#did you remember that i use galaxy instead of sparkles? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miupow · 2 months

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five kisses ⭑𓂃 c. beomgyu

𝄞𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ 𓈈⭒♬ ﾟ. choi beomgyu x gn!reader ✧˖° five types of kisses from the love of your life.

GENRE ── fluff

WARNINGS ── est. relationship, kisses, toothrotting fluff, silly cuddly boyfie gyu

WORDS ── 1.1k

A/N ── happy late comeback day!! it took me way longer to finish this than i wanted to cos i could not for the life of me find the motivation to write it TT but finally it’s here! it’s short but it’s my longest fluff work so far… hoping to write longer fluff works in the future

you’ve kissed choi beomgyu more times than you could ever hope to count. each one a single shining star that made up the constellations of your relationship, the galaxy that was your love; your days and nights were peppered with his kisses just as often as they were by his jokes and his banter, by his hand on your waist; they were something so beautifully interwoven into your everyday life that it was hard to keep track.

while you couldn’t remember every one, you would always remember their types– beomgyu gave you five different kisses out of all of the hundreds and thousands that you’ve shared.

absently to the back of your cradled hand when you weren’t paying attention.

beomgyu always insisted that he hold your hand on movie nights, no matter how far you may end up seated away from him– that night you had sat in front of him cross-legged on the floor, letting all of the boys take the couch while you rested your back against his legs, and even then did beomgyu kept your fingers laced together. he ignored your complaints about having to bend your arm up behind your back with an evil little smile.

“that can’t be comfortable.” soobin laughed, tearing his eyes away from the tv screen only to hand yeonjun a bag of chips. you can hear beomgyu’s quiet snicker somewhere above your head.

“it’s not!” you whined, failing to hide your smile behind a pout. “my arm is falling asleep!”

“we can switch places, if you want.” hueningkai added gently, squished between the armrest and soobin’s broad frame– unlike him, you would probably fit just fine, comfortably even.

but that was when you felt it; beomgyu lifted your intertwined hands to his face, the skin of your fingers tingling as his plush lips ghosted your knuckles, and as gently and ardently as he possibly could pressed a kiss to the back of your hand. you gave hueningkai a polite, sideways smile.

“actually, i think i’m just fine here.”

so passionate you can hardly breathe, hardly even think.

“i love you,” beomgyu whispered, exalted like a prayer; you’ve never heard him sound like that before. his big brown puppy-dog eyes take up your vision, blinking, swimming with overwhelming emotion, framed by pretty long eyelashes; they sparkled like the brightest of stars even in the dark. you opened your mouth to respond, surprised and euphoric, but his pouty bottom lip wobbling with nerves knocked any scattered thought from your head.

So you kissed him instead.

you were used to first kisses being awkward, uncoordinated, but beomgyu kissed you back like your lips were the only one’s he’d ever known; you gasped softly against his lips and he drank it in like ambrosia, tilted your face to deepen the kiss as he cupped your cheeks in his shaking hands. it was perfect, indescribable, gentler than you had expected beomgyu to be. not like fireworks or explosions, but simply his lips on yours, and a slow caressing warmth that left you unable to focus on anything other than his touch, his taste.

you hadn’t known what to do with your hands, and it didn’t come to you until you both pulled away for air that you had been digging your nails into his sweater-clad shoulders. he didn’t seem to mind much.

“i love you,” beomgyu repeated, his words dancing across your lips in his hot, panting breaths. “can we do that again?”

softly and sweetly and exchanged in dimly lit doorsteps, a goodbye, a promise.

he’s running late, but you can’t let go. not when you have him in your arms like this, pretty face illuminated by the streetlights as you kiss him goodbye. “stay?” you whispered against his lips, just short of begging. beomgyu chuckled and shook his head, the best he can with your arms wrapped around his neck.

“you know i can’t.”

“just for the night…” you argued half-heartedly, but you already knew you had lost. “they certainly won’t miss you for just one night.”

“baby…” beomgyu sighed, shushing you with his hands caressing down your back and his chin resting on the crown of your head. you begged like this every night, but it never got any easier for him to say no. “i have to go.”

“when will you be back?”

“so soon you won’t even have time to miss me.”

“but i already miss you.”

“ya, you’ll be fine.” beomgyu tutted, pressing a heartbreakingly gentle kiss to your forehead. his smile is infectious, even with your sour mood.

“one last kiss? please?” you pout, your fingers tangled in the hairs at the base of his neck. beomgyu’s eyes crinkle into sweet, shimmery half-moon cresents.

“of course.”

as a surprise, a sudden declaration of love and mischief.

you could never let your guard down around him— in a good way, of course.

you sat on the couch engrossed in your phone, mind consumed with endless scrolling; beomgyu had been caught up playing a video game on his console, headphones on and controller in hand as he cursed at the monitor, and you were simply trying to pass the time he came back to the land of the living. but then it was you who was the one disconnected from the real world, as you hadn’t even noticed that beomgyu had placed his controller down and had gotten up out of his seat.

there’s nothing your boyfriend hates more than being ignored, despite how much he loved to ignore you in favor for his games— you gasp when a hand comes around the back of the couch to snatch your phone out of your hands, and you turn your head sharply to admonish your attacker… just for beomgyu to land an obnoxious wet kiss to your lips, giggling and grinning like a cat that had gotten the cream.

“beomgyu!” you whined petulantly as your boyfriend continued to smatter kisses across your cheeks. “i was watching something!”

“don’t care.” beomgyu snickered, tossing your phone to the side. “i’m done with my game; pay attention to me!”

against your forehead when you fall asleep, a wish goodnight as he takes in your beauty.

you had gotten into the habit of pretending to be asleep when you weren’t, just so you could experience these moments. cuddled up tight in beomgyu’s warm embrace, your head cradled against his chest, his chest rising and falling in tandem with his heartbeat.

beomgyu’s hands smooth down your arms and back, grounding you and lulling you into the sweetest sense of calm; you’ve never felt safer than right there in his arms.

finally beomgyu does it, something he does every night when he’s certain you’ve nodded off; slowly and carefully he presses his lips to your forehead in a chaste kiss, rests there as you try your hardest not to smile. “goodnight baby,” he whispers, barely audible, his breath hot against your skin. “i love you.”

#ɱเµρσω𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ౨ৎ #k-labels #txt x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt fluff #txt soft thoughts #txt soft hours #txt scenarios #beomgyu scenarios #beomgyu soft thoughts #beomgyu soft hours #beomgyu fluff #[ 🌹 ] : sfw #[txt] : beomie

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yandere-wishes · 11 months

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ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕔 𝔹𝕠𝕠𝕜 𝕃𝕠𝕧𝕖

Synopsis: You finally realize that you and Miguel are stuck inside a comic book romance.

Warnings: Yandere themes, angst, the reader has Stockholm syndrome but can we really blame her?

There's something about a sleepless night that's lethal. A loaded gun aimed point blank at your head and your heart and your eyes that are too weary to recall the difference between fact and fiction. Right and wrong.

Miguel should be home soon you think as you stare at the Daily Bugle's nightly broadcast. The headlines are the same as last week's villain attack and the week before that, and the week before that.

'SPIDERMAN REPORTED DEAD AFTER TANGLE WITH NUEVA YORK'S NEWEST VILLAIN!'

You think this is the 18th time he's died this month. A hologram dances in front of you, some withering reporter adamant in his claim that this time. This time for sure Spiderman is dead. A Harrowing claim, one you know to be false. Your lover isn't so easy to kill, you should know on account of how many times you had tried. Back when you'd painted Miguel O'Hara as the villain in your story, back when you were so obstinate to return to a wholly ignorant life of so-called freedom.

Miguel can't die, you refuse to believe that a man like that is subject to such a mortal thing.

You use to try to imagine a Miguel that had grown old. You couldn't back then and still can't today. Because heroes are eternal, or so you've come to believe. They die a hundred deaths and reawaken younger than before. Heroes aren't immortal -that's the part that makes your heart skip a beat- yet death has never had the chance to lay claim to them. Miguel is fine you're sure of it.

There's a noise, a disturbance in the wind, the sound of thousands of coiled webs being used to sling across the air.

A sign that Spiderman has arrived.

He's here.

You can't help but smile.

"What's the old man saying this time?"

You turn to see Miguel, land at the edge of the rooftop. Legs limb as he staggers towards you. With a defeated moan he sits down. Close enough for you to inspect the galaxy of bruises that dance across his stunning face.

When did you fall in love with him, again?

"You're supposed to be dead," you say, a bitter laugh following, the peculiar words.

"I think that's the 14th time the Bugals had a spread on me dying" He chuckles, dry and humorless.

You bite your tongue to avoid correcting him.

"Who was it this time? Venom or Flipside?" you ask, trying to guess which of the two had been able to give the Miguel O'Hara a run for his money.

"Just some kid, from another dimension. Mocoso already screwed up the canon once, and he's damn well trying to do it again. He used Spider Bite to send himself home, so I didn't get the chance to..." He doesn't bother finishing that sentence. Doesn't have to, you've seen worlds collapse upon themselves because a tiny imperfection had distraught the canon. You know why he does this. You know why he must do this. No one is exempt from the canon. No matter how young and naive they may be.

How peculiar the life of superhumans are. For all the guts and glory every hero's world is only bounded by thin silk strings. Perpetually on the verge of collapse should the chosen one refuse to follow destiny's orders.

Heroes aren't pretty, they neither sparkle nor shine. Instead, they burn with a self-lit fire that grows out of control, burning until only ashes remain. Heroes are tragedies swung across every dimension. War-torn children with blood under their fingernails and chipped teeth from one too many close calls. Heroes aren't pretty, nor beautiful, nor divine. They're mangled creatures who come alive at night, staggering across half-lit streets doing what they believe is right.

You've tried to commit this to memory. Tried to memorize it so you wouldn't make the same mistakes as every lovesick idiot who's fallen in love with a superhero.

But sometimes it's so hard to remember, especially when Miguel has been your only companion for months now. The only person you have to talk to. The only person who is there in the early hours of the morning when even sleep abandons you. And he's always there again at night to tuck you in before he departs to fight whoever has broken the few simple rules that the canon calls for. You've almost come to appreciate his paranoia and insistence that you stayed locked inside the penthouse. Although he's grown a bit bolder as of late. Permitting you free range of the terrace and rooftop. A sign of good faith, he'd called. Whilst you'd presume that he's come to enjoy you waiting outside to greet him when he returns from the miseries of being a golden boy.

"I try to save everyone, I try to make sure the universe is held upright. So why the hell does everyone always treat me like I'm the villain?" His voice is raising, fangs glowing in loose rays of starlight. His hands are crossed in annoyance. You rest your hand on his arm as you snuggle closer.

Heroes and villains, what's the difference?

That's a question the two of you have been pondering for too long now.

Even though you doubt Miguel truly knows who he is. It's hard to fall into the orderly boxes of 'good' and 'bad' when the fate of every universe lies on your already brittle shoulders.

He's a hero who acts like a villain. That's what you use to call him. Back when he'd first plucked you away from your ordinary mundane life.Deeming the world too dangerous for a defenseless little civilian such as yourself. He had promised to love you, to cherish you. Back when you'd been so resistant to play the role of the hero's lover. But seeing as how no matter what nightmares he went through as Spiderman, he had still kept those two promises. You had slowly started to grow fond of him

Time and time again Miguel has made you feel like a butterfly caught in a spider's web. Wings clipped and waiting for the inevitable. He's overbearing to the point where his sheer presence feels like a boulder placed on your chest. Or maybe his strings have finally found their way to your heart, coiling around the organ controlling its every beat and pulse. Yet somehow, somehow, you started to desire more and more of him.

You're in love with the hero who plays the villain.

You're in love with the villain who bares a hero's mask.

"You should be more careful when dealing with the other spiders. I hear they're not all as precautious as you." Your fingers trace the purpling marks on his cheek. Sliding from one universe to another.

You know Miguel isn't a tiny spider he's a bloodthirsty tarantula. Yet you still worry. Fear that one day he may fail to return home.

"You shouldn't worry about me preciosa,"

"Someone has to, Miguel, you're not as indestructible as you may think."

"If I kiss you will you stop complaining?"

There's no room to answer, his lips rest on yours, forceful and sweet. Captivating, dominating, and as always overbearing. His fangs slowly sink into the back of your lips. That familiar iron taste invades your mouth once again.

Sometimes Miguel feels like a hero, shouldering the universe's burdens, and fighting for what's right. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. This is what he wanted, he always wanted to be the hero.

But sometimes when the spider's lair is abandoned and he returns home to you, he can't help but feel like the villain. He's protecting you he knows that. Justifying it is easy when you watch dimensions wither away in violent glitching and endless screams, daily. Yet he wonders if his predecessors were ever like this. If the heroes are supposed to keep their lovers locked away. Alone yet safe. A fair trade in his mind.

Miguel isn't quite human, half-everlasting and half-horror.

A dangerous combination

Or at least a confusing one.

The point is he's some sort of hero. But that also means he's some sort of villain. Even the old tales got things wrong, not every superhero is carved from porcelain and ivory. Not every villain is built from ash and rage.

Sometimes heroes are carved from gravestone granite and glazed with poison. Sometimes their powers are self-inflicted curses that chew away at flesh and bone. sometimes the hero's halo is made of barbed wire digging into his scalp and embittering his thoughts. Sometimes heroes kill themselves before any villain gets the chance. Spitling their body apart a million times a day because destiny decided to play a cruel joke on them. Picking the weakest of all mankind to become its guardian.

When he pulls away from the kiss, he lifts your hand to his mouth.

His fangs sink into your finger puncturing bone as he gnaws the stress away. Blood leaks down his chin, spilling over the rooftop. He pulls your body closer. An anchor in a never-ending storm.

You kiss his chin, looking into his eyes. Eyes that can never choose whether they wish to be human or monster. Your head instinctively finds his chest nestling into the cold metal of his suit.

Oh, how you wish you could crack his rib cage open and crawl inside.

Sometimes you think back to the original tales. The ones from your dimension, albeit it seems that -regardless of a few rare exceptions- the stories are consistent in every universe.

The story always goes the same. Peter Parker falls in love with MJ or Gwen, you've come to learn that in the long run, it doesn't really matter. Spiderman saves them again and again. Until the whole world knows that Mj or Gwen are somehow connected to the masked hero. But never once does she leave his side. Rebellious blond or dotting redhead, Spiderman's lover stays regardless of how desperate and vicious the villains become when they start to learn that the story always ends in the hero's favor.

It's every gal's dream to be the lover of a superhero. Awaiting their betrothed's triumphant return. Greeting them with amorous tidings and cherry red kisses.

You think you're Gwen or Mary Jane. Or whoever else decided to fall in love with the troubled boy who has radioactivity coursing through his veins. The boy who was deemed a hero and thus was destroyed because of it.

Of course, there's the other part. The underlying message of the story, that parents all so conveniently 'forget' to tell their children. The disease of the otherwise perfect tale. They forget to tell you that Gwen Stacy fell to her death and Mary Jane is left abandoned, once the hero realizes that his mere presence is a curse. Stories may end in the hero's favor but much like the villain the lover is also doomed by the narrative. That's normal for any hero's lover. They always burn out to cater to the hero's ever-fuming torch of justice.

you feel broken, as you're sure they did too. An unspoken rule of being with a hero is that eventually, you start to lose your sense of self without them. It doesn't make sense when you put it like that but along the way bits and piece of you broke off. Pieces that you forgot to patch up. You've been mending by using segments of Miguel to make yourself feel whole again. It's a small miracle that you still hold a fading memory of whom you used to be before he made you his. A miracle that sweeps through the cracks of your soul.

Heroes never need to fear death, just an eternity of pain. Losing everyone they love, over and over again. Maybe that's why Miguel's grip is so suffocatingly tight. He knows that eventually, not today and maybe not tomorrow but eventually he's going to lose you too.

You're a comic book Juliet and he's Romeo with superpowers. Everyone knows that comic book heroes are doomed from the start. Neither you nor Miguel are exceptions.

Maybe the two of you are doomed by the narrative.

But for tonight, as the moon slowly sinks behind the skyscrapers and the stars fade one by one. The two of you are safe in each other's arms.

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gojos-thot-patrol · 8 months

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HIIII how have you been?? <33

Candy here, and dear lord have you heard about a star being named after satoru?? Literally, my first thought about it is that should tell this news to you and maybe request (if you’re not doing anything and up to writing rn) because i thought this star will really spread heart-wrenching fanfictions about him, something related to a star with satoru, i kept thinking about him and sugu and stars defining their fate.. sorry this is so vague, tell me if you want details hihi,

hope you’re doing so finee, have some candy babes 🫶🫶

CANDY HELLO DARLING HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?!?!

They named a Star after out boy?!?!?!?!? I'm gonna be emotional-

Okay okay, so I am currently working on kinktober BUT I'm gonna take a break here and wrote a lil warm up for you for two reasons.

The opening line to the fic instantly came to me and I couldn't not wrote a drabble at least

once you're one of my named anons or moots, you get special treatment <3

That being said, I call this one

Starlight.

When you first saw Satoru Gojo, you could have sworn whatever higher power there was put the stars in his eyes by hand, carefully and meticulously placing the celestial sparkles to make the most breathtaking eyes you had ever seen.

You saw galaxies when he laughed, constellations connect when he smiled, you were sure your heart exploded into a thousand celestial galaxies when he finally asked you out. You had fallen in love with Astraeus himself.

The only person Gojo seemed to love even half as much as he loved you was Suguru. The two boys beyond inseparable. Suguru would talk about astrology and you could see the celestial bodies in Gojo's eyes dazzle with adoration. You couldn't blame him. Suguru had a charm to him that made it impossible not to fall into his orbit. It only felt natural when Gojo suggested Suguru officially join your relationship.

You remembered the countless nights you had spent cuddled between your loves, watching movies until the early morning light. You remembered how in love Suguru was with the moon and how fascinated was with the stars. Spending entire nights out under the glittering sky on full moon evenings, dancing and laughing and falling in love.

You remembered the first time you saw the luminaries in Gojos eyes explode, marking the inevitable heat death of your universe. When word of Suguru's betrayal came out. You saw entire galaxies collapse in real time as he coped with what felt impossible. It wasn't the last time you saw the black holes form there.

You though they would never glimmer again after Suguru died, By Gojos own hands no less. You didn't spend the nights under the stars anymore. Instead they were spent at home, with him curled into your side. The stars weren't in his eyes anymore, they were glimmering in his tears. Nothing you did seemed to help. He needed time.

He slowly recovered, though his eyes never dazzled quite as bright as they used to. He recovered, and you recovered with him. He found joy in new things. In raising his son Megumi, in teaching and leading his kids to creating a new world for Jujutsu Society. He found a purpose beyond just being the strongest. You swore the stars in his eyes dazzled exactly how they did the first day you met him on the day he asked you to be his bride.

It was the last time you would ever see the stars. You remembered taking comfort in the soft glitter of his eyes when he told you he would win, and then feeling impossibly betrayed when he never came home. You couldn't cope. The sun had died, the universe had proven it's self to be cold and uncaring.

That is until you the full moon. It was weeks after Satoru's funeral, and by all means you had plans to just ignore it, finding it almost too painful without your darlings. And yet, once the time came, you found yourself drawn into it's orbit.

You swore you saw those stars smiling down at you. The ones you had fallen in love with all of those years ago. You just knew, some cosmic comfort assured you, Satoru was okay. You could hear Suguru in your heart. "Thank you, for fixing what I broke. I'll take care of it from here Darling."

You knew they were okay. And one day, you'd see them again. But for now, at least you still had Satoru's stars in your life. And if you ever missed him, you had the entire galaxy to remind you he was never truly that far away.

#warm up #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #suguru geto #gojo x reader #geto x reader #satosugu #satosugu x reader #gojo angst #geto angst #hurt/ only a little comfort #bittersweet #gojo x reader angst #geto x reader angst #jjk spoilers #Candy Anon 🍬🍫🍭

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tqngerine · 1 year

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stay in the middle — 16. coolbeans

SYNOPSIS: Huening Kai would do anything for his best friend Taehyun, and this one small favor is no exception. It appears that Kai’s fellow campus journalist Y/N has caught his attention, and Taehyun needs help connecting to them. Befriending someone outside of his small social circle wasn’t something Kai did often, but he comes to find that it’s easy to get close to Y/N—maybe even getting a little too close.

word count: 1.6k

“This place isn’t as suffocating as I remembered.” Y/N couldn’t help but hum, gazing around the small cafe. Now that they weren’t overwhelmed with worries about social interaction anymore, they could properly appreciate the array of wooden decor lined up at the top of the cream walls. Plates, large utensils, framed coffee beans, the items were appropriate but quaint in its display. Y/N was quite charmed.

Sitting opposite to them, Kai made the practical decision of scanning the menu for their dinner selection. “My best friend and I often meet here in the early morning to charge up before our classes.“

“The same best friend that helped you with your report outline for earlier?”

Kai gave a nod.

“With the amount of times you’ve mentioned him, I’m wondering why I haven’t met him yet.” Y/N laughed.

A penguin pout graced his lips. “Ah, he’s especially busy these days because he’s in the volleyball team, training and all. But I promise you I’ll introduce him to you eventually.” He crossed his arms over the table. “Likewise, I want to meet your friends too.”

Y/N scrunched their face. “I fear they’re not as cute and into Sanrio as I am.”

“Not even Soobin?”

“He’s only cute. That’s the only thing he’s got going on for him.”

Kai giggled—or rather cackled with incredibly more power than necessary, earning him a few stares from the neighboring customers. After realizing his volume, he immediately turned to bow in silent apology to each table, looking like a docking ostrich in the process.

“We should probably take our orders now.” Y/N said, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Good idea.”

Y/N requested for a plate of carbonara while Kai went for a traditional caesar salad, along with two glasses of blue lemonade.

Once the waiter had left, the two were met with comfortable silence. They had just finished observing the swim team for almost three hours, it had already been a long day for them.

Although they have definitely grown much closer since the last time they were here (the longest and most awkward 30 minutes of their life, as Y/N remembered it), they found that they didn’t need to be constantly speaking to enjoy each other’s presence. Both naturally leaned more toward being the quiet type anyway.

The same panicky boy that made a mess out of Y/N’s papers almost a month ago wore a much calmer countenance today, his ebony curls more neatly kept and eyes crinkling into creases. He was fiddling with the corners of the paper placemat beneath him, creating a pile of paper crumbs that had been softly ripped apart.

“You’re not gonna have a placemat by the time the food arrives if you keep at it.” Y/N teased, pointing at the pile.

The tips of Kai’s ears colored. “Oops, habit of mine. My hands get restless so I often fidget without thinking.”

“No need to justify yourself, I promise. How about you help me with something instead to keep you busy.” Y/N then turned to their backpack to fish out a pastel pink notebook. They slid it in front of Kai to reveal the numerous Hello Kitty stickers decorating the front cover.

“That’s a lot of glitter on those stickers.” Kai’s own eyes sparkled at the sight.

“I always say it’s never enough.” Y/N smirked before flipping to the last filled page. Scribbled all over it was a mind map of words like moon, aliens, and galaxy, drawn arrows pointing them toward each other. “See, before I got in The Hybe Times, I used to submit self-written stories to the local student magazine. I’ve been thinking of submitting another one for the first time in so long, but I can’t quite stick to one idea.”

Kai took in Y/N’s explanation while examining the seemingly nonsensical writings on the page. “I’m gathering that your story is space themed?”

“Yep. The upcoming issue will commemorate the anniversary of the moon landing, so outer space was given as the prompt.” Y/N leaned backward, heaving a sigh. “But space is such a broad topic—kind of literally, too. So much could be talked about, how do I condense it into one short story?”

Kai’s eyes remained focus on trying to follow the words on the page, eyebrows scrunched thoughtfully. “Hm, do you know what all these arrows remind me of? Constellations. Metaphorical lines that connect different bodies together to form a bigger picture.”

Y/N blinked at his interpretation, caught pleasantly surprised. “That’s… I like that.”

“You do?”

“Constellations as lines that connect and create a bigger picture…” Y/N flipped the notebook back to face them and started furiously inking down the sparks in their mind. From their peripheral, they saw Kai watch in awe, his mouth slightly agape. Y/N only let a select few people witness their “light bulb” moments like these so they were admittedly a bit flustered under his gaze.

They finally looked up, corners of their lips stretched wide. “I don’t know how you did it but you just helped me plot out a full beginning, middle, and end of a short story.”

“That fast?” Kai gawked. “I’m impressed.”

“The mind works in mysterious ways.” Y/N reached forward to tap Kai’s temple with their finger. “Yours so much more so than mine.”

At that moment, Y/N’s eyes caught something from behind Kai’s head. Two figures had entered the packed cafe—two familiar figures.

Y/N quickly docked their head and tucked their notebook beneath the table, startling Kai. “I-is something wrong?”

Y/N’s voice lowered. “Don’t turn around, but Jungwon and Jay just entered the cafe.” They buried their face in their hands. Of course they’d come here; Jungwon was their field partner, and the swimming compound was right beside this cafe. It’d make sense for him to seek dinner here after fieldwork too.

Kai’s mouth rounded into a silent “oh”, nodding slowly and trying his best to remain calm for Y/N’s sake.

Unfortunately for Y/N, they made the mistake of peaking up again, accidentally making eye contact with Jungwon. At the sight of his co-journalists, he gave a big enthusiastic wave before dragging his friend along to their table.

“Kai hyung, Y/N! Thank goodness you’re here.” Jungwon greeted, grin wide. “The waiter just told us there were no more seats available. Do you mind if we sat with you instead?”

Jay stood rigid beside Jungwon, arms linked with each other. He gave the two a polite smile in greeting. Other than that, his face was practically unreadable—Y/N was hoping they’d figure out how he feels about getting a minor role alongside them, but maybe some answers are not this easily attainable. Still, his unreadability didn’t dismiss the way his hair was parted to the side so neatly, nor the way his slick leather jacket hugged his figure handsomely. Wait, how does an article of clothing hug one’s figure handsomely?

Y/N felt Kai’s expectant eyes on them, waiting for their call. (They were hoping his stare was not because they were noticeably blushing furiously at the moment.)

“Uh… sure! Come take a seat.”

Jungwon clapped gratefully. Right before any movements occurred, Kai swiftly switched to take the space beside Y/N, allowing the newly arrived duo to sit opposite them. It was as if he had read their mind begging for him to block any chance of Jay sitting close to Y/N.

“What did you guys order?” Jay asked diplomatically.

“Kai ordered a salad for two. Perhaps you’d like to take his other half?” Y/N promptly replied, to which Kai raised an eyebrow. They weren’t wrong, but Kai had the appetite for two servings; he very well meant to finish the salad on his own.

“I promise I’ll get you a big bowl of ice cream after to compensate. I just don’t want to have to wait for their orders too.” Y/N rapidly said below a whisper, ensuring that the other two didn’t hear them. Kai gave a thumbs up of content.

“Oh, I do love salad. That’d be nice, thank you.”

“Jay can pay for the entire bill, too.” Jungwon smirked, earning him an eye roll from his hyung. “What about me, though?”

“You can share Y/N’s carbonara! Also made for two.” Kai offered quickly. He lowered back down to Y/N to whisper, “I’ll make up for that with another big bowl of ice cream for you too.”

Y/N could feel their heart thumping in their ears out of nervousness.

“I’m more of a spaghetti person myself but I won’t complain since I’m hungry.”

As if on cue, a waiter arrived with their orders. The group then dined without chatter, busy enjoying their meals (and trying to stay calm in front of their crush, in Y/N’s case).

“Did you receive Yunjin’s message in the group chat?” Jay finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

Y/N nearly choked on their bacon. “O-oh. I haven’t been on my phone for the past hour. What did she say?”

“She already wrote specifications about our characters on the script. We’ll be rehearsing alongside the main cast tomorrow.”

“That’s great! I’ll read through the script later.”

“You guys have the same roles?” Jungwon asked.

“Uh, you could say that.” Jay simply replied, taking a sip from the service water. How on earth did he manage to make that something to swoon over.

Y/N had to slap Kai’s lap to bring them out of their trance, much to his poor surprise. “How are you enjoying the salad, Jay?” Kai spoke out of panic.

“It’s all right. My dad knows how to prepare an even better one though.” It should have sounded like a brag, but it came out more lighthearted. “I can pack extra to rehearsals one day for you to try, Y/N.”

“Coolbeans! I’d be honored to try.”

Jay lips pressed into a smile. “Hang on, I need to use the restroom.” He excused himself from the table, and the moment he was completely out of sight, Kai stifled a laugh.

“Coolbeans?”

Y/N plopped their head on Kai’s shoulder, groaning in embarrassment. “Why does time always seem to slow down whenever I’m in this cafe.”

A cough broke, causing Kai to turn to the scrutinizing gaze of Jungwon. “There’s something going on that I don’t know about.”

Y/N continued to grumble incoherently, forehead still stuck to Kai’s shoulder.

“Do you not care to tell me?”

“None of your business, Yang!”

< prev | masterlist | next >

a/n: kai and y/n can’t just be depicted as chronically online moots-ies forever so i decided to make a written chapter for them 😔🤞 lmk what you think of their dynamic so far 😙

TAGLIST: open!! leave a comment below or send me an ask to be included in this taglist ^^ (if your name is in bold, i can’t tag you)

@kaisdefender @fairysh4mpoo @0rangemilk @beomsbeanie @hanjisungsgirl @luvsoobs @goldennika @spagettae @solarsolarity @hy2ka-i @aestheticsluut @sophie-writingtime @quitbeingawhore @destinylightlove42 @softpia

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the-official-memester · 6 months

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I wanna know how you came to appreciate your eye colour by tripping please

I'm so sorry It took me so long to answer this, but boy would I love to answer.

Now, I'm gonna talk more in depth about my tripping experience as a whole for context, cuz I feel it really adds to the moment and also I'll never miss an excuse to over share, but I'll add a TL;DR if anyone is interested.

So, it was me, my sister, her boyfriend, and her close friend, all doing acid. I was the only one who was inexperienced, so I felt pretty safe.

When it actually hit though I was completely lost in the sauce, floating through Wawaland, now I don't even really remember what it was like but I do know that I was having a really hard time grounding myself for the first hour or so.

Every so often, whenever an ad would appear on the TV, I'd look around and suddenly remember the room existed at all.

Anyway, I did indeed end up grounding myself via the use of chicken nuggets, and was way more mentally tethered afterwards. So, while I waited for the second batch of chicken nuggets, I ventured out into the living room after readjusting to walking lmfao.

While out there my sister followed me as per our buddy system, and I asked her about her past experiences? I think?

Well, one way or another she told me about the rule of never looking into the mirror when tripping, but of course I immediately wanted to try it after she said that, so off to the nearest bathroom I went.

The first 5 seconds weren't anything special, but as my face warped in the mirror, instead of seeing an uncanny monster like my sister had described beforehand, I instead saw a damn goddess, who's eyes were like the deep, sparkling expanse of a galaxy, stretching onward forever and literally sparkling in the bathroom light.

Anyway, it felt like less than 2 minutes that I sat there and simply stared lost in my own eyes, but apparently it was over 10 by the time my sister came to rescue me lmfaoo.

Since then I've held a deeper appreciation for them.

TL;DR: I looked into the mirror expecting to be scared, but instead got mesmerized and probably would've been stuck there staring like Narcissus if my sister didn't come to get me.

#how do i even tag this #will i get blocked if i tag it as acid? lmfal #asks

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stitchlingbelle · 4 months

Text

Watching Halo, Episode 9

The grand finale, people! This is not a drill!

We begin in media res, with John fighting his way back to consciousness after getting the crap beat out of him and then getting blasted by the artifact’s shockwave. At first it’s not clear where everyone is—on the ground, is the answer. John finds Makee and the artifact gone (she’s elsewhere in the base making her escape) and returns to Silver Team to find Riz and Vannak holding Kai hostage (how dare!). John and Kai try to tell them the truth about Halsey, but it’s not until Keyes breaks the stalemate by coming clean—in front of Miranda!—that they believe and stand down. John rallies them to deal with the present crisis: Kai goes after Halsey and the other three go after Makee.

Makee gets away clean, but Halsey is stalling, too obsessed with her science to leave, despite Adun’s useless pleading. (He also says “the package is secure”, which I didn’t catch the first time and which a recapper I saw took to mean “Makee has the artifact”, but, uh…) They’ve just taken off when Kai, like the badass she is, jumps onto the fleeing ship, blasts her way in—and gets distracted demanding info from Halsey instead of dealing with the crashing ship. She does manage to kill that creepy little weasel Adun, but Halsey ejects in a life pod and the ship crashes. AND FOR A MINUTE THEY LET ME THINK MY GIRL IS DEAD, before she PULLS HERSELF OUT OF THE FLAMING WRECKAGE LIKE A BOSS. GO KAI.

Back to searching the Aspero system, their only lead, which they’ve almost given up on before they remember gravitational lensing exists? Seriously? (The “sparkles like glass” imagery is lovely though. If a little menacing, given the use of the term “glassing” in this universe.) I appreciate that Parangosky gave Chief a pep talk instead of continuing to argue he can’t go, or whatever. With a stupid and potentially personally distracting attempt at apology from Keyes, we’re off! (The future reckoning is gonna be a doozy.) The Spartans bickering like a family again is sweet, in a we’ll-shoot-each-other-if-necessary kind of way. They haven’t taken the time to remove Riz or Vannak’s pellets yet.

On Reach, Halsey gets captured, which I’m sure isn’t going to end well. Nothing ever does with her. Which Keyes should have learned years ago and is paying for now, as Miranda freezes him out entirely. You made your choices, buddy.

Speaking of people who made choices they regret, Makee is back with the Covenant. One leader snipes at her for not bringing back Master Chief’s head, even though she accomplished all of her other mission objectives brilliantly. (And probably handed them the location of Reach, if I’m right and they don’t have that info already.) She’s looking for reassurance after everything she saw and did in human space, asking if she gets to come on the Great Journey. They answer in the creepiest way possible, and she notices and hides her mutilated finger. (You can just tell them the nasty humans tore it out!)

Cortana is coming clean about being able to take John over, which I’m frankly surprised and impressed by. John’s response just seems to be “sure, whatever, of course” which, fair. It’s been a hell of a Standard Galactic Time Unit. (Still doesn’t clear up whether she’s had the ability all along and why she didn’t use it during his 'test', but w/e.) After a very Galaxy’s Edge-style thrill ride through the gravitational fields (are there piloting levels in the games or just FPS?), wherein we learn that these people don’t stow their gear for crap and Vannak learns the term ‘spaghettification’, we arrive at Planet CG!

Wrapping up the Reach arc, Miranda has a final showdown with her mother while her dad watches through the monitors. She flatly explains that Halsey’s been sentenced to death and leaves, appearing to think that it’s justice for all her mother’s done (and emotionally I quite agree). I was waiting to see what escape plan Halsey would cook up—except she already pulled it off, as Miranda figures out when Halsey collapses, seizing, in the interrogation room. It’s another flash clone, designed to die the way the Spartan kids’ clones all did. Miranda tries to demand Halsey’s whereabouts as the clone flatlines. Once again, Halsey’s fucked-up convictions are so strong that even the versions of herself created just to die aren’t willing to give her up. I assume the other Halsey is the ‘package’ Adun claimed was secure (did he ever realize that he was with the clone, not the original, and him dying or getting arrested was part of the plan? Apparently not.) Unanswered: whether Keyes was in on Halsey’s clone escape plan. Also unanswered: whether Halsey expected people to buy her death, or whether it was just meant to be a temporary decoy (in which case it worked perfectly). Halsey is shown getting ready to head off to parts unknown, while Miranda and the others hunt her down.

At last, the showdown. Makee gets ready for the ceremony alone, and we find out that even the Covenant leader we thought was fond of her despises her, and that the ceremony involves her death (either as a necessary part of the activation or as a ritual sacrifice they’re choosing to make, it’s not clear). Poor Makee. Remembering Kwan’s accusations against Master Chief, it’s clear they have equal amounts of blood on their hands, for equivalent reasons—they people they were raised by turned them into weapons, pointed them, and said shoot, and neither of them learned to question this in time. But one of them is the protagonist, and the other was raised by the protagonist’s enemies. There’s only a few ways this can go.

The battle commences, as all FOUR of the Spartans drop from the sky and fight their way in. I have a lot of the same complaints as I did in the other big battle scene—four people, no matter how skilled, are too likely to be separated and defeated in detail for me to buy this as a viable strategy. Especially once the waves of goons start showing up and nobody’s using good tactics. Where are the defensible positions? Where are the bottlenecks and chokepoints? Bring down some of these pillars or something! Hell, don’t you people have mines or grenades? Sigh.

It also brings to mind my questions about the relative tech bases here—sure, Spartans themselves are hardcore and everything, but their weapons and armor shouldn’t be heads and shoulders above the rest of the UNSC, that doesn’t make sense, unless they’re made of stuff so ungodly expensive the gov won’t shell out to outfit the rest of the troops with them. They clearly have a bunch of alien tech they’re backward-engineering, too. Why are the regular troops so ineffective, on both sides, vs the Spartans? And why are human troops so ineffective vs the Covenant? If 1 Spartan = 100 marines but 1 Spartan can defeat 100s of aliens… shouldn’t regular troops have a better chance than we’ve seen? At least two or three marines per alien? Are humans roughly equivalent to the Covenant, or is the Covenant far ahead? Or is it a resource issue?

Either way, with just four, Silver Team kicks ass, but not enough ass to pull off their mission objective. Riz and Vannak go down and Kai and Master Chief are overwhelmed. Fortunately for them, Makee is watching and when John goes down, she impulsively uses the combined artifact to blast the whole plateau practically flat. A star map presumably to the Halo lights up the sky (I assume Cortana records it.) Unfortunately for John (and for Makee), this sucks John into the Halo vision with Makee, leaving him out of commission. It’s unclear what powers she has with it and what she would have chosen to do, because Kai, unable to wake John any other way, shoots Makee to break her connection to the artifact.

It brings John back just in time to see her die, try to rejoin the fight, and realize it’s hopeless… for him. He asks Cortana to finally merge with him to retrieve the artifact and save the team. After some arguing, she does, and the newly-empowered Master Chief, with Kai and AIR SUPPORT, Cortana, where was THAT five minutes ago?—manage to get the team and the artifact (but not Makee’s body) onto the ship and away. Cortana/Chief manages to save Riz. Kai, having noticed that John didn’t activate the artifact when he hauled it aboard, asks if it’s him in there. Cortana/Chief doesn’t respond.

And there we leave them. The Covenant has lost both of these artifacts, though we know they have others, and the person they needed to activate them. The UNSC now has both these pieces and the chance to find more, but no one to activate them unless Cortana can disentangle herself from John. And both sides presumably have the (according to the irate Covenant elders, partial) star map to the Halo.

Whatever it actually is.

#halo tv show #wrap up thoughts incoming when I have a minute!

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bruh-myguy-what · 1 year

Text

Things That Can’t Be Undone

I’m obsessed with Thrawn having overwhelming emotions and either people not noticing it because he’s so good at hiding it, or him just not knowing how to react to them….so, in lieu of that…

Have sad Thrawn, because I want to explore all range of emotions with him.

We could always use a new story in the Thrawn fics anyway

I also HIGH KEY didn’t proofread this lol sooooooo

--------

Pairing: Thrawn x fem!reader

Warnings: heartbreak, sadness, regret, longing/pining

Summary: Thrawn sees you with another man and it hurts.

Word Count: 1.2K

***

It wouldn’t have been the first thing Thrawn thought he would’ve felt when his heart burned painfully against his chest at the sight before him. There was an accompanying knot in his stomach while he watched you from across the room, his eyes tracking every small detail of you so he could account every moment to his memory. That way when he was aboard the Chimera, so far away from you, deep in the galaxy traveling the stars alone (alongside his crew) he could close his eyes and remember your smile as if it were made solely for him instead of the man it was directed at now.

He felt almost irrational for envisioning what it would be like to be the man beside you, your arms encircling his arm instead. The way your eyes would sparkle when you’d gaze longingly up at him, so unapologetic of the adoration you’d be announcing silently to the rest of the world. The simple thought that everyone around would see how clearly enraptured you were with him would fill him with such pleasure, to have the most captivating person in all the universe sharing such a flawless sentiment between the two of you. To see and hear the people around you whisper words of envy or idolization of the affection shared between the two of you.

Thrawn was certain at this point that there was nothing he wouldn’t give up, to have you smiling at him again, the smile that was nearly devastating. It had made his heart ache before to see it so honestly made for him, but it hurt for a different reason now…it was a pain he couldn’t change- no matter how much he wished he could. He was a Grand Admiral, but his title meant nothing to you, for your affection never came at the fancies of rank.

He momentarily wondered if the man with you knew all the small things Thrawn had found to be so personable about you? Was he aware of the splendor within you, or just the perfect art that lay bare for others to see? Did he truly know how priceless it was to be able to hear your brilliant, infectious laugh? What about how your eyes gleamed in wonder when you saw the stars so close as you traveled space aboard the Chimera? The way you so freely gave your attention to whoever needed it, so quick to assist, listen, give advice, or just make someone feel less lonesome by giving your time silently. Was the man you were giving your time to truly understanding of how precious you were? Could he really appreciate the way your hand fit within his? Did it even fit the way it did with Thrawn? And how fortunate did the man genuinely feel when you hugged him, so earnest and emotionally available? So ready to catch him if he ever fell…

Did he value you any better than Thrawn did when he had you at his side? Did the senator you were with realize what a gift you were….or did he take it for granted like Thrawn had? It was a dreadful feeling to know that if he had been any more aware of the things he could’ve done correctly, he wouldn’t be yearning so painfully for you from this far away- from galaxies away on the ISD Chimera. Thrawn wished he could feel the gentle caress of your hand again, just once, even if for a second. To know the feeling of being the only person you shared your intimate moments. Did the senator you held so tightly to know how to comfort you when you cried? Had Thrawn?

Perhaps there were a few things he did correctly at the time?

He knew he was giving himself too much credit. Had you seen any hope in him being able to give you what you needed from him, he wouldn’t be seeing your beauty from the other side of the room. Thrawn recalled the crestfallen expression that fell over your freely expressive features as he told you to stay here in Coruscant, to stay away from the Chimera from now on. At the time he believed it to be for the best, to give you the opportunities you truly sought. How could he keep your abilities and magnificence from the world and seal you away aboard the Chimera just out of his own indulgence?

But that was his misunderstanding…

He had pushed you away, leaving you alone on a planet you knew nothing about. What he thought was best for you…wasn’t what you wanted at all. What he thought you were hiding from him wasn’t even your true desire and he saw that now. You sought someone to share life with, to trust when you didn’t want to be the strong one anymore- when it felt like the whole world would cave in. The person you could run to when you were unhappy, when something humorous happened, someone you could share your whimsical excitements with. You had entrusted that opportunity to Thrawn, and he misunderstood, he miscalculated it so dreadfully and it was too late to undo it.

You’d found another to give those luxuries to. Thrawn could only hope the man never took your heart for granted, or thought he knew what was best for you- even over what you wanted- like Thrawn had.

“Sir?” Eli Vanto’s voice had startled the Chiss out of his revere, jumping slightly at the man’s soft voice beside him. Blinking away the memories, the sadness, the regret, the Grand Admiral glanced at his subordinate. Eli could see a peculiar change in his friend, and it troubled him, “are…are you alright?” His voice cautious. When he’d approached Thrawn, he’d noticed the man in thought as he stared off. His eyes following the line of his admiral’s gaze, he found you standing there with your date, and it all made sense.

“Y-yes, of course,” Thrawn replied, scarcely convincing Eli, or himself, “forgive me, Commander.” There was silence between the two for a moment as they evaded mentioning Thrawn’s odd behavior.

Finally, Eli spoke up, resolutely, “are you ready to go, sir?” He straightened up and with an understanding expression, he awaited his admiral’s command. Perhaps what his friend needed was normalcy and structure to reshape his mind back to its normal methodical state. Eli would do whatever he could to help because if no one else could, he could see the struggle Thrawn was experiencing.

Sending one last look over at you, wondering- for just a second- if there was anything he could do to change his unfortunate fate. But as he watched the affectionate kiss you shared with the senator; he recognized it was indeed too late to change any of his hopeless choices. “Yes,” he agreed just as resolutely, even if a little forlorn, then met Eli’s eyes fully this time. “Let us return to the Chimera, commander.”

At least you would still be his in his dreams.

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electric-alt-cookie · 5 months

Text

LOG 3202:21;01

The vast city was lit up with various hues of blue with yellow and purple accents. Lemon squinted trying to see all the different lights in the sky. In a way, the city felt like back home, only more technologically focused. He felt weird sticking out like a sore thumb. His armor may be gray, but it was still bulky compared to the suits that the majority of NeoAzullians were wearing. Not only that, but most NeoAzullians didn’t have warm-colored hair like his. The exception was Raspberry Iced Tea with their red hair which originally didn’t come to cross his mind. It was a bit random, but he did wonder why Tea had red hair instead of the normal cool colors of the planet. Eh, it wasn’t a big enough deal for him to ponder it. People are what they are.

He turned his attention away from his internal thoughts to see civilians out in the streets. A lot of them were doing… just normal “human” things. They were living, surviving, and even trying to make ends meet. For a planet far away in the galaxy, they acted just like cookies. This place that Aloe was from… It wasn’t all that different from Earth.

He remembered something from earlier. Something, something, an energy crisis, he heard from overhearing murmurs and rumors. From the eye, it didn’t look like there was a crisis, but nothing is as it seems. From seeing people trying to live their daily lives, that should be enough proof for him. If he and Cyborg were supposed to be Aloe’s solution to Bluestar’s energy crisis, he knew that was only a short-term solution, and Aloe would not deliberately go out of their way to use him and Cyborg as batteries. At least, he knew that Aloe wouldn’t use Cyborg as a living battery. It wouldn’t make sense for that to happen to him or Cyborg after the bonding session Aloe had. It would be a waste of time to get somewhat close to someone and throw it all away.

There he went again, being lost in his own thoughts. It was hard for him not to do that after the war and Aloe trying to quote-on-quote “fix” society’s problems. He never considered himself a thinker, but being lost in his thoughts was starting to become a problem.

“Okay… Keep it together…” The Android slapped his face.

Lemon glanced around for a bit more before receiving a signal. It was a familiar one.

“Come to the palace. His majesty wishes to speak to you privately.”

“Privately? What the hell does that entail…” Lemon thought to himself as he changed course.

Before he lept into action, he caught a glimpse of a NeoAzul with green hair. He attempted to get a closer look, but a group of civilians walked by and obscured his vision. The figure was gone afterwards.

Lemon would soon arrive at the palace. The place was much more extravagant on the inside than outside. Even more so than Princess's castle. The interior was lit up with royal blues and different hues of yellow lights. The floors and walls sparkled as if they had never been touched before. Lemon was escorted by some guards as he walked up to the entrance, but he was slightly disappointed that Aloe wasn't there to guide him personally. Thankfully, there were no signs of Tea anywhere near. Tea was probably preparing for their big day soon.

“Ah? Lemon? Are you finally here?” A voice echoed from across the hall. It was accompanied by footsteps soon after.

Lemon recognized the voice from before. It was Starflower, the royal from the crowning ceremony. The King shooed away the guards and put his hands together excitedly.

“Lemon… V.Al-- Aloe has told me so much about you…!” Starflower was practically jumping from the encounter. “Please, walk with me. I have several things I would like to say. I promise I have only good intentions.”

“A weird thing to say, but alright.” Lemon remarked, raising his eyebrow.

Starflower led Lemon down into a large corridor with stained glass windows. There were images displayed of the different royals throughout the centuries. At the end, there were two missing spots, presumably for Tea and Knight.

“These are… not the circumstances I'd like to meet you in…” Starflower started, folding his arms together, “The truth is, I will not be of this world much longer…”

The smile he initially started with faded.

“My gift is that I am able to see into the future. Which unfortunately means that I can see when my expiration date happens… like how you have electricity powers,” Starflower stopped walking and looked up at a stained glass window that looked like him, “I really did not want to tell V.Aloe… They would make a great big deal out of it…”

“So, why are you telling me?” Lemon raised his eyebrow, “We aren't exactly ‘close.’”

“A friend of a friend is my friend too. V.Al- Augh- Aloe feels more at home on Earth than they do here. Sorry… Earth customs when it comes to names feel disrespectful to me-”

“It's alright. Don’t worry about it.” The android put his hand out to pat Starflower on the back, but quickly pulled his hand away. He made a face, knowing that he was copying what Aloe did to him earlier.

Starflower chuckled to himself, noticing Lemon's expression which made Lemon get slightly embarrassed. The android huffed and looked away from Starflower trying to make himself look more composed.

“Need not to hide yourself… I could tell from the minute I laid my eyes upon you, that you are the perfect partner for them. V.Aloe has told me so much about you in the brief time that we were in contact… They think fondly of you, you know? Despite all the… past quarrels.” Starflower put his hands in his pockets and sighed, “If only I could say the same for Y.Tea and Z.Mocha…”

So that's why Starflower was tense earlier. It was starting to make sense to Lemon.

Starflower continued, “I never wanted to invade your planet, Lemon. I don't want to cause trouble, however, Y.Tea and Z.Clematis have their own interests. One more than the other. I'm afraid I can't help you anymore, or else that would be treason. The people don't respect me as much as they do Y.Tea.” The king took his hands out of his pockets and started to twiddle his thumbs, “As I mentioned before, I am going to die very soon. I don't want V.Aloe to know, or else they would be devastated. I want you to protect them and I want you to protect your home planet.”

His expression turned serious.

“There is going to be another war. Not with cookies and robots, but cookies, cyborgs, and robots fighting together to defend from extraterrestrial life. When you get back home, you need to prepare immediately.”

One of Starflower's assistants knocked on the door to the corridor. He jumped in surprise.

“Oh dear… I'm sorry I rambled for so long, but I need to do my kingly duties. Please feel free to use one of the guest rooms at your leisure,” Starflower rushed to the door, straightening his back and putting his arms to his side. He dismissed Lemon after giving one last reassuring nod to the android. The door shut, leaving behind a long echo.

Lemon was alone again. He was left to contemplate the conversation that Starflower had with him. As he stared up at the glass again, his words simmered in his brain. “Another war, huh…” He didn't want to believe it, but if Starflower was telling the truth, he had best find a way off this planet soon.

#mod tuscan posts #🌠 calamity from the cosmos (arc)#lemon cookie #cr robopocalypse au

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phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Uncle Ben and Little Luke

AKA we combine several types of time travel for maximum Soft Chaos, let’s go

EDIT NOW THAT I’VE WRITTEN THIS UP: jfc this ended up much angstier than initially intended uhhhhhhhhhh sorry

So a common enough thing I’ve seen in time travel fics is characters getting de-aged when tossed back physically, to neither the age they should be in that time, nor the age they were from the time they left, but whatever is most convenient. This is usually de-aging OT Obi-Wan into his TCW self, for reasons relating to, chiefly, removing the damage of Tatooine absolutely destroying his body alongside PTSD-driven alcoholism, but also because fic writers are horny, and Ewan McGregor playing a late-thirties negotiator is on average more appealing to people than Alec Guinness playing a vaguely feral desert hermit.

So, here’s how it plays out:

We take Luke and Ben from some point in the OT. There are a variety of options depending on how angsty we want it to be. My first instinct is ‘right after Owen and Beru die’ but I want to have that sweet angst where Luke knows that his dad is Vader and that Obi-Wan was trying to convince him to kill his own father without telling him that.

We’ll go with shortly after Bespin, and then they end up significantly before TPM. The Obi-Wan of the timeline proper is, eh, let’s say eighteen. Not really ready to be a knight, but old enough that we don’t have to worry about “if we go save Shmi, do we somehow wipe out Anakin?” which is absolutely a worry. Anakin is a toddler, and is in no place to be evil, on account of being literally two years old. He can’t even explode people with his brain yet.

Now, Ben finds himself mid-thirties, as is traditional. He’s not upset at this, because his joints hurt so much less than they used to! His knees aren’t exactly teenage-perfect, but by the Force are they better than they were in the years before he died! His hair has color! He doesn’t have arthritis! And, goodness, no physical withdrawal symptoms! The psychological aspect is still there, but nonetheless, he’s in much better shape than he last remembers being.

Luke looks like he’s about six. He was recently twenty-two. This is not an upgrade. Ben keeps having to carry him. He can’t see over the counter when they enter a bar for information. He can’t enter the bar in the first place. He’s very annoyed by all of this.

Ben is not annoyed. Ben is having a lot of emotions, actually, but annoyance isn’t one of them. He didn’t get to help raise Luke the way he might have if Anakin hadn’t lost his shit, okay, he sees a small Luke and he wants to hug him and cry.

Luke would like to be able to purchase a speeder part without the lady at the stall asking him if he needs his “dad’s” permission.

Once they figure out when and where they are, they need to decide where and how to leave. There are general shenanigans to gamble their way into enough money to hire a ship. They are in the ass end of nowhere, but definitely not Tatooine. There appears to be a jungle. There appears to be a significant variety of man-eating creatures. There appears to be a temple to the Force of questionable origin. None of this is actually helpful, except for the moment they find a “baby’s first lightsaber” in the temple.

Luke only has one hand and, being a six-year-old, his body is growing too fast for him to bother with getting a wired-in prosthesis the way he could as an adult. He can get a more basic prosthesis, but nothing that attaches to the neurons. He’ll outgrow it too fast.

He’s tiny and he’s not used to doing things with just one hand. He uses the Force to do what one hand can't, and every time someone tries to tell him he's misusing the Force he whaps them with the empty sleeve.

So, you know, they find out what year it is. Ben has a breakdown. Luke is upset that he left behind his friends. Ben admits to him that Leia was his twin. Luke stares in horror because dude, she kissed him, you couldn’t have mentioned this earlier???

Ben points out that Beru and Owen were keeping Luke away from him for nineteen years, and then they had about three days of awkward travel to find Leia in the first place, and then Ben died. He didn’t have a whole lot of time to figure out how to tell him.

(This sparks an argument that lasts several days. All onlookers assume that Ben’s son is throwing a tantrum. He doesn’t correct them, even though this is a very valid reason to be upset, because the truth is much harder to explain.)

Sooooo they travel. Mostly, Ben plays Sabacc, cleans house, and pays their way towards Coruscant. Luke still really wants to learn to be a Proper Jedi, even though Ben is pretty sure that Luke would have... a lot of difference of opinion with the Temple, but sure. Coruscant. They can at least stop by, and see Qui-Gon, and Mace, and Quinlan, and Bant, and everyone else that’s still alive and not tragically deceased in the horror following the start of the Clone Wars and then the birth of the Empire, and Ben can have a nice sob over all his dead friends being alive again.

Ben is only barely holding it together while Luke is in the room with him at any given point. But it’s fine! It’s fine. He’s fine. All of his loved ones have come back to life! It’s great! HE’S FINE.

He is not fine.

Luke is also grieving all the people who haven’t been born yet, but he’s... significantly more okay than Ben is.

The closer they get to the Core, the more often people just assume Ben is Luke’s father, and then look shocked and uncomfortable when Luke flatly calls him by his name, and they just... compromise. This is the point at which Luke starts calling him “Uncle Ben.”

Ben cries in his bunk later that night. Luke overhears it and wonders how the HELL Ben is more unstable now, when there’s a chance to fix things and no Vader or Empire trying to kill or capture both of them, and all his friends are alive.

(Luke will later learn a lot about PTSD and realize this is actually a fairly normal situation, to process significant events and emotions only after gaining safety or catharsis.)

(Twenty years on a ball of sand with an alcohol addiction and debilitating fear of the man you raised as your own brother is not, in fact, safe or cathartic.)

At any rate, they’ve settled into that pattern by the time they reach the Inner Rim. The Inner Rim is the part of the galaxy at which they’ve collected enough money (and mental stability) to travel a little better, and to take a few more risks.

Risks like “manipulate people with those baby blues.”

Ben tells Luke that he’s a menace, after he pouts so cutely that he gets a free scarf added on to a purchase that Ben makes. Luke responds that Ben has no room to talk, since he flirted a free breakfast out of that one inn owner.

Also, Luke is currently physically six. That is objectively a situation that sucks. He deserves to use it for all it’s worth if he’s stuck like this.

“You know, if you keep wearing all-black and looking longingly at the velvet cape and Space Chanel boots, the temple is going to worry that you’re a darksider.”

“Uncle Ben... you told me, yesterday, that I sparkle so brightly in the Force that it’s almost blinding.”

“Yes, but the gloves--”

They don’t agree on this, but Ben relents. He does actually understand good fashion, unfortunately, and he’s not unaware of how much Leia taught Luke about such things.

Luke’s about forty years ahead of the curve, of course, but Skywalkers are prone to such things. It’s usually in regards to technology, granted, but...

They get to Coruscant. Ben is very obviously a Jedi. He knows all the right words and walks like a Soresu master and feels warm and comforting in the Force. They let him in with minimal questions. They note down “my first padawan left the order to have a child, but died shortly after; I consider Luke here to be my nephew, and have raised him as such,” and move on.

Luke is vaguely annoyed because he already had an uncle (and aunt) that raised him, but he admits that a person can have more than one uncle. He can live with this. Ben was more family to Anakin than Owen was, in some ways, so it’s kind of true. Luke is even working on feeling more childish affection for Ben instead of the complicated mess of emotions that come from being lied to about some very large and important subjects, and then seeing the person saying those lies have regular emotional breakdowns due to something as small as Luke saying he likes the curve of the hull on that freighter.

(Apparently he sounds just like his father did as a child. This is almost heartwarming.)

The thing is! The thing. The thing is, they almost make it to the Halls of Healing to get looked over for weird viruses, or Outer Rim Parasites, or whatever the hells needs to be happening. They almost make it without Ben having a flashback to dead younglings or brainwashed troopers or the declaration of a Sith Empire. They almost make it without incident.

Then Ben sees Qui-Gon, and freezes, and does not move again.

Luke cannot get him to restart.

People are staring.

They haven’t even made it to Medical, Uncle Ben, come on.

Young, local Obi-Wan comes over and asks if there’s something he can do to help. Or maybe this “Ben” knows Qui-Gon? Master Jinn doesn’t recognize Ben, but maybe Luke knows more?

Luke does know more, but what Luke actually says is “he probably needs a mind healer.”

(Ben will not appreciate this.)

(Ben is unfortunately standing in the middle of the hallway and completely unresponsive, and is unable to argue with this assertion.)

(Ben is pretty much proving this assertion entirely correct, actually.)

Obi-Wan is helpful, if a little bitchy in the manner of most late-teens individuals, and offers to help get Uncle Ben down to the Halls of Healing. It involves Obi-Wan gently pushing on Ben’s shoulders, and Qui-Gon offering to carry Luke so he can be in Ben’s sights (because Ben is a Mystery, and Qui-Gon is quite fond of those, so he wants to stay involved). Ben kind of just... shuffles on down.

There are medical tests. They ask about how Luke lost his hand. He refuses to talk about it. They ask how Ben got all his scars. Luke says he doesn’t know. They ask if he knows why Ben looks like he’s been through a war. Luke says it’s because he probably was.

They check for foreign viruses. They find evidence of thus-far-unpatented vaccinations. They ask Luke if he knows what he’s vaccinated for.

“How would I know? I’m six.”

They agree that this is a good excuse.

(It is not. He’s lying. They do not know this.)

They do some more tests. They find a lot of questionable medical bullshit in Ben’s body. Most of this is from the clone wars, but they don’t know this. Someone realizes they haven’t gotten a ping back from the Shadow Network regarding “do we have permission to pull the medical file of a Jedi that isn’t in the normal database? We’re assuming you know who he is, since we don’t.”

The Shadow Network does not know who Ben is.

The healers, of course, go “huh, that’s weird, but maybe the name he gave his nephew was fake. We can’t exactly ask ‘Ben’ for more details right now. We already had to sedate him. Let’s check the DNA!”

The DNA pulls up as Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The padawan who brought this guy in two hours ago.

“Huh, that’s weird. Let’s call in Kenobi and ask if he knows what’s going on.”

Obi-Wan absolutely does not know what’s going on.

They ask Luke.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says, lying through his teeth and not even pretending otherwise.

“You’re not a very good liar,” teenage Obi-Wan tells him.

“I’m not trying to be,” Luke says. “Can you get Master Yoda? I feel like we’re going to need him.”

They normally wouldn’t get Yoda on the request of a six-year-old, but they also normally don’t have a catatonic thirty-something Jedi who looks like he’s been through a war popping up in the medical database as the pimply teenage padawan that broke his pinky trying to do a Badass Ataru Flip last week.

Or... whatever Luke i... is... oh dear.

“Young one,” Qui-Gon asks, while people whisper-shout behind him, not realizing he’s cutting the Correlian Knot and just asking the kid himself. “Do you know why your midichlorian count is so high? It’s almost unheard of.”

“Uncle Ben said my dad was the Chosen One,” Luke says, because he is capable of being a little shit and is actually really eager to let Ben deal with some of the fallout. He feels for the man, really, but he’s also tired of being the one to field every single question.

Also, the expressions that pass on Qui-Gon’s face are hilarious.

(Luke may or may not be more affected by his six-year-old brain than he would like to admit.)

“Thank you,” Qui-Gon says, sounding more than a little strangled about it.

It takes another three hours for Ben to wake up.

He listens to the questions. He hears what they say his ‘nephew’ said. He looks at Luke.

“Is this revenge for not telling you about Leia?”

“It’s not revenge,” Luke does not lie. “I just don’t know how to explain it.”

“It’s pretty easy to explain.”

“It’s not my secret.”

“This is revenge for the Leia thing.”

“No,” Luke says. “Revenge for the Leia thing was when I ate a live frog in front of you.”

This is the point at which someone interrupts and points out that they appear to be stalling.

“Oh, he is,” Luke tells them. He gestures at Ben. “I can’t tell you more, because it’s more his story than mine.”

“I’m afraid, Master, that I am very likely to have an emotional breakdown if I allow myself to consider the reality of this situation for longer than the fraction of a second I already have,” Ben reports, full of false cheer. “Suffice to say, I am far from stable and have only held out this far for Luke’s sake.”

“Can you explain why you have my DNA?” Obi-Wan asks, as the person who’s most concerningly involved in this situation.

“You can,” Ben says, smiling like there is absolutely nothing wrong in the slightest, ever. “I’m you, from the future. I actually died and spent a few years dead before coming back. I’m not sure why I’m younger than I was when I died, but I appreciate being able to put on my shoes without my knees attempting to mutiny.”

“He needs a mind healer,” Luke reiterates, in case the strained grin hasn’t made it clear. “So do I, but not as much.”

“I have felt literally every person in this Temple save for Luke and Yoda die,” Ben reports, looking a shade more manic than a few seconds earlier. “It’s very overwhelming to feel you all being alive again. I may be approaching a mental breakdown, and I’ve been rather strictly advised against using alcohol to treat my traumas again.”

Luke kicks him in the thigh. It’s not a very hard kick, because he is very small, and he does actually like Ben. “I’m not letting you turn into an old drunk again.”

After several seconds of silence, a healer quietly suggests that everyone clear the room, and asks if someone could fetch Master Yoda as the youngling requested.

(THIS IS ALMOST THREE THOUSAND WORDS. I started it less than two hours ago. Why am I like this.)

#Ben Kenobi #Obi Wan Kenobi #Luke Skywalker #Qui Gon Jinn #Time Travel #De Aging #Phoenix Posts #Uncle Ben and Little Luke

768 notes · View notes

ericssmile · 3 years

Text

burnt brownies || felix.l

pairing: Lee Felix x reader

warnings: uhh... almost burning the house down? And maybe some swearing? Idk; this was also kind of rushed hence why the ending is shit

genre: fluff... just a giant amount of fluff.

author: @ericssmile

word count: 2.5k

A/N: I had something else written like... halfway through this bUT GOOGLE FUCKING DOCS CRASHED AND NEVER SAVED THE DAMN THING! So if its shit and doesn't make sense... thats why. Also HAPPY BELATED BIRTHDAY FELIX!!

༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞༞

“Dude I don’t think these measurements are right..” Chris turns to you with concern on his face, nervous laughter passing though his lips.

You laugh quietly and walk over to him. You noticed the big silver bowl that's usually used by Stray Kid’s resident baker, Felix -your boyfriend- filled with what's supposed to be a brownie batter. But in all honesty, it just looks like someone who’s lactose intolerant had literally spewed from their rear into the bowl. It was so runny.

“Oh my god Chan.” You chuckle, taking the measuring cups out of the elders hand and putting it into the bag of flour. “Whenever something doesn’t look right, if it's too dry, add more liquid. But if it’s too runny, like this batter,” You take your hand out of the flour bag, evening it out onto the cup, making sure it was the right amount and plop it into the bowl. “Just add more dry mixture to it.” You point to the bowl. “Try it now.”

Chan nods his head and starts mixing the brownie batter, a smile on his face as he notices the drastic change. It was no longer a runny mess! “It worked!” Chan exclaimed with excitement. You couldn’t help but laugh at his reaction.

Once the mixture had looked smooth enough, you and Chan had placed it into a baking tray, making sure that the baking paper was on properly beforehand. You scraped the bowl of an excess mixture and spread it evenly in the tray. The temptation to lick the spatula of the sweet, delicious mixture was very hard to ignore, but somehow you managed.

It felt weird baking with someone who wasn’t Felix. To you, it was a domestic activity that the two of you enjoyed, making memories and just having fun with it. But, since it was his birthday, you wanted to surprise him by making him his favourite treat. Putting every ounce of love that you had for that precious boy into it. And Chan was there to help of course.

“How long do we put it in the oven for?” Chan asked.

You pursed your lips and scrunched your eyebrows in thought. “I'm pretty sure it's roughly around 20 to 25 minutes.” You watch as Chan set the timer on the oven, hearing a faint ticking sound once done. “We’ll just make sure to keep an eye on it every now and then, just to be sure.” Chan nods.

It was early in the morning, and the day before had been Jisung’s birthday. Every year that Felix and Jisung had known each other, they always headed up to the top of the building and sat and watched the stars, just sharing the moment between one another. And once the clock strikes midnight on the 15th of September, Jisung and Felix hi-five one another and Jisung says “Birthday Pass.” Felix would always talk to you about it. Told you how pretty the stars were.

You always tried to be cheesy with him when he says that. Saying how the stars were pretty, but he was more beautiful than any star in the night sky. He denies it every time, but you promise him that you’re telling nothing but the truth. And it is true. He’s the most beautiful boy that you have ever met. He had eyes that held the entire galaxy in them and sparkled each and every time he talked about something that he had so much passion for; he had a smile that always brightens up the room whenever he walks into it; and his freckles. His freckles that you just love to admire and tell him everyday just how much you love them on him.

“Did you write that letter for him?” The sound of Chan’s voice brought you back to reality. It took you a second to realise what he asked but soon nodded your head at his question.

“Of course I did.” You smile bashfully. “It’s there on the table if you want to read it.” Chan smiles back, but shakes his head at your offer.

“I’m sure Lix will show me after. I want him to read it first.” You nod your head at his response, and soon yawn. Man, who would’ve thought baking could take so much energy out of you.

“Wake me when the brownies are done.”

********

The sound of the smoke alarm going off startled you awake from your power nap, almost falling off of the couch. Your heart was pounding. The kitchen was on the verge of being swarmed in smoke. “Fuck!” You cried out, running into the kitchen and towards the oven. You find the oven mits, opening the oven, your face instantly being met with too much smoke and on the verge of having a coughing fit.. “God dammit Christopher.”

You close the oven door and rip off the oven mits as soon as you place the tray down on the bench. And just as you thought. The brownies were burnt to a crisp. A sad sigh escaped past your lips. The one time you bake with someone else and it all goes to shit. Reminder to self: never bake with Chan. Ever. Again.

The sound of feet stomping filled your ears, hearing it getting louder and louder and then.. It stopped. A gasp came from the foot stomper at the sight of the smoke -that was now clearing away little by little- “The brownies! Y/N I'm sorry! I forgot!” The voice shrieked as he got closer to the now charcoaled brownies and sighed sadly. “I take full responsibility for this.” Chan says, placing his hands on his hips. “I was on my computer doing some stuff and had my headphones on.”

“It’s alright. At least we tried.” You laugh, placing a comforting hand on Chan’s shoulder.

“The hell happened here?” The sound of Felix’s voice caught you by surprise. And here you had hoped to hide the burnt brownies in time. You nervously laugh, running your hand through your hair as you try to come up with an excuse as to why the kitchen smells burnt.

Just as you come up with an excuse, Chan beats you to it. “Y/N and I wanted to surprise you with birthday brownies but uh,” he chuckles “they kinda got burnt.”

“I can see that.” Felix laughs, walking into the kitchen to get a look at the brownies just to see how burnt they were. You watched him closely. And once he got a look at the brownies, his eyes widened in shock. “Jesus, you weren’t kidding.”

“Never again am I baking.” Chan exclaims, holding his hands in the air in a surrendering motion. It was probably for the best that he stays away from anything baking. He’s good at making music. He should stick to that instead.

You sigh and walk up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder and pat it in a joking manner. “You should really just stick to your day… or night job-whatever it is, just stick to music.” You bellow out a laugh as he glares at you and playfully brushes your hand off of his shoulder.

“If you’re done bullying me, I’m going to go back and finish doing what I was doing before I let the kitchen almost set on fire.” he huffs, walking out of the kitchen, soon smiling as he wishes Felix a happy birthday. Felix gives him a hug and thanks him, soon turning his full, undivided attention on to you. And the way he's looking at you is giving you all these butterflies, reminding you back when he first asked you out on a date. His smile is as bright as the sun, being the literal definition of sunshine.

He slowly walks towards you with that damn smile on his face, feeling your own smile automatically make its way onto your face. The feeling of him wrapping his arms around your waist makes you feel warm and safe. The feeling of being home.

Wrapping your arms lightly around his neck, you lean up and place a gentle kiss on his cheek where his freckles were. He giggles softly, bringing a finger to your nose and boops you.

“I was hoping to give you brownies for once on your birthday.” You pout as you run your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck. He just smiles and places a gentle kiss on your nose, this thumbs rubbing small circles on your hip; it was his way of saying he appreciated the thought.

“It’s alright beautiful. It’s the thought that counts right?’ He shrugs, fingers poking your side slightly.

You smile and nod your head. And in that moment, it felt like it was just you two. No one else. No one to intervene. Nothing to get in the way. Just you two in each others arms.

You let out a slight gasp, remembering the letter that you had written for him. He was surprised at the sound, and had to reluctantly let you out of his grasp so you could head towards the table where the said letter laid. You picked it up and smiled nervously, heading back to the birthday boy. Once in front of him, you held out your hands towards him, waiting for him to take the letter from your grasp.

He tilts his head to the side like a cute puppy, but smiles as he gladly takes the envelope from your hands. You watched as he looked down at his name, written in fine, black ink in your handwriting that he loved dearly. He traced his finger over each letter gently, embedding how you write his name into his head so he can cherish it forever.

“It’s uh, not much, but i hope you love it.” You had poured your heart out into that letter. Letting out every raw emotion that you felt towards him and how he makes you feel. How much you cherish him.

“If it’s from you, of course I’m going to love it.” He smiles as he makes his way towards the couch with you following behind him. He sat down first with a content sigh. You sat across from him, anxiously waiting for him to open the letter.

He smiles as he turns the envelope over, taking the letter out slowly so that he doesn’t ruin it somehow. Your fingers were playing with the hem of your sweater, teeth nibbling on your lip every now and then, anticipating how Felix will feel after he reads that letter.

He clears his throat as he unfolds the paper and reads:

“To my bright sunshine,

My Felix. My Yongbok. Oh how I am so thankful for this day, as it is the day where we celebrate the life of you. September 15th is my favourite day, all because you were born. I thank God everyday for the fact that he’s brought you into my life. Because without you, it wouldn't be as bright.

I look forward to every morning, waking up to see your usual “Good morning my starlight” text messages. But seeing you in person is even better because i get to stare at your beautiful face all day and admire you up close.

I hope you know how much I love and appreciate you. You always know how to make me smile; my shoulder to cry on when I need to vent; my safe haven. I love that smile of yours that always brightens up every room that you walk into. You are quite literally my own personal sunshine. Always brightening up my days and motivating me to get out and do something, even if it's just for a few minutes or so. I love how much emotion your eyes show; to me they hold the entire galaxy in them. No star in the sky could compare to how beautiful those brown beauties of yours are. You are my everything and I can’t believe I get the chance to call you mine. I love everything about you, from your freckles to your tiny hands,”

“Hey!” he pouts but soon smiles after hearing you giggle.

“I’m sorry! Just keep reading please!”

He shakes his head, and huffs as he continues to read:

“I love how selfless you are; making sure to check in on me and your members. And your brownies. Don’t ever stop making those delicious, gooey treats. Your friends and I, we really do appreciate all that you do for us. When it comes to your down days, all i want to do is cover you in a blanket and cuddle you until you feel better. Seeing you sad and upset makes me sad and upset. Because you deserve all the good in the world Lix. You are one of a kind.

And Stay. Your beautiful fans. They love you so much. I can tell how much you love and appreciate them, just as much as they do for you too. I’m sure they’d be on the same boat as me when I say that no matter what you do or where you go in life, I’m always going to be right there beside you, cheering you on. Cause all I want for you is to be happy.

I love you Felix. And I will love you until the very end.

With love,

Your Starlight.”

You hear him sniffle causing you to move closer to him, bringing your thumb to his cheek and wiping away his tears. He nestles his cheek into your hand, bringing his free one that wasn’t holding onto the letter to hold onto your hand.

For the first few minutes, the two of you had sat in silence. Felix read over the letter every now and again, a soft, adoring smile on his face. God how he loved you. You were absolutely everything to him. To him, you were his guardian angel. Always there for him when he needs you most. He would drop whatever he was doing just to be by your side just like you would for him.

Bringing your hand to his lips, he places a soft kiss along your knuckles. His eyes were closed, but you knew that he was just savoring the moment. “Thank you for your beautiful words.” he whispers, opening his eyes to stare into yours. “I am going to cherish this, just like how I cherish you.” You smile at his words, leaning in to kiss his lips. You could feel him smile into the kiss as he wraps his arms around you, bringing you onto his lap just so that he could hold you close to him. Breaking away from the kiss, you lean your forehead against his, bringing a finger to his nose and booping him just like he did to you earlier.

Sometimes you don’t need extravagant gifts on your birthday. Just having someone that you love dearly is just as much a precious gift as anything. Even if they do almost burn the kitchen down making you a sweet for your birthday.

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

170 notes · View notes

shyficwriter · 3 years

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Who's Tougher Part 3

Guardians of the Galaxy fanfic | Reader x Guardians (With Yondu and Kraglin!) Guest starring Thor & Loki

Summary: If you were expecting anything the day after the Guardians find out you're a Nephilim, it wasn't for Thor and Loki to decide to "pop-in" for a visit. Too bad Yondu won't let you hide.

Author’s Note: Part 1 here. Part 2 here.

Word Count: 1,873

You were on the lower deck helping Yondu and Kraglin sort out the best course for an upcoming job. They hadn't brought up anything from the night before and you were grateful for that. You could feel the others staring at you all morning, and so you jumped at the chance to join the two men below deck to work.

Like, you got it. You really did. It would be odd to find out one of your friends had been hiding that they had certain powers or extra abilities, but it was nice to be with a couple of people who at least pretended they didn't give a crap about finding out you weren't actually Terran.

And for the most part, it was true. Yondu and Kraglin didn't care if you weren't Terran. They had raised Peter knowing he was half-celestial for 24 years. You being a Nephilim probably wasn't much different, and the fact that you admitted you didn't use your powers because you couldn't control them pretty much put you in the same boat as Peter, far as they were concerned. It also didn't look like you were gonna start wanting special treatment, if anything it was obvious you would abhor anything like that happening, so yeah, they didn't really care as long as you continued pulling your weight. Far as they were concerned, nothing had changed.

You had opened your mouth to ask Yondu a question when you heard an all-too-familiar voice booming out a happy greeting from the floor above you, followed by Mantis's bubbly excited cry of "Peter! Thor came to visit! And he brought a friend!"

You eyes went wide and you paled, dropping your pen and whatever else you were doing in an instant. "Oh no- Oh fuck-"

"What?" Yondu asked, looking at you strangely. He of course had heard it too, but he wasn't really expecting the look of fear that was in your eyes. Yeah, you had looked awful nervous when Rocket had called the "Thunder Man," but now that almost looked like genuine horror in your eyes. He wondered if he should be worried or amused, and from the look on Kraglin's face, he did too.

"I've got to get out of here." you say, starting to back away while still looking at the ceiling.

"No ya don't," said Kraglin, grabbing your arm and pulling you back. He realized this was likely the perfect time to find out why you were so nervous when Rocket called Thor last night. "Not until you at least tell us what's got ya so scared of Thor and his brother."

You looked at Yondu pleadingly, but he only nodded in agreement with Kraglin.

"Can we maybe do this later?" you plead, your urgency to hide becoming ever more apparent when a voice, softer than Thor's, could be heard asking one of the others upstairs if you were around.

Yondu almost laughed. He hadn't seen you like this before, but whatever had gotten your pants in a twist was clearly the fault of whoever was upstairs. "Nah, I wanna hear what's got you all riled up. This fella an ex-boyfriend of yers or somethin'?"

You make a face at him. "No!"

"Then what? Spill it, otherwise I might just be tempted to call them down here myself." Yondu chuckled.

You glare back at him. "You wouldn't dare."

"He really would, trust me." Kraglin warned, grinning.

"Ugh, fine!" you relented. "When we were younger, there was this prank that sorta went wrong..."

"Go on," Yondu prodded, intrigued.

"And well, you see, I didn't mean for it to happen, but I might have sorta accidentally made Loki lose his hair. Like all of it. Not just on his his head, everywhere. Eyebrows, everything. I heard it took months to start growing back in fully..." you nervously fidgeted, "and I imagine he's probably still real sore about that."

Yondu laughed. "That's all? If that happened when ya'll were kids I doubt he even remembers. I don't see what yer worried about." Sure, maybe it was because Yondu never had much hair himself save for his beard, but he didn't really see what the big deal was.

"You clearly don't know him then," you say, "so if you'll excuse me I'm going to go hide."

Yondu scoffed. "Last I checked we don't hide from our problems like scared babies. How can ya expect to call yerself a guardian of the galaxy if you're gonna run and hide like a scared little orloni? Ya gotta face up to yer fears, not run from them."

You tried to reason with him. "No- you don't understand-"

"I understand plenty enough. Yer gonna march up there and face yer fears like an adult."

"You really don't understand," you pleaded, "I'd have a better chance with the airlock. I can't!"

Yondu rolled his eyes, "Yes ya can. Come on." he then collared you and began to march you towards the stairs. Kraglin followed, fighting not to giggle at the sight.

"No- wait- Yondu- please! Come on!" Your pleas fell on deaf ears the entire way up the stairs until you reached the landing and Yondu turned you to face him.

"Look here. Either ya can straighten up and face this fella, or you can embarrass yourself by continuing to act like a scared little kid, what's it gonna be?"

You look at him pitifully and say, "I really hate you right now."

He only grinned and said, "I know it," before ushering you forward towards the sounds of the voices, keeping his hand on your shoulder.

When you neared the doorway of the room the others were in Yondu felt you start to resist again, but he just pushed you on without a word, chuckling to himself and throwing an amused look at Kraglin, who was grinning wide. All too soon the three of you were standing in the doorway, staring at the rest of the team as they caught up with Thor.

You forced a small smile when Mantis looked over and happily announced your arrival, prompting Thor to turn towards you with a big smile and begin to approach you, calling your name and opening his arms for a hug.

Yondu gave you a not-completely-gentle push when Thor got close enough and you collided the the tall man as he embraced you. You returned the hug, tentatively at first, but then fully. If you were honest with yourself, you had missed him too, and it was nice to be hugged by your old friend.

After a moment or two he pulled away so he could look at you. "It's been so long! No wonder I didn't recognize you!" He chuckled, adding, "I guess 800 years will do that though, I'm sure I also look very different, so it's no wonder you didn't recognize me as well."

Well, that saved your ass in one regard, at least he wouldn't be hurt by (rightfully) thinking you'd been avoiding him and Loki.

"I'm sorry, did you just say 800 years?" Peter interjected.

You gave a sheepish look to your team, who all had wide, surprised eyes. There were several open mouths about the bunch. You were sure if you turned around to look Yondu and Kraglin might have matched their expressions.

Thor looked between you and the rest of the gang before looking back at you with a chuckle, "Didn't tell them?"

You shrugged, still looking sheepish. "Do you think they'd have believed me?" you say with a slight chuckle, throwing a nervous look at Peter and Gamora who still looked like they were processing this new information.

Thor grinned. "I guess not." He then stepped aside, beckoning Loki to say hi to his old friend, cooing about how much you had changed since they'd seen you last.

It wasn't until then that you had gotten a good look at Loki, as Thor's larger frame had obscured him before. He didn't approach to crush you in a hug like Thor, instead staying where he was and offering a little wave as he grinned. You grin nervously and offer a wave in return. You could feel a heat rising in your cheeks.

Dammit.

Of course he would have grown up pretty. His hair certainly came back nicely.

You try to shake the thought from your mind as you turn to Thor and ask, "So, um, what brings you guys here?"

To your surprise, Thor put his arm around your shoulder and walked you closer to where everyone else was at. "Well, Rabbit's call lost signal before I could find Loki," He released you and you turned back to the doorway to see that while Yondu and Kraglin had also stepped further into the room, they remained close to the door, grinning. They were blocking the door so you couldn't run away, the bastards. Thor continued, "so Loki suggested we just pop-by for a visit instead." Thor answered with a grin.

Your head snapped back toward the group. So it was Loki's idea? Oh no.

Loki's grin seemed to get wider. "Yes, I thought it'd be fun to catch up with an old friend. I can't for the life of me remember why we lost touch. Do you?" His eyes seemed to sparkle with glee, and you were certain you weren't imagining it.

You swallowed, forcing a smile. He absolutely remembered. Crap. "Um, no. I have no idea either..." you lied, praying that no one else noticed the blush in your cheeks. "I guess things just... happen."

"Would you guys like to stay for supper?" Gamora offered, and Peter gave her a look. Peter and Thor had only just barely gotten past their dick-measuring contest the last time he was here, and his ego was still a little bruised. Gamora caught his look and clarified, "That way everyone can catch up more? Drax will be making stew."

Stay for supper? Oh no. It was only just after lunch, they'd be here for hours if they stayed for supper. Gamora, why?? Well, it was just an offer, they may decline...

Thor and Loki exchanged looks each meant to ask if the other cared before shrugging and Thor answering that they'd love to stay for supper.

Damn.

Yondu spoke up. "Hell, why not stay a couple days!" Peter shot him a look as well before he caught Yondu's wink. "After all, you three must have a lot of catchin' up to do if it's been 800 years since ya'll seen each other last."

You throw a pleading glare at the Centaurian and Thor speaks up, "Oh, we could never impose like that-"

You quietly sighed. Thank goodness.

"Nonsense, boy!" Yondu says, approaching to put his arms around you and Thor's shoulders. "We're happy to have the company. Right, Quill?"

Aw, hell, Yondu! Seriously!? You wanted to kill him.

To your dismay Peter had read the room and now sported a smile. "Yeah. Stay a couple days, I insist."

Your nostrils flared. These fuckers were working against you. However, your blood ran cold when you heard Loki's smooth voice say, "Well, brother, they did insist," and then heard Thor finally agree to staying.

Loki met your eyes, grinning wide.

You were so dead.

#gotg #gotg x reader #fanfic #guardians of the galaxy #thor #loki #yondu udonta #x reader #reader insert #kraglin obfonteri #peter quill #gamora #drax

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honesthammie · 3 years

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Prompt 39: Death wants you to be terrified. But the scariest thing is wanting death.

13th Doctor x female curvy reader

Warnings: mentions of suicidal thoughts, alcohol and drug abuse, domestic abuse, fat phobia

I'm sorry for this. Its really depressing and I've been hesitant on letting you guys see it but I kinda like how it's written. I've made the abuser gender neutral as females can also be abusive. I promise the next one will be much happier!

"Come on (y/n), you can make it! Just jump across and reach for my hand. I promise you won't fall." The Doctors voice echoes across the widening canyon. If you looked down, you would only see pitch black. You didn't know how long you'd fall. Maybe this would be the perfect time to just go for it. Its not like you'd matter, you're only slowing the team down as is.

They wouldn't even be in this mess if you didn't slip and hit the world shattering drill, turning it on full blast. Unfortunately, you smashed the button making it unable to turn it off. Of course the only way you'd be able to turn it off is to actually go towards it. Everyone in the room screamed at you and some raised their tentacles to attack you if the Doctor didn't step in front of you. You know the Doctor noticed you flinching and your eyes gloss over and noticed you bracing for the impact.

You learned over the years to just accept your fate. You can't run from anyone when you weighed this much. You couldn't hide either, which often left you to just accept what was coming and hope nothing broke. Bruises were always easy to cover and so were any cuts but broken bones, that was always on display and you'd have to break your number one rule: never lie. You hated lying. The truth always comes out anyway so why hide it? If you hide it, you get punished worse anyway so why bother?

If you jumped and actually went with the team, you'd get questioned about earlier and about hesitating at jumping. But if you fell, would the Doctor miss you? As much as you hated to admit it, you were absolutely in love with the adorable alien. Why did you hate to admit it? Because she was a goddess and you were a waste of skin and bones. You weren't skinny and you didn't fit in with the team at all. You were only here out of pity.

You remember when you first met the team. You were the only person alive when they searched underneath the hotel. Even the spiders didn't want you. You were at the hotel because you heard about killer spiders and you wanted an out. You could never do it or something would come up stopping you from ending all your misery. You were the complete opposite of the Doctor. She was so brave and said whatever she wanted and didn't really care for the consequences.

You focused on the Doctors sparkling eyes. Despite the situation, she still sparkled with hope and encouragement. She wasn't upset with you. You really wished she was. This would be such an easier decision to make. Your head was pounding and your heart was going faster than her two hearts. Did you even want her upset? You couldn't tell, your head was spinning wildly, one thought going to another without a chance to process the last one.

You had come to a clear decision. You ran back and let momentum do its thing as your feet left the muddy gravel. You felt so free as you glided in the air for a few seconds. It was the most beautiful feeling. No punishment, no tears before going to sleep and no terror of going back home. Just you and gravity.

Then with a clearer mind you regretted your choice. You were horrified. You weren't ready. It wasn't time yet. Graham can't lose you. He'd only recently lost his wife. He'd feel the same as you and that thought terrified you. He'd survived cancer and gained himself a new family. He can't be like you. Ryan needed him, wether he was willing to admit that or not.

Suddenly you panicked and last minute reached your hand out hoping you'd grab something. Anything. You felt a soft warm object and latched on for dear life. You were then lifted up and onto soil. You focused on your breathing a moment and waited for your heart to calm down. You looked up and saw what, or rather who, saved you. You shouldn't have been so surprised to see the Doctors worried face above yours. She gave you a questioning look, knowing the question, you nodded your head and she straightened herself and helped you up.

"That was great (n/n)! So brave of you! Let's go gang, we've gotta turn this drill off before it splits the planet in half!" She shouted as she ran forward, seemingly knowing the way. She didn't let go of your hand until you reached the drill about 10 minutes later. You couldn't help the blushthat formed on your cheeks. The Doctor quickly opened a panel on the side of the drill.

The drill was massive, bigger than the Eiffel Tower and that what was on surface level, it went down much deeper that it had reached halfway to the liquid nitrogen that ran in this cold planet where our magma centre would be. The drill itself was purple and spherical. The panel box was the size of a human head which was about the size of the civilisations sucker pads. Inside were 3 buttons and 1 lever. You needed to type the pattern that would gain the access to the drill and force stop. If it goes wrong, it speeds up rendering this planet uninhabitable.

You watched as the Doctor quickly typed the pattern in. Red,blue,red,red,red,blue,black,black,blue. That was the pattern she quickly pressed in and held the lever down for 10 seconds. Soon the drill came to a halt and the planet was peaceful once again. You all let out a sigh of relief as it stopped.

You made your way back to the chief of the race and explained that they should dismantle and never use that drill again unless they plan to empty the panet of everything it has within. He quickly agreed and the fam made their way back to the TARDIS.

As soon as tye TARDIS was parked on the edge of your solar system, you got into your comfy clothes ready to nap or maybe play a few games to slow your adrenaline until you were tired enough for a full nights rest. You played a few rounds of uno and some poker where you used some bits of metal instead of chips. Eventually everyone had left except you and the Doctor.

You made your way to the doors of the ship and settled down just watching the stars in front of you. If the sentient machine hadn't already been aware of your darkest thought, you would have jumped out there and been amongst them. Just floating eventually turning to nothing but bones drifting, maybe to never be found. All the sights you've seen and yet this is where you were the most impressed. This was your home, your galaxy and because of all the light pollution, you had never been fully aware of how many neighbours you had because you had been literally blind. This was only stuff captured and faked and now, it's forever in your mind.

You heard movement and a shuffle next you. You knew who it was because she was the only other person awake and you knew she was going to ask and not let it drop until you tell her truth. And you were going to give her it but that doesn't mean you were ready to do so but you had to, someone had to know. Maybe you wanted help or maybe just someone to listen and know everything making you mentally naked in front of them.

The Doctor waited a few moments. She was figuring out how to word it without sounding horrible. "Is everything alright at home?" She asked her voice laced with genuine concern. "Sorry if this sounds a bit abrupt but let me explain. You've been really weird lately. You hardly speak and when you its with as few words as possible, you keep going elsewhere mentally and Rassilion forbid anyone getting angry with you! I also noticed how you hesitated today when jumping and I saw your worry and panic when you jumped. I think I know but I can't help you if you don't at least tell me what is going on! And don't change the subject or anything, just answer me please. I lo-. I can't lose you too." Her voice raised a little as she panicked just speaking about it. Halfway through she grabbed both of your hands and continued her speech.

You looked deep into her eyes for any sign of a lie but there wasn't one. Just like at the canyon, her eyes showed nothing but love. Maybe you should tell her, just her. No Yaz, no Graham and no Ryan. Just you, The Doctor and the TARDIS. You looked away for a moment as you collected your thoughts. However, as you opened your mouth and tried to speak, you found no voice. You couldn't tell her about them. Lord knows what she's capable of. But you've been looking for an out for so damn long. Maybe this is it. She's your out, no death involved.

You walked towards a panel in the console and pushed your hands inside and focused. You focused on the worst time it happened. You concentrated on the fear and everything attached. You couldn't tell her, but you could show her. The TARDIS disappeared into the vortex but didn't seem so sure on landing. She was picking it all up, she felt everything you did and she did not like going. "Please baby girl, I need her to know. I need help but I can't tell her. She's my only out that doesn't involve death and that terrifies me! Please. I understand your hesitation but she needs to see." You spoke mentally to the sentient blue box. She made a sad sound as she gently landed in the moment.

The Doctor looked at you bewildered. Her eyes were wide and her mouth agape. You walked up to her and grabbed her hand reassuringly. You led her to the doors that separated her from your darkest secret. You took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

You appeared to be in the basement of your house. You walked up the stairs and took her to a storage room where she could see it happen. You sat in silence for a few minutes only the sounds of breathing and your heartbeat could be heard.

You knew this day off by heart, it plagued your nightmares often. It all started to sweet and went sour so quickly. At this time you were currently on your way back from doing your weekly shop to Tescos making sure you didn't forget their vodka and gin on your way to pay. Thankfully, the shop was only 10 minuets away and you doubted that the TARDIS would make you wait longer than nessacary. Just as the Doctor opened her mouth to speak the door opened and in walked an 18 year old you.

You set the bags down and started sorting the items into their new places. The canned foods go in the cupboard and the meat goes into the fridge. There were loads of food and stuff to go through and place properly. After you placed the last can of baked beans into the cupboard, the door swung open, nearly breaking the door.

They came home from their dealers place early. They stunk of weed and alcohol and had a little white powder around their nose. They looked like they had a good time until they had to come home. It was their dealers birthday so he was having a brothel themed party meaning there were strippers, pole dancers and prostitutes as well. The dealer was a rich guy who practically ran this city. The cops couldn't do anything as he could always bail himself out of jail.

They looked you in your comfy clothes and scoffed. They looked angry. "Why aren't you in your normal clothes babes? I thought I told you to throw away all of that shit. Come on now. Don't tell me I wasted all my well earned money on those clothes I specifically chose for you?"

You shuddered, both in the past and now except now they only made bile rise into your throat. You were so young and vulnerable. Now you know better.

The past you quickly scampered off to get changed. After only 5 minutes you reappeared in what was sexy school girl. The blue miniskirt covered less than most underwear so you were forced to wear a thong. The shirt was a bralet that barely covered your nipples. Your hair was in pigtails and you wore thigh highs. The sight made you silently sick in your mouth. You looked pathetic and weak.

You looked at them expectingly. You were waiting for your next order from them. They seemed to drool at the sight of you. "That's better babes. Why didn't you go shopping like that? Show the world your fat ugly figure? I want you to walk out there and see that no one else wants you but here I am, loving you. I am the only one who will ever like you in the way we have now. Your lucky I've had some fun tonight. All I want is my vodka and a new blunt darling"

You quickly went and grabbed their stuff and walked towards them as they settled in front of the TV. They turned the TV on and put Love Island on. How you hated that show. It made you feel bad for being the size you are. The women on there were beautiful but you also knew that, that kind of beauty costs money. So while your partner had fun watching the show for the romance, you watched it to spot what part of them was bought and what was real. Almost all the women had fake teeth and breasts. You hated how your partner would make snide comments on how they looked compared to you.

"You should be looking like Becky ya know. Beautiful teeth, big perky tits and a fucking great ass. What do you have? Flabs!" And there was the first comment of the day. The first of 30, you counted.

"Yeah well you are fucking broke so I can't look like fucking fake ass Becky or the others!" You thought. Then the Doctor gave you a look of shock and pity and then you realised you said that aloud. Not loud enough for them to hear you but enough for the Doctor.

"Make yourself fucking useful and make me some dinner. I fancy a steak and chips." They ordered as you got up and waddled over to the kitchen. A few minutes in you realised you put too much oil in the pan for the steak but the steak was already in and cooking quick. So quick that it started to smoke just a little bit. You tried blowing it away from them before they realised that you fucked up their dinner but ut was too late. They were already on their feet a marching towards you.

"I'm so sorry. I accidentally poured too much oil in. I'm so sorry. I have a spare steak, you can have my meal for tonight, I could do with skipping a meal anyways, helps me lose weight!" Past you was panicked and present you wasn't much better. Even though you were safe from them, they still made you uneasy. If you were to ever see them again, you'd freeze. They made your blood run cold. Even their voice sent unpleasant shivers down your spine.

"You better make me another steak but I still have to punish you. You fucked up, a lesson needs to be learnt." They said scarily politely. They grabbed your left arm and marched you towards the sink. They also grabbed the burning pan and pinned you so you had no escape as they poured the boiling oil onto your skin. You knew not to scream do you bit into your other arm knowing a bite out of it is better than causing more punishments for screaming.

When they were done left to watch the TV and you knew what that meant. You had to cook the spare steak and make there meal before you can get proper treatment at the hospital. Through your tears of agony, you quickly ran your burnt and bleeding arm under the cold water of the sink. You bit deeper into your other arm and tasting blood, but thay didn't stop you until the left one had cooled down. Then you got an old shirt, ripped 2 pieces of fabric off and wrapped them around both arm Injuries. You then continued their meal.

Once they had the meal they kicked you and punched you in the stomach because the chips were slightly cold and then they drove you to the hospital as they promised. When you had left you didn't realise you had been crying until a drop fell on your arm. You walked out of the storage room and sat on the sofa, turning the TV off.

The Doctor looked shocked for a moment before walking over and kneeling in front of you. The Doctor went silent for a moment. Before she could speak, you decided to speak first.

"I couldn't tell you because I couldn't think if a nice way of telling you. I didn't want to appear weak to you." You cried as your voice cracked in the middle due to the tears and the strain. The Doctor looked at you in pity and disappointment.

"This does not make you weak. Being abused does not make you weak. Because being abused is like being tortured by someone who supposed to love you and cherish you. They are meant to protect you from danger not be the danger. I would never hurt you. I know that I put you in risky situations but believe me, I would never intentionally put you in danger. You mean too much to me" The Doctor softly spoke with tears making a little river down her soft cheeks and onto your black carpet below.

"Before I met them, I was like you or Yaz. I was so happy at everything. Very little could bring me down. But I met them and started dating them and suddenly, my world of sunshine faded to grey. There was no light. I wanted to die Doctor. When you found me at that spider hotel, I wanted to be free from them as I couldn't do it. I can't because they'd kill me. I don't want to be alive whilst I'm with them. I have so many scars from either them or me trying to end my own life and that the scariest thing. Death wants us to be terrified but wanting to die is so much more terrifying Doctor, I know that." You cried as you emptied all you could to her. The Doctor was silent for a moment, taking in everything you said. Waves of emotion flashed through her, anger, sadness, pity and something you couldn't quite place.

"You said wanted. That's past tense. You said wanted to die. What changed? What made you want to live?"

"You did. You saved me from the spiders. You gave me a temporary out of the relationship for a while. You made me smile for the first time in 3 years! You made me laugh. The world of grey is now full of sunshine and rainbows Doctor. You also saved me today. When I jumped across that canyon, I jumped to end my life. I made a mistake that nearly ended a planet! If I wasn't so fat and clumsy maybe i-"

"Don't you dare say that! You are not fat (n/n). Yes you have more plush to your body but you are not fat. I hate that word. Its such a nasty word. You are gorgeous, amazing and so brilliant. You can't see what I see and I really wished you could for just one moment. You are worthy of being loved and cared for. You are precious, rare, one of a kind. I've never met anyone like you. There's always some skinny, fake bodied and caked up women but there's no one with as much natural beauty as you! Let's get back to the TARDIS and we'll talk more when looking at the stars because I can see that being here isn't doing you any favours" The Doctor spoke with such passion that you started to believe that her words held more than those of a supporting friend would.

Once the TARDIS was parked in the Milky Way you settled by the door once again and found yourself accompanied by the sweet alien. You both sat there for a moment just content with wrapping your heads around what's just happened. You looked over to the blonde and noticed how the stars made her glow in such an ethereal way that you felt almost compelled to worship her. Maybe you should after everything she's done for you. Her eyes sparkled with si many emotions from the past senario.

"Are you still with them?"

"Why do you think I never left this place? I mean even if could, I wouldn't want to but it's mainly because if I go back home, I'll come back with more injuries. I feel safer with you. You are my sunshine and rainbows and they are my storm clouds. Whilst I'm here, I'm alive and mostly unbroken. Whilst I'm there, I'm as alive as a puppet and severely broken. I can't leave, not on my own anyway."

The Doctor looked at you in thought. "The starlight compliments you. You look so pretty and almost angelic. I just wish they never hurt my angel. My innocent angel had broken wings and I'm going to fix what the Devil broke, I promise. Just hold on, I'm going to take us somewhere."

You held the nearest crystal as the TARDIS transported you somewhere but it seemed like the sentient machine was determined to take you there as quick as she could. As you opened the doors you noticed a familiar smell of weed mixed with alcohol. You heard the familiar tune of Love Island and knew exactly where you were. You were home. The Doctor saw your hesitation and whispered softly, "I want you to pack everything you want. I've written a note for them to find. I'm going to put it on the bed. If they notice you scream for me and I'll be there. They will not hurt you much, hopefully not at all. I just need to do something in the TARDIS before I help you." She turned and left into the TARDIS and disappeared down a corridor.

The atmosphere sent chills down your spine and you were frozen. The TARDIS seemed to notice and words of encouragement were sent into your head which helped you move towards your bedroom. You quickly buy quietly opend your suitcase and started to fill it with clothing and hygiene products. As you entered the bathroom a bottle of their shampoo fell into the tub giving you away. You knew you only had so long before they came in and hurt you so you closed the door and barricaded it with whatever you could.

As you pushed the last cabinet to the pile they roared through the wooden door. "Let me in you fat dumb bitch. You've been gone for 3 weeks and you've got some balls coming back! You're lucky I haven't burned all your shit! Where have you been?"

Your heart ran at an extremely fast pace nd you knew only one person could help you now. And so you screamed her name so loud it hurt your throat bit that didn't stop you. You screamed until you heard talking. You couldn't understand what was said but suddenly a thud was heard and then silence.

"Hey Starlight! It's only me. I've taken care of them. They're not dead but in a venishion aikido. They can't move, they're paralysed. You can come out and finish packing"

You moved everything out of the door and opened it to a view you expected. The Doctor with 2 fingers to their pulse point on their neck. The Doctor smiled at when they saw you. You finished packing and zipped the bag up. Then Yaz walked in with her police uniform on and arrested them for domestic violence and many other things. Now you understood why The Doctor left, it was to get Yaz as a back up option to completely take them out of your life.

The Doctor helped open doors for you as you got your room and you set the suitcase to one side to empty another day. You both sat down on your bed. The sound was filled with nothing but 2 lifeforms breathing and the TARDIS faint buzzing. You two stayed like this, staring into each other, trying to read the others emotions. But we all know what The Doctor is like, she can't stay silent for long.

"I had to save you because as long as you were with them, you weren't ever going to be truly happy. I didn't want my big bright star to turn into a black hole, I wanted her to be a supernova. My Starlight deserves to be happy."

"You keep saying my Doctor. And you asked if I was still with them and then when I basically said yes, you quickly, as in a rush, sent us home so I could leave them. You keep saying all these things about me. You held my hand from the canyon to the drill. You are always the first to check on me and you always make sure I'm OK first even if I'm the farthest person from you! Doctor, be honest, I don't want any more bullshit. Doctor why?" You spoke softly but with determination. The Doctor blushed and shifted her gaze to the stars and quietly gulped. She knew this day would come. The day her secret was revealed. And she dreaded her answer and she dreaded your reaction. And whilst she figured out what to say, you already knew the answer.

You gently grabbed her chin and made her look at you. Once her gaze caught yours, you smiled and placed your lips to her soft ones. Quickly she caught up and kissed you back with all the love and passion she could muster. She wanted to relay that she did love you and that she would do exactly as she said earlier, she would cherish you.

As for you, you smiled. You finally had an out that didn't end in death but instead ended with the same love that you yearned for, for years.

#13th doctor #thirteenth doctor x reader #13th doctor x reader #depressing post #im sorry

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batfamily14 · 3 years

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The Sun Queen

BOBA FETT X BLACK QUEEN!READER

Chapter 2

Rating: explicit

A/N: You were raised to be strong, fierce but when you suddenly come into power with the task of fighting a war and for your people’s freedom becoming queen is more challenging than you imagined. Recruiting a fearsome bounty hunter by your side, it’s up to you to restore your kingdom. Follow your journey to becoming a royal legend and perhaps find love on the way.

You caught yourself thinking...

he may destroy you.

And you know what? That’d be fine.

To be completely disintegrated by all the best parts of him. At least then you’d know what you had was real.

Even if it killed you.

You’re settled in the garden, your crown perch on your head. The thick loth cat cloak you wear stands out against the black gown that slit up both your thighs. It’s you who now caught Boba staring.

Boba.

The name so fitting. As if it were crafted for him, and him only. It wouldn’t make sense if it belonged to anyone else.

You.

He couldn’t help but to look at you. The hunter notices that your skin makes it seem like you were conceived by the night sky, the stars caught in your eyes. Sparkling when you smile. He has been with plenty of women and seen dozens of beautiful girls but when he made love to them or kissed them, it didn’t feel right. When he was a young teen he often wondered what was wrong with him, thinking perhaps he would never be capable of falling in love.

But now, he thought maybe he just didn’t recognize those other girls. When he touched you he recognized you, as if your entire essence was lost to him at some point and now you’re finally his again.

Home.

You’re complete. You’re real. A living and breathing artwork met before his eyes and all he wanted to do was memorize your details. So, then maybe he’d appreciate everything in the universe that was bright, soft, and brown.

And it’d lead him like little boats down aisles floating back to you.

Back home.

~*~

You’re sitting, gazing at your mother’s statue, you squint your face up. You did that when you’re about to cry, he noted. Which you often did when you thought of your mother. He reaches out and touches you, touches you like you’re a rare and universal treasure. Precious. Fragile.

A confronting hand on your shoulder. He did that more often now, his hands becoming an extension of you.

“Little one,” his modulated voice came. The nickname shatters you. Pleasantly breaking under the unmerciful weight of him. “Fett,” you respond, coolly. His finger traces patterns into the skin of your shoulder, another new sensation.“What was her name?” He questions , softy.

“Saphoriae,” you tell him. “ In my language it means “The loved one.” ”

“What does your name mean?”

“Shining light.”

He smiles under his helmet.“How fitting.” The hunter thinks. “It’s perfect, practically designed for you.”

He’s gone back to guarding the garden entrance behind you, blaster to his armored chest. You’re perched on a bench, eyes carefully tracing over him. His body seems as if it's sketched from charcoal like he’s art and art isn’t beautiful, it’s supposed to make you feel something, and every time you see him something blooms in you. It always did. You try to remember how this happened, when you started to wonder why he wasn’t a painted portrait hung everywhere in case the universe forgot he existed once, and that thankfully at the same time you did too. What luck that is. That you could climb up his ribs into his heart if he let you.

You shift in your seat, your hand caressing through your hair. His visor gleams in your direction, his head doing his signature tilt which you found yourself growing slowly fond of. He strides closer, walking with purpose, always moving with a reason. He stops at the edge of the bench next to you. When Boba looks at you, he focuses on you as if you’re the only person in the world. Despite how unimportant the thing you could be babbling about, he makes it seem like you’re telling him the galaxy’s greatest secrets.

Your eyes unintentionally linger on the battered scars of his armor. Dents and scrapes, you cherish them all. The armor is a part of him like an exoskeleton, a shell that you so desperately want to see him crawl out of. Not so that you’d appreciate the real him, the honest him is a bounty hunter too. Just so that you could appreciate every layer of him, peel back every exterior of his being and appreciate each surface.

“What’s on your mind, little one?” He questions. You bat your lashes at him, chewing on your bottom lip.

“Your armor, how did it get like that?” You ask, gesturing to a rather large dent on the side of his helmet. He huffs, “I’m a hunter after all.” He says matter of factly. You roll your eyes to the sky making him let out a breathy chuckle. “I mean...did it hurt?” You inquire.

He sighs dramatically, peering down at you and offers a small shrug. “All a part of the business.” Boba lets you run a shy hand across his chest plate. “I’ve seen you train in the Sparring Hall, I would...watch you.” You confess. You hear the rumbling of another chuckle bubbling up in his throat.

“I know.” He almost teases, and you think you should feel embarrassed but you don’t. If he really didn’t want you to watch him he wouldn’t let you. Boba has a way of disappearing and reappearing whenever he pleased. You awe at him,“The way you fight it’s…”

Breathtaking.

He moves fluidly, as if he was dancing. Every flick of his wrist or thrown kick and punch roll one after another. His build is strong and a bit slender but nevertheless his form showcases all his strength.

“It’s what?” He probes, two fingers smoothly lift your chin up when your eyes shift away, forcing you to look at him.

“It’s...it’s fascinating.” You answer, flush with nervousness.

“Fascinating?”

“Yes...I’ve always wanted to learn.”

“How to fight?”

You nod. “Our warriors have a particular way of battle but you...you’re ruthless. You’re brutal. I like it, the fierceness of you.” Boba chuckles putting away his blaster to cross his arms over his chest, listening. “When you fight,” you continue. “It’s a testimony to your power. I want to fight like you, I need to.”

“Why do you want to fight?” The hunter questions.

“I want to feel what it looks like when you do.”

“And what’s that, girl?”

“Alive.”

~*~

The sparring hall is carved under the kingdom, built firmly with mud brick. Heavy wooden doors open to a sweeping

aged cream colored staircase leading to a platform covered with a blue mat. There’s various weapons draped on the walls. Spears, knives, a hunter’s wet dream. You’ve changed into your mother’s old sparring clothes when she waged in wars. A manogany thicken fabric wraps around your breast and crisscrosses over your stomach and spine securely, a pair of shorts with a pooling fabric hangs in the front and back like a skirt split in half, and leathery strapped sandals lace up your legs and thighs. Your locks are pulled upward with a silk wrap revealing your whole face.

Boba wears grey sweats, and it feels like a violation to see this much of him. As if he’s wholly exposed though his helmet is still on. Boba’s body is lean and muscular, his skin tan, littered with scars like his armor. But still...art nevertheless just greatly more detailed now. You find it strange, almost comical actually. At first he wasn’t your anything, a guard if you had acknowledged him in the least, always looming behind. A second shadow. But, now he's undeniable and suffocating, he’s like…

fire.

It’s always fire with Boba, burning inside you. You’re surprised him touching you hasn’t completely disintegrated you yet. You used to go all night without thinking about him, place him far enough in the back of your brain so you could survive eight hours. But, being without him is like not breathing, even in your mind. So, waking up in the morning and seeing him bathed in the sunlight is as if taking your first breath after an eternity of drowning.

It’s a desperate gasp from the loss of him.

“Let’s start with something simple.” He says. “A punch.”

You nod focusing on him and he directs with his hand to back up. “I’m going to teach you primary types of punches, first a jab.”

Boba demonstrates a series of jabs, arms moving in a blur. You can hear the wind whipping with the force of it.

He’s strong, grateful, ruthless. He’s advised to watch his form, observe his steady movements. “When it’s a decent fighter,” he begins. “they won’t be easy to read. They’ll move their arm from the place where it is right forward , so you need to have a quick reaction time and defense saved in your muscle memory to react to it automatically. You understand?” You nod and he circles around you talking. “You won’t be able to tell which arm will strike first. So, when your punch lands, your arms should be close to fully extended, extending your striking range and improving your punching power.” He demonstrates again by throwing a quick punch that breezes pass your face and you flinch away.

“Land the punch with your index and middle fingers, with your fist rotated so that your thumb points downward on impact. Power is transferred better there, and you're less likely to break your hand.” You lower yourself into stance, but your form is all wrong so he comes up behind, his hands on your hips. “Relax your upper body and use speed instead of strength.” You let him correct your stance and he knees your thigh making you slide your feet further apart . “Rotate your body and be sure not to lean forward. And most importantly...” he trails off and you hear the smile in his voice. The sound of it makes you shudder like his breaths prickle your neck. “...protect that pretty face.” You nervously adjust your footing, squaring your feet just below your shoulders.

You throw a sloppy jab that makes the hunter grunt under his helmet. “Were you even paying attention?”

You grumble under your breath a few frustrated curses before throwing another jab. He shakes his head in disapproval and grabs your arms. “Straighten up and twist your hips. Keep your eyes on your target.” You try again and though you do a lot better you almost embarrassingly lose your balance, making Boba have to catch you. He groans under his helmet frustrated but pulls you up to your feet anyway. “Try again.” He orders. You can already feel yourself prickling with irritation but you're too keen on not giving up so easily. You ultimately go at this for hours, him grunting under his helmet and correcting you, you groaning and cursing. Finally Boba has had enough and tries a new tactic, “hit me.”

“What?” You gasp, stopping your fist in mid air. You’re drenched in sweat and heaving from exhaustion. Boba feels himself twitch in his pants. “Hit me.” He repeats, voice stronger. “N-no.” You protest and he shakes his head growling. “It won’t hurt.” He argues, and admittedly that stinks but you still refuse making his cheeks burn red. “Hit me like your people depend on it.” He says suddenly, and your eyes narrow at him. “I mean it!” He growls. “Hit me like I’m the only thing standing in your way of freeing your people.”

“No!” You choke, backing away. “I won’t.”

“If you won’t hit me! How will you ever defend your people?” He insists. You push at his chest but he doesn’t budge. “I can help them. What do you know?” He grips your arms firmly. “I know alot about war, girl. There’s no mercy for the weak and hesitant.” You scold him, this time pushing past him. “I’m not weak nor hesitant!” You sneer.

“Prove it.” He hisses. When you don’t turn around he pushes at you once more. “You say death is better than bondage? What is different from giving up and living and giving up and dying if either way you’ll be remembered as the last of the Nivrols.” You hault, your skin burning, you’re practically seething at his words. Knowing they held a deadly truth. “Because we’ll die with honor.” You growl, fisting your hands at your side. Boba steps closer, his head tilting down close to your ear. “But you don’t want your people to die, you want them to live like every great leader would.” He whispers, and you clench your eyes close as you feel him tilt closer. “So, are you willing to lay down and die for your people or are you going to fucking fight?”

You don’t think, you just move like he does. Fast and fluid.

It happens so fast, he barely has time to register what happens. You hardly know what’s happening yourself before it’s too late. He lands on the matted ground with a heavy thud and you hold your aching knuckles close to your chest. D-did you just fucking uppercut him? You’re bewildered, panting and staring at him with wide eyes. He’s still...too fucking still but then you hear it, grumbling from the depths of his chest and you’re frozen. He lets out another animalistic growl at the sight of you. Horribly disheveled, a wondrous messy thing. Lock strands loosely hanging, clothes ruffled and nearly exposing the sensitive skin he’s dreamed about mindlessly. You tower over him like a true Nivrol warrior, a savior coming to cut down a sarlacc herself. Your chest heaving and stickyly coated with sweat. Mouth parted and tongue peeking out and licking the saltiness tethering down to your lips.

You could crumble right now, he’s a vision of ecstasy. Pure static plowing right through you, electrifying every nerve in your body. He’s on his hands and knees gazing upward at you, panting. Then all of sudden he’s growling and springing forward, latching his arms around you and using all his weight to knock you over. Forcing all the wind out of your lungs. He wrestles your arms over your head once you’re on the ground and you grit your teeth squirming. Great sun god he’s fucking strong! His visor glaring below at you, you give in, gasping for air. You could fight him, you feel the edge of it curling in your stomach but you release the urge. Instead relenting and letting the sensation of him hovering over you consume you. Overwhelm you.

You’re like that for a while, a sweaty messy pile on the floor. He’s snarling at you as if he's an animal, ravishing with no reason, with the desire and instinct of wanting blood between its teeth. You’re afraid to move, laying like a corpse underneath him. His blunt nails bite into your skin as if he can’t decide how to devour you yet. You feel yourself clenching around nothing between your legs, grasping at an emptiness, longing to be full. You brace yourself for whatever comes next. His head lowers slowly and you’re trembling in his grasp. His visor comes closer until it’s taking up nearly all your vision. Then suddenly you’re closing your eyes, waiting in anticipation. Agony. Then...there’s a cool icy sensation pressing against your forehead. it’s heavy and hard, shoving your head into the mat. Your eyes hesitantly peer open and you realize he’s connecting your heads together, comfortably. It’s… debilitating.

You’re certain his eyes are close and you think maybe yours should be too. Some of the most beautiful moments in life are often spent with your eyes closed. Praying. Dreaming. Kissing. Wait, is this kissing? It feels like it, spine tingling and disembodying but it’s so much more. You know it. So you close your eyes and relinquish, pressing your head back into his. His breathing shudders at the action but he doesn’t move away. Instead his hand comes to gently cup the side of your face. With your free hand you hold the back of his helmet. His fingers loosen around your wrist, thumb brushing up and pressing into the center of your palm.

You’re disintegrated.

Utterly annihilated. This is it, he’s finally done it. Like a laser beam from the Death Star he’s ripped and vaporized you molecule after molecule. So, you catch yourself wondering how long does it take for a galaxy to collapse? Because it feels like only mere seconds for stardust to flood behind your eyes as if Boba has ignited a billion supernovas inside you.

Boba’s weight is heavy on yours, his legs stretching out and on either side of your own , trapping you in. You can hear faint panting breaths beneath the hem of his helmet. Your heart beats an inconsistent thump in your ears, and you absently wonder if you’ve ever heard it this loudly. His visor is a shimmering vision of your own reflection, holding it eagerly. You see your face glancing back at him with a peculiar look of joy and adoration, as if you’ve transcended. You’ll never get over how he looks at you. How could someone ever get over how a deliciously tan man admires them, as if they're a kaiburr crystal. His strong arms help pull you to your feet. You could smell the million miles of the galaxy on him. Feel the raveled adventures and experiences buried within his heating skin. You stand entwined , his arm swung around your waist and yours looping around his neck.

You almost ask him to lift his helmet, promise him you won’t peek, that you just want him to lift it so that you can kiss him...again. This time traditionally on the lips. Your mouth stutters open hesitantly but a voice stops you.

“Your majesty.” It proclaims.

There’s a brief silence.

You turn to glance at a man standing at the doorway, his braided beaded hair is tied back from his handsome face. He wears a wool brown coat and unpolished leather boots. You recognize him as Zoid’s son, Randdem. Zoid towers directly behind him, a disdain expression looms over his face. You nonchalantly remove yourself from Boba’s grasp and the hunter follows in suit. You felt pearls of sweat trickle down the back of your neck. If Zoid wants to say something crude he stifles under his breath.

You nod to Boba who takes that as his crew to leave, he walks casually to the changing room outside the hall. Zoid and Randdem wait for you to stride up the steps with the little bit of dignity you have left. You’re quite as their judging eyes glance you over, once Zoid has emptied all the pitying remarks from his head he sighs deeply before saying, “You remember my son, don’t you queen?”

Randdem is a husky young lad, bolder and fuller in outlines where Zoid is thinner. He’s worse than Zoid, really. He’s a four part combination of Zoid’s arrogance and pity with his mother’s selfishness and pride. Talking to him is like speaking to a tornado, not much to deliberate with a thing that only wants or knows destruction and dominance. The saddest part of it all is Randdem is fairly handsome and if it wasn’t for his redundant personality more suitors would surely be in his favor. You’ve never liked him, not even when you were children.

“Of course,” you swallow. Zoid nods approvingly,”I brought him here to get to know you better, seeing as he’ll be serving at your side as a council leader once I’m gone.”

Yeah, great. “My queen,” Randdem says and he halfway bows to you. “If you’d like I’d love to request having you to dinner this evening.” You must pull a face because Zoid scolds you. “I-I’m sorry!” You try to recover. “This is so unexpected.” You rub the back of your neck, embarrass.

“I understand your majesty, which is why I made sure to ask on a day I knew you’d be free.” Randdem continues. You give him a puzzle look. How long have they been planning this meeting? “Though, I wasn’t expecting to find you here?” He goes on. You try grinning but you know you must look ridiculous because all you want to is snarl at them so you just purse your lips instead and nod. “R-right.” You answer, your hands fidgeting at your side.

“So you’ll be ok with this evening?” He asks again.

You frown,“Well, actually-”

“Of course she will!” Zoid interrupts, and it takes every ounce of self restraint in your body not to uppercut him. “Isn’t that right?” He turns to you with a look of expectancy in his eyes. And you’re left gawking between the two before mustering up the tintest smile you could without cursing at them both.

“Of course.” You finally utter through gritted teeth. “It’ll give us time to catch up.”

“As I thought,” Zoid nods. They both turn to leave but before they’ve finally left Zoid turns around and crinkles up his nose. “And please I’d advise you freshen up before the evening, if you don’t mind. You smell ranted and too much like him. ” Randdem and Zoid chuckle on their way out before letting the heavy doors slam close behind them. You turn around, sighing with exasperation. Boba stands with his arms crossed, now fully armored. “So,” he began. “You have a date?” You groan, “Shut it, fett!” He chuckles and you feel your heart flutter but you are in too much of a sour mood to truly enjoy the sound of his laughter though it is nice to hear.

Great sun god give you strength. What have you been dragged into?

~*~

The dress Galine has fastened you in is way too nice for an evening to be met in disaster. The hunter is cautious with his hand, lingering and pressing into your back lower than what’d normally be appropriate. He lets it slither away and melt down at his side when the merchant warriors come into view at the entrance of the dining hall. Randdem leans back casually against the large doors, arms crossed and an impatient expression sunken in his features. “Shall you accompany me inside?”, he began. “Without your…companion.” He flicks his hand in Boba's direction and recoils it just as fast as if his skin cells reject even being near the same air as him. Your inside grind together to mush. “If your warriors will keep him company instead.” You bargain, and Randdem scowls at you but you just smile which makes his scowl impossibly more scornful. He clamps his mouth shut and nods pointedly, escorting you into the dining hall. His brows never unfrowrow . Like father, like son you supposed.

~*~

A single marble table with a white sheet handsomely decorates the dining hall. Two chairs set out on either ending sides of the table, and bestow on top are delicate appetizers and aged wine. Randdem pulls out your chair for you before walking and plopping down on his own. He picks lazily from a bowl munching on a purple fruit. While a young peasant boy fills your goblet , before scrambling into the kitchen away from the tense atmosphere. The air is stale from the lack of conversation. “I didn’t know you took an interest in me.” You quip, taking a slow sip of your wine. “I’m interested in our people’s future.” He sneers, plucking again at the fruit. A smile stretches thin on your lips. “I figured.” His own grin is sly and conspiratorial, making your leg twitch under the table. “You’re leading an entire world now. Do you believe it’d be wise to do it alone?” You shoot him a curious glance and it’s like he relishes in watching you grow flustered. “Historically,” you began. A knowing smile tilting upward on your lips, “women led their kingdoms better compared to kings. Especially alone.” He scowls at you but you pretend not to notice, instead politely sipping more wine.

“Are you referring to your grandmother?”

You nod, “When my grandfather passed she raised my mother alone and cared for the entire kingdom. Then for ten years my mother led this kingdom before marrying my father. During that time we prospered.”

He clasps his hands. “Those women were not only queens, but warriors.” You cock your head, a challenging glint in your eyes. “Warriors can be judged more than on just their fighting.” You respond. “They can be judged on their character. I was raised by two of the most prominent warriors of our lifetime, and not just because of their fighting skill but because of their heart.” Randdem gives you a smug impression. “Our people need more than good spirits and charm.”

“Then I will be whatever they need me to be.” You say.

He crosses his arms, leaning back making the wooden chair creak in protest. “Why is it then you pranced around with that hunter in the training hall?” You squint your eyes at him. “That doesn’t concern you.” He chuckles amused.“You know I’m right! That’s why you were down there with him.” You flush warm with embarrassment. “You shouldn’t comment on what you don’t know.” You snarl. “I've seen enough of your gushy display in one of the most sacred rooms in the entire kingdom to know you have no shame. How dare whore yourself out to t-that damned cloned buckethead your father allowed to roam the kingdom and filthy it!” This time you scowl at him. “You dare speak ill to me? You’re queen! Who are you to speak to me this way and question my father?!” You shot to your feet, voice ringing out. He jabs his finger in your direction, “You are not my queen!” He growls, teeth baring.

“But I am, whether your father or you can accept it or not! I am your queen.” You hiss, gripping either side of the table. “But, you’ll never be king.” He glares at you, eyes like two black infinite portals. “What were you expecting? That I’d marry you?” You croak. “Never.”

“The kingdom needs an honorable leader.” He retorts. “And that isn’t you!” You huff, crossing slowly around the table like a predator onto its prey. Menacing and delighted to devour. “And you think that’s you?” You snarl, lifting an eyebrow amused. “You have less honor than you think. Your father would rather give in and lay over as our people become enslaved, he’s less of a warrior than he is a leader.” He’s taken back by your words, fisting his hands in his lap.

“That’s not true you lying bastard!” He snaps, rising to his feet and knocking over his chair behind him with a loud clang.

“But it is.” You sneer. “My father and I wanted to fight for our freedom, but yours wanted our people to suffer again. And you accuse me of being the weak one? So, don’t you dare question me or him.” You growl, closing in. “And don’t dare talk about the hunter like that again or I’ll-”

“You’ll what?!” He interjects as he rounds the table all fuming anger and resentment. “Don’t make me laugh, boy.” You huff. “You think you’ll bring back our honor? You’ll have no honor left if I find out your father had anything to do with my father’s death. You and your whole family will be banished!” Randdem stills, paling at your accusation. “N-no!” He can barely spit out. “No! That’s isn’t t-true! M-my father is a man of honor!” He screams, like a child throwing a tantrum. You know the help is listening, who wouldn’t. You’re sure there’ll be rumors spreading like vicious fire tomorrow. You turn away and he’s left trying to follow after you but he’s so angry and confused he stumbles over his own feet having to use the table as leverage as he walks, while cursing loudly behind you. The dinner hall’s doors abruptly open and the hunter and merchant warriors usher themselves inside. You carefully maneuver yourself around them, making a hasty exit while Randdem spits more cruel insults. The hunter half expects you to turn around but you don’t budge. Instead you walk calmly out of Randdem’s sight and request the guards not let him enter the castle again without direct permission from you.

~*~

“What happened?” Boba spoke first and you’re startled by the gentleness of his voice. Your chambers are dark and quiet, chilly from the wind blowing in the open window. You perch yourself on the edge of your bed. “We had an argument, and he said some rather distasteful things...and so did I .” You groan and run a tiresome hand through your locks. “It’s clear Randdem and Zoid don’t want me to be queen.” When he steps closer you shift your eyes away. The hunter tilts his head.

“What else is bothering you?”

“He...well he insulted you.”

“So?” The hunter shrugs and you roll your eyes to the ceiling. “So,” you mock playfully. “I defended you.”

“Why?”

“Because I wanted to.”

He huffs as if scuffing down a laugh and you glare at him. The hunter looks down as if his shoes suddenly needed a close inspection. His shoulder shaking lightly, the corner of your mouth quirks up. “I thought you once saw me like you saw dirt on the bottom of your shoe.” He suddenly comments and you flick your eyes at him in shock and this time you make a quiet sound that made him peer halfway up at you.

“I see you like I see the sun, blinding. Even when I’m not looking at you, I feel you.”

The hunter’s head snaps up at you and you take a breath.

You wondered if he was smiling, imagined his eyes crinkling with the force of it. As if reading your mind a hesitant hand reaches out and touches the bottom of the helmet. You suddenly seem incapable of moving, face deliberately blank. He waits and there’s a brief moment before your eyes grow wide. You rise and walk close to him and your hand covers his own. His gloved hand is warm underneath the rough leather. You’re trembling with pure adrenaline, heart fluttering. You let him guide you into lifting it, you go slow enough for him to stop you if he wants to, but when he doesn’t you see his soft lips first and you almost lose your composure and kiss him right then but instead you take a deep inhale. Dark trimmed facial hair prances across the lower half of his face and his upper lip, it prickles against your fingers. Dark hair brushing under his ears and trimmed and faded almost down to his gorgeous sharp jawline. Some of his hair extends long over the back of his neck, then his broad nose comes into view, straight and wide. And suddenly...his brown eyes meet yours and you realize he’s more breathtaking than you could’ve ever dreamt. Handsome and sculpted as if everything in the universe that blooms from a certain beauty that commands your attention cracked open and offered you him. Now that you see him for the first time...smiling at you...you realize

like the moon he’s a stealer of light but you know nothing better that could hold light like the smile upon his face because just like the moon he’s crafted to glow. So, maybe he’s collected borrowed time, star dust, and gunpowder. Enough wisdom and morals to fill a holy scripture but enough violence and death to also burn the same book to ash by the touch of his fingertips. Enough adventure to last lifetimes and fill children’s heads with a mindless abundance of wonder and fantasy. Enough vulnerability hidden away to quiver at your hands and melt like an ice sculpture to his knees. There’s so many ways this could end, but with him in front of you like a heavenly body, you know it’s barely begun, whatever universe that was slowly being born into existence between you two. You knew you’d be tethered to him by it forever.

“Come with me.” You whisper softly and his brown eyes gleam, heart thumping against his chest.

“Where?”

“Outside.”

You point to the window and he rubs a slow hand up his arm while the other holds his helmet against his side.

“It’s cold.” He protests and you giggle to yourself as you begin to clamper out the window anyway. The ledge is much smaller compared to you now of course, though you still manage to crawl out and sit near the window. You lean back on the kingdom wall carefully, knowing Galine would kill you if you soiled your gown. Your thighs rest on the ledge while the rest of your body hangs over. You close your eyes but the corners of your mouth twitch up in a small victorious grin when you hear his defeated sigh. Boba comes out more smoothly than you as if the womp rat has done it a thousand times and he rests himself beside you.

After a moment of staring into endless space he utters, “Tell me about the stars.” You bite your bottom lip. “The stars have secrets like us my mother used to tell me, but they also have stories.”He tilts his head, waiting. You smile, closing your eyes tighter and breathing in deeply. You remember your mother taking you into her lap at the window and oiling your small braids and scalp. “She’d say the sky and the world fell in love. That the sky hung the moon for the world, and that the world in return gave the sky, flowers. My mother said the sun god was born first, then all the other gods followed.” She’d tell you each god’s birth and their purpose as her soft massaging hands lulled you to sleep.

“You believe that?” He questions, lifting an eyebrow . You look at him, baring a cheeky smile. “That two powerful lovers created a universe of their own? I witness it all the time.” You gesture to the hundreds of homes stretching out in the grasslands of the kingdom. Boba chuckles, smiling at you and leaning his head back against the wall and you couldn’t help but stare at the subtle movements. You know he wasn’t doing anything extraordinary but you could tell he was the god of his life, of his own destiny. We’re all the gods of small things, even if it’s just ourselves. With an upturn face you peer at him. If you both were gods you wanted to meet him halfway to an astral plane where both your heavens collided.

So...you kiss him, mouth slotting over his gently, soul transcending to the stars. Your mouth becomes an open exhibit for his tongue to explore through. Instead of his eyes, his wet warmth admires the best parts of you. Flicking and tasting the dirtiest details with the filthiest sweetness he’s ever known. Your fingers curl into the nape of his dark coarse hair, tugging. As if teasing the strings from an instrument it pulls a wondrous sound from his lips, an orchestra rumbling in his chest. His heavy groan quiet against your lips, a song only yours.

If tonight you could make love to him, you’d push him over the sheets of your bed, lay him bare and golden like a horizon. Kiss his scarred skin and lick the stardust from his flesh. Let him wither you down into a vulnerable shaking pile on the blanket and obliterate your ego and the rising sarcastic remarks on your tongue and so maybe then when he’s laid warm on top of you, weary and desperate, you suddenly appreciate everything in the universe that is...

...metal, quiet , and green.

And it lead you like little boats floating down aisles back to him.

Back home.

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fanfoolishness · 3 years

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The Scent of Whiteleaf (The Mandalorian)

Grogu and his protector visit a calm and peaceful world, searching for those who could help them find a Jedi. They find something else instead. Grogu POV. Grogu & Din, some of Din's backstory, and several gentle family bonding moments. 4800 words.

***

The air smells clean and crisp and biting, underlaid with the scents of dry soil and bitter plants. Grogu blinks against the wind, his ears fluttering, and he feels safe in strong arms.

His protector explains to him what they are doing here. Grogu leans against the man’s chest, feels the metal warmed by the late afternoon sun as the familiar voice speaks. He likes the sound, even if it comes out metallic; when the man talks to him, there is a gentleness that comes through, clear and shining, in the Force.

“This is Ysedros Major,” the man says, gesturing to the hills beyond them. “I used to live here long ago with other Mandalorians. Some may have returned. If they did, maybe they can help us.”

The man’s footsteps are wide on the narrow path. It looks rocky and overgrown. Grogu is jostled with every step, but it’s fun with all the bouncing. He looks up at the man’s head, gleaming silver in the sun.

“I know, I know,” says the man. “It would be quicker if we could take the Crest, or use the Rising Phoenix. But we don’t want to scare anyone if they’re still there. And there’s creatures here that don’t like things flying in their airspace.” He points high above, and Grogu squints, following his arm. Great winged things soar together in the distance, keeping close to one another. “We called them baj’uliik. Beasts of the air. I remember they were… feisty.”

Grogu shrinks away from the beasts, though they are far away. The man chuckles. “Don’t worry, kid. They only attack things on the wing.” He takes a few more jostling steps as they descend. “Are you thinking about the creatures on Nevarro?”

Grogu curls one hand over the man’s thumb. It’s strange how the man understands him perfectly sometimes, and other times, seems so confused by what he is trying to say.

“It’s okay. The baj’uliik will only bother us if we bother them first.” His steps are steady on the rocky path. Grogu watches the way the man’s boots avoid big rocks on the path, brushing against bushes and leaves as he walks. Grogu squirms in his arms, reaching down to try and grab a few leaves as they pass. The man walks faster, lifting him up high enough so that he can’t reach them. “Not those ones,” the man says. “That’s fire-nettle. It won’t hurt me in my armor, but it would give you a horrible rash.”

Grogu lets out an annoyed sigh. The leaves are pretty, olive green and clustered in groups of three, their edges reddish orange and serrated in an interesting pattern. Maybe he’ll find a way to touch them later.

The path twists and turns as they descend lower into the valley. Grogu watches the plants and rocks as they walk, sniffing deeply as they pass a plant of shiny, spiky dark green needles, or a plant of pale long leaves and purple-pink flowers. He settles into the man’s arms, his eyes growing heavy with the rhythm of the footsteps.

***

Grogu yawns, opening his eyes and stretching his arms upward. It’s getting dark now. His ears swivel, picking up sounds of bugs chirruping, birds calling hoodu, hoodu, a trickling sound. He smells water.

The footsteps stop and the man lowers him to the ground. “Stay close, buddy. I’m gonna check and see if this stream has fish for dinner.” Grogu scrubs his eyes with his fists, blinking, and hurries to keep up with the man. His feet sink into mud and he giggles, feeling the squishy sensation between his toes. This might be a good place for --

His ears twitch. Little sounds, familiar sounds, skitter along the water’s edge. Grogu’s stomach rumbles. He reaches out through the Force, feels a little creature hiding in the mud, feels its heartbeat -- he pounces!

The frog squirms in his hands, wet and slippery and smelling delicious. He shoves it into his mouth, and the man finally notices him. “Hey! What have I told you about --” The man sighs. “Oh, go ahead.”

Grogu swallows his prize, grinning. He will never understand why the man doesn’t seem to like frogs, the best food in the galaxy.

The man turns back to him, holding up a fish squirming on the end of the cord that comes out of his wrist sometimes. “Come on. We’ll have some real food, too.”

Grogu scowls. Frogs are real food.

The man cooks the fish over a little fire. It does smell good, though. Grogu sits close to the man’s boot, leaning against it. He likes dinnertime with him. The man always gives him tasty things to eat, and he likes to talk some while Grogu eats.

Sometimes the man is so quiet, and Grogu can only get little flashes of him through the Force, focus and duty and… and fear, sometimes. Grogu knows that one. But he never feels fear when the man sits with him in these moments, around the fire.

“Hey, look here, kid,” says the man, stepping away from the small flames. He beckons to Grogu, and he follows curiously. The man crouches beside a bush. It smells good, crisp and herbal. It’s one of the pale bushes that he saw on the path, instead of the one with the pretty red-edged leaves. “This bush is okay for you to touch. It’s called whiteleaf. We can cook the fish with it.”

Grogu reaches out, stripping a few leaves from the plant. He crushes them against his palms, smells the clean herbal scent, and grins up at the man. He plucks a few more, then carefully holds them out for the man to take.

“Thank you,” he says. He takes the leaves and adds them to the fish. The smell is rich and Grogu licks his lips. He holds up his hands, grasping for the food.

“It’s hot,” the man warns, putting a portion of fish into a small dish and handing it to Grogu. “Let it cool for a minute.”

Grogu sits down with his treasure, balancing the dish on his knees. He blows on it to cool it down, and glances up at the man, who is taking the rest of the fish.

“We’ll rest up tonight,” says the man. He lifts his helmet slightly to take a bite of food. Grogu watches intently. He had known right away the man was not a droid -- he could feel the man through the Force, hear his heartbeat pounding -- but it had taken some time to realize that his silver skin, his armor, could be adjusted or removed. He looks at the man’s chin, watching as he eats the fish. He senses contentment, ease.

“Aren’t you going to eat?”

Grogu startles at the man’s question, then takes a bite of his fish. The whiteleaf tastes rich and earthy under the delicious fishy flavor. He hums a cheerful sound, then leans against the man’s boot again, giving him a gentle nudge.

“There you go,” the man says. “It’s pretty good. We used to eat a lot of fish here. River trout’s the best, but greengill are all right, too.”

Grogu finishes up his fish, his eyes getting heavy. A content feeling of fullness spreads through him, and he sighs, leaning harder against the man’s leg.

“Getting sleepy, pal?” he asks. “It’s been a long day. C’mon.” He picks Grogu up, cradling him in his lap, and Grogu curls up against him. Up above Grogu can see the stars, swinging bright and glittery in the darkness. The insect chorus gets louder, and Grogu senses them, tiny pinpricks of light in the Force all around them. It makes him feel relaxed. He remembers the Jedi temple, feeling others around him all the time, safe and content in their home.

“I think we’ll make it to the covert tomorrow,” the man says quietly. “If they’re there, maybe they can lead us to a Jedi for you. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Grogu frowns. The Force contracts around the man, his normally bright signature darkening. Fear. Dread. Sadness. Grogu doesn’t understand. Usually the man’s words match the way he feels, strong and strong, sad and sad, angry and angry. But when the man brings up Jedi, the words and the feelings never match.

Grogu grips the man’s hand with his own, closing his eyes and holding on tightly. He tries to send an image of the two of them by the fire in the cool evening breeze, the sound of insects buzzing in the dark, good fish in their bellies, and he tries to send happy, safe, now.

But the man just pulls him a little closer, hand brushing over Grogu’s ears, and says, “We’ll find that place where you belong.”

***

Grogu shifts in his soft blue blanket, a gift from the nice lady on the planet of trees and krill and frogs. He misses the children he used to play with there, Winta and Soris and Nibs. He wonders if he will see them again, but no visions come to him, no future sight showing the children delighted to see his return. He pushes his blanket aside.

The dawnlight is bright and fierce, and he squints against it. He gets to his feet, standing up tall and looking over the man, who still seems to be asleep beneath his own blanket on the rocky ground.

Maybe he can find something for breakfast while the man sleeps. Another frog, maybe, or even a fish! Wouldn’t the man like that? He carefully walks to the stream edge, watching the water sparkle beneath the sunlight. He glances to his side and sees the pretty red-edged leaves, fluttering in the breeze. Fire-nettle. But maybe the man is wrong, maybe he’s mistaken --

Grogu grabs the pretty leaves. For a moment he feels excited, seeing the way the green and red looks against his hands. And then he realizes --

He can’t help it. He closes his eyes and lets go of the leaves and wails.

The man is there, flinging his blanket aside and rushing to the stream’s edge. “What is it, kid? What happened? Are you okay?”

Grogu holds out his hands, quivering. They burn! His skin prickles and sears, and he whimpers, stumbling towards his protector.

The man carefully takes his hands in his own, examining them. “Did you -- oh, no, the fire-nettle,” he groans. “Come here, come here, quick.” He plunges Grogu’s hands into the cool stream-water, and the burn lessens. He holds Grogu’s hands deep in the water, and Grogu trembles.

“I told you,” says the man, but his voice is gentle. “You have to be careful, okay? Don’t scare me like that. How are your hands?”

Grogu shakes his head back and forth, wincing. They still hurt. It isn’t fair! The leaves were so pretty.

The man sits him on his knee, holding him there with one hand while he rummages in his belt for something with the other. He pulls out a little packet of ointment and squeezes it into Grogu’s palms, then rubs his hands together. Cooling relief spreads over his hands, and Grogu sighs gratefully.

“Feeling better?” the man asks. He rubs Grogu’s back with one hand, cradling Grogu’s sore hands in the other one. He is quiet for a moment, but when he speaks again, Grogu feels it coming from him, that warmth, that gentleness.

“I learned this the hard way too,” he admits. “I was young when I lived here, and it was only for a few months. We had to move a lot to stay safe. I heard some of the older fighters talking about fire-nettle, about getting it on their armor and their hands. I thought --” He chuckles. “I thought they were being too cautious.”

His knee bounces slightly, Grogu bouncing with it. He smiles a little at the bouncing as the man continues. “One of them dared me to hold some. I took off my gloves and… Well, it has that name for a reason, kid. Which you now know. My hands didn’t stop burning for a week.” He shakes his head. “But this ointment should take care of you. You let me know if you need more, all right?”

Grogu nods, looking up at him. He’s so bright in the sun, bright enough it hurts his eyes, but Grogu keeps looking at him anyway. He loves the way he shines.

***

They travel through the morning. Sometimes Grogu walks at his side where the path is relatively flat, and he enjoys the feeling of silty, sandy soil under his toes. He smells the plants as they walk through scrubby hills and valleys, and though he stays far away from fire-nettle now, the man teaches him names of some of the other things they see. Whiteleaf and bitterbush, good for cooking. Shivertree: the man lifts Grogu’s hand and rests it on the smooth reddish bark. It’s cold! Much colder than the warm outside air. It makes Grogu’s mouth drop open in surprise.

They pass short trees the man calls buckleberry, golden bushy plants he names shimmershrubs. The coarse grass waving on the hillside he says is red cheatgrass, and the white flowers like soft bright stars he says are snow weeds. Grogu looks at all of them, and he marvels that the man knows so many names.

Sometimes there are animals. In the distance they sometimes see the baj’uliik, but there are nicer things, too; the man points out wild bantha, flower beetles, no-no birds and grub worms. (Grogu eats three before the man notices and scolds him.)

Lunch is a hill hare the man shoots with a blaster and roasts over open flame, flavored with bitterbush that Grogu helps him collect. The meat is rich and juicy, savory and tender. The man cooks well. Grogu belches broadly as he finishes his meal, and the man laughs, a sound that rings out metallic and true. Happy and happy. There is no talk of Jedi.

***

The evening sun slants low over the canyon. There are small buildings below them, a little group of them clustered together. Plants grow on the roofs, mostly hiding their forms, but with the sun hitting them Grogu can see streaks of gold and red in windows and on the edges of the walls. He looks up at the man curiously.

“That’s the covert,” the man says, his voice rough. “It may still be in use by others of my kind.”

Grogu thinks of the strange word the man keeps thinking, feeling, when he says things like that. Mandalorian. He talked of it a lot on the planet of ash and lava, when the Ugnaught and the droid tried to help them; others say it, too. He wishes he understood. He knows it’s important. Is it like Jedi?

The man carries him close on the path down into the canyon. Grogu catches determination and something complicated that he doesn’t have the words for. It’s like hope and fear combined. The man’s footsteps are careful and measured, and Grogu scans the environment as they walk, looking for signs of other people.

He casts his awareness out into the Force. He has grown used to the lonely feeling of never feeling anything reaching to him, but there is still a part of him that hopes something will touch back.

It doesn’t, this time. He closes his eyes, reaching, reaching, and finds only tiny creatures among the walls, beings even smaller than himself. Little grass mice, scurrying in the empty buildings. He reaches up to the man, his claws tapping against the metal armor, but the man just nods at him, absently patting the back of his head. “We’ll be there soon, kid.”

Grogu sinks back against him, letting out a long breath. The man will find out soon enough.

***

The man sits quietly on a stone bench in a solitary courtyard, secluded and hidden by the canyon walls. The last rays of the day’s sun line the edges of the walls in gold, leaving the rest in deep blue shadow. Grogu walks through the gritty soil, bending down periodically to poke at a glittery green beetle or play with a patch of blue-flowered grass. He tries to distract himself, but the man’s feelings buzz in the back of his mind, louder than they ever have before. The more the man protects him and keeps him safe, the easier it is to feel him, all the time.

The man sits very still and calm on the outside. But confusing memories flicker through him, snatches of sound and image that Grogu can only catch little pieces of. He remembers far-away lessons in the Temple, Master Yoda teaching him about people who could use the Force the way they do, and people who could not. He remembers Master Yoda saying the Force is in all living things, that even if a person cannot use the Force, the Force still surrounds them. Grogu concentrates and he sees --

The young man in the silver helmet, training hard in the courtyard, taking blows that make his head rattle and his teeth ache, but he has to -- has to prove he’s worthy --

The burn of fire-nettle on his hands, slipping gloves back over the skin despite the throb, the laughter of the other young people --

A language Grogu doesn’t recognize, but its words mean home and family --

Hurrying to gather his things, the voices of the others urgent and metallic, fleeing through the canyon paths --

The dark tunnels beneath the town, the man sinking to his knees, loss rolling off of him in waves --

The shining woman in gold and red, metal sparking under her hands, speaking words of clan and quest --

Grogu walks back to the man, his hand held tight around the stem of a bluegrass flower. His palm feels smooth and whole again, the burning of the fire-nettle a distant memory.

He tugs at the man’s leg, holding up his flower when the man’s shining head tilts to look at him. The man sighs, a long, shivering sound. “For me?” He reaches out and Grogu presses the flower into his hand. “Thanks, buddy.” He lifts Grogu onto his lap, stroking one of his ears gently between his fingertips, and in his other hand, he carefully holds the flower.

“I wish we could have found them,” the man says. “I thought I could help you here.” Disappointment, loneliness, relief. Grogu shakes his head, confused. He reaches to the man’s arm, tugs on his sleeve.

“I never thought I’d see this place again,” he says, gazing down at Grogu. “We were safe here, for a time.” He looks around at the courtyard, the light vanishing into darkness. “Come on, kid. Let’s get some rest. It’s too late to hike back tonight.”

He carries Grogu through the halls, switching a light on his helmet that shines bright in the dark. The hallways are lined with bunches of cheatgrass or climbing vines, and Grogu can hear the grass mice scampering on the floors as they pass.

“There’s the public quarters,” the man says mechanically. “If your meal and training and work were done, you could spend time here. Talk to people. I didn’t do it often.” Grogu nods. That seems right.

“Here’s the mess. We’d prepare food here, take shifts serving. We ate alone except for family groups. Easier, that way. It’s where I learned about some of the food on this world.” He waves at the empty hall, and dust shifts as they move onward.

“There’s the weapons lockers. We each had one for our own weapons. The whole room was cleaned three times a day to keep the dust out.” But the dust is thicker here than anywhere else.

“And here’s my quarters,” he says suddenly, stopping in front of a narrow doorway. He jimmies the door open, since it doesn’t light up, and they slip inside. There’s a small bed inside, barely bigger than the one back on the man’s ship, and a cramped refresher unit wedged into the back. A narrow metal cabinet leans against the wall, its drawers open and empty. The man shoves the drawers back in and settles on the sleeping surface, and Grogu coughs in the dust.

“Sorry,” the man says, fanning the air rapidly to try and move the dust away from him. “I guess it’s been a while.” He wipes away as much dust as he can from the bed and stretches out on it, holding Grogu carefully against his chest. Grogu holds himself up on his forearms, looking curiously at the man.

“What is it, kid? What do you need?”

Grogu sits back down against the man’s armor, huffing. He doesn’t need anything. He just wants. That’s different. He looks around at the little room and he wonders if it was like the temple, long ago. He tries to see inside the man’s mind, but it’s gotten muddled again, and Grogu gives up, frustrated.

“Well, you tell me if it’s something major,” says the man. “Vacc tube probably still works. And I have more of that bacta ointment, if your hands are bothering you. You let me know, okay?” He pauses, then realizes. “You need a story?”

Grogu babbles, climbing up so that he can rest against the little spot of softness between the man’s face and the metal on his shoulder. The man rubs his back, holding him close.

“Hm,” the man begins. Grogu has noticed it always takes him a little while to come up with a story. He doesn’t know any of the Jedi stories, the tales of heroes of the past, the ones they used to tell him in his old home. But sometimes the man tells stories of his own people, and sometimes he tells stories with Grogu in them, too. Grogu loves them all.

“I learned a lot here,” the man says thoughtfully. “I had just sworn the Creed, and there was much I still needed to learn. I practiced with weapons and the Rising Phoenix. I know -- I told you the baj’uliik didn’t like the Rising Phoenix -- well, we used to use them for target practice. One of us would practice our flying. The other one would practice their aim. Sometimes there were some close calls.” He chuckles. “One day the baj’uliik came flying right toward me. I tried to fly away, but I couldn’t shake it. It took a bite out of me.”

Grogu’s mouth falls open. He grabs the man’s cloak, holds onto it tightly.

“I was fine!” he says hastily, patting Grogu. “But I lost my training Phoenix. The baj’uliik swallowed it, I fell about twenty feet straight down and broke my leg, and my partner was so surprised she let it get away. For all I know, it’s still flying somewhere out there, just a little bit heavier than all its friends. That’s why I didn’t have a Phoenix until our last trip to Nevarro.”

Grogu turns around, looking at the man’s leg. Is this why the armor on his legs is not the same, why one leg is heavier, why it’s nicer to hug the leg wrapped in leather instead of the leg clad in metal?

“Yeah,” the man says, bending the right leg and tapping it below the knee with his knuckles. Metal clinks on metal. “This helps keep it steady. It never healed quite right. But it still works fine, kid, don’t worry.”

Grogu swallows his worry. He feels mild embarrassment coming from the man, but nothing like pain, nothing like fear. Grogu relaxes, letting out a sound of curiosity.

“Tomorrow we’ll keep an eye out for the baj’uliik,” the man says. He leans back against the dusty bed, considering. “It was an opponent worthy of respect. Even if it tried to eat me.” He chuckles again. “Especially since it tried to eat me.”

Grogu isn’t sure if it’s his favorite bedtime story the man has told him -- it’s a little too scary -- but it seems to make the man happy, and the happy feeling soothes him. He curls up against the man and the warmth inside him, and the weight of the man’s hand on his back helps him fall asleep.

***

The man wakes him up far too early, and Grogu is grouchy as the man works through their morning routine -- using the vacc tube, a quick bath for Grogu and a hasty breakfast of ration bars. Grogu’s not too fond of them, but he munches his bar as the man carries him out of the lonely compound and up the steep hill.

He falls asleep halfway up the canyon and doesn’t wake up for some time. When he does, he realizes the man’s footsteps are quick and long, nearly a run. Like there’s nothing left to see here. It makes Grogu feel sad, though he isn’t sure why. He holds the man’s hand as they journey, and he watches the paths for creatures.

The long day stretches on, and the sun begins to swing low once more. The man’s faster stride and their early start mean they will reach the ship before night falls. He wishes they could stay and hunt frogs instead.

They reach a narrow canyon and look down. To Grogu’s surprise there’s the ship! They had reached it even faster than he had thought. He looks up at the man, resting a hand against his chest. The man is tired, he feels. “All right, kid. We’ll have one more dinner here before we head out. I could use a break anyway.”

He sets Grogu down on a flat stretch of land, the cheatgrass tickling his toes. Grogu sniffs, rotates his ears. He senses another hare, and he looks meaningfully up at the man, then waves a hand in the hare’s direction. The man nods, and it’s just a few moments later that the man has a cleaned hare over the fire while Grogu hunts for bitterbush and whiteleaf.

He finds a small whiteleaf plant a little ways away, and he sits beside it, carefully pulling a few leaves from the bush. It smells so clean! He hums to himself, pleased, then shivers at a ululating cry, carried on the breeze.

He stares up at the sky and he sees it -- a baj’uliik flying overhead, its leathery wings shimmering in rippling gold and green and scarlet, its long feathered tail streaming behind it, glittering in the fading sun. He watches it fly away, each wingbeat slow and methodical and so, so beautiful. He is sad that one hurt the man, but happy that it got away.

He lifts one hand and waves as it goes.

“They’re something else, aren’t they?” the man asks him. He kneels beside Grogu, carefully taking the whiteleaf leaves from him. He watches the creature fly, head tilting to one side, then shakes himself into action. “Come on, kid. Dinnertime.”

They eat the hare together, Grogu making a mess of his meal and thoroughly enjoying every bite. The man just laughs and helps to clean him up.

They sit quietly together as the sun vanishes and the moons begin to rise. Grogu leans against the man’s thigh, full and glad. He knows the man did not find what he came here for, but there is the cool evening air, the cry of the baj’uliik far away, the scent of whiteleaf.

The man clambers to his feet, lifting Grogu into his arms. “Come here a minute, kid,” he says. He carries him back to the whiteleaf plant, its leaves glimmering beneath the moonlight. He crouches down and sets Grogu down beside him, then begins digging with his hands. Grogu watches curiously.

“There’s a little UV light on the Crest,” the man says to Grogu. “Helps me keep a schedule for day and night, when I want. But… we could use it to help grow a plant, too.”

Grogu claps his hands together. He senses from the man hope, longing, things hard for Grogu to understand. But they are good things, he thinks, and he likes it when the man feels good. The man lifts the plant from the ground, its roots tangled up in a ball of soil, and he gently sets it in Grogu’s arms.

“Keep hold of that til we get back to the ship,” the man says. He picks Grogu up again. “I know you’ll keep it safe.” He cradles Grogu carefully so that Grogu can keep good hold of the plant. “Ready to go, buddy?”

Grogu nods. The fresh scent of whiteleaf flares with every step the man takes toward the ship. They reach the Crest and it lights up with their approach, the door opening as the man adjusts something on his arm. Grogu curls a sweet-smelling leaf between his fingertips, feeling warm and safe; and in the Force, he feels the man is happy, proud, home.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #grogu #din djarin & grogu #noromo mando #my mando fic

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