#I love this comm every day it brings me so so much joy | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

neteyamyawne · 1 year

Note

I was hoping for a Trudy x Nonbinary (if not female) reader the plot is while exploring the forest y/n anixety got triggered by an ikran or something and they ran deeper in the forest as they had an anixety attack Trudy follows and manages to find them and comforts them a bit after Trudy and y/n are lost and it's getting dark this adventure of sorts kinda turns into a weird date thing as Trudy decides to make the most of it and have a nice joy ride exploration around the forest with y/n it ends with them finding a safe place to sleep, a confusion from both of them , a make out scene BC I MUST, and they fall sleep the end :)

my one thing I ask for in the make out scene it doesn't end too abruptly/ extending for a bit as long as you're comfortable with it!

Ty and have a good day/night!

A/n : Trudy is the loml 🥹 I'm sorry I couldn't post this earlier, I love Trudy so much 😭 thank you so much for requesting this, I was so excited when I saw this request, keeps asking for the human characters cuz I love them soo much 🤭🤌🏼you have a good day too, love 💚

Lost ♡

Pairing : Trudy chacon x fem!reader

Summary : request

Song : Give me promiscuous

Found 🫂

❈ Warning : anxiety attack, getting lost, crying, vomiting, mention of blood, attack by toruk, mention of head being bitten off, PTSD, making out, fluff , suggestive theme in the end but no smutt, idiots in love, mutual pinning, pet names (sweetheart, love etc), Trudy being a flirt all along.

❈ Word count : 2.5k, not proof read

❈ Note : Just think humans can breathe Pandora's air, it's important later on 😂 Hyperlink of the "memory" is given💚

"word" - dialogue , **word** - flashback

The chopper landed on the soft grass near the site 26, I hopped off on the ground, making my way towards the door with grace, she opened the airlock, getting in with Trudy, norm and Jake, I let my bag fall down almost instantly , breathing inn freely because as much as breathing the pandorian air is okay , this was much better, making a beeline to my bunk above Trudy's, climbing up I threw myself onto it, getting comfortable but my relaxation was short lived when grace demanded me to get up and come down for the collection and briefing. I went near the lab section to grab my tools hearing Trudy on the way as she exclaimed "everything's rotten in this fucking box" slamming the fridge door shut, I laughed at her, picking up what I needed, I turned around to meet up with grace as soon as possible but was stopped in my way by Trudy, her frame blocking me, raising my eyebrows at her in question, she spoke "mind if I tag along? And I don't have anything else to do either" she had a lazy smile plastered on her face and how could I say no to that?

»»————-　♡　————-««

It's been a while since me and Trudy got separated from grace and norm, traveling further and further into the thick forest,the sounds from the distance making me jump but I stopped once in a while collecting specimens and samples, Trudy walked behind me, chattering away but I didn't mind, her voice bringing me at peace, my heart fluttering when she wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me closer as we trekked ahead, my mind was buzzing, Trudy, my long time overdue crush, had her arm around my shoulders but I tried not to react, though I knew my face was red as the great leonopteryx, keeping my eyes at the ground disguising it in the search for new plants, i talked when i had to, with short replies as in not to make a fool of myself.

Hours passed, the sky was slightly darker but the sun was still bright, as I collected enough samples for today, turning around to go back from were we came but stilled on the spot when every route looked the same, Trudy looked at me wide eyes too, we were lost, i reached my hand up to my comms but felt nothing but my skin "shit, i forgot my comms'' she looked at me with a "no shit" look, i cringed, what a nice day to choose my human body to explore rather than my avatar, i groaned, Trudy sighed sitting down on a log, i dropped down next to her clutching my sample box to my chest, we could only wait till they come find us, i looked at Trudy ``I'm sorry, i should have brought my comms'' She just laughed, nudging me with her shoulder "hey, it's okay, it's not like you did it on purpose, anyways you look cute when you blush" and i felt like my eyes would pop out, did she just call me cute? I was no better than the puddle on the ground, my throat constricted as I stuttered "tru- Trudy, i-" but I was cut off with a sickening crack of a branch resonated around us, our heads snapped towards it as a gigantic ikran made a straight dive towards us.

My eyes widened as a scream erupted from my throat, everything in my mind buzzed silent, my body stopped moving, my lungs felt like they were on fire, my legs moving on their own, stumbling through the thicket of the forest, it felt like the world was spinning, my foot stumbled on a root as i fell down on the ground, but i didn't care, tears streamed down my eyes but my mind whirled back to the memory (scroll down to the trivia section, first point) of being plummeted to the ground after the leonopteryx attacked our Samson 029, the roar of of beast ringed in my ears, tears now stained my t-shirt but i convulsed on myself, the ground rocked beneath me, everything felt too bright, too loud, i sniffled, wiping my eyes but more tears ran down, i tried to muffle my cries but sobs wrecked through my body, it was suffocating me, making it hard to breath, the forest too lively as i coward back, i tried to think about happy memories but the fall overpowered everything.

My cries worsened, my breaths labored , i flinched back when two arms pulled me in, i screamed pulling back but they held me down, keeping me still, their warm body enveloping my, now, cold and sweaty one, they nuzzle their head near my ear, whispering "shh shh, it's me, Trudy, I'm here, calm down honey, I'm here, I'm with you, you're okay" she said in a hurried voice, i looked up to see her, her smile bright, she caressed my back as i broke down in her arms, my body shaking while my mouth was dry as the desert, nausea bubbled up and i doubled over, dry heaving, she coddled me in her arms, whispering sweet nothings and words of affirmation, making me feel better as best as she could in the middle of nowhere of a forest on strange planet, i calmed down after a while, still clinging to her body with my head buried in her neck, what i didn't realize that i was seated in her lap, my labored breathing now even and my hazed mind clearing out, i felt dizzy after such an episode, Trudy's voice was soft as she spoke "are feeling okay now sweetheart?" I stared at her wide eyed, how long has it been? Breaking the eye contact, I looked around, the sky was now dark, the eclipse had fallen, the forest around us glowing, the bioluminescent plants casting soft shades over Trudy's face, making her even more gorgeous in my eyes.

»»————-　♡　————-««

She helped me stand up after I was sure I wouldn't tumble over myself, but as I straighten up my previous wave of nausea came back with double the force and I bent down emptying my stomach right next to the tree, Trudy held my hair, rubbing her hand down my back as I hurled my stomach's content, when I finally finished my heaving she removed her water pack from her belt, helping me clean up, i was shaking from head to toe as I stuttered again "i- i'm- sorry, i didn't mean-" she cut me of kissing me on the forehead as she said against my hair "it's okay, darling, it's not your fault, just calm down, I'm here now, I know" she gently pulled me in for a hug, pressing another kiss on my hair, thankfully I had no vomit on my clothes so that was a relief, i melted in her embrace letting myself relax in her arms, pulling away from the hug she asked "are you feeling good enough to walk?" I nodded, not trusting my voice at the moment, so we both began our walk forward in the illuminated forest in hopes to find the lab.

We walked for hours , exploring the forest, i showed her many sights and creatures from afar, i didn't even feel how the time went by, with her by my side I felt safe, her presence calming my Brain down and I was sure a search party was sent for us by now but it'd be hours before they find us, Trudy had her arm around my waist, her other holding my hand, intertwining our fingers together, the sample case lost long ago when I ran away so now we had to make another trip for collection but that was an afterthought, first we needed to reach the lab to even register it being lost. After a lot of walking and complaining for my side we stumbled upon a cave, deciding this was better than sleeping under the open sky, Trudy went in first checking the cave out, at the end of examination we settled inside, Trudy kept her gun aside, coming to my side as we used our body heat, time passed by and soon rain started to drizzle down, blowing cold Breeze inside the cave.

As we sat together, our stomachs rumbling for food but we both didn't pack anything as we didn't discuss being lost with an ikran chasing us. I leaned my head on her shoulder, minutes passed before she asked "what happened?" I looked at her confused, then she elaborated "when you saw the ikran, why did you run away?" I looked down feeling embarrassed but she hooked a finger under my chin, making me look at her, i sighed remembering the events of the accident, i took a deep breath before I spoke –

** I sat with Myra and Ezra them beside me in the Samson, we were ordered to collect the specimens this time and being a little more advanced than them i was elected as the incharge of the trip, grace couldn't come on this one because of the meeting she had with Parker, Kyle was our armed escort and James was the one flying us towards the undiscovered section, i was jumping in my seat from excitement, this is my first trip as incharge, anyone would be excited, Myra and Ezra were here for research as they completed their 5 years long course to join us, the chopper gilded without a problem, cutting its way to the dropping point, wind blew through my hair, i closed my eyes enjoying the sensation, gripping my seatbelt, taking a deep breath, i sighed but my peaceful state for broken when we jolted as something impacted on the side of the samson, i whipped my head, staring in horror as I saw Ezra's head being ripped of by jaws bigger than I've ever seen, Myra screamed as Ezra's blood sprayed on us, the chopper was pivoted around and my body bent at an odd angle, a loud roar made it clear that it was no other than the great leonopteryx.

i screamed when we were bashed into a mountain side, the beast poking it's head in, when the creature saw Myra, it wasted no time before she was taken away, her blood left on me and the seat she sat in, my mind blaring, Kyle immediately unhooked my seatbelt but before I could do anything, the chopper was slammed again and my foot slipped, Kyle tried to grab me , James was screaming to get the parachutes but it was all drowned in the air that rushed passed my ears as I plummeted to the ground, the trees and bushes softening my fall, i laid on the forest floor while I watched our Samson 029 burst into flames, killing the remaining of the passengers while the beast flew away with roar, the flames bruning it's skin, it's trail so Swift as if it didn't just kill my whole crew, tears welled in my eyes but i couldn't move, my body in too much pain from the fall, i laid there was hours before the RDA tracked me down by the comms, i was admitted in the ICU ward for over a month while I healed, that accident branded itself in my mind , a day i could neve forget, there was a mourning period held for Myra, Ezra, Kyle and James but i was so guilt stricken, i couldn't bare to attend it. From that moment on, it took me a year and a half before I went on an exploration again.**

Trudy was struck when I finished, of course she knew about the incident but to hear it from me? It was horrifying, new batch of tears ran down my cheeks as I recalled the memory again, she heaved me in her arms and I cuddled closer to her for warmth, my body ran cold while her's felt like a furnace, a comfortable silence taking over, i scooted near her even more, her chuckled reverberated in the cave at my movements and I looked up at her squinting my eyes "what?! I'm cold!" She just laughed even more at that and kissed my forehead before saying "No, not that, I'm so proud of you, i couldn't have taken this anywhere nearly as good as you did, thank fucking god you made out alive" she laughed again nuzzling her face in the side of my face, i couldn't help but stare at her laugh lines, my mind going silent asbi mulled over her compliments, i exhaled in relief, her smile lighting up my mood, her laugh so sweet I wanted to bottle it up and listen it was hours but by then I was brought out of my thoughts as she stared back at me, blood rushed to my cheeks, her eyes held a softness i couldn't ignore, i tilled my head knowing exactly what was going on in her mind, just then she leaned in slightly, her breath fanning over my lips, i couldn't take it anymore and connected them finally, her lips soft as clouds, making me melt against her, after what felt like days but were mere seconds, i pulled back gasping for air and so did she, i laughed, it felt surreal, i was kissing Trudy chacon and she was kissing me back! She looked at me once and before laughing herself, not wasting i pulled her in for another kiss, smashing my lips on hers.

»»————-　♡　————-««

We were still stuck in the cave, the rain now pouring down, cutting of any chances of the RDA searching for us in this kind of weather, but we made the most out of it, she was on top of me, kissing down my jaw and neck, leaving a line of hickies in its wake, my hands in her hair, arms around her neck, while she worked on me, her lips connecting with mine again, dragging her tongue over my bottom lip, requesting for entrance, i let her inn, her tongue immediately dominated mine, swiping over it, i moaned in the kiss, her hands roamed down to my shorts when a crack of lightning boomed through the air and we both stopped looking outside, staring at each other again we both laughed, she fell beside me near the entrance, as we wheezed, chuckling like mad heads, my laughter came to a stop as i yawned, today's exhaustion dawning over me, she yawned too and i cuddled into her side, her arm being my makeshift pillow while her other arm draped over my waist lugging me close, i sighed shifting in a comfortable grip, my eyes dropping close and sleep lulled me into a peaceful slumber. The best sleep I had in a while too, I guess being lost in the forest wasn't so bad afterall…

A/n : some scenes in this had me kicking my feet and shit, i love her so much, please request more of her, she's so freaking amazing omggggg, she shouldn't have died 😭😭 Bring her back please, I need more Trudy content!!!

Yawne : @fanboyluvr, @callmeoncette, @lu-the-ghost-reader, @brisbrisket, @saltedcoffeescotch, @ducks118, @itscheybaby, @jackiehollanderr, @zoetrope1997, @yeosxxx, @persefolli, @im-in-a-pansexual-panik, @theycallmesia, @elijangwifey, @erosthefae, @murderbirbdany, @killua2dot0, @ilovechickenwings, @kylobensgirl, @darling-imobsessed, @majathepapaya, @sweetirilly, @reinap06, @neteyamforlife, @thatgirljas13, @totesnothere04.

57 notes · View notes

uzumaki-rebellion · 2 years

Text

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 4, Chapter 63″

Need to catch up? Masterlist HERE.

youtube

"Goodbye loneliness And so long to my heartache Now that joy has taken over And decided to stay Her love lifts me up Like no other love before With every beat of my heart I'm holding on, hey

Just look what she's done for me She's erased all the sadness away Oh-oh-oh I could never repay the deed 'Cause she keeps loving me more and more"

Blackstreet – "Joy"

N'Jadaka had climbed the mountain of his destiny, only to see more mountains on the horizon ahead of him. Giving a prepared speech to the nation via a vid screen was nothing compared to speaking in front of his transition team. Seventy-five men and women who represented supporters from various factions of Wakandan politics and former military allies stared at him as they sat around one of the largest circular tables he had ever seen. Another twenty-five from opposition groups that ranged in age from thirty to ninety sat with them, too.

The Council of Elders, T'Challa, and Ramonda stayed seated in the back of the room to watch the opening proceedings. N'Jadaka glanced over at Noxolo who stood near a wall along the side of the cavernous room that they would use for the upcoming conference. Noxolo looked so proud to be there because her grandmother, retired military captain Yoneli Majola sat on his right side. Former Lieutenant Sizani B'Lan sat on his left, and their presence filled him with trust and protection. They met him when he was an innocent child. Both women knew his parents, ate with them, laughed with them, and swore allegiance at the cost of their own lives and reputations. Even when all was lost and their cause looked bleak, they stood in for his father even after his death, watching over him from thousands of miles away. All around the table, there were members of every tribe in Wakanda who dared to defy King T'Chaka in secret. They were elders who now wanted to guide his transition as the ruler. N'Jadaka was where his father should've been.

He drank a sip of water and cleared his throat.

"There is so much that I want to share with you today about the outside world…"

N'Jadaka paused as he gazed across the room and locked eyes with T'Challa. The words he had practiced over and over in his bathing room as he smeared his body with oil and scents evaporated. Glancing down at his comm tab that held all of his prepared notes blurred. He closed his eyes and held his breath to help his heart calm the rest of his body.

"My father, Prince N'Jobu, loved Wakanda…"

He opened his eyes.

"He loved his family. The stories he would tell me of this place would keep me up all night, hoping and wishing I could come here and show everyone who I was. Eventually, I came here… as a rightful heir. My father instilled in me the pride of being a Wakandan. Even when I discovered the truth… saw the evidence that I was not wanted here, I still carried in my heart a dream of making you all turn your eyes to see me and others like me. The Lost Tribe is not to be pitied. I am proud of what my people have been able to do with so little all across the globe. We gave the world our brilliance, labor, culture, music, language, dance, food, and an example to follow when we stand up for what's right. My Baba loved us."

N'Jadaka balled up his right fist and tapped it on the table, willing tears that welled up in his eyes to stay put.

"N'Jobu Udaku, a crown prince of Wakanda, had everything any human would want, and he gave it all up because he wanted to be with my mother who had nothing but guts and a warrior spirit. By experiencing the outside world as it truly was, he could find sympathy and empathy for our plight. Instead of living a tranquil life, he struggled with the diaspora. He died because he loved us so much and wanted better days ahead. Old ways of thinking and being here in Wakanda were no longer good enough for him. So now I, King N'Jadaka Udaku, his only child, will bring forth what he and my mother gave their lives for. Despite having a young son that they loved, it was important to fight for others who were in community with us."

N'Jadaka fixed his eyes on Elder M'Kathu.

"There are some on the Council of Elders who fear that I will become a despot. Many in this room who are my detractors resent the way I came to power, even though I followed all the correct steps to do so. No matter how much you may want me to go away, I am an Udaku, and my ancestors who ruled this nation from day one stand with me. If they are with me, who here can be against me and win?"

He let his voice settle in their ears.

"Those of you who question why I seek your counsel when you disagree with my stance and my presence, let me show you something. A lesson my mother and Aunt Lia taught me…"

He tapped his comm tab and tossed up an image of Marcus Garvey in the center of the open circular table. N'Jadaka stood and moved near the section of the large table where his detractors sat.

"That is Marcus Mosiah Garvey. A Jamaican immigrant who left his island nation to seek his fortunes and organize one of the biggest Black-led movements in America. The Universal Negro Improvement Association. He had the diaspora in mind when he tried to create a Pan-African movement. He spoke truth to power but failed. Why?"

N'Jadaka let several images of Garvey's heyday flash all around them, beautiful and proud Black people marching in brigades showing off their numbers in Harlem.

"This man inspired Kwame Nkrumah, the first president of an independent Ghana… Garvey is known as the patron saint of the Pan-African/Black Nationalist movement. He was a polarizing figure. To some, he was the Black Moses of the downtrodden… to others, he was a charlatan. A grifter. He was a visionary man who galvanized pride in Black people everywhere on the planet. Rastafarians in his own country called him a prophet. He bought old raggedy ships to fix up and bring his people home… the Lost Tribe… back here to Africa. Again, why did he fail?"

N'Jadaka showed pictures of Garvey's mug shot, and images of him walking to court to face mail fraud charges in the United States. The last photo he presented was the Black Star Line steamship that was supposed to bring the formerly enslaved back home.

"I'll tell you why. He tried to do everything by himself without surrounding himself with competent people. Garvey was terrible with financial accounting and reaching out for help to people who were better than him. Business mismanagement tanked all of his economic plans to enrich Black people. His sycophants told him what he wanted to hear, and he never considered honest critiques of his detractors. This is a man who had influence and financial support from the poorest of the poor. These people would've followed him anywhere with his Back to Africa stance. Listen to me well, Wakanda. Going back to Africa doesn't mean just physically coming back here. It means reconnecting mentally and spiritually from wherever you are in the world and building up that place rooted in your lineage. Garvey squandered his gifts by not having a strong team. One of Black America's most famous intellectuals, W.E.B. Dubois—a bougie mofo too—called Garvey, and I quote 'the most dangerous enemy of the Negro race in America'. Marcus Garvey ruled his roost with an iron fist and demanded loyalty above anything else. He fucked up."

N'Jadaka looked around the room.

"I will rule with competence. I don't demand blind loyalty, but I will demand respect for my knowledge because I have been in the belly of the beast. I know the blueprint of America, her government, and her military, covert and overt. I'm not afraid to be questioned if I have blinders on. When I worked in Black Ops and was a global mercenary, I relied on my team to give me all the intelligence and potential scenarios I needed to lead successful missions. Leading Wakanda is my biggest mission and I will not fail. A quarter of you in here hate me and I don't care. What I do care about is that you love this country enough to trust my experience and the love I have for my father's legacy as a liberator, alongside my mother."

His detractors glanced around one another, surprised at the transparency of acknowledging their distaste for him.

N'Jadaka returned to his seat and changed the images floating before them.

"Now it's time to begin your understanding of what we're up against historically," he said.

They all dug into the work.

N'Jadaka ate a private meal with T'Challa and Ramonda. His children joined them, but their mothers did not. Disa was in Jabariland, and Yani was back at the hospital. Yani agreed to let him have Riki and Sydette for the rest of the week.

The excited chatter was a welcome break from his work after prepping his transition team. It was mentally draining, and he walked away from it pleased with the outcome. They had a core understanding of what the diaspora delegates would bring to the table.

After the early dinner, he escorted his children through the royal garden where they watched a beautiful alpenglow sunset that painted the sky a fiery blood-orange. They inspected the freshly dug rows for Joba's summer squash and waited for the darkness together to enjoy her fairy garden. N'Jadaka chased them around trees and flowers until Kora met them near a large pond.

"Bath time," N'Jadaka said.

He ushered his brood with Kora trailing behind them, and his Doras met him back inside the palace. Riki ran around in front of him, asking a ton of questions and waving his arms around like he was flying. Sydette walked by his side and Joba held onto his hand while they took a private elevator to his home. The girls bathed together first, and he spent that time untwisting Riki's hair. It needed to be washed, and he wondered if it was time to cut it. By the last untwisting, the girls were dried and dressed for bed. He left them to watch a cartoon in the bedroom they wanted to share and he took Riki in for his bath. Helping his son clean himself, he eventually lathered up his hands and washed thick ginger hair that curled into tight ringlets at the tips.

"Baba, how come you're gone for a long time?" Riki asked.

"I'm busy preparing for our guests that are coming next week."

"Even Uncle T'Challa is too busy to play with us. I don't like that."

"We don't either, Lil man. I'd rather be with you all the time, but I'm the king, and Uncle T'Challa is the Black Panther. Our job is to take care of everyone, not just our own families."

"Will Uncle T'Challa have kids one day?"

"I hope he does."

"I wish he'd hurry because I want more boy cousins. Our family only has a bunch of girls."

"Girls are cool."

"Not when I'm the only boy."

"You're very lucky to have two sisters. I didn't have any brothers or sisters growing up."

Riki stared at N'Jadaka.

"Do you miss your Mama and Baba?" Riki asked.

"I do. I can't see them in person, but I can always feel them around me."

He rinsed Riki's hair and then helped him get inside a body dryer that made his son's hair turn into a big puffy 'fro. N'Jadaka ran his hands across the top of the fluff and smiled. Riki had Califa's hair to the bone. The color, texture, and fluffiness made him sniff it. Even the clean scent of it reminded him of his mother.

"Put on your jammies," N'Jadaka said.

Riki wiggled into his dark green pajama bottoms and N'Jadaka lotioned up his back and chest with coco butter to combat the dry, itchy skin his son complained about. They met the girls in the bedroom. Kora had their hair tied up with satin scarves and they watched a new cartoon.

"Are we watching the dragon movie or nah?" N'Jadaka asked.

"We saw it already," Sydette said.

"What?! I thought you three were going to wait for me," N'Jadaka said with a fake whine.

"It was too good to wait, Daddy," Joba said.

"Y'all are some disrespectful children. I've been waiting all week to see it, too," he said.

Riki burst out laughing.

"We're tricking yuh, Baba!" Riki said.

"Can we watch it in your room?" Sydette asked.

"Come on," N'Jadaka said.

They made a pit stop in the kitchenette and grabbed bowls of snacks; honey peanuts, vanilla yogurt drops, and pineapple chunks. Climbing the winding stairs to his opulent bedroom, he settled the children on his bed and let them eat the snacks while he showered and changed into his own nightwear. He set up the view screen to become larger on the wall across from his bed and used his kimoyo to check on his security outside his front door. Noxolo and Aneka were on their post.

He watched a charming film made near Lake Kivu where Wakandan actors pretended to ride dragons to protect an East African fairy world. Riki and Sydette squealed whenever they recognized a place on the screen where they lived with Yani. Kora left him a message that Joba's nanny was taking over for the night shift within the hour, so he could sleep any time he wanted once she arrived.

The movie ended with three zonked-out children on his bed. N'Jadaka didn't bother to move them. He made a space for himself on the far right of the bed facing the door and tapped out a message for Osilee that his family would eat breakfast in his home and not in the palace dining room with the entire family. T'Challa worked around the clock to get ready for their guests, and Ramonda had left for a visit with her older family members. Shuri was probably sleeping in her lab or sneaking off with her boyfriend. The family put in a lot of effort to prepare for the foreign visitors.

Twyla and her fiancé Bibi texted him constantly to put the finishing touches on the itinerary they created for the tour of Wakanda. Their new venture as Eco-Tour guides would be given a test run, and if the diaspora guests, all two thousand of them, gave Twyla great reviews with her newly trained staff, then it would become the model of future tours. Wakanda was also going to be in the middle of the annual Mama Wati celebration in Birnin S'Yan a week after the guests arrived. N'Jadaka wasn't too keen on allowing their visitors access to that area, although symbolically, it would be a fitting event for the diaspora to witness a water deity celebration in their free time. He didn't want the Wakandans to feel like strangers were gawking at their ancient rites as if they were on display for entertainment. For Twyla's sake, he presented the idea of a day trip to the beach in front of the Council of Elders so they could discuss it privately without him. If they felt bothered by the suggested trip, then he would relay that decision to Twyla. The Elders appeared pleased that he came to them humbly asking for their guidance.

It didn't take long for N'Jadaka to doze off. He only had two days to be rested for the UDC. The king overworked himself and pushed too hard to stay up late. Nothing could go wrong or else his goal of shaping the world would collapse from within his own governing body. It filled his dreams with images of meetings, his trial run tour with Twyla, and watching giraffes walk through the palace, their long necks stretched past the sky. He woke up in the middle of the night to use the restroom.

Padding back to bed, he noticed Sydette was missing. From his kimoyo, he knew she was down in the living room. He pulled on a silk robe and left his bedroom to check on her.

Sydette had her nose pressed against the floor-to-ceiling window, staring out at a moonlit sky.

"Sweet Pea?"

She turned at the sound of his voice.

"What are you doing up?" he asked.

"Had a bad dream," she said.

"About what?"

N'Jadaka patted the top of her hair covering.

"The bad men."

"Want to talk about it?"

He held out his hand to her, and she clasped it, her warm fingers curling around his index finger. They walked over to an overstuffed couch that he loved to nap on. It faced the window, and they both looked at the breathtaking view. They were on top of the world.

"Who are the bad men in your dream?" he asked.

"Back home… the ones who tried to kill us."

N'Jadaka's eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead, and his jaw tightened.

"You remember that?"

"I remember everything. That white man took me from my bed and Mama came to get me. I was so scared Baba. He put his gun right here…."

She pointed to the side of her chest.

"Then you came and got us away. They shot Mama, and then… you went away. You said we were going to play Hide 'n Seek, but you never came back to get us. I saw you go back to the sand. We swam away and waited for you on top of a hill."

Sydette's forehead creased.

"Them say you died, but I didn't believe it. You always came back. You were always there."

N'Jadaka put an arm around her, and she leaned into his side.

"You came back in my dream. The bad men went away… they walked into the bushes and you chased them. I woke up, and it scared me. I don't want them to come back."

"They won't come back. I promise," he said.

"Sometimes at our house, I have bad dreams that the men come out of the lake and take Mama and Dumplin away. But you can't save them."

He kissed the top of her head.

"Do you have these nightmares a lot?"

"No. Just sometimes."

"You remember a lot from way back then."

"I used to make you laugh when I played on the grass, or when I chased Jerome. I scared you and Mama one time when you couldn't find me. Remember?"

N'Jadaka stared at her. Did Sydette have a photographic memory? Although he had a classmate at M.I.T. that disproved the actual phenomena, claiming the ability was far too rare to be almost non-existent in how laymen thought it was used. Sydette retained a lot of details that she should've been too young to recall.

She hugged his waist.

"The dragon slayers in the movie came out of the lake by our house, and then I went to sleep," she said.

"The movie made you have the dream then, huh?"

"I guess so."

"You are here safe and sound with me, okay?"

She nodded, but wouldn't remove her head from his chest.

"Will the white people come here, Baba?"

"What white people?"

"The ones like back home who shot Mama. I heard on the news yesterday that a lot of them are coming here because they want what we have."

"There are some white people from different nations coming here to talk to me. It's their first meeting in Wakanda. My job is to let them know they can't have what we have."

"Look, but don't touch… like you tell us in your house," she giggled.

"Something like that, Sweet Pea. There are many people in the world, not just white ones, who want everything Wakanda has. There are bad people among them and there are greedy people too."

"Mama said you'll check them."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah… she said nobody messes with you. I wish she would come back to the palace and live here again. We can be with you, and she wouldn't have to worry about anything."

"She worries about stuff?"

"Sometimes she watches the news back home, or talks to Auntie there and she sits in her room by herself. Then she goes to work. When she comes home, she reads and writes, and then checks our language lessons. If she were here, she wouldn't have to work so hard and worry about us, too. She wants us to speak perfect Wakandan, and practice our manners all the time."

"I see—"

"Plus, she practices her speech for the conference every night. I almost know it by heart."

N'Jadaka glanced over at the window. Yani was putting in overtime like everyone else to make his event a success for the country. Living so far away from the golden city had become a burden for her.

"I'll talk to your Mama about staying here for the conference, okay?"

Sydette nodded her head against his side.

"Think you can go back to bed now?"

"Can we sit here longer?" she asked.

His daughter needed him more. So did his son. Joba was fortunate to live there close to him and saw him every day in person. It helped that Disa worked in the West Palace because she could leave and see his youngest whenever she wanted as her own boss. Yani was still under the supervision of senior doctors and couldn't leave whenever she wanted to check in on her children physically. She thrived in her work, but the logistics of juggling two heirs by herself so far away was a struggle, even with a nanny and household staff to help.

N'Jadaka rubbed his forehead, then listened to Sydette's relaxed breathing. Yani was a proud woman. She raised a baby and juggled three jobs in St. Thomas. Approaching her with the idea of coming back to the palace would be a delicate task. He didn't want her to feel like she wasn't handling her career and motherhood. She clearly knew how to do that. There was nothing to prove to anyone about that. He also didn't want her to think it was a ploy to get her next to him after confessing his feelings about reconciliation. Perhaps Dante could mention returning to her. No… that wouldn't work either. She'd think it was a set-up. Twyla and Marisol would raise her suspicions. He didn't want to bother Disa.

Ramonda?

His aunt loved the children and maybe she could suggest having Yani come back for the conference. Ramonda headed a greeting committee and would probably need extra help for the Diaspora Ball.

"I'll figure it out, Sweet Pea," he whispered as she snoozed.

Everything started with Sydette.

Yani's beauty was an attraction, but it was the fat baby on his bed that opened his eyes to her. The joy he was able to capture again by loving someone with his whole heart began with the little girl lying against his chest. No matter what size she grew, Sweet Pea was always going to want to be with her Baba. She claimed him first with her drool and dimples, forcing him and Yani to acquiesce by falling in love. Sydette broke open a hardened muscle that closed off feelings and gave him love freely… unconditionally. The moment he picked her chunky body up, she was his.

If nightmares bothered Sydette's sleep because she was away from him, and if her mother worked too hard, he had to make it better for them. He was the damn king, after all. There was nothing stopping him from waltzing into the hospital and telling the senior staff to let his woman work less—

"Nigga, what is you doin' thinking you can dictate work hours for a hospital?" he muttered to himself.

Sydette was an observant child. She knew her mother well. Did he put too much on Yani's plate for the diaspora conference? Were his expectations too high for someone just at the beginning of their medical career?

He tapped his right foot methodically.

The nanny found them still asleep on the couch early in the morning.

"Shall I put Princess Sydette in your bed?" Osilee asked.

N'Jadaka rubbed his eyes and handed his daughter to Osilee.

"I will have breakfast brought up from the palace kitchen so you can sleep in, King N'Jadaka," Osilee said.

"Thank you, Osilee. I'm going to stay down here and read. I'll take a nap later today."

Osilee slipped away quietly with his daughter's face nuzzled against her neck. He walked to his home office and read briefings at his desk. An hour in, he stopped and pulled up images of old news reports from the New York Times and The Washington Observer that had interviews with King T'Chaka. Something stuck in his craw about the man, and the articles he read were from twenty-five years previous. He stroked his left temple and stared at pictures of the dead king. T'Chaka had been a staunch isolationist. Killed his own brother to keep their vibranium and secrets to themselves. What made a cold-hearted bastard turn into a bastion of goodness, uniting other countries together so many years later? What did he gain from becoming the phony Martin Luther King Jr. of Africa?

A flash of an image came to him. Being on board a Wakandan battle cruiser with his parents and fleeing the warcraft because T'Chaka was on his way to check for the Atlanteans.

Another memory crackled in his brain. Sitting in Disa's house in Massachusetts at a dinner party and watching military helicopters destroyed on the news over the Atlantic. His scalp tingled as a final memory seared his brain. An attack on his military base in San Diego and him pulling out the bodies of fellow soldiers in the rubble and blood. T'Chaka had visited the Coronado facility and even walked past a young Navy Seal named Erik Stevens.

N'Jadaka shot up from his chair and gulped air.

King T'Chaka knew the Atlanteans! He knew how powerful they were if they could elude the surface dwellers as the Wakandans did for centuries. Did T'Challa's father fear them? Is that why he started the kumbaya tour with the outside world because he knew he'd need allies to face an enemy from the sea? For almost fifteen years, there had been no disruptions or attacks against any nation again. America recovered from its naval bases being blown apart. Rumors had swelled that it was the Russians in cahoots with Hydra and not some unseen enemy that attacked the U.S. coasts back then.

N'Jadaka's heart thudded in his chest and he clenched and unclenched his hands.

When he walked through his preparations for the transition of power months back, neither T'Challa, the Council of Elders, nor his own grandfather had mentioned Atlanteans. It had to be another secret T'Chaka had been hiding. N'Jadaka shocked himself for not even questioning Yoneli or Sizani about that time when he met up with them again in Wakanda. A part of him wanted to toss up the blocked thoughts to just the wild ride of waking up to a new life.

He tapped his kimoyo beads as he went to his private dressing room where he kept all of his clothes and accessories. A disheveled Tlotliso stared at him with sleep in her eyes.

"Tlotliso, I need you to come into the office right now. I'll be there in two hours," he said into his kimoyo. "Contact Captain Yoneli Majola and Lt. Sizani B'Lan. Tell them to come there right away."

N'Jadaka undressed from his nightwear and tossed on dark royal robes.

There were more history lessons to learn about the night his family fled from the Atlantic Ocean. What was going down in the deep waters?

Chapter 64 HERE.

Tag List:

@readingaddict1290

@issimplyaamazinggg

@eyeknowmywrites

@kitesatforestp

@fd-writes

@soufcakmistress

@cherrystainedlipsbaby

@tclaybon

@thadelightfulone

@allhailqueennel

@bartierbakarimobisson

@cpwtwot

@shookmcgookqueen

@yoyolovesbucky

@raysunshine78

@the-illlestt

@terrablaze514

@l-auteuse

@amirra88

@jimizwidow

@janelledarling

@chaneajoyyy

@sweetestdream92

@purple-apricots

@blackpinup22

@hennessystevens-udaku

@scrumptiouslytenaciouscrusade

@bugngiz

@stariamrry

@honeytoffee

@meilintheempressofdreams

@tyees

@eye-raq

@writerbee-ffs

@chocolatedream30

@childishgambinaa

@mygirlrenee

@thewaysheis—awkward

@tchallasbabymama

@lahuttor

@goodieyaya

@post-woke

@soufcakmistress

@yomiloo

@goddessofthundathighs

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@retroxvailles

@cydneyrenee4

@nizzle-mo

@cecereads209

@childishgambinaax

@gopaperless

@bombshellbre95

@tchallasbabymama

@musicisme333

@sister-winter73

@nccu-rnc

@sj206260358

@blmcd57110

@griot-of-wakanda

#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Volume 4 #Killmonger Fanfiction #Erik Killmonger #Erik Steves #Black Panther Fanfiction #Wakanda Forever #Pantherverse #Namor #T'Challa #Shuri #Uzumaki Rebellion Writes #Uzumaki Rebellion

26 notes · View notes

hose270 · 9 months

Text

On 2023

I stand upon the precipice of 2024, considering the errors made and chances missed before. Of joy, I think, of misery, of hope and of regret, and mental mirrors fill my head while watching the sun set.

A year ago, I focused on accomplishments and goals. My homework and my love left me no time to shape my soul. I got a job as a T.A.; I went to DLC; my roommate had a Nazi flag ‘cause he liked history.

I planned an awesome Valentine’s and gave a decent gift; we seemed to spend every weekend in Utah on a trip. I planned a sci-fi birthday heist and shared my favorite world with friends who loved it—but not her. In truth, that kinda hurt.

But not as much as did my throat for fourteen following days! Mononucleosis sucks; that’s all I have to say. I went to my first national scholastic conference and spoke about the views of a medieval feminist.

An angel from a comm class taught a lesson about friends: connections are created when you’re vulnerable with them. But when I tried to share myself, I felt she didn’t care. Afraid of getting something wrong, I asked for help in prayer.

And so I broke her heart—mine too— ere winter ceased her chills. I looked for peace in Hyrule’s fields and Idahoan hills. I failed to make connections both with Frisbees and with friends, but as I wrote “The Fount”, I felt my heart begin to mend.

I learned to recognize—to feel!— the power telling brings, and found a way to channel it through small and simple things. I went to Pride; I made a game about being the light; I made a movie for a class on dreams inspiring life.

A tabletop adventure with my friends taught me to quit obsessing over endings and look for beginnings. It was summer soon: my brothers and my father and I spent a week to bond and bike and hike all to our heart’s content.

My friend was wed; I soon realized that funds were a concern. No options left, I went where I’d swore never to return: the service deli, Albertsons. Although I made new friends, it still was hell; I felt relieved when school began again.

Dating sucks, I quickly learned, but tried it anyway, and finally found myself living with friendly, good roommates. A new FHE group of friends played Frisbee, which I caught! The PPC launched story to the forefront of my thoughts.

The Lump was taken for repair; I shared my poetry; watched FNAF—that girl got bit in half!— a Minion Halloween! And then a diagnosis shook my family’s world… but a promising prognosis eased the fledgling fear, somewhat.

Inside a cabin with new friends beside a mountaintop, I wrote my dreams and wished that I would never have to stop. I learned my lines as Death as I went home for turkey day, and realized I feel more like I’m at home when I’m away.

I wrote a book on rhetoric and playing D&D, and helped my friends reclaim a heart upon an endless sea. I went ice skating with a girl, delayed returning home, and spent my Christmas researching how stories help us grow.

And now I stand upon the edge of 2024, considering the choices made and lessons learned before. Of friends, I think, of amity, of hope and faith’s duet, and to this nascent year, I say, “You’ll be the best one yet.”

#poetry #original poetry #spilled ink #new year #self reflecting #2023

2 notes · View notes

toasteaa · 10 days

Note

hi toast ! this is my first time popping in your inbox because i was too shy to before ૮꒰ྀི◞⸝⸝⸝⸝◟꒱ྀིა but ! i brought you and neuvi and eclair some freshly baked pastries ૮꒰ྀིʃƪ ◞ ◟꒱ა🧺 i just wanted to say that i love eclairette ! eclair is so stunning and i will never forget how gorgeous that comm of the two of them is <3 i love seeing you ramble about them and coming up with different little scenarios ! you put so much love and care into them and it shows ♥️ have a lovely day !!

Awea!! Hello lovely!!! I'm sorry I left this in my inbox for so long, work was a nightmare yesterday and I was struggling to keep up with everything here and irl sobs But! I did just see your about me post, so maybe it was a good thing I was stalled a bit before being able to reply! Now I get to get to know you a little better so I can send you longer asks and scenarios hehe :9c

wjkhdgehsj thank you for loving them!!! They bring me so much joy and honestly hearing how much everyone likes seeing them and how much you all like Eclair makes me all fruzzy inside and just fuels me to be a little more unhinged in every subsequent post afterwards LOL

My sweet little comfort ship...menaces, the both of them, but in different flavors...

Also thank you for the sweet treats!!! I'll bring some tea and treats for you and Diluc to enjoy during the chilly weather! Of course, he's probably keeping you warm all on his own with his coat thrown over your shoulders and held fast against his chest <3

#toast talks #You can't see it because I'm controlling myself but I'm actually gnawing on the bars of my enclosure because I LOVE meeting new friends!#I just have to pretend I have a shred of sense and use the nice and sweet Toast facade and tame the insanity for a bit #Then little by little I start showing my entire ass until you come onto my blog and see posts like #''Donkey and the Dragon from Shrek are Eclairettecore''#Idk why I said that but I know exactly why I said that. I'm just sorry it was in the tags of an otherwise sweet post LOL #I'm so sorry Awea welcome to my madness. I hope you'll be comfy and I won't scare you off immediately

1 note · View note

helliontherapscallion · 3 years

Text

Sweet Betrayal

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Spotify Playlist (collaborative)

Warnings: swearing, neglect, successful suicide attempt, death, insanity

(A/N): I had a little too much fun writing this

“I’ll help you.”

Tommy cheered and clapped a hand on your shoulder. Wilbur gave you a slightly manic smile, his plan is going to work out perfectly with you working with them. Techno merely grunted in acknowledgement. Something about your tone threw him for a loop, but he just summed it up to the voices and his growing trust issues. The voices were screaming at him not to trust you, that you were a traitor, that you’d betray them. But there’s no way his youngest sibling would ever betray them; they couldn’t hurt a fly. They were basically defenseless.

Tubbo looked slightly hesitant to accept you as his spying partner, but he figured that you joining him would take most of the stress off from his shoulders. You were close to Schlatt, he basically treated you as if you were his own. He was slightly jealous at how close to his father you were when he, Schlatt’s biological son, was often standing in the same room as them. He knew that Schlatt was a shitty father and could never shape up to being as good of a father figure than Philza was to him, but he just couldn’t help but feel hurt at the fact that his own father, who abandoned him at the side of the road as a kid, so readily took on another kid that wasn’t himself. Despite his resentment towards you, he accepted having you as a partner. Maybe once he got to know you better you weren’t so bad.

On the outside, you were giving your ‘brothers’ a sweet smile. Almost sickeningly sweet as you plastered it on your face to hide the resentment and hatred brewing inside of you threatening to escape and fill this ravine with it’s raging waves. They were never your brothers, always choosing to exclude you from everything they were doing. As a kid, you had nobody to rely on. Tommy had Tubbo and Wilbur had Techno and Philza. You were completely, utterly alone as a kid.

You were always deprived of social interaction, always being told to ‘suck it up’, ‘quit whining’, and ‘just accept it’. You watched from the sidelines as your brothers received all the love and support from each other and Philza, and you were sick of being left out. Their proposal has made you finally reach your breaking point. You came to the realization that you were only going to get their support only when you were of use to them.

Even as adults and as teenagers, they’re always acting like children. Whining over losing power, getting exiled, how ‘tyrannical’ every single government was, like get a grip. You brought this upon yourself. Manberg would be much better off without you two. Just accept leadership, it’s there to bring natural structure to society. This isn’t high school, stop overreacting. Oh, how you longed to scream in their faces, drop the happy, sweet, and defenseless facade you always wore. You were broken down by them, and you were going to be their downfall. You would make sure of it. At least, that’s what Schlatt promised you.

You met Schlatt one day when you were alone in the forest far from the house you called home. It was dark out and you were hiding from the mobs that threatened to take one of your lives. He found you by following your whimpers, taking you back to his house and giving you shelter for a few days. He treated you like you were a person, an actual human being, and that made you realize that you weren’t alone in the world afterall. Philza and your brothers didn’t even notice that you were gone until after a week of staying with Schlatt. You remembered how Philza stormed into Schlatt’s house, grabbed you by the ear, apologized to Schlatt, and drug you home lecturing you the entire time. You were grounded for a month after that and banned from talking to Schlatt.

However, you still talked to Schlatt in secret. He eventually treated you like you were his own, showering you with the love and support that you were deprived of. You supposed you craved constant reassurance and kindness, and you chopped it up to how you were raised. You had trauma and Schlatt was there to fix that. He gave you constant support, something your ‘family’ has never done. Well, they did once when you finally broke and fell into a deep depression, never leaving your room. They didn’t notice that, but what they did notice was the death message that flashed across their comm tablets: “(Y/n) suffocated.”

When they ran to your room, they caught the last of the golden dust that used to be your body drifting into the atmosphere. In the center of your room hanging from an exposed pipe in the ceiling was a noose fashioned from an old rope they had noticed had gone missing a few weeks ago. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that you hung yourself.

For a solid month after that, they treated you like they treated each other and you felt like you were soaring the entire time. Philza even told you that he loved you and that he was proud of you when you ate your first meal in a week! All of the attention and support faded when they saw you smile more and laugh louder. You faded again into obscurity and all that came out of that successful suicide attempt was not your family’s unconditional love like you had hoped, but an ugly scar that wrapped around the entirety of your neck.

You were going to fuck up their plans. They deserved it for ostracizing you all those years.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your and Schlatt’s plan was unfolding swimmingly. Your idiotic brothers had no clue of your betrayal and that always made you want to laugh hysterically, but you held it in until you got back to the White House. You would laugh in Schlatt’s office with him. The cabinet often heard loud, boisterous laughter booming from behind the closed office doors, but they’ve long since learned not to question it.

They grew wary of you two, it seemed that your sanities were turning into slippery slopes. The Emperor and the Secretary of Defense could not be fully trusted to make any decisions anymore. Even Quackity, who loved his adopted kid to death, agreed that they couldn’t be trusted. You and Schlatt had changed so much from when he first started dating Schlatt. It hurt him to see his husband and his child slip into insanity.

While you were planning the festival with Schlatt and Tubbo, it was extremely hard for you to keep a straight face. Whenever Schlatt wasn’t looking, Tubbo would smirk and glance at you from the corner of his eyes. It was in those moments specifically that you would struggle the most with containing your laughter. Originally, Schlatt was only going to exile Tubbo for his treachery, but after the fiasco with the lame excuse of ‘farming totems of undying’, you convinced him to turn it into an execution. You organized every single part of Tubbo’s execution, it was perfect in your opinion. At the same time, you were giving Schlatt information of your brother’s whereabouts during the festival. You were going to put on a show for them.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the stage, you were shifting and fidgeting relentlessly from your position between your adopted dads. From an outside perspective, one would assume that you’re nervous to be on stage in the middle of the spotlight. Everybody outside of the cabinet and your fathers still saw you as the innocent kid that wouldn’t hurt a fly. How wrong they were. Tubbo’s speech was the hardest to sit through, Quackity had to have a tight grip on your hand to prevent you from rushing the teenager and caging him too early.

After Schlatt gave you the signal, you, him, and Quackity quickly trapped him in a cage made of yellow concrete. You could hear the shocked gasps of the audience and saw Wilbur holding Tommy down from revealing their hiding spot. Schlatt gently nudged you up to the microphone with a kind smile.

You walked confidently up to the podium and gave the audience the widest closed-eyed grin they’d ever seen on you. “Hello citizens of Manberg, other guests,” you opened your eyes and shot a smug smirk over to your older brothers on the roof. You took great pleasure in the look of hurt, anger, and betrayal in their eyes.

“What you are going to witness today is my pride and joy. As it turns out, our dearest Tubbo here,” you turned around to give a grandiose gesture at the cage behind you, “is a filthy little traitor.” The last word ripped itself from your mouth like a rattlesnake spitting venom at its victims.

Tubbo banged on the walls in a rage, “you were a spy too! YOU WERE A SPY FOR POGTOPIA TOO!”

“On the contrary, dearest Tubbo. I was a double agent working for Schlatt, my father. I was never loyal to Pogtopia. Why would I be when you all used me?” You gave him a gentle smile. The insane and malicious glint in your eyes contrasted the kindness of your features. You turned back to the podium with that same smile. The combination of your words and your expression sent cold chills down the spines of the Manbergians. They now saw you as who you really were.

“Now, since I was so rudely interrupted,” you shot a glare at the shocked boy behind you, “hm, where was I?” You rubbed your chin in false confusion before you perked up, “oh right! What you are going to witness today is the public execution of our dear friend Tubbo.” You broke into a series of manic giggling, pounding your fist against the wood of the podium. The gasps of the audience sounded like music to your ears.

“TECHNOBLADE, GET THE HELL UP HERE BROTHER! YOU HAVE THE HONORS.”

You shouted through your laughter. Technoblade climbed up the stairs and stood facing you with a harsh glare. You grinned at him as he spoke to you with his usual monotone voice. This time, there was an undeniable angry undertone you could clearly detect, “what do you want me to do?”

“You still have that rocket launcher, right?”

He pulled it out of his satchel. You squealed happily and jumped up and down clapping your hands excitedly, “good! I’ve always liked fireworks. Now be a dear and make Tubbo go out with a bang!”

He walked over to face Tubbo’s cage and pointed the crossbow at him. You could see his finger trembling over the trigger and a nervous sweat gathering at his brow. After a while of seeing no firework action, you grew impatient and started to furiously shout at him.

“WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, BLOOD GOD? WHAT, ARE YOU TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO DO IT NOW? KILL HIM! BLAST HIM TO SMITHEREENS! FUCKING DO IT.”

With every word that left your mouth, you stepped closer to him until you were screaming into his ear. You felt immense pleasure when you saw him start to shake. When you heard the shooting of fireworks and the agonized screams of Tubbo and saw the colorful blasts, you felt like you were on cloud nine. It was beautiful.

Your insane laughter was heard over the chaos that followed. Schlatt and Quackity, seeing Techno’s growing anger after killing Tubbo, moved to push you behind them. Quackity wrapped his wings around you in a tight hug before fireworks were shot at your family. After you pushed Quackity away from you, you saw your father’s corpse lying on the stage floor. It was clear that he had just lost a life.

Quackity collapsed to the stage with a groan before he briefly passed out. You checked if he was still breathing before you looked at Technoblade with anger written clear on your features. You gave a furious shout before you charged at him, determined to kill the unkillable.

You dodged the fireworks that he shot at you before you finally reached him. He dodged your flailing arms and the attempts to push him off from the stage with ease. “I SHOULD’VE KNOWN NOT TO TRUST YOU!”

His shout was dismissed by you, not registering in your clouded mind at all. He grabbed your arms and threw you to the edge of the stage. Before you could get up, he stomped a foot down on your chest and pointed the rocket launcher at your face. You were not phased by this, grinning and laughing with insanity-filled glee. “KILL ME TECHNO! DO IT, GO ON! FUCKING DO IT. BLOOD FOR THE BLOOD GOD!”

He stared at you with the most anger you’ve ever seen from him before he pushed you off the stage with a simple kick of his foot. As you were plummeting to your death, you saw Technoblade point the rocket launcher at you before you saw the colorful rockets shooting at you. Your laughter ending abruptly with the explosion of fireworks and the thump of your bloodied corpse against the pavement was something the citizens of Manberg would never forget.

Your brothers stared at your corpse as it disappeared with shock and anger. They never suspected you of all people to be a traitor, they thought you were the sweet, naive kid they knew growing up. They thought your allegiance to them would be unbreaking and you’d follow them blindly. Obviously, they were wrong. There was no saving you. You were too far gone.

When you woke up with Schlatt and Quackity holding your hands at your bedside, all of the memories flooded back to you. They held you as you cried in frustration, wiping at your tears with gentle, reassuring smiles and loving words. Rage filled you as you remembered how they got away with their lives. You had one life left, and you were going to dedicate it to their downfall. Even if you died in the process. They should fear the day you return. There was no saving them from your wrath.

1K notes · View notes

aenaxes · 3 years

Text

lo-fi

[crosshair & tbb x afab/f!reader] it's been a tough campaign, so you and crosshair decide that the boys in the field can listen in, as a treat.

warnings: unprotected vaginal sex, consensual exhibitionism/voyeurism, polyamory, improper use of comms, crosshair being snide

w/c: 3.9k

a/n: phone sex? broke. comm sex? woke. rip @ u when the rest of the boys get back to the ship :/ (ps: thank u for 130! big mwah)

“Area’s been cleared. No sign of any seppies here,” Hunter’s weary voice wakes you with a start, crackling over your comm as you lift your head off the familiar height of Crosshair’s shoulder. “We’ll set up camp and head back at first light.”

“Better use the ‘fresher when you get back; you’ll stink up the whole ship,” Crosshair drawls back from beside you and evades you with an easy grin as you sleepily jab at his side.

Mean, you mouth at him with a frown, and the sniper simply shrugs back.

“We’ll see you soon. Love you all, y/n over,” you say, leaning over into Crosshair’s comm.

You receive a slightly disoriented chorus of ‘love you, too’s and ‘love you, cyar’ika’s from the brothers in the field, all blended together over frequency static and the sheer exhaustion of four rotations trekking through the marshy Balnab underbrush. Luck on your side, as navigator, you had escaped the dreary fate of noxious swamp gas and heat rashes in the unlikely case that the boys might need a quick exit.

But luckier still, Crosshair had stayed behind with you, citing your very real lack of combat training as grounds to have at least one of the brothers stay behind and stand guard. After all, volunteer corps boot camps could only teach you so much. And donning that trademark grin that made you either want to kiss him senseless or smack him upside the head (depending on your mood), Crosshair had innocently claimed that if he couldn’t see through the gaseous atmosphere, how could he know where to aim, much less shoot?

(You use your karkin’ scope, shitwad, Echo had said with the sickliest smile possible, and even he couldn’t help but join in when you and the boys all erupted into uncontrollable laughter.)

Suffice to say, Crosshair had spent the last two days holed up in the Marauder with you, a couple games of gin rummy, and a few steep new favors owed to his brothers’ grumbling.

For all the cool circulating air and dehumidifier settings in the Marauder’s helm, with the viewport fogged by the greenish atmospheric haze and your only task to wait for either a distress or all-clear signal, the little card games had gotten predictable after the second day. You had been tempted, out of some combination of boredom and fantasy, to prompt a game of strip poker (though Crosshair’s various bits of armour would have given him the indubitable upper hand, even with his horrible poker face).

Tempted, not even tried. You were all too aware of the uneasy stress of the mission outside, that low-lying tension and anticipatory dread staving off any coy desire to take advantage of your time alone with Crosshair.

But now, with the all-clear signal loud and clear through the comms, there’s little holding your inhibitions back when Crosshair reaches up and ruffles your hair after you click off his comm. Regardless of how innocuous his touch may be, heat rushes to your cheeks as you lean into his palm.

“Needy,” Crosshair chuckles, quick to catch on to your preening under his hand.

“I’ve been so patient,” you exhale a grand sigh, your voice carrying the petulant playfulness that never fails to pull Crosshair into the chase. And based on the lopsided grin twisting over his lips, you’ve got him exactly where you want him. “Don’t tell me you aren’t feeling at least a little bit of the same.”

“You’re insatiable,” he snarks. But he’s already rising to his full stature and crowding you back against the nearest surface, his hands firm and insistent over your waist as the backs of your knees meet the cool holotable steel.

“Right,” you retort, lifting your chin and baring your neck to him when he dips his head low to kiss over your pulse. The first touch is always careful—it comes with the territory, sharpshooting, all calculated movements with little space for error—but Crosshair’s intentionality is no less desirous, mouthing over your skin as you feel one hand drag slow and heavy up from your waist to your neck. “I’m the needy one.”

“You’re the enabler,” Crosshair mumbles into your skin, and you can’t help the dreamy sigh that passes your lips when you feel his fingertips knead soft, slow motions over the base of your neck. “I’m just running with the punches.”

“Maker, you suck at talking sexy,” you laugh, brighter still when you feel Crosshair’s soft exhale over your skin as he stifles laughter of his own.

“Then let’s not,” he says and lifts his head to offer you a wry smile. Before you can humor any more dry banter, Crosshair pulls you flush against the hard lines of his chestplate, one hand curled over the base of your head and the other sliding around the small of your back, and swallows any words you had with his tongue.

Second nature, you lift your arms to curl over his shoulders and anchor him close.

Crosshair takes your invitation with ease, pressing his tongue over your lips before he gently shifts you up to seat you on the holotable edge and slots between your thighs. It doesn’t take the firm weight of his hand to have you rocking forward to meet him in a slow grind, and you lift one knee, hooking your calf over the hard edge of his thigh guard and pulling him closer still.

He pulls back, and you respond with a petulant whine, weakly tugging on his hip with your leg. Crosshair laughs, little but a soft huff, but one that has equal parts desire and frustration rising in your chest. Seeming to have caught on, Crosshair only leans forward enough to meet you with a chaste touch of his lips, but, desperate for more, you take the brief window of opportunity to reach up and tug his head to yours.

“Don’t be a fucking tease,” you mumble insistently, punctuating your request with a soft nip over Crosshair’s top lip. You gasp when you feel his gloved fingers grab, twisting your hair tight under his fist and tearing you from his lips.

“Don’t be fucking rude,” he snarks back, his brows raised in playful challenge. “You take what you get,” he snarls, his lips curled up in a sharp grin as he yanks your head to the side and he dips close. You feel his breath fan over your skin, a brief and heady warning before he crowds you close and drags his tongue from the edge of your jaw to the highest crest of your cheek.

Desire, sweet and cloying, curls over your spine as he steps back, leaving you in a dazed sort of stupor as you watch him make quick work of the plastoid secured over him. It takes you a moment to collect yourself, ready to launch a snide remark his way, but whatever you intended to say is far beyond coherent thought, let alone expression. He finally closes that small distance between you, presses the hard lines of muscle and sinew close between your thighs, and your head falls back against the cold tabletop as you sigh.

He’s overwhelming, intoxicating, and you can’t get enough.

It’s different between each of them. There is careful intention with Hunter, playful and boyish glee in Wrecker’s arms, the stern edge of authority when Echo presses you against the wall, Tech’s rosy warmth when he kisses you sweet. But Crosshair offers you the snide challenge, the push and pull of teasing one-upmanship when he shoots you a smug grin, pushes your thighs open, and spits onto your cunt.

“Probably didn’t need to do that,” he says a bit mildly as he brings two calloused fingers up against your cunt and gently parts your swollen sex. You might have mistaken his soft exhale as laughter when you clench down around achingly empty space, but you know better. As he lifts his hand to your lips and pushes your own arousal past your lips, watching you take his fingers deep and suck, you know better. (It’s awe.)

“Fuck off, and fuck me,” you moan around his fingers, gently nipping over his skin.

“Are you really in any position to be making demands?” Crosshair snorts and pushes his fingers down against the flat of your tongue. You bite his fingers a little harder in response, and vindictive justice crows over the haze of lust in your chest when he hisses through a grin.

“Oh, please. You want this more than I do,” you roll your eyes, crinkling your nose as he smears your own spit over your lips before he pulls away.

Catching the slight part in Crosshair’s lips, you ready another snide retort. There’s an art to foreplay with Crosshair’s cynicism. But any coherent thought promptly dies on your tongue when, instead of a snappy comeback, Crosshair kneads one hand tight over your hip, presses the blunt head of his cock up against your cunt, and pushes.

It doesn’t get old—you don’t suspect it ever will—the satisfying burn pooling warm in your gut when Crosshair anchors you to the holotable and stretches you open. For that one, long moment, the clever, biting banter you share has vanished, leaving only slow, hitching breaths and the cresting ache of want to fill its place. You don’t hold the same playful joy of victory over his head when you open your eyes to see him groan, too enraptured by your own pleasure, by the gorgeous picture he presents you, his brows furrowed and eyes fluttered shut, to poke fun at how he bows over the table edge and braces himself over you with a stuttering inhale.

You cry out with him when you finally feel him press as deep as he can, the trembling muscle of his thighs molded up against your skin. Crosshair dips low, close enough that you feel his every heaving inhale brush against your chest, and you only see love, love, love, raw and tender and so, so good when you look through your lashes and catch the warmth in his dark eyes.

That this was it, that you were as good as it would ever get.

“Ready?” he whispers, play hinting at the edges of his voice as he strokes his thumb over your hip.

“Is that even a question?” you giggle.

Silent discretion isn’t necessarily something you strive for, not since the boys heartily accepted your trembling confession that one just wasn’t enough. You’ve long since learned to dismiss any flare of bashful embarrassment that might have you clap your hand over your mouth when Echo pulled you into the nearest room or Wrecker decided that he couldn’t wait for the few quick steps between the armory and the bunk hall. But it’s obscene, the sound that bubbles up from your throat when Crosshair abruptly pulls out of your dripping cunt and shoves himself back in full.

Too high on the euphoria heavy and thick in your throat, you barely register the soft kiss he presses to the corner of your mouth before he rises up and begins fucking into you in earnest. Your eyes flutter open when you feel his rough fingertips dig into the junction of your thigh and hip, trailing low for a brief, uncertain moment before he finds your clit and presses firm over where you part around him. And when you strain your ears above the breathy whines spilling from your lips, when you squeeze down around him with a soft sob, you hear him gasping with you.

This was really as good as you would ever need it to get.

“Wait,” you laugh a bit breathlessly, squirming under his touch. “Wait, let’s call them.”

Crosshair fixes you with something like morbid intrigue, his gentle, firm movements over your clit falling still so he can offer you the unspoken question behind a quirked brow.

“The area’s clear; they’re tired; morale’s low, you know. I think it’d be fun,” you rationalize as a coy smile grows on your lips.

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about this entire campaign?” Crosshair finally asks. Despite the almost disinterested drawl in his voice, you both know it’s a weak cover for the mischievous delight at the prospect of teasing desire in front of his field-weary brothers.

“Maybe,” you breathe, breath hitching as he rolls his thumb over your clit.

“So vulgar,” Crosshair chuckles, rolling his eyes when you blow him a kiss and fall back onto the tabletop.

But he’s already reaching for his discarded commlink and shuffling it back on. He secures the plastoid snug over his forearm, and when he shifts forward to steady himself as the locks snap into place, he shifts up and presses firm against the spot in your cunt that has you arching off the holotable with a low whine.

“Save it for them, yeah?” Crosshair chuckles, and he presses for Tech’s comm.

“Crosshair?” Tech mumbles groggily, apparently having just awoken to Crosshair’s impromptu call.

“So good of you to answer,” Crosshair drawls into his bracer. As much as you’d like to sit back up and swat his audible smirk off of his lips, the snark dies on your tongue when he shifts forward hard, the firm lines of his hips connecting firm against your ass as you sink your teeth into your arm to stifle your sob.

“Is everything alright?” Tech asks through a yawn. And you would laugh at his sleepy obliviousness if you weren’t quite literally seeing stars, blinding iridescent comet trails across your field of vision, when Crosshair slips his free arm under your waist, secures you tight, and pushes his cock impossibly deeper into you. All you can do is bite down over your uniform sleeve and wonder if your high whine reaches the comm feed.

“Fine, really,” Crosshair says with a breezy flippancy that you don’t currently have the mental capacity to find irritating. “Mind telling the others to pick up?”

“Maker, this better be for a good reason,” Echo’s frequency crackles to life, albeit somewhat sourly. Following his voice, you register a hearty yawn from Wrecker’s line, and not a moment later, Hunter’s light quietly blinks on.

“Is y/n on?” Tech asks.

“Mm, she is,” Crosshair punctuates his words with another sharp thrust that has your toes curling in your boots as your legs jerk over his arms. The saccharine tenderness of earlier gives way to the smug tone you have grown to (begrudgingly) adore. “Come on, say hello.”

“H-Hi,” you whimper into your comm, trembling as Crosshair digs his fingers over the soft skin of your thigh and slowly pulls out of your cunt, just until the ridge of his cock catches on your stretched lips. This time, when he thrusts forward there is no measured, careful deliberation—only raw and rapidly unraveling need as he sheathes himself inside you with one smooth motion and crushes up against that soft spot inside you that has you sobbing over your comm.

If they hadn’t heard your soft, muffled noises before, they certainly have, now.

The collective feed goes quiet.

“Holy shit.”

And then all at once, it’s a staticky blend of voices when the realization finally sinks in and exhaustion has all but been forgotten for the night.

You hear Wrecker groan just above Hunter’s gasping, flushed “oh,” and you’re fairly certain you catch Echo and Tech synchronize a low, drawn “fuuuck” as you sigh. But Crosshair gives you little space to register the sudden and raucous desire over the channel when he cants his hips forward and fucks into you deep.

This may have been your idea in the beginning, but whatever control you thought you had has long gone as you scrabble for purchase over the cold holotable top. The teasing game, dangling the possibility of having in front of the boys in the field, is now simply a show out of your hands as you moan into your comm.

“How does she feel?” Wrecker asks, his voice breathy and low.

“So fuckin’ wet,” Crosshair laughs, angling another sharp thrust against the spot that makes you see stars.

You grip tighter to the edge of the holotable with a choked moan. There’s something so indescribably rousing to hearing them speak over you as if you aren’t even there, rutting desperately back against Crosshair’s hips as you sigh and moan into the commlink clutched over your wildly beating heart.

“Our poor little cyar’ika went four whole days without being touched—she’s dripping. Tell them how much you needed this,” Crosshair croons, a mocking sharpness curling at the edges of the gentle tone of his voice. “Tell them how much you need them.”

You tremble under him as his hips meet yours hard enough to knock the air from your lungs, unable to do more than whine as you feel him snake his arm up your chest and curl his fingers around your neck.

“I—I need you!” you manage, your words only soft sighs pulled from what little breath Crosshair affords you through a steady, devastating pace. “Maker, I miss you so much—!”

Eyes squeezed shut, you fight the urge to quell every noise that claws at your throat. As obscene as it makes you sound, your boys are nowhere near as close as Crosshair, able to do little else but close their eyes and dream of you through the modulated channel frequency alone. It’s the least you can do, you think, and you moan as Crosshair shifts his hips up hard.

“He makin’ you feel good, cyar’ika?” Hunter’s voice crackles over the channel. “Pretty baby, you feelin’ good?”

“Mmhm!” you whimper, nodding wildly as if they’re not camped out a few hundred klicks from the ship, as if they’re there, bearing witness as Crosshair pulls you apart with every insistent, heady motion he makes.

“You’re a big girl,” Crosshair sneers, digging his fingers into the soft skin of your waist as he fucks into you sharp enough it punches the breath from your lungs. “Use your words.”

“So—” Your voice wavers over a gasp. “Feels so good!”

“Attagirl,” you hear Echo groan.

You can’t imagine how much of a mess you must look, jaw slack and eyes rolled back into your head, drunk on nothing short of hedonistic joy in its purest form, legs jerking over Crosshair’s arms when he fucks a particularly deep thrust into your cunt. Maybe you’ll try a call over the holo next time.

“Close,” you whimper.

But as soon as the words leave your tongue, you realize your mistake, panic flooding in your throat when Crosshair raises his brows, a wicked grin on his lips, and simply. Stops.

“Are you, now?” Crosshair chuckles, and if you weren’t there, dangling at that precarious precipice, so, so close to the kind of pleasure that wracks through your body so hard you forget your own name, you might have slung some acerbic jumble of words his way. But you are there, twisting your hips for any sort of purchase while Crosshair offers you a knowing smile.

“I’m going to kill you,” you hiss, only to be cut short, your words swallowed by your wailing moan when Crosshair fucks into you, a shallow thrust that pushes you closer, closer to the aching pleasure just out of reach.

“Oh, that wasn’t nice, was it?” Crosshair taunts.

The boys murmur over the channel, all soft laughter while they imagine your flustered desperation, wishing it was them back on the ship, stuck to lookout duty, blessed with the cool air of the helm and your warm cunt fluttering around them.

“What do you say?” Crosshair laughs breathily into his comm, dragging one slow finger over your throbbing clit, firm enough that it sparks want through your chest but too light to do little more than tease. You sob under his touch. “Does our girl deserve to come?”

“Let’s ask her,” Echo rasps, and when you squeeze your eyes shut, your mouth waters at the hazy mental image of the eldest’s lidded gaze, his cock fisted heavy in his hand as he whispers into his comm. “You think you deserve it, cyare?”

“Please,” you gasp. It’s more than a simple response, rather, a plea for something, anything, that little bit of more to push you over the razor thin edge between teasing pleasure and release.

“Gotta answer the question, little one,” Wrecker chokes out past a straining chuckle.

“Maker, you know what I mean—!” you whie, shuddering at the jolt of pleasure that laces up your spine when Crosshair wraps his arm over your thigh and presses deeper than you thought possible.

“Answer it,” Tech breathes.

“Fuck—I deserve it!” you finally sob, and your thighs clench when you hear Hunter groan over the channel. “Maker, I deserve it!”

You’re not sure if it’s your own confession ringing in your ears or the sensation of Crosshair squeezing his hands over your waist that finally tips that delicate balance between your excruciating anticipation and release, stirring wild and devastating from low in your stomach as you arch off the holotable and scream. It crashes over you in an endlessly overwhelming wave, swallowing you whole in nothing but simple, luxuriant pleasure fizzling at your fingertips and blurring your vision with euphoric tears while Crosshair shudders, head hung low as you clench down around him.

“That’s it,” Wrecker croons. Somehow, you’re still able to catch his adoring praise over the frequency, your focus turned to the way Crosshair continues to coax your pleasure, drawing it long and desperate with what thin strands of composure remain.

A final, stuttering thrust, and Crosshair drapes himself over you, burying himself as deep as he can in your fluttering cunt and groaning softly as he fills you with warm, heavy spurts of come. All you can do is whine and pulse around him, losing yourself to the mercy of every passing sensation that sparks delirious pleasure up your spine.

“We’ll be back soon, sweet thing.”

You weakly turn your head to face the blinking comm light beside you, reduced to a blurry spot of red muddled by the lingering tears in your eyes. It’s a miracle you can hear Hunter’s voice over the dull buzz in your ears at all, but even through your exhaustion, his voice strikes want, warm and deep, through your core.

You mumble something unintelligible to your own ears in response, little more than a sign of life as Crosshair steps back and clicks off your comm.

“Quite the show,” Crosshair laughs softly, leaning close to curl his palm at your jaw and thumb at the tears beaded over your lashes. He presses his lips to your temple, and you bask under his touch. “Did such a good job, cyare.”

“When I can’t walk in two days,” you rasp through the dry itch in your throat from your (retrospectively) embarrassing show of being as loud as humanly possible over the comms. “I expect you all to take turns carrying me everywhere.”

Crosshair snorts, tapping the soft skin of your inner thigh to carefully drag his fingertips through the mess of come and slick smeared over your cunt. “Two days? It took them four to get out to the mark.”

And he’s right. The soft, fluvial wetland outside was far from conducive for fast travel, even with a clear mark and sharp navigation. But all things considered, you wouldn’t be surprised if the boys were packing up and leaving camp now, all for the chance to board and throw you onto the nearest bunk a few odd days faster.

“Four credits they’re leaving right now,” you laugh.

“Let’s make it four credits they’ll make it back in two,” Crosshair offers. He dips low and brushes his forehead close against yours, sharing soft laughter as you reach up to stroke over the back of his head.

They make it back in one.

#after two long weeks behold #anyways all the power to u in this fic #u got these boys runnin laps #crosshair x reader #the bad batch x reader #hunter x reader #wrecker x reader #echo x reader #tech x reader #yaej.writes

316 notes · View notes

warmblanketwhump · 3 years

Text

unexpected (villain x sidekick)

inspired by this incredible prompt from @ive-got-whumperflies

“Target has been captured and is en route.”

Villain couldn’t help the smile that crept into their cheeks. Finally, finally, they’d be another step closer to taking down Hero. Get to their beloved Sidekick, rough them up a bit, and get all the intel they needed. They might even be able to lure Hero to their headquarters for a futile rescue attempt - oh, it was just too much to hope for.

“Target has arrived,” the muffled voice said over the comms system.

“Bring them up. I want to say a few words before sending them down.” Over the years, Villain had realized that there was nothing quite as wonderful as holding all the cards and seeing someone's face when they realized it.

The door buzzed, and a body was roughly shoved through the door and fell to the ground. Villain stood from their desk and came to where Sidekick lay on the ground. They had their speech all planned out: a hint at the torture that awaited them, a couple threatening jabs designed to really break their spirit, and then a last chance to turn on Hero and divulge their plans before–

But Villain's plans were shattered when Sidekick shot up from their prone position on the floor, wrapped their arms tightly around Villain's legs, and began weeping inconsolably. Villain could barely make out the words, but when they did, their jaw dropped.

thank you, thank you, oh god thank you –

This blubbering went on for a minute or so, and Villain marinated in the sheer awkwardness of...whatever this was, which was most certainly not what they'd planned for.

"Alright. Sidekick. Calm down." Villain patted their head stiffly and pried Sidekick's grateful arms off of their legs, now sore from how tightly Sidekick was clinging to them. They deposited their captive on a nearby chair, and there, Villain could size up who they were up against and what they could inflict.

But from the looks of things, Villain had - quite literally - been beaten to the punch.

Sidekick's face sported a black eye, a split lip, and several nasty-looking scrapes and gashes. Their usually spotless outfit was torn and dirty, and Villain could see bruises on their exposed skin. Sidekick clutched their left wrist to their chest and shook uncontrollably - whether from fear or the over-air conditioned room, Villain couldn’t tell.

"Did my associates do this to you?” Probably from the struggle of the capture - they made a mental note to berate their lackeys for disobeying them yet again. “I told them not to touch you before you had a chance to turn–"

Sidekick shook their head earnestly. Well. Not Henchman, then.

And there was more to this scene that unsettled Villain. The uniform hung loosely on Sidekick's thin frame, and Villain could see the hollowness in their drawn, pale face. And there was something about their demeanor – cowering in a chair, not quite meeting Villain's eyes, that was so different from the defiant fireball they'd met in their previous clashes with Hero. Villain frowned. Something wasn’t right.

"Then who did this to you?" Sidekick seemed frozen. They opened their mouth, but no words came out. "Is there another Villain I need to watch out for?"

Sidekick nodded - yes. Their eyes filled with fear, and Villain felt something in their heart clench. They were no saint, but they'd never seen someone so afraid. The truth was, they really only loved to torment the defiant ones, the arrogant ones who refused to admit that they could break like anyone else. But this one – this one was already broken. And there was just no joy to be found in that.

Villain knelt before Sidekick, whose tears began slipping from their eyes in earnest.

"Sidekick. Who did this?"

Sidekick released a shuddering sigh. "Hero," they whispered. voice cracking.

Villain's head spun. No....it couldn’t be.

Couldn't it?

Hero. The one who'd mocked them endlessly when they were children, making fun of their clothes, their hair, their unconventional ideas.

Hero. The one who cheated them out of the coveted top spot at the local training school all those years ago .

Hero. The bright, shining example that the city worshipped while Villain slunk in the shadows and did their business in a less...conventional manner.

Hero. The one that everyone trusted, loved, revered, when only Villain knew the truth.

“Hero did this to you?”

Sidekick nodded, and the tears came freely. They told their tale - how they’d accidentally come across some of Hero's shady dealings and thought it was a mistake. But when they’d confronted Hero, Hero had turned on them - told Sidekick they were being irrational, unfair, judgmental, that they didn’t understand what it took to have the weight of the city on their shoulders, all but confirming that it wasn’t a mistake at all. Sidekick had been heartbroken, and set out to redeem the mentor they idolized.

For months, they'd tried to help hide what Hero was doing. Siphoning money from dark places, putting their friends in power and defaming good, honest people who stood in their way. Hiding behind a perfect smile while manipulating everyone around them into perfect submission. Sidekick fought every day to try and redeem the good person they though they knew, but it was no use - that person didn't exist.

But the worst came when Sidekick tried to leave - and Hero wouldn't let them. Villain swallowed hard as Sidekick described what happened - nights, starving, alone, and locked in a cold cell. Dangerous missions where Hero forced Sidekick into danger, only to rescue them at the last possible moment. “Trainings” that lasted for hours and left them bloody and bruised. All from the person Sidekick had looked up to. And if they said a word, it was Sidekick's family who would pay the price.

Until Villain came, swooped in, and stole them from a situation that they couldn’t see any other way out of.

“So...now I’m here.” Sidekick met Villain’s eyes warily, cheeks slightly reddening with embarrassment. “And I guess...you’re gonna hurt me too. But I never would have gotten out of there without you. And at least now, my family's safe. So...thank you.”

Villain had never felt this before - the quiet gratitude of someone who’s life they’d accidentally made better. The ache of sympathy for the thin, shaky waif in front of him, who had nowhere else to turn. No, this was very new. And terrifying. And it felt...good.

"No."

Sidekick’s eyes clouded with confusion at Villain's sudden outburst. “What...what do you mean?”

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Villain met Sidekick’s eyes, feeling like a fire was being stoked in their gut. "I'm gonna take Hero down. Once and for all. Will you help me?"

Sidekick met their eyes and nodded, a new understanding filling them with a light Villain never thought would return.

Villain buzzed their comms system, and Henchman answered with a grunt. “You want me to come in and get started?”

Villain cleared their throat. “There’s been a change in plans. I have some...new intel. Bring up some soup, a couple blankets, and a first aid kit. Sidekick and I have a few things to talk about.”

#hero x villain #villain x sidekick #whump prompt #hero whump #villain whump #hurt comfort #whump fic #abuse tw #gaslighting tw #good villain #redeemed villain #whump writing #villain caretaker #no idea how to tag this #all i know was it was super fun to write #thanks for the amazing prompt!!!#also pls lmk if you want something tagged a certain way #i am more than happy to add things if i missed them!!#my writing

240 notes · View notes

fairytalesofthewind · 3 years

Note

Can I request The Avengers with winged!male!reader, who is a new member of their team? Reader is a ball of joy and love, he's like everyone's kid, until he gets snatched by Hydra agents and later is found with one of his wings cut off, leaving a permanent and ugly scar on his back. After that he shuts down completely, lays in his bed all day long and doesn't talk to anyone : he became a wreck of the person he used to be.

I really would like to see The Avengers helping him cope and Tony coming up with some crazy idea, which lead to Reader receiving a prosthetic wing and once again becoming an official member of The Avengers.

Anon, you are a true genius!

warnings: hydra (so also torture, a bit of gore, and kidnapping)

+ implied Stucky

I called the male reader Icarus, you’ll find out why ;) I may be a little bit too obsessed by mythology. Sorry that I didn’t write with ‘you’.

wordcount: 2424

Requests are open!

Icarus was found by shield at age 15. He had been an experiment of hydra for 3 years. He remembered the day the Avengers had infiltrated the facility where the majority of hydra worked. He remembered hearing the explosions and screams while he was trapped in the many cells of the building’s basement. The only occupied cell what that of his.

He had felt his surroundings shaking, had felt the dust falling on him as the building was ready to collapse. And then the bombs stopped getting fired. The screams had stopped. Icarus had thought the fight had completely stopped and that the people were either dead or that the people had fled. Icarus had thought no one was coming for him, and that he was trapped in his cell, no way to escape.

But then he had heard a single loud bang. It came from the door leading to the basement. He saw that the metal door had an imprint of a fist in it. Then he heard another loud bang, and saw how the imprint expanded. After a few more hits, the door gave away and fell to the floor.

A man with a metal came walking up to him. Icarus knew who he was, emphasis on was. Because the man ushering towards him wasn’t the Winter Soldier anymore. That was what the agents had told him.

“Hey kid. Hang on in there, we’ll get you out as soon as possible.” He said and came closer and inspected the outside of his cell. More specifically, the keypad in front of it. “Hey Stark, I’m gonna need your help here with some tech.” Bucky came even closer to his cell and Icarus’ eyes widen as his hands neared the glass.

“Stop!” Icarus yelled. Bucky froze at the command, and dragged his eyes up slowly to the panicked boy in front of him. “You can’t touch the glass.” Icarus warned him, his tone a bit softer. “It’ll trigger the alarms and then gas will come out of the ceiling.” Bucky frowned looked up at the top of the cell. In each corner was a camera, along with a small metal tube coming out of the walls. He supposed that the gas would come out of there.

“Is the gas deadly?” He asked the boy, there were probably going to trigger the alarms trying to get him out. But they would have to find another way if the gas is really dangerous.

“No,” Icarus started, “it just makes me go to sleep.” Bucky nodded as stepped away from the glass container. They would have to wait for a few minutes until help – the help being Tony- arrived.

“So…” The boy drawled out, “Are you really a 100 years old?” He wanted to look at Icarus with a ‘are you serious’- look but as he saw the curiosity written on his face, he responded a soft smile.

“I’m 106 years old.” He felt a pang of amusement as he watched Icarus’ eyes widen.

“Isn’t that a bit weird?” Bucky tilted his head, silently asked the boy what he meant by that. “You know…with friends, and lovers. You’re much older than them.”

Suddenly Stark entered the basement and said: “Well, Bucky doesn’t have any problem with that seeing as his boyfriend is also a super soldier and also very old.” He strutted over to the keypad on his cell. Icarus stared at him with wide eyes because – oh my God this is The Tony Stark.

“Friday baby, tell me how to get the angel out.” He said. Icarus blushed a bit, most of the agents didn’t call him an angel because of his wings. But rather demon. He didn’t which one fit the best seeing as he had neither white wings, nor black, but brown wings.

Tony was quiet for a few long seconds. He looked concentrated, not that they could see his face through the helmet, but his head was tilted just a bit. He let out a loud drawn-out sigh and said: “Yeah, no can do, that’s going to take hours. I’m just gonna blast it.”

Icarus straightened up immediately, if he were to do that he would just trigger the alarms. It wouldn’t do much to the glass either, because it was made of something special. Before Icarus could let out a warning, he heard the zooming of Iron Man’s blasters and then he heard a small explosion.

The boy made eye contact with Bucky after he saw gas coming out of the metal tubes. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he picked up the curse words both of the men let out.

Only a few hours later did Icarus wake up. It was very quiet around him, but there was also an unfamiliar sound that he didn’t recognise that made him realise that he wasn’t in his cell anymore. Did the agents change their mind on waiting a few more months to send him on a mission? Did they suddenly decide to get rid of him? Did they-

“Ah, you’re waking up.” The voice was so much more gentle than he was used hearing. It reminded him of how his family used to talk to him.

They were dead now, by the way, with courtesy of hydra.

Icarus opened his eyes and looked to his right where the voice had come from. He recognised the man, he was the Falcon. Sam was still wearing his suit, with his metal wings. Icarus eyes fell to the said wings and frowned.

“You know, you guys are in big trouble.” The people around him straightened up. Already thinking of the possible things the boy could say. There was something you didn’t think about, this was just a distraction and now the shield base has been taken care of properly. You lost-

“These are copyrighted.” Icarus pointed to his own wings. “I could sue you for plagiarism.” Sam lowered his head in relief as he let out a little chuckle.

“I’ll pass it on to the boss.” He said as he looked to the other side of Icarus. The boy followed the line of sight and saw Tony sitting on the other side of him. He was immediately attacked with concerned questions about how he was feeling. Tony told him that they were going to bring Icarus somewhere safe, there were going to give him a home. But all Icarus could think about was, oh my God, this is The Tony Stark.

Icarus was 16 when he started his training. He was done basically living in the hospital wing of the tower. Apparently hydra had really taken a toll on him. Physically and mentally.

He had begged the captain to train him. But Steve had refused time and time again claiming that Icarus wasn’t ready yet.

Between recovery and asking for training, he became friends with Sam. Well, he became friends with everyone. You could even say that he became their family. But it happened with Sam the fastest. Sam took care of him from the start. He visited Icarus every day to check up on him. He helped the boy get comfortable. Icarus saw Sam as a…dad?

They would fly together almost every night. They would soar over countless buildings in New-York. They would stop on skyscrapers and talk about everything and nothing. Sam became his best friend, he became his family.

Icarus was 17 when he realised how much the Avengers truly cared about him. It was his first mission, and the Avengers were acting like overbearing mother hens. It wasn’t even a big mission, it was just to pick something up and bring it from place A to B. But due an unexpected rainstorm Icarus couldn’t fly back. He arrived hours later than he should’ve had at the meeting point.

And to say he had received an ear full about it was an understatement. For the next few days after that mission, he had heard one rant to the other. It was all the same: about how he was precious, about how bad it would be to lose him because he was their family. He was their ray of sun- no scratch that- he was their sun. He was their kid.

Icarus was 18 years and 2 months old when one of his mission went seriously wrong. Sam wasn’t there to support him in the sky. And Tony was needed on the ground. But as multiple planes left to escape, he had to go after them. There weren’t only hydra agents on those plane, but also innocent hostages. Hostages that would probably get used for the same purpose Icarus had been used for.

So he couldn’t just let the planes go. He went after the plane of which he thought was filled with hostages, but was only filled with agents. He had entered the plane just before it’s backdoor had closed. He realised his mistake as he was suddenly surrounded by a dozen men with guns.

One of the men closest to him raised his gun towards him and shot. Icarus felt a sharp prick on his neck and he already knew what was going to happen. Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he picked up the curse words his family let out on the comms.

Icarus was 18 when he was recaptured by hydra.

Hydra had claimed they had no use for him. They already had a better reproduction of him.

But that didn’t mean that we are just going to get rid of you, no stupid demon boy. We are going to have a bit of fun with you.

Icarus was 18 years and 5 months when he lost one of the most important things of his life.

He lost of one his wings. That means that he not only lost one of his limbs, but he also lost being able to fly.

He wouldn’t be able to do the thing he loved the most, he wouldn’t be able to fly anymore.

Icarus was 18 years and 8 months old when the Avengers had to save him again from hydra. But the boy they saved wasn’t the Icarus that had been captured. He was missing something –besides from the obvious; his wing.

From the moment Icarus had returned home, everything went just a bit worse day by day. He was unhappy, of course he was. Not only had he lost his wing, but he also had a very large scar where it used to be.

He felt terrible. He would spend almost every hour buried under the safety of his blankets in his bed. He didn’t leave his room, no matter how much his family tried to get him out.

One day Bucky entered his room, he brought some tea and breakfast with him. “Good morning, little angel…” The rest he said fell on deaf ears. Icarus had buried himself under his blankets himself.

A few seconds later felt the cold rushing over him. The bed dipped beside him, Bucky sat on the blanket so that Icarus couldn’t use them to hide anymore. But it didn’t really help much as the boy just turned his back to him, his one wing currently hiding himself.

Bucky cleared his throat. “Look, I know how much this sucks. I lost my arm, I know how it feels.” Suddenly Icarus had sat up, and was now looking at him with an angry face.

“You think you know how I feel?!” Icarus pushed him off the bed. They were now both standing with Icarus pointing a furious finger at him. “You just lost your fucking arm! I didn’t just lose my wing, no I lost the thing I loved the most! I can’t fly anymore, and you know whose fault is that?” Icarus kept walking closer and Bucky kept stepping further away from the boy.

“It’s my fault! I was overtaken by my giddiness of the mission and I got distracted, I was too overconfident.” Bucky was almost in the hallway with the way he kept backing up.

“And besides, James. You got a metal arm in return. You can still do everything!” Unlike Bucky, Icarus didn’t have another wing.

And that, had given Bucky an idea.

Icarus was 18 years and 11 months when Tony had dragged him out of his wing towards his lab. He didn’t give him any choice to struggle back, he was coming whether he wanted to or not.

Tony had covered his eyes just before they entered the lab. He had made him sit on a stool. He heard a few nervous coughs, so he knew that the other were there as well.

Tony granted his sight back after a few seconds of rambling something that Icarus was too tired to listen to.

“-and we hope you will like this…”

In front of him, on a stand, was a metal wing. It was a similar size of his own. He had thought: what is the point of a monument? But then Icarus realised that what he was seeing wasn’t just a metal wing, it was also a suit. He felt a few tears roll down his cheek and immediately afterwards felt someone’s arms going around him.

“Oh, it’s alright, angel. It’s going to be alright.” They let him cry his heart out, patiently being there for him.

It was a few days later that Icarus sat in the craftsman’s lab again. Tony was securing the many straps on his new suit. He explained him the rules of the new suit, of what it could and couldn’t do. “Now, Sam will help you fly again. He knows how the metal wing work. My advice for now is to not fly too low, or too high. You don’t want to hurt yourself.”

Icarus was 19 when he was given back the thing he loved most; being able to fly. He was able to be happy again. He picked up the nightly flights with Sam again. Sometimes staying away from the Tower until 5AM. He was almost back to his normal self; he was already back to being the most energetic member of the team, and he showed how grateful he was almost every second of the day.

This night he was sitting on a building with Sam eating his pepperoni pizza.

“You know, you’re in trouble, right?” Icarus looked up at Sam with raised eyebrows.

“These are copyrighted, and you know, I could sue you.” Sam pointed at his metal wings with a small smirk.

“Copyrighted my ass, you can’t beat the original.”

#marvel #marvel x male reader #stucky #angst with a happy ending #greek mythology #the avengers #avengers x reader #male headcanons #male reader #tony stark #bucky barnes

316 notes · View notes

ddarker-dreams · 4 years

Text

New Oath. Yan Dabi x Reader [COMM]

warnings: isolation, food mention, unhealthy relationships, implied not sfw, not sfw dialogue and beginning of stockholm syndrome. word count: 3k.

It feels easier to live a life without regrets.

To know that every opportunity that presents itself had been taken, is a justification that you maintain to keep your sanity intact. This life that you’ve been forced to live -- one that has clipped your wings -- denying all forms of freedom. Every aspect of the day revolves around survival, nothing else. You’ve tried different methods of overcoming with varying results. The most prominent being escape, or working towards one.

No person was meant to be secluded in an environment like this. Not even taking into account that lack of socialization that’d be enough to drive anyone mad, but the one person you get to speak to is a pain in his own right. Speaking to a brick wall is more inviting a concept than holding a conversation with Dabi. At least a brick wall remains quiet, not trying to provoke you for a reaction. You don’t know how much longer you can maintain your cool around him.

Looking from the decaying state of the ceiling to the walls around you, which are in even worse condition. This apartment building is definitely violating some building codes. Cheap paint peels off the wall from the slightest humidity, the ceiling fan creaks with every pained turn, and the lone light bulb in the room has been prone to flicker. While you aren’t sure what Dabi’s salary might be, you infer it must be enough to live in a place better than this. A semi abandoned apartment complex with dogs barking at unholy hours of the morning, and sirens going off just as often. If you were to guess on why he chose such a seedy residence, it’s because of the advantages it brings. Any screams for help will go ignored here, as they’re commonplace.

You’ve had lots of time to reflect. It feels like the world is against you, nothing ever going according to plan. The hours spent revising and considering every variable were for naught in the end. It felt like for each step forward, Dabi would be another two paces ahead. You had considered the fire escape, only to find the bars singed. The windows were a no go, having been fastened so tightly a tool set is necessary to undo the screws. He thought of everything when he decided to hold you captive. This might be enough to drive anyone to the brinks of despair, but not you. You continue preparing, looking for an opening, and acting accordingly.

You don’t want to lose to someone like him.

Dabi is human, and humans are fallible. One day, in the near future, he might make a mistake. Forget to lock one of the many latches on the door, or ignore a hole in the wall that could soon crumble to sweet freedom. You tell yourself this, not sure if you even fully believe it anymore. You long to have that hope. The hope that this nightmare may yet come to a favorable ending, that you could pry your life back from his vice like grip. Even if it meant breaking your own moral code, resorting to the lowest of tactics… what he had done to you is far worse. This is the drive that drove you to strategize for weeks on end.

Just to fail, like all the times before.

Your lift your arms, grimacing at the sensation of cold metal around your wrists. The punishment for your latest transgressions against Dabi. Everything had been going so well -- too well, now that you’ve had time to think on it -- only to blow up on your face. Weeks of batting your eyelashes at him, playing the role of a perfect, enamored partner went down the drain in a flash. You click your tongue, recalling with disdain how smug he had looked. That’s what got to you the most. Getting underneath your skin and festering with all your other negative feelings for him.

He knew what you were planning, for god knows how long, and just wanted to see how much you could pull off. Treating it like a mere game. Dabi let you taste coveted freedom, observing from the shadows with intrigue. When your feet had hit the ground, everything felt right with the world once again. You had been held prisoner to the four walls of Dabi’s apartment for what must’ve been months, each day more miserable than the last. You remember the fresh air that swelled into your lungs. The rush of adrenaline that had every nerve on high alert. How your eyes had stung, and threatened to spill over with tears of joy. Nothing could compare to the high from that moment.

It wasn’t a lovely area. At the time, you had still been situated in an alleyway; surrounded by animal carcasses and unsavory items. None of that had mattered at the time. All that mattered is that you could run, far away from his condescending words and threatening presence. You could finally run back to the life that was stolen from you. A supposed light at the end of the tunnel. Nothing in life is that easy, you think in the present. Nothing that involves Dabi is that easy.

There had been a feeling in you gut that eyes were following your every movement. A premonition that came true, and horror in the flesh made his appearance. He had clapped, and expressed how impressed he was with your valiant plan. Dabi cooed at how adorable the sight was, that he had watched you scramble to get everything done in secret. He complimented you on the tact necessary to pull it off. Then his demeanor changed, to something far too sinister to be human. Maybe it was betrayal, or offense at the audacity displayed in going behind his back. Whatever it was that clouded his eyes, you pray you never have to see it again.

Which leads you to the present.

What you wouldn’t give for some pain killers, even over the counter would do. Anything to dull this pain in your back from sleeping on a spring mattress for days on end. Even this was a luxury that you had to earn through demeaning acts. When Dabi first threw you in this grimy room, the concrete floor was all that you had to sleep on. Through some coquettish speech and unbuckling of pants, you had earned this mattress on which you currently sits. You never thought you’d be missing the dingy, shared bedroom with Dabi until it was taken from you and replaced with something worse. There’s no way of knowing for certain how much longer this punishment will last. From the lack of windows in this room, you can’t even know the time that has passed since the punishment began. It can’t be more than a few days, you thinks. How much longer will you be held here…?

Eyelashes flutter shut, figuring that sleep is a solid way to pass the time. There’s nothing to do until Dabi decides to make an appearance. Gauging from how hungry you’re feeling, it’s been around five or six hours since he last showed up, bringing food with him. Your attempt at sleep is interrupted at the distinct sound of footsteps approaching. So your guess was on the mark. You listens carefully, no detail to be overlooked. There’s a click from unlocking. Then four more after it. So he’s placed that many locks on the door? Seeing as you’re not even able to move an inch with these restraints, you find the precautions excessive. Not even a master escape artist could get out of this. It’s nice to know he thinks you so resourceful.

Faint light shines in your room as the door screeches open, revealing your captor. In his scarred hands is a bag of takeout. He offers a nod of the head in acknowledgement to you, shutting the door behind him. It’s impossible for you to ignore the quickening of your pulse in his presence. You collect yourself to the best of your ability, face remaining composed. Will he make another lascivious offer in exchange for more comforts? The fear of the unknown is like a shadow in the night, creeping over and devouring you. There’s no telling what Dabi might do or say. It’s a constant guessing game. You square your shoulders, making a point of looking Dabi in the eye. Maintaining eye contact is a sign of strength.

“What? No thank you for your knight in shining armor?” Dabi inquires, tilting his head. His voice holds a playful lilt that almost makes you roll your eyes. He’s enjoying every second of this.

“That’s not the role I’d associate with you.” You respond with a dismissive shrug. The two of you always banter like this, seeing who will crack first under the immense pressure. You have found yourself getting used to these encounters. At first, you didn’t find it wise to possibly earn the wrath of your captor with snark, but those feelings have since changed. Now that you’re more familiar with Dabi, the words flow from your tongue with ease. He never makes a point of stopping the behavior. There’s a tension in the air whenever you’re in a room together, that Dabi always instigates. You’re only returning his own energy.

“I was thinking,” he starts with a sharp inhale, taking a seat in front of you on the ground. “You seemed so willing to do what I asked last time. Why not always keep that attitude up, sugar?”

You raise an eyebrow at the implication of his words. “That depends on you. What’s in it for me?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe getting out of this shithole? Not that you seemed to like my other place much better,” he motions to the derelict room around you to emphasize his point. “Still beats this dump. How ‘bout it?”

It’s like you predicted. After Dabi got a better taste of you, he can’t help but want to come back for more. You can’t deny the thrill that comes with hooking up with him. There’s a semblance of control, knowing that you can hold something over him. He could theoretically take whatever he desires, yet prefers you give yourself to him willingly, for whatever convoluted reason. It’s difficult to deny the satisfaction from your previous rendezvous. One of the first things Dabi explained to you was that life would be so much easier for the both of you with your compliance. Resentment and pride were roadblocks to this initially. Now you’ve grown weary of all the games and hiding. The sparks of resistance have been methodically snuffed out, and all you want now is a little solace.

Your reply comes as a surprisingly fast response to you both. “Sounds like a deal. After I eat though.”

Dabi wasn’t expecting you to be this easy, not after the stunts you’ve pulled. His eyes search, scrutinizing your schooled expression for something hidden beneath the surface. You’re met with distrust, despite him being the one who made the suggestion in the first place. Having sex on an empty stomach doesn’t sound like the best idea. If that’s what it takes to get out of this room, then you’ll do it. You’ve been waiting for the offer. It doesn’t make you as sick to your stomach as you thought it would, knowing the prize that’ll await after it’s all said and done. Life is a game of adapting, and you’re playing by those rules. The rules that Dabi himself established.

You break the silence yourself, hunger making you impatient. “You did offer me this food, right?”

“You’re a sharp one, princess. I picked it out for you myself. Hope you like Chinese.”

He reaches into the bag, shuffling around for the takeout containers. The scent of fried noodles, rice, and chicken fills the air, which piques your attention. It’s by all means a simple meal, and you couldn’t be happier. When you’re as hungry as you are, it might as well be a gourmet buffet. Dabi himself admitted to not being the best chef, so most of your meals have consisted of this quality. Or, on the occasion, he’d let you cook. Partaking in one of your hobbies is a nice distraction that he makes you work for. He’s always such a pain in the ass...

Dabi fiddles with the key ring in his pocket. Looking you in the eye, he gives a sly smile. “You wouldn’t do anything stupid, would you?”

You look down at your restraints, a result of doing just that. “Me? I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Mm. Let’s hope so. Would hate for you to make me think up yet another punishment.”

You don’t want to give him the fearful reaction he’s longing for, opting on maintaining your current visage. Lips pursing together, eyes indifferent, and nose upturned to him. Dabi works through the various locks, the shackles falling to the ground as he unlocks each one. He suddenly takes on a more apathetic air. You know better than to take this at a surface level, feeling him observing your every movement. Anything that could be mistaken as a sign of resistance. You decide to act as natural as possible, to mitigate the suspicion. Really, what does he think you’re going to do? Stab him with the plastic fork this meal comes with? A few months ago, you may have given that a shot, but things feel different now. All you’re interested in is regaining your strength. The first step to that is getting rid of this gnawing hunger.

There are indents in your wrist from where the shackles were. You stretch the sore muscles, and proceed to go for the food.

“Thanks for the food.” You offers a closed mouth smile, using your now freed hands to open up the boxes. You waste no time indulging in the meal. The grin that you’ve grown accustomed to seeing on Dabi’s face is no longer in sight, replaced by thinly veiled distrust. This conversation is oddly normal. A stark contrast to the extreme circumstance, at least enough to perturb him. What makes him on edge or not is none of your concern. You’re complying, as he’s demanded numerous times. Shouldn’t he be over the moon, if anything? To finally get what he wanted, after months of poking and prodding, a subservient version of yourself. Dabi’s the one who molded you into this shape of his own design.

He props up his chin on his knee, watching you devour the meal. “I wasn’t expecting this room to be what did ya in.”

You swallow a bite of orange chicken, wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. You don’t want to entertain Dabi in conversation right now. It takes too much brainpower to keep up with him, Dabi always trying to get you to trip over your words. Ignoring him isn’t one of the cards at your disposal, so you give what you hope to be a satisfactory response.

“If it’s of any comfort, it wasn’t just the room.”

Dabi hums, keen on gaining more information. “Would you be so sweet as to fill me in?”

“It’s nothing that interesting. I had lots of time to think, or reflect to be more exact. You said it best. What was it again… something among the lines of, the day I decide to be a ‘good girl’, life will be easier,” you reach for a box of rice next, Dabi handing it to you when it’s too far away. “So, this is me doing that. A novel idea, I know.”

He can’t help but agree with the statement. “You said it best.”

Dabi’s budding curiosity must’ve been sated by your word, as he now lets you eat in relative peace. The gears in both your minds are turning. Trying to predict what the other may or may not do. It’s a tedious dance, you having a lot more to lose than him. This is what makes it an uneven match up, Dabi capable of exercising far more power over you, even without putting it on display. You’ve seen enough little details to be wary of him. How the news stories in the morning speak of victims burnt to ash, the occasional spots of blood on his jackets, and suspicious material from his shoes. Whenever you’ve worked up the courage to inquire on the origins of it, he’d offer an unsettling smile and ask if you really want to know.

Ignorance is bliss. Months of isolation, suffering, and cruelty have left you in a state of latching onto any consolation available. It’s a bittersweet idea that your tormentor is what doubles as an essential distraction. When you’re in a heated embrace with him, bodies sweaty and head in disarray, the rest of the world melts away. As if it never existed in the first place. You can forget about your own loneliness, the tears that would normally stain your cheeks that time of night, and the burning resentment for the one on top. Every touch erases a pain, even if it’s for a moment. Giving into the desires of the flesh has never felt so good.

“Looks like you’re almost done, babe.” Dabi comments with a wolf-like grin. He crawls towards you, uncaring of the lousy conditions of the room. His hand grasps your cheek, massaging the skin, and moving down to your lips. The coarse pad of his thumb rubs circles into your bottom lip, looking down at you through lidded eyes. If you’re going to let him take what he wants, he couldn’t be happier. The possible ramifications will be considered later. For the time being, he wants to feel you underneath him, months of pent up lust finally gaining an outlet.

“You shouldn’t be the impatient one,” you can’t help but remark, shivering underneath his touch. “I’m the one who has been locked in a room for days.”

“You’ve got it all wrong. I've just missed you oh so dearly,” Dabi coos into your ear. His lips part to place open mouth kisses over your bare neck, hands starting to feel you up. “From how you’re responding, it looks like you’ve missed me too. How precious.”

“Keep dreaming, Dabi.”

“I don’t have to anymore, now that I can fuck you as much as I want.”

417 notes · View notes

one-real-imonkey · 3 years

Note

Maybe something with Jaster rescuing Jango?

This is going to be an AU ending to To Tame a Mandalorian. You don’t have to have read what I've posted of that so far, but in summary, Jango is kidnapped at 14 and sent to Kamino to start the clone program. the Sith have also sent a baby to keep Jango in line, Obi-Wan Fett. After all, what scientist wouldn’t want to study a Force Sensitive and what Mandalorian would put a baby in danger.

Jango manages to get a few holos out to Jaster... and in this version, they're the key to Jaster finding his son.

Please enjoy.

———

Jaster arrived on the ocean planet with fire and fury, armed ships and battalions of verde and a single minded determination to rescue his ad from this hell. He was bringing his child home.

There was no resistance when they landed, no warriors among their demagolka species, which raised horrific thoughts as to how they’d managed to keep his ad here, what they’d done to keep him here if not through violence or threat.

They didn’t kill the demagolka, they probably would later, but they needed information and most of them were unarmed and surrendered immediately.

He still felt no guilt slamming one of them against a wall and demanding Jango’s location, ignored their fear and demanded the information he required.

They stuttered and stammered, eyes glued to his weapons and armour, but he got his information.

“Vaiala, take your unit, secure the labs. Ponti, Xanava, Feeb, secure the rest of the facility, take prisoners unless they fight, free any prisoners they’re holding. I want the Demagolka who run this place for questioning. Laana, you’re with us, we’re going to Jango.”

The echo of ‘Elek alor’ rang out and he broke off, knowing the medic would be behind him all the way.

They charged down near-empty hallways, every one almost identical, and he wondered how the demagolka leading them could navigate it, right up until they stopped at a door, the door, Jango’s door.

He actually had to pause for a second, brace himself, before he went in. Laana and the demagolka stayed back, though he knew she’d come as soon as he called, but that this was for him.

It was the room in the holos, a living room and kitchenette, the same box of toys in the corner, a few ik’aad toys spend across the room instead of cleared away, and a jacket on the sofa.

But no Jango, and no ik’aad. Not in the main room.

The bedrooms had name plates, and he slid open the door labelled Jango Fett.

And asleep on the bed, his ad’ika.

The first sign something was happening was the activation of the chips. It was a security measure, the Kaminoans had explained long ago, to make it harder for them to be removed or damaged or something. It didn’t make much sense to him, but none the less, if there were intruders on Kamino, invaders, the chips would activate and he and Ob’ika would end up limp and often unconscious wherever they'd been at the time. If they were removed from their rooms, or the rooms they’d fallen within, their bodies would start safely but painfully convulsing, which he supposed was to deter and delay an assailant. It wasn’t enjoyable.

Of course, they also tested it frequently enough, and Jango had assumed this was just another drill.

He and Ob’ika had been in his bed, it was a large bed for a 14-year-old and a 1-year-old, and they’d been playing with some soft toys. He’d chosen the bed rather than the living room because it had been an exhausting lab day for them both, and if that tiredness caught up to either of them suddenly, a bed would be better than the sofa or the floor.

He feels the sudden numbness creeping down his spine, and then up from his toes. Obi actually goes limp first, he’s smaller after all, but Jango doesn’t last much longer.

At first he’s just limp, unable to move, but he’d learnt the best thing to do was either plan or fall asleep. He chose the second.

A hand shaking his shoulder woke him.

“Jan’ika? Ad’ika, can you wake up? Gedet’ye?”

He’d never wanted to be able to move more than right at that second, because he knew that voice. That was his Buir’s voice.

“Laana, get in here!”

He could hear the worry, the panic, in his Buir’s voice, but he just couldn’t move beyond opening his eyes. Across from him, the raised voices had woken Ob’ika who’s eyes had also cracked open, but he couldn’t fight either.

He couldn’t get excited, not yet. His Buir was here, and judging by the yell so was B’r Laana, but he was terrified they’d try to remove them from the room without deactivating the chips.

Did they even know about the chips?

“If I may,” that wasn’t b’r Laana’s voice, that was a Kaminii, “you will need to deactivate the security measures restricting them both.”

“What security measures!”

“To keep them out of restricted areas they have both been implanted with an obedience chip...”

“A what!”

“It can render them immobile, unconscious, or deliver an electric shock if required. With an incursion into Tipoca City, it was activated for their safety.”

“How do I deactivate it!”

“I do not know. But I believe Taun We and Nala Se both have access to the chip controls.”

Over comms, his Buir was calling for someone to find one of those Kaminii, to be able to deactivate it so he and Obi could be free of them.

“Jan’ika,” his Buir had moved around the bed so they could look face to face, and their eyes met, “I’m here, it’s ok. You’re both coming home. I promise.”

He let his joy show in his eyes, and his Buir stroked a hand down his face. He turned his attention to Obi, who was watching with wide and scared but hopeful eyes. He hoped he was conveying to Obi the safety they now had. His Buir was being careful to not scare his ik’aad, but he greeted Ob’ika with a smile and utter love, and Obi responded with the same bright trusting look he’d once offered Jango.

They would get the chips out, and he and Obi were going to be leaving Kamino. They were going to Mandalore.

They were going home.

———

Thanks for promoting and for reading, hope you enjoyed. If only it was this easy for them in the To Tame a Mandalorian Verse.

Inbox is still open. Please prompt me this is fun and I have far far far too much time on my hands lmao.

(-:

#star wars #Star Wars fanfiction #to tame a Mandalorian #ask response #ask game #anon ask #prompt response #jango fett #jaster mereel #Obi-Wan Kenobi

45 notes · View notes

yelena-bellova · 4 years

Text

Don’t Be Afraid: Poe Dameron x Solo!Reader - Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Twenty Nine: Trouble In Paradise

Series Masterlist

Plot: The Resistance has been chasing information across the galaxy to confirm the identity of the voice behind the mysterious radio broadcast. Meanwhile, Y/n has been keeping secrets from her loved ones that could have catastrophic consequences...

Warnings: language, intrusive violent thoughts, talk of the death of a parent, no beta reader because we die like men...

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N: GAH we’ve made it to TROS. I can’t believe we’re nearing the end of this series...Nope, I’m not getting emotional today lol. Thanks for patiently waiting for this chapter, I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve updated. Hopefully I don’t disappoint :) --------

I’d joked as a kid that I’d always wanted to float. The concept of hovering above the ground suspended in midair had tickled me, but the reality of physics had crushed that dream quickly.

So naturally, my inner child was giddy to learn it was indeed possible.

I sat crossed legged, hands resting on my knees, eyes shut, more at ease than I’d been in a long time from seven feet in the air. Meditation had always brought me a deep sense of peace, but diving deeper into a Jedi’s way of performing the act had taken the whole thing to a new level.

“Be with me…” came a voice from the body that sat adjacent to me. The corners of my mouth lifted up slightly as I listened to Rey try her hardest while still attempting to remain relaxed and open. It was a blessing and a curse to be a perfectionist and a Jedi, you were wildly driven but also would beat yourself up generously if you couldn’t get something. That was Rey to a t. Not that I wasn’t just as devout, but I’d trained myself long enough to know that you couldn’t perfect something overnight.

“They’re not with me,” she declared with a scoff, “Ugh…”

Rey effectively called an end to our session as I opened my eyes to see her gracefully flip through the air and meet the ground. Her half of the rocks we’d been keeping in the air with us fell while I eased mine down with me, landing in a crouched position. “You’re going to get it.” “I’m not so sure I agree,” she sighed. “I haven’t figured it out either if it makes you feel any better,” I offered with a shrug, brushing the dirt from my leggings.

Rey made an objective noise, “That’s not true, you can hear your grandfather.”

“Only because he reaches out to me, I’m still not able to hear or see him by my own doing. And believe me, I’m trying…”

“It comes with time and a healthy dose of patience…” said the warming presence I sensed just a few feet away from us. “I’m starting to think it isn’t possible,” Rey stated as we walked toward my mother, “To hear the voices of the Jedi who came before.”

“Nothing’s impossible,” Mom replied simply, she had drilled that phrase into our brains so many times over the past few months that I swore it was tattooed somewhere in my skull.

“Nothing’s impossible,” Rey echoed, a small smile spreading across her face at the encouragement, “I’m going to run the training course. Are you coming?” “No, I ran it earlier,” I said, elbowing her lightly in the arm, “One day I’ll beat you but today was not that day.” Rey was such a humble person, which made it all the more entertaining to watch her try not to take delight in being the best at something. She slyly grinned at me before accepting Uncle Luke’s lightsaber from Mom and heading off towards the start of the course.

Can I go with her? Unless you need me? “No, Bee,” I smiled down at the droid, left in my custody till Poe returned, “You can go with Rey.” He happily rolled his way through the jungle, in search of his friend.

“Any word from the Falcon?” I asked hopefully as Mom and I slowly strolled back towards base.

“Not yet,” she answered, trying her hardest to sound unworried, “It may be too risky to send a comm back. I wouldn’t worry yet.”

“Telling me not to worry only makes me worry more,” I returned, clenching and unclenching my fists in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in my body.

Only a handful of Resistance personnel knew the details of Finn and Poe’s mission. Those who did understood the weight and magnitude of the information they were potentially retrieving. But as with every high-risk mission, bringing back intel meant bringing themselves back, which was a big if…

“Mom, what if it really is what we think it is?” I asked, sounding more like a curious child than a concerned commander, “Worse, what if it’s who we think it is?”

“I wish I had an answer for you,” she sighed, “But the truth is that we don’t know for certain what we’re up against. We’re anticipating and planning in the dark. We can only pray that Poe and Finn return with something that could shed even a little light on the matter.”

Light versus dark, an age old battle with a new enemy for each generation to face. But the same enemy coming back twice? Nobody could have predicted it. And while it was true, we had no official confirmation that the broadcast across the galaxy had been who we believed it to be, those who had lived through the rebellion had no doubts.

“Do me a favor and let me know when they’re back if I’m not around,” I requested, breaking away from my mother who was heading back towards the command center. I needed a few minutes to myself to attend to matters I couldn’t concern her or Rey with.

“Y/n,” she called and waited for me to face her, “I know you’re scared, but don’t feel like you need to fight your battles on your own.” If only she knew the battles I was fighting and just how important it was that nobody find them out. I hated secrets, I’d spent my entire life keeping them from those who meant the most to me. But the ones I kept now were in a new category of extreme, they were the kind that when all was exposed could ruin every relationship I had.

So I simply nodded, gave a tight lipped smile and turned back on my way.

I ended up deep in the opposite side of the jungle, far away from the training course and far enough away from base that nobody would stumble upon me. I scaled one of the large trees with ease, landing on a sturdy top branch and settling onto it. Like D’Qar, I kept a secret corner of Ajan Kloss for myself for when I needed quiet or clarity. But both places where were I faced my demons, only the ones I had now couldn’t be combatted with a lightsaber. Not yet, at least…

I took a deep breath and looked out to the beautiful horizon, inwardly beating myself up for what I was about to do.

“Ren, are you there?”

Silence.

“Ren, I know you’re there somewhere,” I pushed, trying to open the connection between us once again, “You’ve got to tell me if you know anything about what’s been going on.”

Nothing.

“This isn’t a matter of First Order or Resistance, it’s not about you or I. If this is what we think it is, both of us are fucked so if you know something, I need to know it too.” We hadn’t spoken since the evening of the broadcast, I knew him better than I wished to and knew that any threat to his rule would send him frantically searching for the culprit. Since he’d gone silent on me, I’d reached out often to try and get any information out of him I could. It wasn’t so I could use it against him, it was simply to figure out what we’d be up against. He was the only person I knew close to the dark side of the force, meaning he was the closest to answers I could get. I was toeing a dangerous line and I knew it.

As always, he didn’t answer. Once I’d served my usefulness to him, he’d dropped our frequent communication without so much as a warning. I’d spent so long trying to get as far from him as possible and now that I needed something from him, he was nowhere to be found.

Thoroughly done with myself, I groaned and leaned my head against the tree. “Resistance commander trying to strike conversation with the leader of the First Order…Well done, Solo.” Then suddenly, my mind was struck with an overwhelming pain. I was having another attack.

I stood amongst the familiar flames.

Bodies were scattered around me, their screams echoing through the air.

My usual y/e/c turned yellow as I stared down at the carnage.

Ren stood near me.

Obi-Wan did not.

“Don’t be afraid,” Ren said in an eerily soft voice, “This is who you were always meant to be.” Another scream, but it wasn’t in the dream.

I clung to the tree with one arm, the other was clutching my head to try and make the pain stop. Taking frantic whimpering breaths, I tried to remind myself that it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It was just my nightmare, the one I’d lived through my entire life. It was nothing more.

But then, my grandfather had never not been there.

And I’d never seen myself as a Sith.

I decided that was enough for one day, I didn’t know if there was anything else on my agenda but I’d find something. Anything to keep me out of my own head, which was becoming a more dangerous place to be with every passing day…

————

It was a few hours later, while tucked away with Rey in her corner of the base, that the day took another turn. We were going through the old Jedi texts when Nimi shouted for both of us, “Falcon’s back!”

I groaned in relief, setting my book down and leaping from my seat. Rey and Bee followed close behind as we made our way through the base, but the smoke trail leading back to the ship’s landing area wasn’t a good sign.

Sure enough, the Falcon was in flames. I stopped short at the sight, my beloved ship, my home, burning up. People were flocking to it, some to watch but most to help extinguish the fire. The Falcon was a Resistance symbol and people felt protective over it, it was a legacy.

“It’s on the fire, the whole thing’s on fire! All of it is on fire!” The figure emerging from the chaos typically sparked joy in me, but at the moment of his appearance I found little comfort in his presence. Sensing my anger, Rey stepped forward while I turned my back away from the Falcon and ran my hands over my face trying to keep calm.

“Hey.” “Hey,” Poe greeted.

“There’s a spy?” she asked, I’d admit that I forgot all about the mission in the moment.

“Really could’ve used your help out there,” Poe said loudly over the noise that surrounded us.

“How’d it go?” “Really bad actually…Really bad.”

I inhaled deeply and spun on my heels, my resolve to remain calm fizzling with every word my boyfriend said. “Really? I wouldn’t have been able to tell.” Poe’s hands readjusted themselves on his hips, “Look, you don’t understand-“ “No, Poe,” I raised a finger towards him before pointing to the Falcon, “You clearly don’t understand. What was the one rule I had for taking the Falcon? Don’t do anything dangerous!” “And you don’t understand that I had no choice,” Poe raised his voice, gesturing to the Falcon, “We had First Order on our tails, I did what had to be done.” “And pray tell, what needed to be done to my ship?” I asked, flattening my palms together and pressing my lips together in a faux smile. Poe breathed in to explain before he caught sight of Bee resting in between mine and Rey’s feet. “What’d you do to the droid?”

“What’d you do to the Falcon?” Rey countered.

“The Falcon’s in a lot better shape than he is.” “I beg to differ,” I interjected, my voice raising an octave. “BB-8’s not on fire,” Rey gestured toward the still flaming ship.

“What’s left of him isn’t on fire,” Poe’s eyes widened as he looked down at his droid.

Growing tired of the exchange, Rey cut to the chase, “Tell us what happened.” “You tell me first,” Poe demanded stubbornly.

“I asked you first and you still haven’t given me an answer,” I argued, throwing my hands out to their sides in frustration.

“You know what you are?” Rey began, a sarcastic smile plastered on her face as she stared down Poe.

“What?” “You’re difficult. Really difficult, you’re a difficult man.” “You, you are…” Poe started, letting his sentence end with a growl as he stalked off to examine Bee. Rey went to greet Finn who swept her in up in a hug

I crossed my arms and rotated my posture to speak in his direction, “She’s not wrong.” “You two aren’t exactly easy to deal with all the time either,” he fought back, not even bothering to face me as he examined Bee, “Buddy, look at you. You’re a mess.”

“I’d be a whole lot easier to deal with if you would tell me what the hell happened to my ship,” I raised a finger to him as he began to inhale, “Do not say one thing about Bee, he lost one part and Rey and I were going to fix him up before you got back.” A roar from Chewbacca, hard at work trying to help fix the Falcon gave me the answer I’d been asking for. We’d officially graduated from anger to rage…

“You lightspeed skipped?!” I shouted.

“Yeah, well, it got us back here, didn’t it?” Poe countered.

“Poe, the compressor’s down,” Rey explained, her face exposing her shock.

“Oh, I know, I was there.”

“Every time…” Finn mumbled to himself as he stood to the side of us. “You can’t lightspeed skip the Falcon.”

Poe sprung to his feet, “Actually, turns out you can.” “Does that mean you should?” I scolded. Finn, ever the peacemaker, tried to calm the three of us down. “All right, guys, we just landed, okay?” “Poe, you are never allowed to fly the Falcon again,” I seethed, “Ever.” “You can’t make that call, she’s a Resistance ship,” Poe objected, coming to stand in front of me.

“She’s my ship that I allow select Resistance members to use, of which you are no longer one.” “Okay, guys,” Finn interjected as gently as he could, “Can you two deal with your issues later and actually discuss the mission?”

Looking like a child who had just had a toy taken away, Poe silently stalked away from me with no more than a steely glare. The argument was far from over on both our ends.

“What happened on the mission?” Rey asked, changing the subject for all of our sakes as we followed Poe.

“Bad news, that’s what happened,” Poe explained with his back to us.

“No spy?”

“No, spy.”

“Can we please communicate like adults for five seconds?” I asked, pressing m hands against my mouth in an attempt to not let my fury fly free. “Did we make contact with the spy or not?” Rey asked, leaving no room for interpretation.

“There’s a mole in the First Order, and they sent us a message,” Finn explained, but Bee decided to interrupt with his own retelling of how he’d gotten his injury which caused Poe to stop in his tracks.

“You dropped a tree on him?” he asked Rey.

“You blew both sub-alternators?” she retaliated.

“No, he did more than that,” I spoke up with a humorless laugh, “He may have caused permanent damage to the Falcon, you could’ve torn the whole damn thing apart.” “Well, you know what, maybe you two should’ve been out there with us!” Poe finally exclaimed, we’d gotten to the heart of the matter at last. “You know I want to be out there with you,” Rey cried, “We both do!” “Yeah, but you’re not. You’re here training, for what?” Poe continued, sighing in disappointment afterwards as he looked between us both, “You two are the best fighters we have. We need you, out there, not here.” Silence had fallen and Poe had successfully gotten in the last word, Rey couldn’t fight any more and Finn didn’t want to. I however had plenty more to say on all subjects discussed and as Poe left us, ordering someone to get R2 into reconditioning, I went after him.

“Did you think that conversation was over?”

“Hoped, yes,” he replied, not slowing down to accommodate me. “It’s like talking to a wall,” I growled, walking double time to catch up to him, “I have told you at least ten times why I’m not on missions right now and yet you still give me shit for it.” “Y/n, you know as well as I do that things are dicey right now and we need our best out on the frontlines,” he stated as we argued through the base, “You and Rey are our best and you’re here training for something and you can’t even tell me what it is.” “How am I supposed to tell you when I don’t know what it is?” I asked, waving a hand between the two of us, “I can sense things that you can’t, you have to trust that what I’m doing is best for the long term.” “Well, then maybe don’t give me so much shit next time something happens to the Falcon on my watch when you’re not there and I’m doing what’s best for the long term.” My feet stopped but Poe’s didn’t, causing me to have to speak louder. “You really don’t understand why I’m upset, do you?” He swung a foot around and pivoted, he was visibly tired but still willing to listen. If only the sight of him didn’t fill me with so much anger…This wasn’t how his returns usually went.

“That ship is the last piece of my dad that I have,” I began, willing my voice not to crack, “I don’t have his wedding ring, his jacket, I don’t even have a picture of the two of us. I have the Falcon,” I pointed back in its direction, smoke still rising high above the trees surrounding it, “That’s it. So when it comes back in pieces, you’re right, I’m going to be upset and I’m not going to apologize for it. Because I know if you still had your mother’s A-Wing and someone so much as got a scratch on it, you’d never forget it.”

Poe kept quiet, his softening eyes betraying his hardened stare. I’d won, but it certainly didn’t feel like it. “I’m gonna go try and save what’s left of my father’s ship,” I finished, breaking into a jog back towards the Falcon before Poe could see the tears in my eyes.

————

Grease stained, sweaty and reeking of oil, I finally emerged from under the Falcon with Chewie at my side. She’d be fine, but it had taken a lot of hands to get everything repaired. Poe had done more damage than I’d ever seen done to her, it truly was a miracle they’d made it back alive.

“Can you tell me something?” I asked Chewie as I rubbed furiously at a splotch of grease on my palm, “Was lightspeed skipping really the only way to get out of whatever was going on?”

Chewie groaned his response, telling me that while he didn’t like it at all, he hadn’t come up with any other ideas as to how to survive the TIE attack.

I sighed, partially from exhaustion but also from lingering frustrations, “So do you think I’m being too hard on Poe? I mean, I’m pissed that he did this to Dad’s ship but…if it was the only way to stay alive then…”

My honorary uncle agreed that Poe had probably done the right thing, but by no means was he pleased about what happened to the Falcon. Chewie was just as protective of the Solo family ship as I was.

I hummed in reply as I thought the day’s events over, wondering how much worse it was going to get at the briefing that was only moments away. The intel Poe and Finn had brought back had been being decoded all afternoon and now we were finally going to find out what had been discovered. If the rest of the day had been any indication of how the briefing was going to go, it wasn’t going to be good.

I weaved my way through the growing crowd underneath Tantive IV, scanning faces till I found my mother. When I spotted her, there was no way to get to her. I also was in no condition to stand at the front of the entire Resistance, I’d probably have black oil stains on my skin for days. I slipped in between Connix and Snap, patting the pilot on the shoulder as I took my place.

Poe stepped forward once everyone had assembled, he’d been tucked away in the command center all day during the decoding process. Just before he started speaking, his eyes sought me out for the first time since our argument. All anger had drained from his face, replaced with concern and confusion. I furrowed my brows, silently asking what was wrong from across the crowd, whatever he’d heard had been troublesome…

“We’ve decoded the intel from the First Order spy and it confirms the worst,” he paused to look down and sigh, “Somehow, Palpatine returned.” I wished I could have said I was surprised.

Mom and I caught each other’s eye, our worst suspicions having been confirmed. It was another moment where I realized fairness didn’t exist for some people, one of them being her. My mother had already fought a war against the Emperor, she’d lost her home in the crossfire, and somehow he lived to give her more sorrow. My heart ached at the hardened, yet vulnerable, look that flashed across her face.

“Wait, do we believe this?” Rose asked from her position near me.

“It cannot be, the Emperor’s dead,” Admiral Aftab exclaimed. “Dark science,” Beaumont explained, his eyes widened with shock, “Cloning. Secrets only the Sith knew.” “He’s been planning his revenge. His followers have been building something for years,” Poe continued, “The largest fleet the galaxy has ever known. He calls it the Final Order. In 16 hours, attacks on all free worlds begin. The Emperor and his fleet have been hiding in the Unknown Regions. On a world called Exegol.”

R2 started chirping frantically from behind me.

“Exegol does not appear on any star chart, but legend describes it as a hidden world of the Sith,” 3PO translated to the group.

“There were always whispers of his hunger to cheat death,” Beaumont said with a shake of his head. I hadn’t heard of cloning having been done since the formation of the clone army decades before. It all seemed like an explanation you’d find in a children’s storybook, but it was our reality.

Mom had gone to stand next to Poe, conversing on how Palpatine had been pulling the strings since the very start of our problems, as we swallowed the information amongst ourselves. I didn’t know where I fit into any of what was going on around me, all I knew was that I needed to be at the helm of the fight. The something that I’d been training for was upon us and after hearing the details, I knew it would be uglier than I’d imagined.

“If we want to stop him, we must find him,” Maz said to the group, “We must find Exegol.” “General, Commander Solo?” Rey interrupted, I hadn’t even noticed she’d slipped away and returned, now carrying a book under her arm, “Can I speak with you both?” I nodded before snaking my way through the crowd, me and Mom followed her back to her station where she laid out one of the Jedi texts for us to see. “I know how to get to Exegol,” she said confidently.

“Tell me,” Mom urged as my eyes skimmed the pages of the dusty book Rey had poured over. “Luke searched for it, for a long time. He nearly found it. There are ciphers here I can’t read but he said to get there, you need one of these,” she pointed to a small triangular object, “A Sith wayfinder. They’re compasses that lead the way to Exegol. To stop what we both know is coming…I need to finish what Luke started. Find Exegol. Find the Emperor.” “She’s right,” I endorsed my friend’s idea wholeheartedly, “If Uncle Luke made it this far, he’s already done half the work for us. Look, it says the last place he’d been when searching for one was on Pasaana. This is our shot at stopping this.” Mom regretfully shook her head and shot us down with a single syllable, “No.”

“We don’t exactly have any other options,” I said confusedly, “We’ve got a set course right in front of us, we need to chart it.” “I don’t want to go without your blessing, I can’t speak for Y/n, but I will,” Rey said with conviction in her eyes, “I will. It’s what you would do.”

I watched expectantly as we awaited Mom’s answer, knowing that we both made too much sense for her to say no again. The good news was if she did, we didn’t technically need her permission. I owned my own ship and I didn’t need to order Rey to come with, one way or another we were getting to Pasaana.

“You two can go,” Mom finally relented, “But I hope you both understand just how critical this mission is. There’s no room for error, we have a little over one day to stop the attack.” “And we will,” I quickly assured her, “There’s nobody more suited for this task than us.” “I can’t argue there,” Mom admitted with a sigh, looking up proudly at her two Padawans, “Get what you need, you’ll leave immediately.”

--------

A/N: And we’re off once again...Hope everybody enjoyed this one, we’ve got a lot in store for these last few chapters. Hopefully I can still surprise you all a little lol. Let me know if you’d like to be tagged.

Taglist: @m1rkw00dpr1ncess @springfox04 @constantdisgrace @holybatflapexpert @seninjakitey @tammythompson-singslikea-muppet @leilei-draws @eternal-fandoms @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @imaginecrushes @eternallyvenus @thescarletknight2014 @simplybarnes @captain-america5 @breyasficletblog @caseymcflurry @stumbleonmywords @april-14-blog @i-ievu @ultrunning @desperatelytryingtosavemyself @caswinchester2000 @meraki-loki @lovinnholland @wishing4wishes @fruitloopzzz @bbuckysbeardd @justanotherblonde23 @ace-fiction @abysshaven @thisshitfucks @astudyoftimeywimeystuff @itsfangirlmendes @superbookishhufflepuff @zoriis

Star Wars Permanent Taglist: @paintballkid711 @katrynec @caswinchester2000 @theliterarymess @softly-sad @angelicadameron

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x solo!reader #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fanfiction

118 notes · View notes

m4st4rd · 4 years

Text

i would die for you, clint barton (clint barton x oc)

a/n: HI I’M BACK with a stupid little drabble. the talented @obwjam has reignited my love for comics!clint barton so i wrote a fic of him and an oc. i haven’t proofread it and the ending super sucks but i still managed to churn out about 1900 words so enjoy!!!

i’ll proofread/edit in the morning lol

brig is nb; they/them pronouns pls

They’re scared, and Clint gets it. He’d be scared, too, if there was some weird giant searching for him. He’s no stranger to the feeling of fear. But when he’s the one causing it, it feels terrible.

Brooklyn is in shambles. A new supervillain group tests their weapons on a bank in Bushwick, the Avengers are on the case, a city block is engulfed in chaos and violence. And Clint Barton is searching for a 3-inch-tall person who’s hiding in the alleyway of a Dunkin Donuts.

He sighs and kneels down, peering under the dumpster. Huddled in the dark is the shaking borrower, who stares back with wide eyes and a gaping mouth. They look like crap: covered in dried blood and dirt, their clothes torn and ratty. But the little guy is stubborn as hell, and hurls a pebble in his direction. They miss by a long shot. He would’ve laughed if the city wasn’t on fire.

“C’mon out, bud,” he says. A faint boom! rattles the world behind him. “It’s not safe under there. Are you lookin’ to be caught? A rat, an alley cat… God forbid, there might be a human who ain’t as nice as I am.” With a nervous glance behind him, he sees Kate dart past, notching an arrow and letting it fly. “Not to mention that the city’s comin’ apart.”

They shout something back, and Clint can barely piece together the words leave and alone. It’s not helpful, though, that they’re so small and covered in shadow. And the fact that he can see their teary eyes in the dark is not helping his conscience. Another explosion shakes the earth, and the borrower lets out a wail that he does hear.

They’re both getting frantic. He softens his face, puts a pleading look into his eyes. “Please,” he calls. “I can keep you safe.”

The borrower doesn’t get to respond. A scream rips through the air, and he’s made up his mind. He jumps to his feet and drags the dumpster back, only getting a glimpse of the sheer terror on their tiny face before he scoops them up in a fist and tucks them into a jacket pocket. It’s not ideal, but if it means they won’t be crushed or eaten, he’ll take it.

They’re writhing, and he ignores it. The feeling of them shaking against his chest forms a pit in his stomach. They’re scared, but at least they’re safe.

The rest of the battle zips by like a blur. Clint spends it shielding the borrower, dodging rubble, and praying to whatever gods present for this little guy to not be so terrified of him. Their shaking has stopped for now, but they’re stiff as a board and flinching with every move he makes. When the fight dies down, he’s left nursing a wound on his shoulder and cupping his hand around his pocket. He’s gotta get out of there, and fast.

His free hand finds his comms, and he sends a quick farewell message to Kate. She responds quick, familiar beeps filling his ears: Get home safe. See you soon, Hawkeye.

The message brings a smile to his face, but it disappears when he remembers his job. His day isn’t over yet.

He runs his way home.

The apartment greets him with blinding fluorescents and a mess on his coffee table. Things that are normally hangover-induced nuisances are now pushed to the far corners of his mind as he limps to his counter.

His fingers dive into his pocket, and he does his best to be gentle, but with the little guy swerving away from his hand, he ends up tangled around their limbs, pulling them out in a quivering heap. They’re a pitiful sight; their tiny face is tear-stained, and once they lock eyes, the poor kid flinches back into their protective huddle.

They’re speaking, and fast. That much he knows. Their voice is buzzing away. But he can’t understand anything that's coming out. He gets the gist of what they might be saying: there’s a pleading look in their eyes, and their lip is quivering. He doesn’t like this feeling.

“Hey,” he whispers, cupping his hands closer around the tiny body. “Hey. Look at me.” He nudges their shoulder. They’re practically humming with anxiety. “C’mon, calm down, buddy. You’re okay.”

They aren’t making any progress like this. Clint lowers his hands to the countertop and the borrower stumbles off, clutching their chest and scrubbing the tears from their eyes. “Look,” he says softly. “Not touching you anymore, see? You’re fine. You’re okay.”

He watches with a pang in his heart as they cry for a bit, hugging their knees to their chest, and takes the time to look them over. Their hair is dark and matted, their clothes patchy, their face young, but thin and gaunt. This isn’t the same stubborn little guy he’d met an hour ago; this is someone who is absolutely-fucking-terrified of him. He can barely deal with crying people at his own height; he can’t even begin to comfort someone who’s three inches tall.

Reasoning sets in as they clear their eyes of the last of their tears. Even if he was well-intentioned, he did sorta… take them. Grab them up and stick them in a pocket. If some giant had done that to him, he’d be pretty scared, too.

“Do you understand me?” he tries. The tiny head snaps up, and the kid babbles something that vaguely sounds like sorry and don’t hurt. “No, no, I promise I’m not gonna hurt you… Fuck. I was — I was just tryna keep you safe!” It’s hard to read lips on such a small face, but he gets the gist of it, and it hurts like hell.

This isn’t working out so great. “Let’s start over, okay? I’m Clint. Clint Barton. And I — I can’t hear you all that well.”

That gets them to shut up. The fear disappears from their face, replaced by sheer bewilderment. (Yeah. As if they’re the one that should be surprised.) They scrub their eyes and stare at him in awe, and Clint can’t help but chuckle. “Weird, I know. But we can figure somethin’ out, alright? You okay to talk? Or just… shake your head, yes or no.”

That gets a timid nod. “Great. Good. Not hurt, are you?” A shake. “Thank God for that.” Now we’re getting somewhere. But Clint needs to ask them questions, and he needs to get answers. How is he supposed to talk to someone smaller than his finger?

His mind is racing. Sign language! It’s a long shot, but just maybe he can get through to them.

“Do you understand this?” His hands move slow, just in case. But it doesn’t go the way he’s hoping. The borrower shrieks and falls back, and they’re both back to square one. “No, hey, wait! It’s okay!” He signs while he speaks, and the kid watches every move he makes with terrified eyes. “Look — it’s a language! My name is Clint. C-L-I-N-T.” Each letter is deliberate, and with each second, the little guy uncurls from their protective ball. “Now that I’ve told you my name, will you tell me yours?”

They both fall silent. He holds his breath and watches the tiny face with a furrowed brow. It’s small, almost impossible to see, but there’s a hint of hope in their eyes. He’s so overcome with joy that he doesn’t notice them open their mouth.

“...ig.”

He freezes. “Sorry, what?”

They wither back. “Brig,” they say, louder this time. Their voice is muffled and nervous, but it’s there. And Clint can’t stop himself from smiling.

“Brig,” he repeats. “That’s B-R-I-G. See?” He grins. They’re still cautious, but they watch his hands with curious eyes as he signs their name. “It’s nice to meet you, Brig.”

Good! This is good. Clint can see them coming out of their shell, little by little. They look unsure, but their hands twitch in time with his. “There’s so much you can say with just your hands! This is hello, and this is goodbye. Yes, no, please and thank you— I can teach you, if you want!”

The magic is gone, and Brig snaps back into their defensive huddle. “T-teach me?” they squeak. “But… would mean…” They glance around the kitchen, eyes widening as they take in the sight. They’re so small compared to everything else. “What about… home?”

He’s overstepped his boundaries. He kneels to get closer to their level. They reel back, a gesture that goes unnoticed in his concern. “Was that where you live?” he asks. “Near where the fight was?”

They’re quick to nod. “Left… a bit,” they say. “Rats.” The last syllable is loud, clear, and bitter. “Got caught… the fight.” Brig shrugs, looking nervous and embarrassed. “And by you.”

Clint frowns. A place like that is dangerous for someone of their size, but he’s in no place to argue. “Is there anyone you stay with? Any family or friends you can go back to?”

Now they’re silent. His heart plummets when they grimace and look away, a sadness creeping into their eyes. Realization crashes over him when they shake their head.

He hadn’t thought of that.

“You don’t have to stay,” he says gently. Guilt lingers in his chest as he leans back, too, suddenly self conscious about his hands. “I-I can get you back home if you need me too — I can’t imagine it’s all that safe, but if that’s what you want…” The borrower is tense, and Clint is cursing himself for being so hopeful.

Finally, after a minute of mulling it over, he gives a resigned sigh. “Damage Control is cleaning the place up,” he tells them. “They should be done in a week or two, okay? You can stay with me, but when they’re done… I’ll bring you back.” Every word hurts more than the last. “Only if you want to. How’s that sound?”

The kitchen falls silent. Clint’s heart is beating fast, and he bites his tongue as conflicting emotions flicker across the tiny face. “I-I can bring you back now, if you like,” he stammers. “Ya don’t have to stay. A-and you don’t have to tell me exactly where you live, but I can just drop you off and you can be on your way and we’ll b —”

“I’ll stay.”

This time, the little voice comes out strong. “You — you will?” he says.

They nod shyly in response, and he can piece together what they say next: “Just… back… my feet.” Just until I’m back on my feet.

He can live with that.

Clint’s heart swells with triumph. He can’t remember the last time he was this happy. There’s no explaining why he feels this way. “O-Okay. Awesome. Welcome home, Brig.”

He glances back at the mess in his apartment, then to the mess of his clothes, too. They’re both covered in dust and blood, but neither care about it as Clint laughs. “We should probably get cleaned up first, though. What do you say?”

He’s smiling. And for the first time all day, Brig is smiling, too.

They’ve got a lot of work to do.

#giant/tiny #g/t writing #marvel g/t #clint barton #deaf!clint barton #oc #borrowers #mustard writes #i keep saying i'm gonna make a part 2 but look where that's gotten me #its 1am #my writing #oc: brig

57 notes · View notes

darkisrising · 4 years

Text

Five Times, by DarkIsRising,pt5

Previous parts here on ao3

Five Times Din and Luke Met (and one time they never parted)

Somehow it’s Boba Fett of all beings that gets Luke in touch with Grogu’s dad again.

Fett doesn’t want to help him, of course. Not after all the bad blood that’s been spilled between them, especially with the sarlacc pit thing from a few years back, and there’s a lot of the holocomm where the blue flicker of Fett’s image is silent with his arms crossed while Luke has to practically crawl on his belly to get him to take the call, let alone listen to Luke, let alone relent enough to give Luke a name.

Just a name.

“Come on, Fett, that’s all I’m asking for.”

“Wow, Skywalker. You really fucked up this time, didn’t you?”

And Luke has to agree that yes, he did indeed fuck up though in his defense he was riding high on the Force at the time, but that’s not something that’s likely to sway Fett one way of the other so he goes the meek route, saying quietly: “I really did. Will you help me?”

Fett’s helmet tilts to the side, like maybe he’s finally considering it, and Luke is a deft enough swordsman these days to press an advantage when he sees one.

“Not even for my sake. For his son’s.”

Fett’s sigh is loud enough to be picked up on his voice modulator on Tatooine, travel through the shared holocomm connection—in one end of the outer rim and out the other—to finally make itself heard in the communications room on Yavin IV’s moon.

“Din Djarin,” comes the terse reply before the connection is abruptly cut off from Fett’s end.

Which isn’t much to go on, considering all he knows is his name and that he’s a Mandalorian, but it is a start.

As it turns out, it’s more than enough because not only is Din Djarin a Mandalorian, he’s the Mandalorian.

“I didn’t realize you came from royalty,” Luke says to Grogu not a little bit stunned as they wait for someone to find the Mand'alor and patch their comm through.

After that it’s a lot of back and forth to strategize a time when he’s able to fly over between all the things he’s gotta do as a king trying to reunify his home sector.

The ship that finally settles down in front of the temple is more of a junker than Luke would expect from a king. The paint is peeling, some of the stabilizer flaps are slow to retract, and there’s a groan when the ramp extends that makes the spacerhead in Luke itch to grab some oil and go to town on those hinges.

Instead Luke stays where he is and when he spots the shine of pure, silver beskar coming down the ramp he falls into a bow which he’s only mastered thanks to extensive holocomming with Leia as she berated him over his pisspoor form while he yelled back that he grew up a farmer for druk’s sake when was he supposed to learn this sithspit king-greeting nonsense?

“You don’t have to do that,” comes a soft voice and Luke looks up in time to see that Grogu has raced ahead with his arms raised to be picked up. In a clean motion that speaks of a body honed for movement he sweeps down and takes Grogu in his arms. “Hey, kid. You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Luke intends to make himself scarce for this reunion which has been a long time coming, but is stopped when the Mand’alor starts asking Luke questions about Grogu’s training, about how he spends his days, what he’s been eating, how he’s been sleeping, if he’s been behaving…

“He’s been a joy to have here, Lord Djarin,” Luke says and it earns him a long, silent look.

“I think you can call me Din, all things considered,” he says before setting Grogu down so that he can dig into his belt’s pouch. “Anyway, I brought presents.”

Grogu’s face turns incandescent when he sees the silver ball that Din plucks from his hip. The sound he makes is nothing short of pure elation and Luke has to laugh alongside the gentle chuckle that comes through Din’s helmet.

“Ah, yes. The famous silver ball,” Luke grins. “I hear Grogu thinking about it all the time, I’m happy he’s finally reunited with it.”

Grogu insists on dragging Din around to show his father his favorite places around the Temple’s grounds, and his enthusiasm is catching. Luke trails along, offering commentary that this is the boulder Grogu had managed to lift through the Force two weeks ago, there was the meadow where he’d been able to deflect his first training droid bolt with Luke’s lightsaber, here is the lake where they’ve been watching the tadpoles gradually grow legs. Settling on a log to watch as Grogu chases a pair frogs along the lake’s muddy shoreline, Luke can feel the weight of Din’s thoughts even if he can’t see their exact shape.

“And you don’t worry about that?” Din asks, voice so withdrawn it could almost be mistaken for shy. “All these attachments he’s got going on? The ball and, well, me? You don’t think it’ll get in the way of his training?”

Luke can only shrug.

“I guess it could, but seeing as I talk to my sister and my brother-in-law nearly every other day it would be awfully hypocritical of me to stop Grogu from forming attachments, himself.”

Din is silent at that, considering, as Luke continues on: “I’ve read some of what the Jedi used to believe, and honestly I have no idea if they had the right idea or not. Their way led to the fall of one of their own who in turn brought down the entire Order. Would things have been different if he’d been allowed to love more freely?” He breaks off to watch Grogu, now bored with the frogs, float the silver ball through the air in a lazy curling pattern.

The last afternoon sun catches at the smooth surface and turns the ball gold along the edges.

“I’d like to think it would. So I’m not planning on holding myself away from that sort of love on the off chance that it might actually be the thing that maintains balance in the Force, and I could hardly hold my student to a different standard. That wouldn’t be fair.”

“I see,” Din says and the simple words lay between them in a complicated tangle. “Well, if that's the way of it, then, here: I brought you something, too,” he says at last and reaches back to his belt.

Years of politeness pressed into him by Aunt Beru at the moisture farm have Luke saying “You didn't have to do that” before Din has so much as taken his hand out of his belt’s pouch, which is just as well since the moment he gets a look at what’s in Din’s hand his heart stutters to a halt in his chest so that it can jump into his throat.

“No,” Luke says, eyes wide, while a cold, dawning understanding creeps across his skin and he can only stare at the bounty puck that glints silver in Din’s gloved palm.

“Oh, no,” Luke whispers sickly “What—”

No, no, no. Oh, sweet Force no.

His voice, Luke realizes. He should have known him from his voice. Even if the beskar is different, his voice is still very much the same.

“I can bring you in warm...” Din is saying and Luke can’t hear the rest because he’s blushing so hard now that the blood is landing in his ears, making a high-pitched, tinny whine that drowns out the words he knows by heart because he’s spent the better part of the last few years thinking about them with his hand on his cock.

“You really didn't recognize me?” Din asks when Luke’s hands come up to cover his face, for all the good it does to hide him from the Mandalorian.

The Mandalorian.

Mando.

Din.

Luke laughs helplessly. Horrified. “I wasn't myself on the cruiser,” he whispers at last.

“Yeah no kidding. I didn't realize who you were until you'd left.” Din has clearly had longer to sit with this revelation because he sounds amused, fond even, while Luke is still reeling. “I don’t think I've ever seen you that serious, not even when you were in carbonite.”

“I wasn’t myself,” is all Luke can say again. Din takes pity on him and lets Luke breathe through the worst of it without saying a word, his helmet turned toward Grogu while Luke sorts through the shattered mess this has broken him into.

“You've changed,” Luke says when he starts to feel whole enough to think in such things as words and sentences.

“I’m still tired,” Din says with a huffing laugh.

“Maybe.” Luke feels braver now. He raises his face to look at Din and in the beskar reflection of Din’s helmet Luke can see his cheeks are now only slightly pink. “But not nearly so lonely.”

“Ah. Yeah.” Din concedes with a nod. “I was different, back then. Grogu changed me, I think”

“Yeah,” Luke nods along with him. “Yeah, I think he did.”

Sensing that they are watching him, Grogu toddles back to Din and lifts his arms to be picked up. This time when he gets close enough, Grogu’s hands come to the sides of Din’s helmet. It isn’t a demand, more of a wide-eyed question, and Din doesn’t need the Force to sense what is being asked of him.

Luke hadn’t known, before, that Grogu had never seen Din’s face until that moment on Gideon’s cruiser. He hadn’t known how much that act of quite literally laying himself bare for Grogu had cost Din. Luke knows it now, from all the times he’s seen the flashes of Din go by in Grogu’s memories and he realizes it now, with a rekindling of his blush, from the memory that Din hadn’t removed his helmet in that hour they two had spent in a water-stained room on Tatooine.

“Let me leave the two of you alone,” Luke offers, clambering to his feet, gaze averted.

“It’s okay,” Din says. “You've seen it already.”

“Oh. I mean,” he stammers, staring at the green foliage, the insects that are curling through the dappled oranges of sunset, the ripples of water that skim the surface of the lake... really at anything but Din. “Yeah, I have, but--”

“Unless you'd rather I keep it on.” Din’s voice is different now. Softer, for having taken his helmet off, and the sound of it does something to Luke. It makes him shiver, this transformation from hard-shelled warrior to someone far more human. “Some people have a thing for it and I know how much you liked it on before.”

His eyes are nearly black in the fading day’s light when Luke snaps his face around to meet them. They harbor a glint that Luke stares at suspiciously. “You're teasing me aren't you?”

Somewhere among the rugged stubble on his cheeks and the dark lines of his mustache a smile quirks at the corner of Din’s mouth. “Yeah. I am.”

Luke’s heart beats triple time as he stares at Din’s mouth before letting his gaze skim along the vulnerable curves of Din’s face. Luke’s fingers yearn to stretch the space between them until he can trace the kindness of Din’s expression. He wants so badly to run his fingertips through the fall of Din’s hair where it sticks to the sweaty skin of his forehead.

“Because if you would want to do—you know—that again.” Luke is very aware that there is a child present that is taking in what they are saying with big, green ears and huge, shining eyes. “With or without the helmet. If you’d like to do that again. I would be...you know, I'd like that.”

“Yeah,” Din smiles, and this time it is a true smile, one that stretches across his face, casting a glow that Luke can’t help but reflect back with a hopeful, happy, probably somewhat idiotic grin of his own. “I'd like that too.”

#dinluke #dinluke fic #darkisrising fic

38 notes · View notes

pandoraborn · 3 years

Text

Throw me to the Ground (and watch me fly)

Chapter 4

(ao3 link.)

-----

Characters: c!Tommy, c!Wilbur, c!Techno, c!Phil, c!Schlatt Word count: 2617 Content: paranoia

-----

Tommy’s alarm is useless this morning, as he’s up far earlier than necessary. He hadn’t slept well last night, too anxious and excited for his first day of work. He could lay in bed and try to catch a few extra moments of sleep, but Tommy is up and out of bed within seconds. There’s no point in trying, especially when he’s already wide awake and too eager to go into the heart of the city and see Schlatt.

Tommy isn’t sure what he’s expecting. He wonders if he should wear his L’Manburg uniform; he wants to impress his new cabinet. That that train of thought is halted when he sees the suit Phil had set out the night before, hanging in his closet. It’s pressed and clean, ready to be worn. Tommy runs his fingers along the fabric, deciding that they’re in a new era, and the time to retire his uniform is now.

He takes care in getting dressed, not wanting to wrinkle the suit. The shirt fits fine, though the jacket hadn’t been made for winged folk. It’s a rather tight fit, with him trying to push his wings through the hastily made slits. Tommy stretches his wings out to try and get used to the tight feeling, but he wonders if he can settle for walking, or even removing the jacket later on during the day if it’s too uncomfortable. For now, he can handle it; it’s not painful.

He heads down for breakfast to see Wilbur already preparing breakfast. He whips his head when Tommy enters the kitchen, breaking into a large smile. Tommy tries to return it, but it doesn’t land; his nerves and smell of food are churning his stomach.

“Good morning, Mr. Vice President,” Wilbur says proudly. “Are you hungry at all? I’ve decided to make you your favorite.”

Tommy can see the waffles cooking. He can see the freshly chopped fruit sitting in a bowl, as well as the orange juice. Any other morning, Tommy would be ecstatic to sit down and eat food that Wilbur had prepared, but this morning, he’s not feeling it. Tommy does pour himself orange juice though, as he feels that’s the most he’d be able to keep down.

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles. “Sorry, I normally-”

“It’s okay. We have bagels or toast, if you’d prefer. I want you to eat something, at least.” Wilbur reaches for the loaf of bread. Tommy nods toward him, before lifting his glass to his lips.

“Wilbur I’m nervous.”

“I know.” The elder chuckles. “I promise it’s not going to be any more unusual than when you were my partner. Though it’s Schlatt, instead of me. It’ll be the same, Sclatt loves us.”

“And actual suits,” Tommy points out. “This is uncomfortable. At least you made our uniforms to fit us.”

Wilbur lifts a finger and makes a spinning motion. He obeys the silent command to turn his back to Wilbur. Tommy can feel his brother’s eyes on him, and admittedly, it’s not helping his current mood, even though it’s a good reason.

“It does look a bit tight,” Wilbur confirms. “Let me grab scissors, I can cut longer slits in the back for your wings. Let me make you some toast first though. I’ll even fly with you to work.”

Tommy perks up at that. He’d been expecting to go alone for his first day, but if Wilbur is offering, Tommy isn’t about to refuse. Sitting at the table, Tommy nurses his orange juice and watches as Wilbur first hands him two slices of toast, then moves behind him.

Wilbur is careful around the feathers as he fiddles with the jacket. It doesn’t stop Tommy from wincing every time he hears the scissors moving through fabric, cutting against it. It does provide more relief when Wilbur is finally finished, allowing him to move his wings easier. “Thanks, Wil,” Tommy praises.

“We can see about getting you a more fitting jacket. I’ll talk to a tailor today for you.” Wilbur moves back to the stove to shut it off and set aside his own plate of food. “Are you sure you’re not hungry? I can prepare you a lunch later, unless you want to meet up with the rest of us somewhere.”

“I was thinking I could spend it with Schlatt,” Tommy admits. “Not that I don’t want to, but I wanted to get a chance to bond with him. We are going to work together.”

“No, that’s completely fair.” Wilbur beams. “Tommy, I don’t think you hear this enough, but I’m so proud of you. You’ve come so far in such a short amount of time, and look at you now! You’re vice president again, and you’ll get a chance to make things even better.”

Tommy nods eagerly. His nerves are finally starting to settle, though he’s still left without an appetite. At least the toast is helping soothe his stomach. “I trust Schlatt,” he says. “I just… I want to make him proud.”

“He should be trying to measure up to you,” Wilbur teases. “Seriously though, you two are going to make a great team. Good morning Phil, Techno.”

Tommy blinks and follows Wilbur’s gaze. Techno is shuffling in sleepily behind Phil, who isn’t looking much more awake. Though, Phil breaks into a large grin when he sees Tommy, making his way over toward his youngest son, immediately gathering him into a hug.

“My son!” Phil says happily. “It’s your first day, I was hoping to catch you before you left. Do you have everything ready? Is the jacket okay? Can we come visit you at lunch? Do you need anything more?”

Tommy laughs weakly as he pushes Phil away. “Daaad, I’m fine. I’m really okay, I’ll see you when I get off work, alright? I’m going-”

“He’s already ditching us,” Techno cuts in. “He’s already ditching us for Schlatt. This is betrayal, I tell you. Betrayal.” Even Techno is unable to keep a straight face as he speaks. “Seriously Tommy, use your comms if you’re in trouble. Message me before anyone else, and I’ll show them why I’m called the Blood God.”

Wilbur throws an egg at Techno’s head, giggling loudly as it splatters all over the messy pink hair, dripping down Techno’s cheek. “Techno, please. This is Tommy’s big day.”

“Wilbur, I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to kill you for that,” Techno says in his usual monotone. “You’ve just committed an act of war against our vice president’s bodyguard, and that’s treason. Treason.”

“Guys, I’d love to stay and listen to your banter, but I have to go.” Tommy gets to his feet. “Wilbur, will you still-”

“Yes, I’m going to fly with you.” The elder brother shovels food into his mouth before pointing to the stove and counter. “Phil and Techno, there’s breakfast. We’re all also going to pick up Tommy when he’s done tonight.”

He sets his plate down and grabs his beanie, which had been hanging on the edge of one of the chairs. “Let’s go, Tommy.” Wilbur even holds his hand out, which Tommy takes.

They step out the front door, where Tommy sucks in a deep breath. He follows Wilbur’s lead in spreading his wings out, then lifting himself into the air. He hovers for a moment; long enough to grin down at his father and brother as they both wave goodbye at him. Then, he and Wilbur take off soaring into the sky, heading into the heart of L’Manburg.

It’s time to go to work.

----

The day feels like it’s dragging on a little too long. What he’d envisioned was him spending as much time as possible with Schlatt, with Schlatt praising him and even asking him questions. Tommy had pictured the rest of the cabinet greeting him warmly, but reality is a different cry from the wild imagination.

The office had seemed to change overnight. Gone are the previous decorations that brought the office to life. Replacing all the colorful banners and colored lights are plain and simple modern decorations that make it feel like any generic office. Even Niki seems to have no life to her, without her signature smile, and seemingly always on the move. She barely has time to talk to Tommy other than the occasional ‘hello’.

Tommy doesn’t even get to work with Schlatt. He’s shoved into his own office, of course, but it’s a lot smaller than Tommy had expected, and there’s no charm to it. He supposes he can decorate it himself in time, and he envisions hanging up pictures of his family, and posters of his favorite bands. This only brings him joy for about five minutes before Quackity stops in and delivers Tommy a large pile of work that it seems Schlatt can’t be arsed to do. Tommy has no idea what to do with all the files and thumb drives, but he buckles down and gets to work. Even the computer system seems to have changed.

Previously, Wilbur had no need to do things digitally, having preferred to take care of everything by hand. As grating as Tommy had found it at the time, he almost misses it now, because a lot of the paperwork he has to deal with are previous records from Wilbur’s run as president. No wonder Schlatt wants Tommy to take care of all of it.

Dejected, Tommy starts going through his work, figuring out the best rhythm to speed through things without messing up. A lot of it is tedious work, some repeating notes, and large chunks of missing notes that Tommy has to guess on. All of it has to be recorded into the computer system, and a lot of it has to be typed out. He’s not used to typing this much.

New age, right?

No one talks to him until lunch. Here, Tommy still has hope that Schlatt will talk to him and eat lunch with him, but the second Tommy reaches his office, Schlatt pats him on the shoulder once before heading for the elevator. The president doesn’t even spare a glance in Tommy’s direction. Confused, Tommy stares at his retreating backside, trying to ignore the stab of hurt that comes with rejection.

“Schlatt…?” Tommy calls out softly.

“That’s Mr. President to you,” Schlatt retorts dismissively. “Keep the place covered while I’m gone, I have an important meeting to get through.” He’s gone before Tommy can even think of a way to reply to him. He stands there feeling foolish before retreating back to his office. Tommy doesn’t even have money to buy himself lunch, and going home would be embarrassing. He supposes he can wait until he’s home to eat.

Tommy returns to his work, barely paying attention to the time. Every time he leaves his office, it’s either because Niki has a task for him, or Schlatt is making another demand. Tommy remains silent, save for the occasional ‘yes sir’ when addressing the president. This hadn’t been at all what Tommy had in mind, but then again, it’s only day one; maybe things will improve the next day.

When work finally ends, Tommy can’t get out of there fast enough. Though now, Schlatt seems happier now that the day is over. He approaches Tommy and gives him a handshake. “Sorry about today,” Schlatt says. “It was a busy one. I’ll make it up to you later.”

“Are you sure?” Tommy doesn’t dare let his hopes rise, in case the future days are more of the same. It’s such a different version of Schlatt than he’s used to, even the familiar friendliness doesn’t erase the embarrassment of today.

“Yeah, in fact.” Schlatt lets Tommy’s hand go. “Tomorrow, I’ll treat you to lunch, alright? If we’re going to work together, I need to keep things running smoothly.”

The words are intended to be a compliment, Tommy knows. The smile freezes on his face when the implications sink in. Schlatt doesn’t want him here. The grin on Schlatt’s face isn’t big or wide enough, his eyes are still cold. He’s not even looking directly at Tommy.

Smile fading, Tommy steps back when he sees his family enter the building. “I should go,” he says, trying to break the tension. “My dad’s here.”

“Wilbur!” Schlatt immediately turns away from Tommy to greet Wilbur. The fake politeness shifts into genuine excitement as Schlatt starts talking to Wilbur about his day. Tommy can recognize small lies peppered in, such as how great Tommy is to work with, how he’s now certain he made the right decision. A frozen smile is back on Tommy’s face as he stands next to Phil, not daring to disagree. As long as everyone believes this is good, he has no reason to try and convince them otherwise.

Besides, Tommy doesn’t dare speak out against Schlatt. He’s the president of their entire nation now, to publicly disagree with him would be a huge mistake. He does tug on Phil’s sleeve, quietly urging him to leave. Phil follows without much resistance. Tommy hopes Phil believes he’s tired.

“Proud of you Tommy,” Phil says happily. “We’ve decided to go out to eat tonight. You up for that?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says with a nod. Nerves are settling down, and with his stomach growling, Tommy wonders if everything today had been exaggerated because of his utter lack of anything to eat. Being hungry tends to lower your mood, after all, so he wonders if he’ll have a different opinion after eating something and getting a good night’s sleep.

When Wilbur’s finally ready to leave as well, they step outside where they all spread their wings. Tommy can feel eyes on the back of his head, so he turns to look. Horror strikes him when he sees the way Schlatt is glaring at them.

No, not them.

Him.

Or more specifically, his wings.

It’s not lack of sleep, anxiety or even hunger. Tommy’s first instincts had been correct. For whatever reason, Schlatt no longer likes him. Tommy doesn’t want to figure out why, or even why Schlatt lied to Wilbur, but he has a feeling he’s stuck now.

Turning back, he rises into the air with his family, trailing a little behind. Whatever is going on, he knows he can’t tell any of them what’s going on. This has to remain between him and Schlatt. Tommy doesn’t want to lose this job or Schlatt’s ‘friendship’, whatever’s left of it.

“Tommy, you there?” Techno’s voice cuts into Tommy’s thoughts. Tommy nearly plummets as his wings halt, but he stretches them out and hovers. Forcing a grin on his face, he flies closer to his brother.

“Yeah, it’s just been a long day,” Tommy replies. He hopes they buy the lie. “I think I’m going to really love this job.”

Techno does seem to buy it. There’s no trace of suspicion on his face, just an easygoing smile. “Good,” Techno says. “Then we don’t need to worry about you after all.”

“What?” The smile fades from Tommy’s face. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Wilbur says. “We were just talking earlier, worried that the new changes in the cabinet would be too much for you. Schlatt wanted to make it easier for everyone to handle, and we know you’d be the most resistant to change…”

“Oh.” Tommy snorts. “New, yeah, but I can handle it.”

“Good, good.” Phil nods. “Let’s go eat, boys. I think our vice president is peckish.” He jerks his head toward the town square, before swooping down. The rest of them follow suit.

At the very least, Tommy knows his family’s got his back. Knowing they’ll always be there makes everything else pale in comparison. He can do this.

#dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #dream smp writing #long post #tommyinnit #jschlatt #wilbur soot #technoblade #philza #paranoia #throw me to the ground ch.4 #chapter update #miishae writes #ao3 fic #ao3 fic update

13 notes · View notes