stared blankly at Recovery Girl, noting her mouth moving as she continued to talk, but everything was muffled, as if he was submerged underwater. The only thing he was aware of was a sharp ringing in his ears as he looked around the sterile, white room.

Like a man who had had too much to drink, he lurched to his feet. Blindly he stumbled out of the room, shoulder crashing into the frame of the door as he moved past. Great. More pain.

“Woah woah dude! What happened!” Kirishima pounced as soon as Bakugo staggered into the corridor, arms reaching out to grab his shoulders as his crimson eyes filled with concern. He had brought Bakugo here as soon as training concluded after all.

It was Kirishima who had noticed something off about him. During a regular combat training session the two of them had partnered up like always. However, this was the first time something had gone wrong. Despite Kirishima’s loud yells, Bakugo had failed to dodge Deku’s punch to the jaw despite the loud warning. He had never failed to listen to Kirishima’s advice before, despite pretending otherwise.

“Out of my way Shitty Hair” Bakugo snarled at his friend. The last thing he wanted was more pity.

“But dude-“

“Leave me alone!”

Bakugo broke into a run, throwing himself through the corridors of U.A. At a sprint, shoving through crowds of surprised faces and letting muscle memory take over until finally he was slamming the door of his room closed, collapsing onto his bed with the breath puffing out of him. Heart pounding, he stuffed his face into his pillow, refusing to acknowledge the thin stream of tears that rolled down his cheek. He was not weak dammit! Heros don’t cry.

But how could he be a hero now? Everything he had worked for, his ambitions. His whole damn dream. Who had ever heard of a deaf hero? His hearing wasn’t gone yet, but Recovery Girl had warned him if he kept using his quirk....

His explosions. The one thing he was so proud of. The quirk that was going to make him number one was slowly destroying him instead.

Bakugo had never felt so lost. Refusing to accept his fate, he turned over and willed sleep to take him, deliberately ignoring the barrage of texts lighting up his phone in the dark gloom of his lonely dorm.

———

Blinking his eyes open in the glare of the morning sunlight, Bakugo stumbled out of bed, collecting the pieces of his uniform as he dressed ever so slowly. Dread filled his body as he remembered his situation. He didn’t want to face everyone else. If there was one thing that could be counted on at UA High, it was that gossip spread like wildfire.

He moved about his morning routine like a zombie, brushing his teeth at an extra slow pace, taking the time to double knot his shoes. Slow and stiff movements that signalled how unwilling he was to head to class and see his classmates and anyone else who now knew about him.

“Get yourself together. You’re Bakugo Katsuki. Who cares what all these extras think”.

He hyped himself up in his head before exiting his dorm room, making a quick stop by the kitchen to grab a protein bar before heading to class. No one was in sight, which meant he was going to be late. Shoulders held stiff, he made it to the giant door marked with his class number. Hearing the distinct chatter and buzz of the menagerie of voices inside, he braced himself before shoving open the door.

Avoiding eye contact with his classmates he stepped inside, immediately strutting to his desk and throwing himself into his chair, ignoring the nineteen different gazes of his classmates that roved over him. Uniform even more messy than usual, he sat with his head resting on a fist, waiting and praying for Aizawa to wake up from his stupid yellow sleeping bag and begin the class.

Bakugo could not have had a worse day in his life. It was bad enough with all the stares and whispers from other students in the hallways, but he couldn’t handle the soft murmurs of his classmates whenever they were near him, stealing glances when they thought he wasn’t looking. It was obvious to Bakugo that none of his classmates had a malicious intent. Quite the opposite actually, but he still didn’t want pity. He wasn’t weak.

It was hero training, the last class of the day where he felt broken inside. Taking Recovery Girl’s advice to the fullest, he tried to contain his explosions, letting off weak pops towards his opponents that definitely weren’t strong enough to take them down, only detain them for a moment. For the first time ever, he was defeated. Opponents slipping under his guard, easily able to evade the half-assed explosions propelled in their direction. Each sparring session ended with Bakugo taking the loss. Well, almost each one. He was still able to hold off that little weak pervert Mineta, and a few other fighters who heavily relied on their quirks, instead of good old fashioned hand to hand combat.

His lowest moment came though, when Deku’s fist slammed into his jaw in their last match, snapping his head backwards as his body fell heavily to the ground. Bakugo lay there panting as his mind clouded over in a mixture of anger and disgust at himself. It had finally happened. He was weak.

Deku’s eyes had widened as soon as Bakugo regained his feet, feet steady as he braced himself for a barrage of anger and explosions to come his way. Instead, Deku witnessed something he never thought he would see in his life. Bakugo simply glared, rubbing the large purple bruise forming on his jaw before walking away.

This wasn’t the Bakugo he knew. That Bakugo was so animated and full of passion, giving every match, every punch, every move, his all. Midoriya’s heart felt heavy. He had to do something. Even though Bakugo was never the nicest person to him, it was a completely alien feeling seeing his childhood friend brought so low.

———

The next day Bakugo repeated his routine of dressing slowly, moving in a stupor as he made his way to class again. He wasn’t looking forward to another crushing defeat in hero training again. He didn’t think he could handle the embarrassment. Now that he was aware of his condition, he couldn’t help but notice how every sound he picked up was just muffled enough to put him on edge, the way a radio may have been turned down slightly, just enough to not be comfortable.

He hated it.

His surprise came when he had made his way into home room again. Everything was the same except for a pale pink note on his desk, signed with a little heart in the corner.

“Bakugo - when you get a chance come to the design workshop. I have just the thing for you”

Bakugo was skeptical and confused. What the hell was this note for? It was definitely for him, that was obvious, but why the hell would someone from the support class need him? Tch. He thought about ignoring the note, but his curiosity was piqued. He glanced around at everyone in his home room chatting away, but no one payed him or the note any extra attention. He kept searching, looking at their faces to see if anyone had noticed the note, but no one appeared suspicious. He sat there pondering, until his eyes landed on Deku. Flicking his eyes from the note clutched in Bakugo’s hand to his face, Deku gave a soft nod, mouth forming into a small smile as he met Bakugos eyes.

Immediately Bakugo crushed the note in his fist, unsure of what to feel. Stupid Deku, why did he have to meddle everywhere? It was clear he was involved somehow. However... Bakugo couldn’t deny he was curious. Who had wrote the note and why did they need him? He resolved to go immediately after class.

Making his way down to a part of the school he rarely visited, Bakugo stopped in front of the design studio. This was so stupid, but he was here now. Raising his hand, he knocked hard against the door with his bruised knuckles, shoving his hand back in his pocket with a scowl. Power Loader was the one to open the door. Although his expression was hidden by the oversized helmet he wore, his body language was one of interest.

“Ah Bakugo. How can I help you?” Power Loader leaned against the door frame, crossing his arms.

Grimacing, Bakugo thrust the crumpled note in his direction. “I was told to come here, but I’ve got no idea why one these extras need me”.

Power Loader took the note in between his orange tipped fingers, glancing down at the pink paper before immediately straightening in surprise. “Ah yes.” He turned to yell over his shoulder back into the workshop. “Y/n! Come here please!” He turned back to Bakugo. “I believe Y/n was the one who sent for you. This is definitely her handwriting.”

What the-?

Bakugou raised his eyes to peer past Power Loader into the mess of the workshop, locking eyes onto a girl coming towards the door, spanner clutched in her left hand as she used the back of her arm to wipe a smudge of black grease off her face. Upon seeing Bakugo, her eyes lit up, smile spreading across her face as her steps quickened.

“Bakugo! Just the person I needed.” She bubbled over with energy, bouncing on the balls of her feet before she lunged forward, grabbing his wrist and dragging him into the room. “I’ve been working on these ever since I heard about your situation.”

Sputtering, Bakugo allowed himself to be dragged forward past an amused Power Loader, mind swimming with a million questions. “Tch, what the hell are you talking about?”

Y/n stopped by a workbench, letting go of his wrist and clasping her hands in front of her. “You got my note yes? Well, I’ve been working on a little something for you. I think this is the answer to your problem.”

Turning to the low bench strewn with various gadgets, tools and scraps, she reached across to a small black box, flipping the lid open as she pulled back and handed it to Bakugo.

“What do you think!”

Lowering his eyes to the box in his hand, Bakugo screwed up his eyes in confusion

“The hell is this?”

Rolling her eyes with a smile, Y/n took the box back and popped the two small objects out in her hand. “Hearing stabilisers! I made them for you. In record time actually. I doubt I’ve ever made an item for the hero students so fast before! I thought if you started to use them now, then they will help lessen the damage to your ears. Your explosions are ultra powerful, and I can’t heal your ears, but I can prevent you from causing anymore damage to your hearing.”

Shocked, Bakugo looked at the two small orange devices, meant to curl around the rim of his ears and nestle just underneath the lobe.

Silence was thick in the air. Y/n’s beaming smile began to slowly fall as words were yet to materialise from the aggressive student’s mouth.

“Look if you don’t like them, I can improve the design. Make it look-“

“Shut up.”

“What?”

Finally, Bakugo raised his gaze, hard crimson eyes bearing into hers, the hard line of his mouth relaxing slightly as he looked at the stabilisers then back at her.

“I said shut up. These are... perfect”.

It was her turn for her mouth to drop open in shock. Stunned, she rocked back and forth on her heels as her beaming grin slowly spread its way back across her gentle face.

“I’m glad. After all, the future number 1 hero shouldn’t be damaging his ears. He needs to be able to hear his fans cheering him on.”

Catching the mischievous twinkle in her eye, an unfamiliar warmth stirred in his chest.

“I...I don’t say this much but... thank you.”

Once again bubbling over with energy and kindness, y/n stepped closer.

“You’re welcome Bakugo.”

———

BOOM!

The thunderous explosion tore through the perfect blue sky above the UA training grounds, bursting with every shade of burnt orange and yellow in the spectrum as the target dummy soared through the air, landing with a mangled thunk as it hit the earth halfway across the arena. If the dummy had been a villain, he would have literally been toast.

“Dude! That was awesome”. Kirishima cheered, awe flickering across his face as he whooped in admiration.

“Yeah Bakugo! That was sick.”

“Way to go Kacchan!”

The clamour of his classmates filled the air as Bakugo stood his ground, orange devices lodged firmly under his ears and panting heavily as Kirishima threw an arm around his shoulder.

“Your’re back! You’re kicking ass just like you used too! What changed Bakubro?”

Before he could answer, a distant whoop sounded across the arena. Squinting into the sunlight, Bakugo spied a figure sitting in the stands, waving enthusiastically.

Straightening with a snap, Bakugo dislodged Kirishima’s arm from around his shoulders as a small grin flickered across his face.

“Her”.

Breaking into a jog he headed for the spectator stands, aiming for the figure of the girl who had helped him get his confidence back.

Stopping a foot away from him, her signature smile was firmly locked in place as she took in his hero costume, now complete with the hearing devices of her making fixed behind his ears.

Looking at her form with a slight uncertainty, Bakugo spoke without harshness in his voice. “What are you doing here?”

Teasingly, she replied. “Like I said. You need to hear your fans cheering for you.”

Eyes widening slightly before a smirk settled on his face, Bakugo closed the distance between of them, seizing her waist and pulling her figure close before his lips met hers.

Her arms snaked around his shoulders, fingers settling in the soft blond hair at the base of his neck before they broke apart.

Breathing quickly, Bakugou leaned his forehead against hers, not believing his actions but simply unwilling to break the spell this girl from the support class had over him.

“You’re amazing, y/n.”

Smiling shyly and leaning up to place a kiss on his cheek, she spoke softly. “No Bakugou. That’s all you.”

Staring into her warm gaze, moving his hands to entwine them with hers, Bakugo had never been more certain of what was in store for him and his future at UA.

#bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki imagines #bakugo katsuki oneshots #katsuki bakugo imagines #kirishima ejirou #midoriya izuku #bnha #bnha imagines #my hero academia #my hero academia imagines #vixen writes

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qandnoablog · 4 years

Text

Titan (Marvel Imagine)

Title: Discovered

Pairing: There is no final pairing (since I follow along with the movies as accurately as I can) but [Y/N] does gravitate towards Loki

Warnings: Based on the movie - Avengers: Infinity War

Part: 13, [12], [11], [10], [9], [8], [7], [6], [5], [4], [3], [2], [1] Short story: [3], [2], [1]

Key: Y/N - Your Name Y/L/N - Your Last Name

Word Count: 2,627

Summary: Taking the fight to Thanos seemed like a straight forward plan, but [Y/N] knew first hand just how capable their enemy was. Now that he had more stones in his arsenal, she couldn’t help but feel like the odds were against them. Still, they are the Avengers! They faced impossible odds before. This time shouldn’t be any different, right?

Note From Author: Another part is now out! I should be updating more regularly now so if you all are still keeping up with the Discovered series, please make sure to check in every week :)

Part 13 - Titan

A lot happened after that.

After saving Strange, sending the pale alien out into open space, “knighting” Peter as an official Avenger, and finalizing their objectives, the group decided to face off with Thanos on Titan. Rather than bring the fight back to Earth, it was better to surprise him on his own turf. Of course, [Y/N] had strong objections with this plan at first, but thinking about it objectively, she had to agree. There would be countless casualties in a battle that Thanos had envisioned for Earth. Rather than allow such an event, it would be safer for everyone to have them face off the root of the problem far from their loved ones.

When the ship crashed onto the planet, the team was unprepared for the sudden landing. The metal broke apart right as it hit solid ground. Tony and Peter tried their best to steer the ship, though they didn’t know how to properly work the controls, while Strange and [Y/N] worked hard to protect the group from the impact. He utilized his magic to protect the area around them while [Y/N] used her powers to provide a sturdy barrier that draped around each individual person.

Everything was sparking, the machines all torn apart, but due to Strange and [Y/N]’s joint efforts, none were harmed. Though a bit disoriented by the landing, they were all safe and soon quickly got up.

Before the team could feel at ease with their situation, trouble had to come knocking. Right when Peter finished warning the team with another one of his movie references, an object rolled on the ground and stopped in the center of their small circle. [Y/N] could barely collect her thoughts when it suddenly opened, a flash of light and energy propelling each and every one of them backwards.

Her powers instinctively shielded her from the blast, allowing her to come out with no broken bones but with some minor bruises. She was starting to feel very annoyed, and immediately shrouded herself in a blanket of air and energy, promptly turning invisible before anyone could lock onto her.

“Thanos!”

A gruff and unfamiliar voice yelled out, a mixture of anger and impulsive rage, as Strange quickly protected himself with magic to stop the flying knives from finding their mark. The stranger roared, his skin a grayish color with odd tattoos, that looked more like engravings, all over his body. Before he could get another sound out, however, Strange sent out his cloak that swiftly tied itself around the new arrival’s head, muffling all his incessant shouting.

Iron Man and the stranger with a weird helmet fired at one another, the two flying with their tech. When it seemed like Tony had the upper hand, the helmeted man chuckled to himself as he pressed a button. Looking down at his chest, Tony saw a foreign object near his arc reactor that hummed with energy and a strong magnetic pull forced him onto one of the metallic objects of the ship.

“Tony!” [Y/N] called out, causing the helmeted man to be momentarily confused when a voice seemed to come out from nowhere.

She ignored the attacker’s confusion as she used her powers to help wedge Iron Man off of the metal he was stuck to. It wasn’t easy. The magnetic force of the object was surprisingly very strong. It was a joint effort to pry him off.

When Iron Man was finally free, he immediately rushed off to the fallen alien, who was still struggling with the sentient cloak. The moment Tony had his arm out, ready to shoot, the cloak let go of its prisoner and returned to Strange. Seeing this, the helmeted man grabbed Spider-Man, who was entangled by a strange, possibly electrical, rope and pointed his gun to the kid’s head.

[Y/N]’s heart skipped a beat, seeing her friend being held hostage in front of her, and quickly shot out a wave of energy to enclose around Peter’s body. She wasn’t sure how strong the weapon was nor if her powers were able to defend from a fatal blow at such close range, but if she was stupid enough to take on an infinity stone [Author’s Note: Part 7 - War], then she was damn well brave enough to take on a hit from an alien gun.

“Everybody, stay where you are!” The man yelled with the weapon still pointed at Spider-Man’s head, “Chill the eff out!”

[Y/N] was just about ready to send out her powers to wrench off the stranger’s arm away from Peter when the man reached over to his helmet and pressed a button. It quickly came off him, revealing a human face underneath that mask. She was stunned, surprised to find someone who looked human rather than an alien like his other comrades.

“I’m gonna ask you this one time. Where is Gamora?”

“Yeah, I’ll do you one better,” Tony instantly replied, his helmet coming off too, “Who’s Gamora?”

“I’ll do you one better,” the alien under Tony’s foot challenged, “Why is Gamora?”

Now this left [Y/N] baffled. Their demands were something that none of them were expecting. The sudden fight didn’t really startle them too much, considering they were now on enemy territory, but the reason behind the battle left all present very confused.

“Tell me where the girl is or I swear to you, I’m gonna French-fry this little freak.”

The moment that man said those words, something in [Y/N] just snapped.

“Do that and I’ll burst your body like an overfilled balloon,” [Y/N] warned, her voice dripping with an icy, murderous tone.

This was a first for her. She was even startled by how calm she felt even though those bone chilling words had exited her own lips, but upon further thought, she found this change to be natural. After witnessing so much, fighting alongside many people, and seeing first hand how some of her friends had fallen… How could she not have hardened her heart? Besides, in this line of business, killing wasn’t unusual. It’s just… She’d never actually openly taken a life. It was all in self-defense. Would she come out of this battle unscathed?

It wasn’t just her that was shocked by her words. Both her own team and those against her were also surprised. The group that had started this fight was startled to hear a voice without some sort of body. Clearly, [Y/N] was still invisible. Her friends, on the other hand, were feeling many emotions. Strange might not have known [Y/N] the way Tony and Peter had, but he still understood her character enough to know she wasn’t a hardened killer. That’s when everyone’s emotions shifted from shock to distressed.

Her friends were especially distressed when the two realized that the conviction in her voice held no trace of a lie. It was a promise, those words she said. Seeing how far she’d go, it was enough to show how much she endured this whole time. She did not want to lose any more of her friends. She did not want to sacrifice any more of her loved ones’ lives. Just how much did she see? Just how much did she suffer to come this far?

“Just try it, creepy disembodied voice,” the man taunted, calling her bluff.

The sad part was… [Y/N] wasn’t bluffing.

Before she could do anything rash, Tony quickly interjected.

“Let’s do it. You shoot my guy and I’ll blast him!” Tony indicated with his outstretched arm, his suit shifting into a blaster that was equipped and ready to shoot at the alien’s head.

“Do it, Quill!” The gray alien under Tony called out, his eyes never leaving the barrel of the blaster pointed right at his face. “I can take it.”

“No, he can’t take it!” The female alien countered, clearly worried for the gray alien’s life.

“She’s right. You can’t,” Strange agreed.

“Oh, yeah?” The man, Quill, scoffed, “You don’t wanna tell me where she is? That’s fine. I’ll kill all three of you and I’ll beat it out of Thanos myself. Startin’ with you.”

The moment [Y/N] heard his gun hum to life, her whole body went stiff. Her energy that was sent to wrap protectively around Peter began to twist and turn, being fed more and more power as [Y/N]’s focus zeroed in on her friend’s captor. She was just about ready to attack when Strange interrupted her murderous thoughts.

“Wait, what? Thanos?” Strange repeated, puzzled. “All right, let me ask you this one time. What master do you serve?”

“What master do I serve?” Quill mocked, clearly not understanding what Strange was getting at. “What am I supposed to say? Jesus?”

“You’re from Earth,” Tony concluded, a bit annoyed and no longer feeling the need to fight.

“I’m not from Earth. I’m from Missouri.”

“Yeah, that’s on Earth, dip-shit. What are you hassling us for?” Tony questioned, now completely fed up with this man.

“So, you’re not with Thanos?” Peter asked.

“With Thanos?” Quill repeated, now completely confused. “No, I’m here to kill Thanos. He took my girl. Wait, who are you?”

He finally put down the gun, and [Y/N] followed and withdrew her powers that were building up, ready to explode. She was still wary of these strangers, but she now knew that they were no longer their enemies.

“We’re the Avengers, man,” Peter replied as his mask came off.

Hearing those words, Quill released Peter and let out an exasperated sigh. He was also irritated to hear that his long-awaited revenge had not been fulfilled.

Seeing this, [Y/N] dissipated the energy shrouding her, becoming completely visible for all to see. Those that didn’t know who she was were stunned to find a woman appear out of thin air. Now they knew where the “creepy, disembodied voice” was coming from.

“You’re the ones Thor told us about!” The female alien said.

“Thor?” [Y/N] exclaimed, no longer showing the icy emotions she felt when Peter’s life was in danger. “Did you say Thor? He’s alive?”

[Y/N] was very clear on the plan, but never was she so disgusted with the enemy that she wanted to abandon all logic and just bash his psychotic head into the ground.

His plan was sick. Just a snap of his fingers and millions - no, trillions - of innocents would just vanish from the face of the universe. No one would be spared by such a feat and yet that was his ultimate goal. To purge the universe of its over accumulating population so that none would have to go hungry to the point of extinction again. He acted like a prophet, sacrificing his time and efforts for the good of the universe, but it was just the twisted ravings of a madman.

Mercy? More like cruelty. Everything he spouted was inhumane. A monster in every way.

“I think you’ll find our will equal to yours,” Strange said.

“Our?” Thanos repeated in confusion.

That was the signal. Following that, Tony barreled into Thanos with a piece of the alien spaceship, crushing Thanos beneath the unimaginable weight of the metal. Dust clouds emerged from the ground and flew outwards from the impact, draping the vicinity in a thick layer of dirt and dust. But even that wasn’t enough to stop Thanos.

A purple glow shot out from where Thanos was hit and the metal broke apart, revealing himself to be uninjured and free. He yelled out in anger from the surprise attack, using another stone to change the metallic debris into a swarm of bat-like creatures that rammed into Iron Man.

Everyone worked together after that. There was no time or room for a breather.

Hitting in any possible way, propelling one another towards Thanos for another hit, and dodging so as to not lose their lives. That was the fighting style that everyone took part in. It was complete and utter chaos, yet still there was some semblance of rhythm. There was no gap to allow Thanos time to use his infinity stones. Even the surprising new addition, the blue woman who was also looking for the girl named Gamora, didn’t hinder their plan. In fact, she followed along and joined in on their battle. And no one seemed to question it. As long as it was an enemy of Thanos, she was deemed a friend.

Strange and [Y/N] were on support. He would portal several of the team towards and away from Thanos while [Y/N] used her powers to protect them from most of the damage on behalf of the others. Her hands were now bruised all over, taking hit after hit, but she disregarded that familiar pain and pressed on. The others threw punch after punch, causing Thanos to be bombarded with attacks from all around.

The goal was simple. Get that gauntlet away from Thanos.

Finally, all their efforts were paying off as they had succeeded in getting Mantis, the female alien on Quill’s team, onto Thanos and forcing him to go under. With everyone struggling to keep the purple giant in place, it was Tony and Peter’s job to pry off the gauntlet from the semi-unconscious Thanos.

But everything went to hell in just a single moment of impulsive anger and grief.

“He… He mourns,” Mantis cried as she felt the swirl of emotions going through Thanos’ head.

“What does this monster have to mourn?” Drax, the tattooed alien, questioned as he strained to keep Thanos’ arm down.

“Gamora,” the blue newcomer answered, realizing the truth.

“What?” Quill asked as he turned away from Thanos and towards the blue alien.

“He took her to Vormir,” she replied, “He came back with the Soul Stone. But she didn’t.”

Tony knew what those words meant and tried to calm Quill down. The whole team was already struggling to pry off the gauntlet from this monster, so it was unwise to let one act of anger mess up the whole plan. But even [Y/N] could sense the unrest within Quill that the truth had ignited. She understood the anger and pain he was feeling, but she also knew this wasn’t the time to act. Not yet.

“Don’t!” [Y/N] pleaded as she struggled to keep Thanos down alongside the rest of them. “It’s not time yet! Don’t!”

But it was too late.

Shit! [Y/N] internally screamed as Thanos finally broke out of his trance.

Everyone holding onto Thanos was flung off the moment he regained his senses. The plan was crumbling before everyone’s eyes as the monster regained the upper hand and separated the team into all different directions. Some fainted from the intense blow of the infinity stone while others were desperately trying to evade the onslaught of debris from the destroyed moon that Thanos had sent their way.

Tony tried to fly away in time but was caught up by a massive piece of the moon while Peter and [Y/N] quickly set out to save those that couldn’t dodge for themselves. However, before she could actually put in the effort of saving a few of her new comrades, something appeared below her feet. Her brain couldn’t process what was happening in the heat of battle, and she couldn’t stop what came next.

Gravity worked against her and just as [Y/N] recognized the magic at play, she heard his voice.

“You are needed elsewhere,” the culprit said, his voice cracking with exhaustion.

“Stephen!” [Y/N] yelled with all her might in both disbelief and fury as she fell through the portal to places unknown.

That was all she could scream out right before disappearing from Titan.

[PART 14]

Tags: @themeanestlittlewitch @stressedandbandobessed7771 @moistpotatobear @fxckingfat @e7here4l

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brokenjardaantech · 3 years

Text

rk1700 december day 15: snow

written for @rk1700december. day 15: snow

rhea is female connor. cronos is rk900.

also on ao3

----

Cronos comes back from training one day to Rhea shaking a… thing. With a mansion inside of the clear impenetrable sphere and the suspended white particles, a scan tells him that it is something called a ‘snow globe’ except that it is shaped like a lamp. He sits on the floor behind Rhea and pulls her into the space between his legs, adding a kiss onto her cheek when she is close enough, and he knows the snow globe really has her attention when she doesn’t turn around to return the kiss as usual. He presses their cheeks together, and their skin at the points of contact retracts automatically for an interface. Where did you get this? he asks. Aren’t you cold watching it?

Rhea frowns. I don’t… it cuts off from there. Can you turn off the lights?

Their quarters plunge into darkness with a thought from Cronos, and he watches Rhea slide her pinky underneath the bottom of the lamp and turn it on with a click of a switch. Light spills out of the mansion’s windows, reflecting off the flakes which start spinning automatically propelled by the invisible swirl of the liquid in the globe and shrouding the room in a warm, mesmerising shade of yellow. When the raw brightness of the lamp becomes too much, they both look up at the same time just to see the swirling spots of brightness on the ceiling, on the wall, on each other’s face. It should not be this warm, this magical - mansions of that style are empty, remnants of a time long passed; snow means cold, cold means heat loss, heat loss means… means death to Rhea. Does Rhea know this, or are facts and logic ignored in the face of a beautiful sight? Why does he, advanced as he himself is, also feel the same despite having the ability to pre-construct - in great detail, nonetheless - how they would slowly waste away if left out in the open, how he would have to give up on maintaining Rhea’s system so that she could die before him and live her whole life knowing that she was loved?

Anchor won’t let that happen, Rhea’s voice pulls him out of his downward spiral. She’s brave enough to protect us from our creator. She won’t… she won’t… her uncertainty grows. I think…

Cronos shushes her. There is no use speculating, he feels hypocritical when he says it. We have other things to worry about.

Such as?

My training. The conflict that Anchor still refuses to tell us about. Your condition.

Very true.

Rhea wriggles in his arms. They both stand, he lets her drag him towards their bed, and she places the snow globe lamp on the bedside table before flopping down onto the bed, bringing Cronos with her. They cuddle close together without compromising their view on the light show, and although Rhea falls asleep not long after, thoughts do not stop swirling in Cronos’ head like the flakes in the snow globe.

A few days later, he still hasn’t figured out where the snow globe came from. Neither the item itself nor the box it came from bear enough evidence for him to reconstruct the events of its arrival into the room as if it materialised out of nowhere. Again the grey backdrop of his reconstruction software, he watches the yellow outline of Rhea’s figure wake up from her nap, see the box on the floor and, instead of pinging him to check if it is anything explosive or harmful, open the cover and slide the block of shock-absorbing material out of the container. The material comes off soon afterwards, and he sees Rhea’s reconstruction stare at the particles suspended in the globe for a few minutes until - presumably - most of the snow has fallen, after which she picks it up and switches it on just to drop it onto the shock-absorbing material; even without a face, Cronos can sense Rhea’s shock and panic as she carefully takes the lamp in hand once more before assuming the posture he found her in. He blinks, colour returning to his vision, and he immediately sends a report to Anchor. A few hours pass during which she forwards updates from site security regularly to him, Cronos preparing his mind for an upcoming wing-wide sweep which will remove him - and Rhea, by extension - from their quarters for at least half a day as all the reports return inconclusive, but it isn’t until a full day afterwards that the human brings two armed escorts with her and orders them to not only bring the androids to another room but also stay with them at all times. When he asks her about it, he can feel her eyes scanning the room and landing on the origin of their troubles, and her gaze does not soften even as it sweeps over Rhea who flinches and hides behind Cronos.

‘Someone managed to sneak an unauthorised item deep into this facility without being detected,’ a biotic field so weak that it is barely detectable fizzles and expands from her body until it fills the entire room. ‘This is a security breach and I’m not risking your safety.’

‘Then why didn’t you come earlier?’ he puts an arm around Rhea and guides her towards the door even as he says so. ‘Why now?’

‘Use your processors, Cronos.’

The door slides shut behind them, and the click that follows and the change in the colour of the hologram signify the lock engaging. They are locked out of their own quarters. Next to him, Rhea shivers, making Cronos realise that they don’t even have the time to grab her jacket.

‘C’mon,’ one of their escorts says and gestures towards the direction they should go with their gun. The uniform and helmet are designed to hide as many identifiers as possible, and now Cronos can’t even scan them to know if they’re human or android. ‘This way. We’ve got your new place stocked up.’

Their new, hopefully-temporary quarters is no different from their old one apart from the standard-issue bed which now feels a bit narrow, but since it also means more cuddling and snuggling with Rhea underneath layers of covers, he isn’t complaining about his current situation despite the lack of answers on Anchor’s part.

Who did answer his questions, on the other hand, is Elijah.

Cronos, the email reads, it’s nice to hear from you. For the sake of keeping things pleasant, I have decided to ignore the fact that the snow globe you mentioned seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, and to answer your first question: yes, I do have experience with snow. A lot of it, in fact, as my childhood home is quite famous for being cold and harsh in winter, and our winters remain long despite the influence of climate change. Since the environment I grew up in was not exactly… child-friendly, it had always been better for me to focus on the unique patterns of snowflakes than the death and lifelessness it symbolises - easier on my poor young brain, and one needed all the hope and discovery they could find in the cold land far up north.

As for your second question about the warmth you feel when you look at the snow globe: I have always found it ironic that winter coincides with traditions and customs that, under more pleasant circumstances, should provide warmth and support to a person, be it familial love or that between friends and/or lovers, and I must apologise for not being able to provide a more substantial answer as my personal experience with said traditions and customs are sparse and in between. Those I did experience, however, I remember clearly to this day. I will not discuss the details here as it will pose a security risk and be a breach of Alliance protocol, but should you wish to pursue the matter further, feel free to ask Anchor about it. Councillor’s approval. Signed, Reed

Cronos wonders if Elijah knows that Anchor would probably kill him if he tried to talk to her right now but sends him a reply anyway to thank him for his input and direction. Their skins receding at their points of contact, he interfaces with Rhea and plays the recording of the snow globe’s projection in their original quarters on a loop until it puts both of them to sleep so that he doesn’t have to think.

Their return to their quarters comes as suddenly as their departure. Anchor, as usual, provides little to no explanation apart from a simple ‘the situation has been handled,’ and therefore as Cronos watches Rhea crawl all over her original home to examine whether everything is in place - even the snow globe is, in fact, and Cronos has to ask about it - he decides that a visit to the human is needed, one way or another. Rhea has already turned on the lamp and is ready to switch off the lights as well when he asks her if she wants to follow him to find Anchor, but she willingly goes with him under the condition that she is allowed to bring the lamp with her (and of course he lets her; he rationalises that if Anchor allowed the lamp to remain, it means the lamp is safe). Finding the human in a large facility is, however, another can of worms in its entirety; it is after fifteen long minutes of wandering around and probably annoying the brains out of site personnel by asking them about Anchor’s whereabouts that they stand in front of a locked door leading to the observation deck. Taking a breath he doesn’t necessarily need physically, he holds Rhea’s hand tight in his grasp and knocks with his other one. A few seconds of silence. He feels Anchor’s biotics sneaking up from the minuscule gap underneath the door and gives him a poke. The lock disengages with a click.

‘Come in.’

Cronos interfaces with the touchpad to open the door. Rhea lets go of him and barrels in, stopping next to the human only when she realises that Anchor, who is sitting on the floor parallel to the floor-length windows, doesn’t seem to be interested in her and is staring at the floodlight-illuminated barren landscape outside. She kneels to place the lamp in front of the human, and that is when the latter turns and nudges the lamp towards the android. ‘Keep it,’ she says, her eyes not leaving the view once. She sounds… tired. ‘You seem to like it.’

As usual, Rhea turns towards Cronos to indicate that she wants him to answer for her. ‘She does,’ he replies. ‘Is that why you left it in our quarters?’

Anchor lays her gaze on him. ‘Ripping an object a person is attached to without said person’s consent has been proved to be traumatic. My orders are to take care of the two of you, and that means no unnecessary harm from me.’ She leans forward to place the lamp in Rhea’s arms properly. ‘I might agree with the Administrator in a lot of things, but this is not one of them.’ A cock of her head as the rings of her eyes seem to glow brighter, but it can be a trick of the floodlights outside. ‘Why are you here anyway?’

‘Do you know where or whom did the lamp come from?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do we want to know?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

Anchor shrugs, her face carefully blank. ‘There’s a fight out there. No use dragging you into all that.’

‘What fight?’

‘None of your business. Hopefully, at least. Any more questions?’

‘Yes, actually,’ he sees Rhea shaking the globe again. ‘When we turned on the lamp, it… snows in the globe. Logically, snow is associated with winter, and Rhea and I should have felt cold when looking at the artificial snowfall. However, both the scene and its projection brought us a warmth that should not be associated with snowfall. Is it a normal reaction? Elijah suggested asking you about this strange phenomenon.’

The human looks at Rhea and watches her entertain herself with the snow globe, and for a few seconds there is silence. Then, gesturing to the space in front of herself, ‘Sit down.’

Cronos mirrors her posture and sits down leaning against the glass with his legs outstretched. Seeing that her - what exactly is his relationship with Rhea anyway? - successor is on the floor, Rhea crawls underneath his arm without being prompted and snuggles close with the lamp balanced in her lap, a small smile on her face as she lays her head on his shoulder and continues looking at the particles in the snow globe softly like it both contains all the answers and is the most lovely thing in the universe.

‘One way to explain it without breaching my vows is that a… holiday where people celebrate together coincides with winter in the northern hemisphere of earth,’ Anchor’s line of sight turns towards the landscape outside once more. ‘Some places snow, some places don’t, but if we’re talking about stereotypes, yes, it snows while everyone stays indoors to enjoy their time with their loved ones. Snow-blanketed outdoors, fire-warmed and brightly-lit indoors; good, warm food, companionship, a chance to meet with one another - these are just a few images and expectations of the holiday.’

‘And to you?’

‘Sort of similar to this. Food, people I wanted to be with, warm on the inside, cold on the outside. Sometimes we exchanged presents, sometimes we didn’t, some were even worse.’

‘“Worse?”’

‘Try running away from an incompetent father and a bitch of a mother with your sibling even though you know a blizzard is coming. Worst winter ever, but that was also the last one we had to suffer through with our parents, and it got substantially better afterwards.’

‘Do I want to know the details?’

‘No.’

‘Understandable?’ he can’t imagine two humans surviving the cold, but then again humans are not supposed to be able to control dark energy either, and here they are. ‘Then what were the other winters like?’

‘I just described it to you.’

‘Yes but…’ Cronos struggles to convey that he wants to know more without sounding too eager, ‘I want more details.’

‘Details, huh?’ Anchor’s voice now matches the blankness of her face. ‘You sure you want to hear about earth? There isn’t much worth reminiscing.’

‘They will all be new to me.’

‘Fine,’ the human straightens herself. Her eyes turn glassy. ‘There was no snow the first time I truly celebrated the holiday, but it rained starting from the afternoon and continued well into the night. I wanted to study for my exam and had been doing so since the beginning of the holiday, so I thought… I could spare a day with my sibling. He busted arse for the past ten years of his life trying to raise a kid even when he was just a kid himself as well and getting a high school diploma and earning extra cash to feed the two of us because we ate so damned much thanks for unexplained space magic, and that was the first winter he didn’t have to worry about our heat cutting off in the middle of the night and giving us hypothermia.’ A pause. ‘I sneaked downstairs the night before to put the present for him next to that tiny-arse tree since it was so small that there wasn’t enough space underneath to shove that box into. He wants an actual holiday, I wanted to give him one, so I even got the damned book wrapped in recycled paper. It was just a sodding book I had seen him eye when we had walked past bookstores, and he cried - legit cried - because I gave him a damned book he wanted and wrapped it up nice and tidy with no tape. I learnt on that day that people can actually cry and look so happy at the same time. Then we had brunch, he watched me play some video games before going for a nap, he woke up, we had dinner, we watched the movie version of a book associated with the holiday as he sipped on hot chocolate, and we went to bed. All without being scared once that we would need to brave the chill to get some last-minute groceries - supplies - or that we wouldn't have enough money to keep ourselves full the week after.’

She ends it there, and Cronos gives himself a few minutes to let that sink in. ‘Sounds like you love each other a lot and celebrated it through the holiday.’

A dull thud. Cronos draws his eyes away from the lamp falling out of Rhea’s limp hands and follows Anchor’s gaze just to see clunks of ice slightly larger than the nail on his thumb hitting the ground, turning into smoke before they can hit the floodlights, shattering on the reinforced glass of the observation deck and subliming under the heat, and soon the ground is covered in a thin layer of broken pieces of dry ice. Mars’ own version of snow.

‘Is this normal?’ Cronos asks.

A small smile appears on Anchor’s lips. ‘Every single summer.’

----

the snow globe/lamp in the fic:

#rk17cember #rk1700 #dbh connor #dbh rk900 #oc: anchor/anna #detroit: become human #groom lake aftermath

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tacanderson · 3 years

Text

Super-Borg Chapter 1

My book, Super-Borg Dies, is out now. You can purchase it here or read the first chapter below. You can also sign up for my newsletter here.

Chapter One

“Stupid wannabe superhero,” a bulky man holding a metal pipe said, swinging it at Super-Borg, “why don’t you go home and read your comic-books?” Super-Borg had already disarmed the man of his gun but was surprised by the man’s resourcefulness when he pulled out a metal pipe.

Super-Borg ducked the wild swing and brought his clenched, reinforced glove up into the man’s jaw, shutting him up. He hated banter. He stood over the unconscious man, catching his breath and wiping rain away from his goggles. His black exoskeleton-enhanced, military-grade personal armor creaked when he bent over and zip-tied the man’s hands behind his back.

As he stood up, two bullets struck Super-Borg in the back. The carbon-fiber reinforced plates in his suit absorbed most of the blow, but it still hurt. He dove behind a garbage can as another shot fired; it didn’t provide much protection. He spotted the shooter standing fifty yards away, which placed Super-Borg directly between the shooter and the Space Needle. Super-Borg bolted from his cover, staying low to the ground.

Even in a crouch, his powered suit allowed him to cover half of the distance quickly. He straightened up and then, as more shots whizzed by, he jumped, letting his suit propel him eight feet into the air. At the peak of his jump he threw a disc, about the size of a hockey puck, at the gunman. The disc struck just above his eye, and he crumpled with a grunt.

Super-Borg landed and slid on the mud, crashing into a bush. He stood up, extricated himself from the bush and picked trash off his mud-caked suit. It wasn’t the most graceful landing, but it worked. Super-Borg sprinted over and zip-tied the man’s hands behind his back. “Let’s hope the cops find you before your friends do,” Super-Borg said to the unconscious man. “And hopefully the cops aren’t your friends.”

A bullet struck the tree next to him, and he ducked instinctively, jumping behind the tree. All this gunfire was bringing more unwanted attention. Yelling echoed through the vacant grounds around the Space Needle. What few lights that worked did little more than create small lighted cones of rain and mist. His disc was at the base of the tree but he didn’t bother to pick it up. He had lost so many that people were collecting them and reselling them online. Periodically he changed the design of the “SB” stamp he put on them, just to make the older discs collectible. People were funny. Even with all the chaos and economic instability, people still collected things.

The Space Needle, with its boarded-up gift shop and graffiti-covered cement supports, loomed ahead. The Neuro-syndicate was a gang specializing in the theft, production, and sale of neuro-enhancing drugs. Neuro enhancers were used by everyone: from corporate employees trying to stay sharp while they put in twelve-plus hour days, to professional gamers looking to get an edge in their next online tournament, or even school kids looking to pass their prep-school admissions tests. While it would be hypocritical for Super-Borg to object to people using neuro enhancers, the Neuro-syndicate killed people, and the stuff they cut their neuro enhancers with caused long-term brain damage and sometimes death. When neuro enhancers weren’t covered by a person’s corporate benefits plan, the black-market stuff was all most people could afford.

Super-Borg was there to stop the Neuro-syndicate from making a major sale, but he did not expect them to have this much armed support. The deal must be bigger than he thought.

“Super-cycle, deploy the drones and release smoke bombs between my location and the Space Needle.” Super-Borg used drones for several purposes. He was surprised more supers didn’t use them. But most supers weren’t rich. Super-Borg wasn’t Bruce Wayne rich, but he was rich enough, and after dropping out of med school he had earned a degree in engineering, so he could build most of his own equipment. He relied on drones to survey his surroundings and record his excursions. He used the recordings to make videos he released online to his followers, to watch for his own personal training, and he occasionally used them as evidence in court. Drones were also invaluable for providing a distraction. He could see the small flock of drones in the heads-up display built into his goggles. Soon dense smoke filled the park.

His super-suit featured large, modified high-tech goggles that provided a heads-up display and video link from his drones, an open-face reinforced motorcycle helmet, and a face mask covering his nose and mouth. The mask was wired to receive his voice commands, amplify and alter his voice, filter out all smoke and toxins, and supply extra oxygen when he was exerting himself like right now. Sensors in his suit adjusted oxygen levels as needed.

People yelled loudly, calling out to each other in the smoke, trying to get a handle on what was going on. An occasional shot rang out when someone saw — or thought they saw — something.

An alert on his display warned him that his heart rate was elevated. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. “Keep it together, SB.” Super-Borg took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. “Someone has to do something. This is what you do. This is who you are,” he said, repeating the oft-invoked mantra. He took a deep breath, “Up, up, and away,” he whispered, and sprinted for the Space Needle.

_____________________________________________

Who brings rocket launchers to a drug deal? Super-Borg thought, running to get clear of the falling Space Needle. Beams, bolts, and concrete built to survive a 9.1 earthquake began to scream as if in unbelief that they had finally failed. As he ran, Super-Borg was still looking up at the falling Space Needle. It was like a bad dream. He was trying to not run directly in the path of the falling mountain of architecture, but there seemed to be no escaping it. He tried to change direction and tripped — over what, he didn’t know — and fell sprawling into the mud. He cursed himself for not watching where he was going, scrambled to his feet — determined to watch where he was running — and kept his head down as he ran. He was so intent on running and watching where he was going, that he failed to see the furniture dropping out of the old top-floor restaurant. A chair slammed on the ground immediately in front of him. He didn’t have time to hurdle it, so he tried to kick it, but his foot got stuck in the armrest and he fell again. Debris and concrete rained down. He curled up into the fetal position as Seattle’s most iconic landmark buried him.

_____________________________________________

Trent was coughing on water and his head was throbbing, but he wasn’t awake enough to open his eyes.

“Trent? Trent, can you hear me?” His father’s voice sounded like it was coming from very far away. “Trent, I need you to wake up.” His head shook slightly, and water sloshed around the side of his face, like it was bobbing in the ocean.

Trent’s eyes snapped open, his head hurt, and he was still coughing.

“He’s awake,” his father said, sounding relieved. “I think he’s okay.” His father was looking at him, but he wasn’t talking to him.

“That’s great, Mr. Daeshaun,” a woman’s voice said from overhead. “Help is on its way, just hang in there.”

It came back to Trent then. Headlights swerving into their lane. His dad swearing. Tires screeching. The world spinning.

“Trent. Buddy. Can you hold your head up? I need to let go.” Trent realized that his head was being held up out of the water by his dad, who was turned around from the driver’s seat — one shaky arm holding Trent’s head up so he wouldn’t drown and one hand pushing against the steering wheel, giving him the leverage that he needed to reach Trent. Trent nodded and lifted his head up.

“Mr. Daeshaun, how are you doing? How are your legs?” the woman asked, with an intentionally calm voice — not emotionless or robotic, but not worried either, just appropriately concerned.

“I still can’t feel my legs. I’m feeling light-headed.” Trent’s dad glanced back at Trent and then added with the best smile that he could muster, “But I’m fine. I got my boy here with me, so everything will be okay.” Trent’s dad was a cop, so he knew how to lie convincingly.

Trent was twelve and knew when his dad was being a cop and when he was being a dad. Right now, Officer Daeshaun was in the driver’s seat, and everything would be okay. Trent knew when his dad put on his work persona in front of him: it was either because he needed immediate and unquestioning obedience, or when he needed to lie because whatever was going on in the world was out of his control and he couldn’t face his son with the truth. For the first month after his mother died, he lived with Officer Daeshaun and didn’t see his dad much.

Trent always thought he looked like a faded version of his dad. He had seen pictures of his dad as a kid and they looked so much alike, except Trent had his mother’s lighter Indian skin. His mother was beautiful, but he had always wished he had been darker like his dad. He spent a lot of time looking at his dad’s complexion and had learned what the subtle changes meant. He could tell when his dad blushed because his cheeks and ears turned a richer color of brown. When he was sick or light-headed, he looked like the chocolate Easter bunny Trent had forgotten about for almost a year that had developed a gray-tinted film over the surface. His dad looked like that now.

“Dad, what’s wrong?”

Officer Daeshaun looked back and met Trent’s eyes, “We were in an accident. Help is on the way. It will be okay.”

“Dad, you’re shaking. You don’t look good.” His dad was shivering severely.

“Don’t look good? You calling me ugly?” The laugh that followed was weak — even weaker than the joke. Trent said nothing.

Trent’s dad sighed, “The wreck was pretty bad. We’re lucky to still be alive. My legs are trapped. I also think I lost a lot of blood.”

“That’s why you’re shaking so bad?”

“Probably a combination of shock and the adrenaline wearing off. But the blood loss isn’t helping.”

“Mr. Daeshaun,” the voice spoke from their car speakers, “the paramedics and the police are arriving now.” Trent could see the flashing lights and hear the vehicles pulling up. “I’m in contact with the officer in charge. I will leave the line open until you are both out of the vehicle.” Neither Trent nor his dad bothered to respond. They were both transfixed by the emergency vehicle lights.

“Mike?” They could hear footsteps and the sound of a belt full of equipment bouncing as the officer it was attached to ran toward them. “Mike?” A flashlight moved closer, breaking away from the emergency vehicles parked along the road, like a bright white scout sent out from the hive of flashier, colorful lights.

“Here. We’re here.” Trent’s dad called out. Tears filled Trent’s eyes and he wasn’t sure why, he tried uselessly to wipe them away with a wet hand.

Light filled the windshield and then came around to the driver’s window. The car had rolled into the lake, but they were near the shore where the water was shallow. Trent sat in the backseat, passenger side — his dad still preferred him to ride in the back so the airbags wouldn’t hurt him if they were ever in a wreck. Trent almost laughed as the tears ran down his face. The one time they were in a wreck, and the airbags failed to go off.

“Mike, thank God you’re alive.” It was his dad’s partner, Jose, and Trent knew he was crossing himself. His dad teased Jose about how much he crossed himself and uttered little prayers. Trent was glad Jose was praying for them.

“Jose, Trent’s in the back. Get him first.” The flashlight turned its stare on Trent and panned back and forth.

“Trent, you hurt?” Jose said.

“I don’t think so.”

“Trent, can you unbuckle yourself?”

“I think I can,” Trent said, reaching down until he found the buckle and unlatched it.

“Bring me a stretcher,” Jose yelled back toward the flashing lights. “Trent,” Jose said, in his soft, but still firm, everything’s going to be okay if you do what I say voice, “I’m going to pull you toward me and then out. Okay?”

Trent nodded and slid toward Jose. Large hands reached in and grabbed him. Trent began coughing again.

_____________________________________________

Super-Borg woke up coughing on dust and his whole body was in pain. His mask had come off, it was dark, and dust filled the air. He was trapped and concrete dust coated everything, forming a sticky paste as it mixed with the rainwater. His head hurt and his ribs screamed in pain when he coughed. “Broken rib, great.” The display on his goggles wasn’t working. There was a cold breeze and drops of rain splashed around him. His leg felt trapped, and he didn’t have much room to move, but he was thankful to be alive. Trying to lift the slab of 1960s concrete that trapped his leg proved impossible as there was no power from his suit, and without it he wasn’t strong enough.

A sharp pain in his knee pulsed like someone was stabbing it with an icepick in time with his heartbeat. The concrete rock kept him from bending his leg, but he moved his toes and then his foot. “I don’t think the leg’s broken, that’s good.” There was a large gash on the armor over his chest where a large piece of rubble had bounced off and broken his ribs. He was lucky to be alive.

He coughed again and forgot about the icepick in his knee as pain shot through his chest. He could feel his ribs shifting when he coughed. Between the dust and the broken rib, it was hard to breathe, and he felt light-headed.

“I can’t believe they dropped the Space Needle on me. What the hell?” His voice was rough and scratchy from dust and coughing, but talking to himself helped to keep him calm.

No power in his exoskeleton or in the goggles meant the suit was in sleep mode, out of power, or the impact had somehow shut everything down. It was also possible the suit was critically damaged, but he didn’t want to think about that. Opening the cover of the touchscreen on his arm, he poked at it a few times. Nothing happened. He coughed again and grimaced through the pain. The suit would need a hard reboot.

Lifting a panel built into the armor on his shoulder, he flipped open the small breaker box. Sliding the switch inside to the off position, he counted to three and then slid it back. The slow, electrical whining of his suit waking up filled his little cave. He lay back, exhausted but smiling.

Looking at the screen on his forearm, he could see his suit’s power was at 20 percent. There was also a problem with the right knee joint. All of his drones were still circling the area, collecting data. They reported that his immediate vicinity was clear — the Neuro-syndicate must have bolted. The police weren’t there yet, but an alert told him they were on the way. Super-Borg had no desire to talk to the police. They disliked supers, and Super-Borg was a vocal critic of the privatization of the police force. Whenever he had to deal with the police, they went out of their way to make things difficult for him. He still respected the badge, but he knew even his dad wouldn’t like what had become of the force. His best option was to try and get out of there quickly and quietly, and file his community marshals incident report later.

With the power restored to his goggles, he turned them to night-vision mode and located his mask. He braced himself, then used the power of his suit to lift the chunk of man-made rock off his leg. Even with the suit doing most of the heavy lifting, his ribs still screamed at him. The rock shifted and he stopped, catching his breath, trying not to cough.

Taking a slow breath, he repositioned his hands and lifted again. The concrete slowly shifted, causing a small avalanche of rubble to fall on his helmet.

He slid his leg out and slowly stood, leaning against the same rock that had been trying to crush him. There was a piece of rebar wedged into the knee joint of his suit. The rebar had cut a large gash in his leg. Blood dripped down his suit, mixing with the dirt and rainwater, but he thought how incredibly lucky he was that it had not skewered his knee. He grabbed the piece of metal and pulled it free, inhaling sharply as it dragged across the cut. The mechanized joint on his suit was useless, but he could still bend his knee.

It was only a few blocks to where he had parked his motorcycle. He hoped no video of him limping away from the scene would turn up online.

He made it to the super-cycle without any hassle. He called it a super-cycle, but it looked like any other motorcycle. That was the point. He pulled a large, black hoodie from the storage compartment under the seat and covered himself up. As he rode away, shame and embarrassment flushed his cheeks. This was bad. He would have to call his publicist.

_____________________________________________

Super-Borg Limps Away from Destroyed Space Needle

We are receiving reports that today’s collapse of Seattle’s iconic Space Needle happened during an altercation between the Neuro-syndicate and the community marshal known as Super-Borg. Amateur video of Super-Borg fleeing the aftermath of the fallen Space Needle has been posted online.

Today, Super-Borg has given more fuel to the fire for those who think the community marshals cause more harm than good when he was involved in an altercation that resulted in the collapse of the Space Needle. Losing the iconic Seattle structure has many residents calling for the disbanding of the community marshals. While some call them superheroes, others call them reckless vigilantes.

Fredrick Harman, the owner of a vegan hamburger truck called, Where’s the Beef, who lives in an apartment near the Space Needle, doesn’t see the purpose of the community marshals anymore. “They just run around playing superhero and doing more damage than they prevent. We lost the Space Needle today. Is it worth it?”

Deputy Veishea of the local community marshals’ office has continuously stated that because the police are now privately funded, their priorities don’t always align with those of the public.

The Space Needle is owned by the city and has been condemned for years, so there were no police assigned to the area, but they are looking into the use of banned weapons and explosives that reportedly brought it down.

From The Seattle Wire

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hopelessromanticspoonie · 5 years

Text

To Keep You Safe

Title: We wear red so they don’t see us bleed

Chapter: 5/?

Author: hopeless_romantic_spoonie

Summary: Life as the assistant to Tony Stark was busy, but boring. All of that changed when I touched something I shouldn’t have and woke up with strange new abilities. If I thought that trying to figure out my new place in life as an Avenger was tough, I had no idea what was in store for me once I ran into the frustrating God of Mischief, Loki.

Rating: E (later on)

Notes: Friendly reminder that this is un-Beta’d, so please excuse any typos or grammatical errors I no doubt missed during revisions.

Also on Ao3 here :)

Warnings for this chapter: Blood, language, and violence

After our talk, to his credit, Loki did give me a wide berth. For the next several weeks of life on the Compound, I trained and practiced with Natasha and Wanda, hung out with Thor and Sam, and watched TV with Steve without a single confrontation–let alone sighting. The Trickster God had to have been using whatever abilities he normally employed to keep tabs on everyone to steer clear of me. And that was one hundred percent peachy-keen in my book.

Tony and Bruce finally finished their extensive testing on all things me. It was decided that the only powers the mystery box gave me were geokinesis and an increased healing rate. When I asked for a reason why this happened, I was given some medical mumbo jumbo that instantly turned my brain to mush. Long story short, they didn’t know what the box had been, only what it had done to me, and it wasn’t going away. This was my new normal.

The knowledge that this wasn’t going away was one hell of a motivator to get a better handle on everything. And because of that, my grasp on my powers improved. I could control more than one object at a time, and it didn’t drain me physically nearly as much as it did in the beginning. Nor did it require such an emotional toll. I could draw on them without bringing forth the full scope of emotional upheaval as before, although that did seem to help. There was still so much work to do, but I was getting there. Slowly but surely.

As for my physical abilities, those lessons were kicking my ass just as much as I had anticipated. I wasn’t super strong like Steve or Thor, so I had to be more thoughtful and strategic when fighting. Brute force wasn’t going to work when I was only five and a half feet tall and preferred cookies to carrots. Natasha worked on teaching me various martial art techniques that relied more on striking effectively than hammering away at my opponent with my fists. It made sense but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hard as hell. I limped away from our training sessions covered in bruises and nursing strained muscles more often than not. Thank goodness for accelerated healing. I needed it to keep up with the grueling sparring sessions.

~~~

Flashing red lights and F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoing throughout the entire Compound jerked me out of my exhaustion-induced sleep. “All Avengers report to the Quinjet immediately. All Avengers, gather your gear and report to the Quinjet immediately.”

I lurched out of bed and ran to my closet, throwing on a pair of dark jeans and a thick long-sleeved t-shirt. I didn’t have a custom suit like everyone else, but this seemed like it would do for whatever I would tackle. I shoved a sturdy pair of boots on my feet and I was barreling out the door.

Natasha was just leaving her room, already fully dressed and ready to kick ass. We both sprinted down the stairs and through the building, crossing the lawn into the hangar. Thor, Bruce, and Captain were all running inside the jet, followed by Natasha. Tony was poised at the edge of the ramp to get inside, looking anxious as he waved people in. When I tried to rush passed him he put his arm across my chest, barring my entrance.

“No can do, Poison Ivy. You’re not ready,” he stated, leaving no room for argument.

Not that I wouldn’t try.

“But what if I-?

“Nope. You stay here with Rock of Ages. F.R.I.D.A.Y. will keep you updated. You’d be a liability. We can’t risk it.” The visor over his face retracted into the suit, allowing him to level me with a hard stare. He didn’t even glance at Vision flying into the jet while holding Wanda securely in his arms.

“Get back. You’ll get burned,” he said more softly, a paternal concern twisting his lips into a frown. He pushed me away from the ramp and jogged inside, closing it behind him.

I had no choice but to back away out of the hangar, watching uselessly as the Quinjet started up and flew through an invisible opening in the force field surrounding the Compound. Once it was gone I pulled out my phone, checking the time. At only four in the morning, it was going to be a long day if all I did was sit around and wait for them to come back.

After heading back into my room and changing from jeans and boots into athletic shorts and tennis shoes, I headed to the gym. If I wasn’t ready for this mission I was going to be ready for the next one. Even if I had to spend hours taking out my frustration and anxiety on a punching dummy until my knuckles bled.

During a break around noon, I chugged water and wiped the sweat from my brow. “F.R.I.D.A.Y., any news?” I panted.

“Sorry, Jen. All I can say is that they made it to their destination and everyone is still alive,” she responded, somehow managing to sound remorseful even as a computer program.

I snarled in frustration and threw down the now empty water bottle, punishing the practice dummy in front of me an elbow to the face. Several hours of doing my best to beat the living daylights out of the dummy and it was no worse for the wear, while the soreness and exhaustion in my limbs weighed them down considerably. But it was this or stare at the TV or wall in the living room distractedly as my mind raced with all the things that could go wrong for them on this sudden mission, and this at least wore me out enough so that I might be able to sleep later.

“Perimeter breach. Perimeter breach. One helicopter on the main lawn,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice rang out through the compound and my phone in my pocket as red lights flashed throughout the Compound.

Just as I did that morning, I dropped what I was doing and sprang into action--despite my protesting muscles.

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit,” I cursed, stopping short just outside the building. A sleek black helicopter was hovering over the middle of the Compound with four men dressed in black protective gear descending from the sides on ropes. As I watched in shock, two more helicopters came into view and began depositing their payloads of terrifying men as well.

As soon as their feet hit the ground, they raised impressive-looking guns into their sightlines and ran toward the main building. Right at me.

Ah hell.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y., I could use some backup,” I grunted, crouching down behind a bush and looking around to see what I had nearby I could use as weapons. Some trees, basketball sized rocks and a giant decorative boulder were all I could see. Awesome.

“The team is still off-base, Jen,” she replied, her voice muffled from my phone in my back pocket. Super awesome.

It was a long shot, but I had to ask her anyway. “What about Loki?”

“He is handling the intruders on the West side of the Compound, Jen. Several groups have come in on foot.”

Loki was helping? What in the world was that about? Maybe it was just a chance to do something, wreak some havoc, as he had to be bored as hell cooped up here without an outlet. If his boredom and need for mayhem was keeping more men off of my back, I’d take it.

But, that still left the group in front of me for me to handle on my own. I’d never fought anyone, not really. Sparring with Nat and training with Wanda did not live up to this experience at all in terms of preparedness. I was the end of the line, though, so I had to try my best. Gritting my teeth, I focused on the ground, lifting my arms and pulling up as much dirt and debris from the grass as I could. The men slowed their advance at the peculiar sight, but only just enough to look at one another briefly before continuing. With a shout I sent the debris flying at them, hoping to blind them temporarily while I figured out what the heck I was supposed to do next. My weak plan wasn’t the most effective. I was disheartened as they crept on even as they blinked dirt from their eyes.

Plan B. I curled my fingers inward and ripped several thin branches from the tree nearest to myself. Aiming the sharp, broken ends at the men, I flicked my fingers outward and sent them flying with as much oomph as I could muster. Only one went through the neck of a man and sent him bleeding and thrashing to the ground. The rest hit their helmets or thick kevlar vests like they were nothing.

“I’m so screwed,” I muttered. My aim still wasn’t the best with multiple projectiles, and that was without having spent the morning taking out my frustrations in the gym. The adrenaline rushing through me could only do so much to compensate, and that wasn’t going to last forever.

The closest to me grabbed something off of his belt and threw it at the building behind me. I whipped my head around, tracking the beeping with my eyes to get a better look at what had been thrown. Having never seen one in real life, my brain stuttered over what it was for half a second. They had grenades?!

My feet carried me away from the building before I had made the conscious decision to move, propelling me as fast as possible from the explosive. It just wasn’t quite fast enough. The shockwave battered against me, followed by tiny pricks of pain all over the back of my body as white-hot glass embedded itself in my unprotected skin. The cry that tore through my lips was almost silent to my ringing ears, but it was enough to draw the attention of the men, who rained bullets down on me.

No time to think or run, I brought a large, decorative stone in front of me like a shield. I saw dust particles and chunks of rock fall to the ground and I struggled to keep it between me and the men. My teeth ground together and all the muscles in my body strained as I directed all of the energy that constantly coursed through me at holding up the massive weight while also slowly backing away from them. I just needed to get inside the building. I could take them out one at a time if I could get more cover. Maybe.

As soon as I was close enough to the now blown-out glass wall, I shoved my hands and, consequently, the boulder at two of the men and dashed inside, slamming my back into a concrete wall for cover and ignoring the wave of pain it brought to the new wounds I had just gotten. Thank goodness for modern minimalist architecture and adrenaline.

I took a few deep breaths and got to my knees, turning around to poke my head out to see who was left. Two pairs of legs were still beneath the human-sized boulder I had thrown, so that just left nine baddies for me to deal with. Going for broke and hoping that this was something I could do, I reached out towards a tree near the back of the group. I could feel the glowing life-force of it, from the tips of the branches to the roots.

“Here goes nothing,” I growled, directing my energy to the roots, willing them to grow. I reached out and pulled hard, and for my efforts, I saw the thick dark roots burst from the ground and race toward one of the men. They tangled around his ankles as I twisted my fingers in a circle, pulling him down and wrapping around his body. He panicked and fired his weapon wildly, trying to shoot the roots off of him, but only succeeded in hitting the stomach of one of his buddies. I urged the roots to wrap around his chest and neck, and the shooting stopped abruptly.

In the distraction of flexing my newfound powers, I failed to notice the man coming up around the wall until just before he shot. I ducked my head and the bullet lodged itself into the concrete inches from my ear, sending grit flying into my eyes. I wildly turned, flailing desperately and pulling another stone from outside to slam into the back of his unprotected neck.

As the man fell, I saw the muzzle of his gun flash before white-hot agony exploded in my shoulder.

In the movies, when someone gets stabbed or shot, usually they'll fly back dramatically and scream. They have a few seconds to mutter some last words and then it's over. Turns out getting shot isn't like the movies. I didn't fly back several feet, soaring through the air to sprawl ungainly onto the floor. I sank to sit on my heels, blinking harshly as my brain attempted to process the worst pain I'd ever experienced as it radiated from my shoulder. My hand shot up to cover the wound, trying to stem the flow of blood as it pulsed out of my body in time with my staccato heartbeat. It took several tries to take a deep breath, the action seemingly doing more harm than good as the movement tugged on my shoulder.

Gotta focus. I had to get my head in the game. The remaining seven bad guys were still coming, and fast. It didn’t matter that I was injured to them. They weren’t going to stop to give me a time out to get patched up, so I just had to keep going. My best bet on stopping them relied on my being able to see them which unfortunately meant sticking my head out of cover. I clenched my teeth as I got to my feet and let out a guttural battle cry as I turned around to face them.

I was most definitely going to die today, but when my friends returned and watched the footage, I didn’t want them to see me cowering in fear until one of them put a bullet in my brain. That wasn’t what being an Avenger was about. It was about fighting until the last breath, and taking down as many of these bastards as I could along the way. Sorry, guys. Sorry, Tony.

Heads turned in my direction, guns following suit. With one hand busy gripping my bullet wound, the other curled into a fist as I focused on bringing every single stone on the Compound lawn levitating in the air.

“Get down!” Loki shouted, running from the opposite side of the building toward me, looking the battle-hardened warrior in his leather armor. An invisible force knocked me to the ground with such force that the back of my head bounced against the tile floor.

And then everything became a blur.

Loki screaming in rage.

Deafening tearing and ripping sounds.

Bullets flying and smashing into the wall.

Warm blood matting my hair and pooling in the hollows of my neck.

Blood-curdling screams cutting off suddenly.

A pale, unfocused face.

Excruciating pain as I was jostled into strong arms.

Is this what dying feels like?

The scent of iron and sweat and leather and spice.

“I am not allowing you to die, damn it!”

And then darkness swallowed me whole.

~~~

A flurry of voices pulled me from the blissful, painless darkness.

“It’s been three days.”

“I know that. Her vitals are stable. You gotta give her time.”

“That’s not good enough!”

“What else can we do?”

I took stock of my body with my eyes closed. My limbs were heavy on the soft surface that I rested on, probably a bed. Besides the voices, a steady beeping that matched the painful drumbeat in my head. Probably a heart monitor, which meant that I was in some sort of a hospital. Itching fire burned on my shoulder, and I blamed that for the real reason why I had woken up. It was impossible to ignore, just like the loud voices echoing around the room.

“You can stop shouting in my room, for starters,” I croaked, my voice dry and scratchy from disuse. God, I sounded weak.

I peeled my eyes open only to immediately close them against the bright lights above me. Trying again, I opened them just enough to squint at my surroundings. I’d landed myself in the infirmary of the Compound once again. Not a hospital, but I had been close enough. A frazzled Tony, Natasha, and Thor appeared to be the culprits for the shouting match I’d just heard.

“If you’re going to shout, at least give me some more pain meds so I can sleep through it,” I grumbled, hoping that the bad attempt at humor would ease some of the anxiety from their faces as I tried to sit up in the bed, only to fall back down with a gasp as soon as I put weight on my shoulder. The shock of pain was enough to tell me that that was a very bad idea right now.

All three rushed over to me at once. Thor took my right hand carefully, mindful of the IV connected to the back of it, and Natasha took the left. Tony moved behind my bed only to reappear with a syringe full of unknown liquid that he injected into the IV line. Within moments a weight smothered the pain and pulled a sigh of relief from deep within me. Ahh, pain meds.

“Milady, I am so glad to see you awake,” Thor said softly, his thumb lightly stroking the backs of my fingers as he smiled down at me.

“We gotta work on your observation skills,” Nat teased, gesturing to my shoulder and giving me a thin smile.

“Pebbles, I thought I told you not to scare me like this,” Tony chided me, standing at my feet. His hands rested on my blanket-covered ankles, clutching them like I was going to run out of the room and get shot up again. That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. Once was enough for me.

“What happened?” I directed my quiet question at Tony, knowing he would have the most forthright answer of the bunch.

“We have been searching for these six rocks, called Infinity Stones. That’s what Vision has in his head, the Mind Stone. This guy called Thanos is trying to get all of them together. Reindeer Games says that he wants to rule the world with it, wipe out half of everything in existence. So, we’ve been trying to track them down,” he said, brow furrowed. “We’ve already destroyed one, well, Wanda did. The Mind Stone. Thor stole it from some nut job on another planet months ago. The Space Stone was in the Tesseract, which Loki had. When he and Thor escaped Ragnarok, Loki brought it back as a peace offering. So that’s one’s gone, too. F.R.I.D.A.Y. is programmed to look for certain… anomalies that might be one of the remaining stones being used. She’s found one in New York City, but the wizard that is currently using it won’t give it up. That’s a work in progress. Something sketchy was happening in New York City, and that was the alert that she gave us. It was Thanos, with the Soul Stone, trying to get the other stone from the wizard. We managed to get it from him. Took a few licks, Steve broke an arm and Wanda a leg, but it’s destroyed now. We’re still looking for the Power Stone and the Reality Stone,” he rambled, exhaustion lining his face as he recalled the events he had rattled off.

“That’s, um, a lot to take in,” I replied, my thoughts muddled by the glorious meds I had been given. That was a lot to unpack, and I wasn’t in any state to even try to do that. It could wait for another day.

“Yeah, so, anyway, we were off fighting Grimace when those assholes from Hydra attacked here. We didn’t even know about it until we got back onto the jet and F.R.I.D.A.Y. let us know. We booked it as fast as we could, but it had been almost a whole day since…” he trailed off, swallowing thickly and gripping my ankles just a little tighter as he shifted his gaze to my blanket-covered knees.

Natasha chimed in, “Tony was able to stream a live feed from F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s cameras. We saw everything.”

“You fought valiantly against the attackers. Loki took up the battle after you had fallen, finishing it in your stead,” Thor added, his voice clear and proud. Whether it was for me or his brother, that was to be determined. I was too exhausted to worry too much.

Tony nodded to Thor and Natasha in silent thanks. “Standing up like some action hero was a dumbass move, by the way,” he paused, staring me down until I felt thoroughly chewed out.

Only after I looked appropriately shamed for my actions did he continue, “Him knocking you on your ass gave you that nasty goose egg on the back of your head. He took out the rest of the Hydra men before getting you up here. I’m not sure what voodoo he did, but he got the bullet out of your shoulder and slowed the bleeding until the doctors I called could get here,” he finished, taking a deep breath.

“By the time we arrived, you were sound asleep and all patched up. Loki hadn’t left your side the whole time,” Nat added, her brow raised.

A yawn escaped from my mouth without warning and I nodded through it, pulling my hand away from her to at least cover my gaping maw. “Loki saved me?” I asked on the tail-end of the huge yawn.

“If it weren’t for Loki, you would be through the gates of Valhalla by now, Milady,” Thor whispered, his eyes grave as they met mine.

Tony let go of me and walked to my side, nudging Nat out of the way so he could rest the back of his hand on my forehead. “You feeling okay?” he asked, changing the subject abruptly.

The change of subject was not unwelcome. The pain meds seemed to spread like molasses throughout my brain, muddling my already scattered and confused thoughts. There were magical stones that some dude named Thanos wanted to use to destroy half of everything? And the Avengers had been going after them all of this time without my knowledge? How long had these missions been going on where I thought one thing was happening and it was something entirely different? And there was no way in Hell would Loki ever save my life. I was a thorn in his side that made his time stuck in this compound a thousand times worse. No one would’ve blamed him if he’d ‘forgotten’ in the heat of battle to push me into cover, letting Hydra riddle me with bullets.

“Uh, yeah, totally. I could go dancing I feel so great,” I muttered sarcastically, pulling myself out of my thoughts and into the room filled with my friends who watched me with concern.

“It’s on, Jen,” Nat said, winking at me from the edge of my bed.

“Let’s give her some space to rest up, guys,” Tony said, flipping his hand around on my forehead and rubbing it lightly with his thumb before stepping away.

Natasha and Thor both nodded to me with a smile before they left the room, the door whirring shut behind them. Tony gave me a final once-over and then left, calling out before the door closed, “The team left some flowers for you on the bedside table. Don’t kill anyone with them!”

After smiling at the expensive-looking glass vase of roses, I snuggled further into the soft sheets and fell into a deep, drug-induced sleep.

~~~

A cool hand on the side of my head woke me suddenly. My eyes tore open and my left hand shot out, grabbing the attacker before they could do me any harm.

“Loki,” I whispered, startled to see the Asgardian Prince at my bedside. What was he doing here?

“If you’d release my hand, I can resume checking your head wound,” he said flatly.

It was hard to grasp, the annoyed god at my bedside in casual black slacks and a white button-down shirt, waiting for me to let him go when he could easily remove himself from my grip. “Oh.” I sheepishly let go of him, my hand falling to rest at my side.

He maintained eye contact with me for a moment, his brow furrowed as he searched my eyes before looking back at the back of my head. His long fingers moved to my jaw, tugging it away from him so he could get a better look at the injury. I felt them move to probe it gently, pausing whenever I let out a hiss of pain.

“I need to change the bandage again.” His voice was firm but gentle. His tone alone threw me for a loop. It was so odd to hear him speaking cordially to me when I was used to him hissing like a snake or shouting up a storm.

As I busied himself behind me, I searched for the remote that typically accompanies a hospital bed. Finally finding it tucked beneath my leg, I used it to slowly move the automatic bed so I was sitting up. By the time I was finished Loki had come to the other side of the bed with a syringe filled with clear liquid. His piercing green eyes met mine once again as he hesitated only briefly before injecting it into my IV. Had he been waiting for me to stop him? The familiar weight of pain medication flooded my body, revealing what he had done moments before without my prompting.

He put down the syringe onto the table beside my flowers. Only now, instead of the single vase waiting for me, there was another. A single sunflower sat in a tall elegant black and gold vase. I looked back to Loki with a furrowed brow, watching him place bandages, gauze, and alcohol next to the new gift.

Finally, unable to hold back my confusion any longer, I blurted out, “Why are you helping me, Loki?”

“Because you are injured. I’ve taken over this aspect of your care since you arrived.” He said it so matter of factly it was almost an insult. As if there was no question that he wouldn’t be doing such a selfless act and he was offended that I would think he’d act differently.

“One of the others could handle this. Why are you helping me,” I pressed.

He sighed heavily and refused to reply, instead reaching out and placing his fingertips on either side of my face to tilt my head forwards off of the pillow. He moved out of my line of sight for a brief moment and I heard water running before he returned to lean over me, his chest inches from my face. This close, I was able to smell the strong spicy and masculine scent that I was quickly beginning to recognize as distinctly him. A warm, damp compress was pressed to the back of my head.

“Some blood soaked through the bandage into your hair. I need to cleanse it before I can remove the bandage.” He smoothed the damp cloth over my head again and again, the pain meds he had given me doing their job to take away the pain and leave only pressure in its wake.

The bloody rag was tossed unceremoniously into a hamper across the room, and then he grabbed the alcohol and gauze next. Some part of my mind screamed that I shouldn’t be letting him do this, that he was going to turn around any second and wrap those long fingers around my throat to finish me off, but a more rational part of me shut that down. If he was going to kill me, there would be no sense in saving my life in the first place.

And there wasn’t any hatred or malice in his gaze as I strained my eyes to look up to him without moving my head. To be completely honest, I couldn’t glean any emotion from his impassive face as he worked over me. Whatever he had to be feeling was currently locked away behind stony eyes and a firmly-set mouth.

“I’ve been watching you, Jennifer. As you train with the Witch and the Widow. Both will throw you to the ground repeatedly, besting you, and you stand right up and try again. You never give up. You clean up after the others when they forget without expecting gratitude or repayment. You set out the protein powder for the Widow and Captain each night. You explain the flavors of the food you’re eating to Vision. When they left you behind three days ago, instead of pouting like a child, you took to bettering yourself.” As he spoke he tended to the large gash on the back of my head, his soothing cool touch at odds with the confusion that littered his own words. As if I were some puzzle that he couldn’t piece together with just my odd actions as a guide.

How long had he been watching me to notice these things? And when had he noticed them? I hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in weeks. He may as well have disappeared off the planet for all that I had encountered him. And had he taken the time to notice these behaviors, or had they simply been a byproduct of his observant nature? Was I a puzzle to him that he must observe to find out, or did he watch everybody that carefully? And how the hell had I not noticed him noticing this?

“And, I need to make amends,” he added, voice so low that I almost didn’t hear it through my scattered thoughts.

His deft fingers left my skin and he placed the remnants of the medical supplies on the table. I took it as a sign that I could move my head and search his face more comfortably, trying to figure out where all of this was coming from. This was not the Loki that I knew. The Loki that I knew would be mocking me for my injuries, possibly prodding my wound to watch me squirm, if he was even here at all. Was this him trying to make things right, to 'make amends' as he had called it? Surely I, the puny mortal, wasn't worth the effort. His actions said otherwise.

He clenched his jaw, meeting my curious gaze with his own. “You knew that you were no match for those men, but you fought them anyway. Why?” Another piece of the puzzle that he couldn’t find a place for.

I swallowed thickly, flashes of the encounters playing through my mind. I killed those men. My heart sped up and tears burned in my eyes despite my clenching them shut. My lungs were unable to hold onto the air from my quick, shallow breaths as their deaths flashed through my mind. Sending an improvised spear through a man’s neck. Crushing a man to death with tree roots. Doing the same to two more with the decorative boulder. Hitting the one who shot me with a rock at the base of his skull. I hadn’t seen him die, but it had hit too hard for him to survive that.

I killed them. I killed them. I’m a murderer.

“Breathe, little one. Breathe, " Loki soothed, his voice velvet as it washed over me.

The bed pitched as he perched himself on it by my hip, and I heard his fingers snapping to get my attention. But it wasn’t loud enough, wasn’t enough to get me to open my eyes and stop the flood of images that refused to leave my mind’s eye.

“If you hadn’t have done what you were forced to do, you would be dead,” he assured me, his voice steady and sure as he tried to pull me out of my ever-increasing panic attack.

I would’ve died either way, so was killing them something I should’ve done? I lowered my chin to my chest, feeling lightheaded as I struggled to take in enough air. My whole body trembled and I pulled my knees to my chest beneath the blankets, wrapping my good arm around them to hold them to me. The onslaught of death paraded through my mind unbidden and unrelenting.

“Look at me,” he commanded. His cool hand cupped my chin, lifting my face so that he could see me more clearly. His thumb brushed against my cheek, wiping away the tears that I hadn't even realized had escaped. But it was as if I lost the ability to open my eyes, his attempts be damned. I couldn’t do it even though I so desperately wanted to.

His other hand reached out and settled onto my knee, and it was so startling that I ripped open my eyes and looked at him. Concern softened his features, at odds the harshness of his tone. “They forced your hand. You are not a murderer."

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that, so I chose silence as I focused on him. He was breathing more forcefully than normal, in through his nose and out through his mouth, and I copied him. We stayed that way for several moments, him showing me how to breathe through my panic and me following his lead. Slowly, the lightheadedness lessened enough so that I could focus. The terrible visions in my head were replaced with the piercing green eyes that held me captive.

Satisfied that I was calming down, he asked again, “Now, answer me this: Why did you fight those men when you knew you were going to lose?”

I looked away to his hand on my knee, the long fingers completely covering it even beneath the thickness of several blankets. It was easier to gather my thoughts without having to watch his reaction to them.

What had I been thinking?

“I… I knew I was the last line of defense. F.R.I.D.A.Y. said I was on my own. Was I supposed to just let them do whatever shitty thing they came to do? Guys busting through Tony’s forcefield in battle gear and assault rifles aren’t showing up to ask for a cup of sugar. If I hadn’t have done anything, they would have found me and killed me anyway. I was dead either way, but maybe I could stop enough of them that you could take the rest out if you came to help.” I ran my hand over my face, dislodging his grip from my chin in the process. “I-I didn’t mean to kill them, but I did mean to stop them. And then after that asshole shot me, I was one hundred percent dead anyway. I was bleeding out. So I might as well take as many out as I could before I go,” I shrugged, wincing at the discomfort the movement brought to my shoulder, even with the haze of medication.

“That reeks of the same self-sacrificing hero act that my brother and his troupe of morons put on. That was foolish and unnecessary,” he scolded.

I offered him nothing more than another shrug, but only of my uninjured shoulder, for his reprimand. It probably was, in his mind, but that didn't mean that I agreed.

“Did you not think I would come to your aid?” Loki asked, the smallest expression of hurt registering on his face as he brought attention to its cause.

“The last time we talked you held a knife to my throat, and then I did the same to you. Kinda. It was a tree branch, but it still counts. Why would you help me? If they had finished the job then you’d have a much easier life here. You wouldn’t have to avoid me and constantly worry about Thor breaking your face whenever I throw a fit. You could skulk around at night or on the roof without running into me. I’m just in your way.”

A muscle in Loki’s jaw ticked at my words, but he didn’t say anything he as considered them. The silence was almost more painful than the hole in my shoulder. I idly reached up to scratch at the bandage and his hand reached up and slapped it away.

He frowned at me. “I need to redress that as well. Leave it be.”

The silence stretched on as he organized the supplies he’d need in front of him and then tugged the hem of my large hospital gown down my arm to expose my shoulder and better access the bullet wound. His spindly fingers were quick and efficient in their work of removing the bandage, cleansing the wound, and then replacing the dressings with clean ones. His steady touch coming and going from my bare skin sent my heart skittering in my chest. I didn’t allow myself to wonder why it was invoking that reaction in me, but I did allow for the luxury of watching him unnoticed.

I'd never taken the time to actually see the man tending to my wounds. Taking the time to really inspect him, I was surprised to find that he was very easy to look at. His skin was unblemished and smooth, no hint of age showing on it except for the wrinkles that appeared as he furrowed his brow or squinted his eyes to get a better look at his task. His jawline was sharp enough to cut glass, and I trailed my eyes downward to the small amount of pale chest that his unbuttoned collar revealed, not a single hair to be seen. His shirt didn't hide the lean muscles that rippled beneath his skin as he worked, and some strange part of me wondered what they would feel like if I reached out and closed the distance between us. For lack of a better, more eloquent word, he was beautiful. As if sculpted by the very gods that he proclaimed himself to be. His beauty was more delicate compared to the rugged masculinity of the men of the Avengers that I was used to associating with, but that didn't make it any less lovely to behold. Just different.

I pulled my wandering eyes back up to his, a blush betraying me and heating up my skin when I found that he had been watching me look at him. The intensity of his gaze knocked me back to my senses, and I quickly looked down at my hands as they twisted around themselves. He didn't say anything, however, keeping up the silence until he was finished and throwing away the soiled bandages in the trash across the room. With his overwhelming presence gone and his large hands off my skin, I felt the tension I had unknowingly been holding in my clenched muscles ease away and my mind clear a little more. Loki paused in front of the door with his back to me, one hand resting on the windowsill beside the door.

“One thing I’ve only recently learned from my brother is to never leave a warrior behind. Especially not one of such caliber.” He took a deep breath, his shoulders heaving with the movement. “And I’m not willing to lose anyone else.”

And then he was gone, leaving behind my favorite blood-stained rock on the windowsill.

#to keep you safe #loki #loki odinson #loki laufeyson #loki friggason #loki fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel #loki/ofc #blood tw #violence tw #language tw

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elizabethemerald · 5 years

Note

I'm not sure if I already requested something, but how about poly Jim/Toby/Claire/Darci with Toby as the trollhunter?

Hello again Friend! Here’s another finished request for you. This one got a little long, but it may be one of my favorite prompts I’ve received.

If anyone else has any requests feel free to send them my way! Also I wrote Claire using they/them pronouns, so if I messed their pronouns somewhere please let me know.

A role swap AU. For once Toby beat his friend Jim into the canals. The amulet called his name. Jim found himself wielding a staff powered by dark energies, his fate marked by Morgana’s magic. Jim’s girlfriend Claire found a hammer with gravity powers. When Merlin convinced Toby to step into a bathtub filled with a black potion Darci dove in after him desperate to save him. Eventually Toby, Darci, Claire and Jim realized they all loved each other, and there was no sense in pretending they didn’t. This story takes place several years after they would have graduated high school, now all four of them living together.

The rock they sheltered behind rumbled and cracked as another powerful blow landed on it. Toby crouched, Daylight in his hand. His horns and long arms made him look even more like his adopted father and wingman Aaarrrgghh. His lovers were hiding behind the rock with him.

Jim held his staff, arcane runes carved along its length. It wasn’t as powerful as the Skath-Hrun was, but it provided an ideal focus for his sorcery. His short black hair with it’s white stripe fluttered with his magical energy. His eyes were filled with blue fire, and more of the cerulean flames washed down his arms.

Darci flexed her wings her claws digging into the stone. When Merlin had tricked Toby into using the potion, Darci had dove into the bathtub after her boyfriend. She emerged with a troll form all her own. Claire had joked once that she looked like she could be Strickler and Nomura’s daughter. While Toby looked like a baby Krubera, Darci was skinny with black hooves and massive wings that could carry her through the sky.

Claire twirled their warhammer in their hands. The massive weapon with its purple fires and gravity powers. They smiled grimly at the others, in their trademark Papa Skull sweatshirt. The sleeves were ripped off to show off their arms. Their black hair with it’s purple stripe was carefully pulled back and contained with multiple barrets.

“This guy is huge! He’s shrugged off everything we’ve thrown at him.” Claire said. It was rare that monster they faced survived even one blow from their hammer, much less came back for thirds.

“We have to hit him with everything we’ve got!” Toby said looking around at his lovers. “Darci and Claire when I give you the word, you two take to the air. Darci try and get behind him.” Darci nodded, stretching her wings then crouched ready to take off. Her twin swords were strapped across her lower back. “Claire when you see your moment you bring the heavy hits.”

“I’ll bring a few meteors with me!” Claire said as they crouched next to Darci. Their hammer in their hands ready to rocket towards the ceiling of the cavern.

“Jim and I will give you a distraction to get into the air. Then Jim you bring the fire from the sides and I’ll go right up the center.”

Jim nodded and began tracing arcane symbols into the side of the boulder they were sheltering behind. “And for godsakes don’t get killed.” Jim said. “At least stay alive long enough for me to put you back together.”

Toby allowed his helmet to cover his face, he vanished Daylight and pulled out his smaller blades, holding them ready to throw. Then nodded to Jim.

“Azaz terra!” Jim cried.

Toby threw both of his glaives so they curved around the boulder. The rock itself rocketed forward slamming into the massive troll on the other side. A curtain of blue fire rose up almost to the ceiling. Claire swung their hammer upward and took off with a roar. Darci leapt into the air and with a powerful beat of her wings soared off. Toby jumped in front of Jim slashing with Daylight as it appeared again in his hand. The slash was perfectly timed to split the boulder in half as the troll threw it back in their direction.

The troll was huge. Possibly larger than Gunmar had been. And twice as durable. The massive creature picked up two more large boulders and pulled his arms back to throw them.

Before he could release them Darci dove out of the darkness with a shriek. Her twin blades bit deep into his back. She hung on desperately as he tried to throw her off. Her attack left the troll’s front wide open.

Toby flung Daylight with all his strength. It embedded itself almost up to the hilt in the troll’s chest. Then the Trollhunter slammed his fists together. The armor manifested a pair of studded gauntlets that covered him up to the elbows. Toby’s favorite stone for his amulet. He wasn’t as strong as Aaarrrgghh, but with the gauntlets he could hit just as hard. He roared and charged.

Several powerful punches forced the troll to reel back. The troll tried to crush Toby in between the two boulders in his hands. Toby barely managed to stop the two rocks, but now he was exposed.

Toby felt a foot land on his back and just like they had practiced he knelt a little then jumped, propelling Jim into the air. The sorcerer slammed his flaming staff again and again into the troll’s face, driving him even further back.

“Everyone get clear!” Claire’s call was immediately followed by a thunderous crack above them. Darci pulled her blades free and dove backwards flapping hard to regain altitude. Toby flexed his hands and crushed the boulders into rubble. Jim stayed on top of the troll battering his face with his flaming staff, blue flames pouring from his eyes like tears. Toby vanished his gauntlets and grabbed Jim by the collar of his blue zip up and pulled him back.

The Trollhunter covered his love with his body as a enormous stalactite driven down by Claire’s gravity powers crashed into the troll. Claire rode the rock down their hammer in their hand; they dove off at the last second. With a deafening crash the stalactite crushed the troll.

The rumbling continued for several minutes as more and more rubble fell from the ceiling, dust filling the room. After the noise finally quit Toby could hear Darci’s powerful wingbeats blowing the dust away. He could also hear Claire calling for him and Jim. He stood up straight shoving some of the rocks off his back. Jim uncurled his body from where Toby had been sheltering him.

“Oh there you are! I was afraid I buried you!” Claire said landing by their side.

“You almost did bury Jim.” Toby said. “That whole don’t die part applies to you too, Jim the self sacrificing!”

Jim smiled weakly, “I had to hold him where he was or the cave in wouldn’t have worked.”

Claire glared at him. “You already got him in position, he wasn’t going anywhere.”

Toby carefully wiped a bit of blood from Jim’s brow. Now that he wasn’t performing his magic, Jim’s eyes were back to the regular blue. “Is anyone else injured?” Toby asked.

Darci landed carefully on a rock. “I think one of the stones hit me. I going to have bruise the size of your fist on my wing when we get back home.”

Claire was immediately at her side opening up the wing in question to inspect the bruise. “I’m sorry Darc! I didn’t want any of you to get hurt!”

Toby stretched his back, twisting this way and that. Between his troll hide and the armor of Daylight he was mostly uninjured. A few bruises and scrapes, but nothing serious. He smiled at Claire and they tried to hide how upset they were that they had hurt two of their lovers. He summoned his blade back to his hand, then allowed his armor to disappear.

“Alright everyone let’s get back to the house. We can talk more once we are away from the potential for a worse cave in.”

Jim’s eyes glowed blue and he clapped his hands together. As he slowly pulled his hands apart a whirling black portal opened, wreathed in blue flames.

“Try not to get any dust in the house! I just cleaned.” He said as the portal opened large enough for them all to pass through.

“Yes dear.” Claire said. They kissed him on the cheek and ducked under his outstreatched arm into the portal.

“Yes honey.” Darci said and kissed him on his other cheek and ducked under his other arm.

“Of course Jim.” Toby said as walked through the portal on the other side.

Jim was alone on top of the rubble and allowed the portal to cover him bringing him into his basement. The others were quickly moving out of the portal corner of the basement. One corner had been designated as his portal location, always kept free of belongings and people so noone was ever injured from a sudden portal.

“Jim if you were going to magically clean all of us with your portal anyways, why even mention the dust?” Claire asked their arms crossed. Jim could only smile and shrug in response. They all made their way out of the basement into the rest of their house.

* * *

With four incomes they were able to afford a very nice place. It was far enough from Arcadia that they could be anonymous without the people they saved trying to worship them, but close enough that they could get back to Heartstone Trollmarket if there was a crisis. Like the houses in Arcadia the house had three levels. The basement was primarily used by Jim for his magic and portaling. There was also a tunnel that lead eventually to the Arcadia sewers.

All four of them had different jobs, now that they were no longer kids. Darci had a job that Toby would have loved when he was a kid. She was a full time “Costumed” streamer. She played up her troll form as a monstersona, pretending her wings and horns were cunning prosthetics. She almost exclusively played horror games. Occasionally she would have her partner or boyfriends appear on camera.

People laughed at Toby’s monstersona. How could two people who are willing to spend that kind of money for those quality monster costumes, just happen to fall in love? Toby is the one she brings on when she wants someone to scream for the camera. Claire usually makes fun of the goofy monsters in the games, though jump scares will get them as well. Jim doesn’t react at all to the monsters or jumpscares. Though he will make Darci stop in the middle of a game so he can critique the grotesque displays and summoning rituals the games use.

Jim works as a P.I. He jokes sometimes that P.I. could stand for either Private Investigator or Paranormal Investigator. He helps people find lost relatives or catch cheating spouses. After what his mom went through with his dad, he wasn’t going to let anyone else get away with abandoning their family. It was also a job that allowed him some freedom, just in case the lost child he was supposed to return to her parents had a good reason not to be with them. Or if his eyes occasionally rolled into the back of his while he incanted in trollish noone would think twice.

Claire had the most normal job of all them. They taught at the local school. Toby had laughed when he said at least one of them should have good health insurance considering their other job of protecting trolls. It had been a bit of a struggle for Claire to get their teacher’s certification but it was definitely worth the work. They were loved by their students, who knew they could bring anything to the them and Claire would have their backs. If any of their students happened to see something magical they could tell Claire that as well and their teacher would believe them.

Toby of course was the Trollhunter. They all realized that there was no real point in Toby trying to maintain a day job. Especially once Merlin tricked him into giving up his humanity. Trollhunting was his full time job. Fortunately now with Blinky as the head of Trollmarket, Toby received a small amount of financial compensation for his hero work. That helped pay for Toby’s share of the mortgage.

All four of them hung out in the kitchen while Jim saw to their wounds. He inspected Darci’s wing to make sure there wouldn’t be any lasting damage. Then he saw to Toby’s scrapes. He had managed to discover a much more effective way of caring for troll skin than molten metal, and less expensive as well. Next Jim cared for Claire’s bruised foot which they didn’t notice in the earlier excitement. Belatedly and at the insistence of his lovers he carefully bandaged the cut on his own eyebrow.

Darci and Claire collapsed onto the couch, Darci’s wing a little stiff and Claire’s foot carefully wrapped with an ice pack. Toby walked in with his specially designed phone held up to his face.

“No don’t worry, we took care of the bruiser!”

Aaarrrgghh’s concerned words could be heard on the other side. “You are OK?”

“Yep, no worries Dad! No reason for you and Blinky to end your honeymoon early.”

Toby kept walking into the kitchen, passing Jim going the other way. Jim had several trays laden with food, some that suited troll appetites, some for human ones. He sat down on the couch in between Claire and Darci. He paused to kiss both of them before getting comfortable. Finally Toby walked back into the room putting his phone on the table.

“Is it time for a movie my lovelies?” Toby rumbled. He walked down the length of the couch giving each of them a kiss as he did. Darci caught him with her uninjured wing to give him a second kiss. Jim laughed and when he kissed Toby blew a small blue fire into the half troll’s mouth. He laughed harder as the tickle of blue flame came out of his nose. Toby teased Claire by staying just out of reach so she couldn’t get her kiss, that is until she used her power to increase the gravity of his head so he was within kissing range.

Finally he sat down heavily on his side of the couch. The side of the couch that had been reinforced by every troll trick or magic his lovers could come up with. Sometimes it still sagged. He let out a deep purr of happiness as him and his three other lovers cuddled up in front of the TV, the sound of movie playing softly until one by one they each fell asleep.

You know what I don’t need right now? Another AU to write. I’m hoping this will be all I write, because I already have too many ideas. But I might come back to this idea later.

#toby domzalski #claire nunez #jim lake jr #darci scott #role swap au #trollhunter toby #sorcerer jim #hammer claire #troll toby #troll darci #writing emerald

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canyousevmyheavydirtysoul · 5 years

Text

Bodyguard III: Avengers Assemble (Chapter 7) (B. Urie x Reader)

THE HARD-PACED, rhythmic thumping of your heart filled your ears, drowning out any and all ambient noise from your surroundings. Your lips parted, a scream forming at the back of your throat. The ground vibrated with every harsh step you took, your combat boots propelling you forward each time it hit the ground.

Your entire world had been brought to a standstill in a matter of seconds, and each passing moment only worsened the awful feeling in your chest.

Dropping down, you kneeled next to Aaron's limp body, your laboured breathing drowning out the sound of your heartbeat as you cradled his head in your hands.

Brendon stood to the side, looking on distastefully. He didn't interfere, allowing you to have a moment; he spoke only when you addressed him.

Fire swirling in your eyes, you glared at the agent. "What the fuck is wrong with y-"

"Relax," Brendon shut his eyes in annoyance, holding out one hand, "He's not dead. Just knocked out."

A wonderfully soothing relief exploded inside of you and you too closed your eyes for a couple seconds, gathering yourself. Brendon treaded over and kneeled on the other side of Aaron's body.

"We need to get him to the infirmary," the agent said, starting to lift the doctor up.

You helped, transferring Aaron fully over into Brendon's grasp once he was upright. Both of you started down the corridor.

"Then what?" you queried, giving the smallest of frowns as you noticed the blue tinge in Aaron's skin.

"I'm gonna recalibrate him."

✧ ✧ ✧

Lower equipment room.

Natasha squinted in the dim light, staring at Bruce as he struggled to suppress his rage. His face was growing, changing slowly.

The redhead grit her teeth as she made another painful attempt at pulling herself free from the pipe crushing her leg. Trying to distract both of them from the precarious situation, she began talking to her hulking counterpart.

"Doctor?" she started shakily, breathing shallow, "Bruce, you gotta fight it. This is just what Loki wants. We're gonna be okay. Listen to me-"

On the other end of the room, Spencer ran in, eyes searching the room. They landed on his colleague and the doctor, and he called out.

"Romanoff, you hurt?"

Natasha waved him away frantically, wanting to minimize the potential damage. Hesitantly, Spencer backed away and ran off to help somewhere else.

"We're gonna be okay, alright?" she continued, "I swear on my life I will get you out of this, you will walk away, and never ever-"

"Your life?" Bruce growled, the Hulk pushing through.

His voice had the change in it – the bitter amusement was morphing to a growled threat. He began fully transforming into the Hulk, shirt tearing, as he threw himself away from Natasha. He turned to look at her, changing – just as the lights went out.

"Bruce."

The transformation was complete. The Hulk rose unsteadily to his feet, and roared. Natasha wrenched her foot free and stood, observing. The Hulk turned to look at her, and she knew.

Spinning on her heel, she began sprinting up the catwalk stairs as the Hulk chased her. She swung from one catwalk to another and rolled under a steaming turbine, as her persuer tore down the stairs. Jumping through a small opening, Natasha crawled away under some pipes as he grabbed after her, roaring loudly.

In his cell, Loki heard the distant roar of the Hulk, and gave a sadistic smile.

✧ ✧ ✧

The bridge.

Fury entered the open space, yelling orders as he ran.

"Bring the carrier to a one-eight-zero south. Take us to the water."

Dallon answered back from his seat behind one of the monitors. "We're blind. Navigation re-calibrated after the engine failure."

The Director looked at the techie in disbelief, taking one step forward. "Is the sun coming up?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then put us on the left. Get us over water. One more turbine goes down then we drop."

✧ ✧ ✧

Engine 3.

Steve arrived at the damaged engine. "Stark!" he called out, looking around, "Stark, I'm here."

Tony, in full Iron Man armor, flew up to the engine. "Good. Let's see what we got."

He began examining the engine, his suit scanning through the different levels of machinery. Inside the helmet, he spoke to himself softly, mentally fixing the problem.

"I gotta get this super conducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors, work on dislodging the debris." He then turned his attention to the Captain, pointing his finger as he directed. "I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position."

With a fleeting glance at the suit, Steve jumped up and used the exposed infrastructure to swing himself over to the control panel. While he opened it up, Iron Man got to work on the engine.

"What's it look like in there?"

Steve sighed. He knew nothing about these things. "It seems to run on some form of electricity."

"Well, you're not wrong." Tony blasted away debris from the engine with a beam from his suit. "'Kay, the relays are intact."

Steve pushed the engine control panel back into its slot. "What's our next move?"

"Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won't re-engage without a jump... I'm gonna have to get in there and push."

"Well, if that thing gets up to speed, you'll get shredded!"

"Then stay in the control unit and reverse polarity long enough to disengage-"

"Speak English!"

Tony sighed, then dumbed down his explanation. "See that red lever?"

Steve looked to his side, eyes landing on the object to his left.

"It'll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out," Tony continued, "Stand by it, wait for my word."

Obeying, Steve made his way over to the lever.

✧ ✧ ✧

Infirmary.

Standing to the side, you folded your arms across your chest as you watched Brendon place Aaron down on the cot. Brendon started fastening the restraints around the doctor's limbs; you winced as your bodyguard pulled the straps tighter, causing the hard leather to cut into Aaron's soft skin.

In the distance, the Hulk roared, and as the sound carried through the air towards the two of you, you looked at each other with frowns.

"Go," Brendon instructed immediately, "They'll need you."

You nodded and took steps to the door, but hesitated slightly as you glanced at Aaron, still unresponsive. Brendon rolled his eyes.

"I'm not gonna kill him. Just go."

With one last look at both men, you vanished down the hallway.

✧ ✧ ✧

Lower engine room.

The place was dark. Natasha snuck underneath an engine, further hiding herself from the Hulk. She heard the footsteps. Pulling her gun, she held it ready and moved out from the engine.

Suddenly, the Hulk jumped at her, roaring. Natasha fired at a pipe over his head, casuing gas to shoot out. She took off down a narrow passage, the Hulk crashing through behind her, destroying everything in his path. He came up on her fast, catching up just as she was about to run off into another passage.

He backhanded her into a wall.

Natasha was groaning, unable to move, scared. Hulk raised a fist, about to strike, when he was tackled through a wall by Thor.

The two rolled into the lower docking area where the quinjets were stored. S.H.I.E.L.D personnel scattered, running from the area in terror as you ran in.

The three of you circled one another, then the Hulk struck. You stopped him by freezing his feet into place. His hands still thrashed about wildly, preventing you from getting a solid shot at them. He threw punches at you and your cousin, as you ducked and weaved to avoid them.

Hulk brought down a fist, but Thor caught it and held it above his head. "We are not your enemies, Banner!" he groaned, fighting to hold the Hulk's fist up.

"Try to think, doctor!" you tried.

With a single, fluid motion, Hulk broke free from the ice grounding him and punched both you and Thor across the room and through a container.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

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