#Echo and OC team up to pick of Fives

[stardusksx]

BECAUSE OF YOU, spencer reid x named!oc

— part one .

( summary! ) Spencer & Lydia where best friends, until they weren’t. Having to see each other at work everyday was certainly an exercise in professionalism, but when Reid is arrested in Mexico they can no longer ignore each other.

( warnings! ) Canon typical violence, discussions of drug use, best friends to lovers with a whole load of angst in the middle, dysfunctional family dynamics, talks of past neglect, future mentions of sex/smut, let me know if I missed anything! )

next part

"HE'S WHAT?" LYDIA STOPPED IN HER TRACKS, PHONE RESTING BETWEEN HER EAR AND SHOULDER. Her arms were full of groceries, a bunch of keys dangling limply from her fingertips. She blinked at the number on her apartment door in bewilderment.

"He's been arrested," Emily answered, her voice uneasy, "They're holding him in Mexico."

"Mexico?" She echoed, "What the hell is he doing there?"

There was a pause, "They... they're holding him on drug charges."

The bag slipped from her hands, but she didn't bother picking it up, instead adjusting her grip on the phone in case she hadn't heard right. "Emily, this is Spencer Reid we're talking about, right? He wouldn't... he wouldn't go near drugs." Not after the dilaudid. But then again, she didn't really know him that well anymore. What if he'd started taking it again?

Her thought process was cut off as Emily further explained, "They're holding him on possession, with intent to distribute. They found him with cocaine and heroin."

"Cocaine and —" She brought a hand up to rub the space between her brows, "That makes no sense, why would— what's going on, Emily?"

"I have no idea, Lydia," She sighed over the line, "I know it's your day off, but we're really going to need you to come in for this one."

"No, yeah, I'll be right there." She responded, finally managing to shove her key into the door and unlock it, "See you in fifteen."

Lydia didn't bother packing away her grocery's, merely deposited the bag on the counter before she rushed to shove on a dress shirt and slacks. She was out the door with her go-bag in under five minutes, arriving at the BAU in less than fifteen. JJ was the only one in the bullpen— she was ringing her hands nervously, and when Lydia gained her attention, the relief that washed over her face was only short lived.

"They want you on the field in Mexico," She said quickly,  standing straighter, "Emily, Alvez and Rossi are already on the plane. I would go, but the boys—"

Lydia placed a comforting hand on her shoulder, "You don't need to explain, I got this," She gave what she hoped was a mollifying smile, "Plus, your Spanish is terrible."

JJ let out a breath of a laugh, the anxiety still contorting her features. They parted ways, the women heading towards the round table as Lydia rushed out to the tarmac and onto the Jet. Luke moved down a seat to make room for her, Rossi and Emily sitting opposite. They all offered her brief greetings, but it was overshadowed by the tense energy they were all carrying. The take off was hasty, and they were in the air for a mere five minutes before Garcia connected them to the round table back at the BAU.

"This has got to be scratch," Tara spoke, "He was laying low, now we know why."

A sickly feeling settled into her stomach at the suggestion— Peter Lewis had been tormenting the team for years, forcing Hotch into protective custody after the stalking of his son and abducting members of Tara's family. The suggestion that he was now focusing on Reid was not an easy pill to swallow.

Luke's brows pinched, giving a slight shake of the head "Crossing the border as a fugitive is a huge risk."

"The reward is greater," Emily countered, "He's been punishing the team and now his target is Reid."

"Peter Lewis dropped off the map after attacking Tara's family, maybe he's been hiding in Mexico this whole time."

"We also have to consider this isn't related to him."

"Who else could it be?" Rossi questioned.

"Drug cartels, could have threatened Reid and used him as a mule." Luke offered.

"It's possible," Lydia supported, "But they'd usually go for more low-profile members of the public, picking out an FBI agent to do their dirty work could bring more trouble than it's worth."

"Not if they didn't know he was an FBI agent."

Lydia thought for a moment, but the more she did the more the cartel theory loss it's credibility for her. She shook her head, "No, it doesn't make sense. I mean, why would he be in Mexico for them to use him in the first place? This feels too... improbable to have just been a case of bad luck."

JJ voice sounded, explaining that she'd managed to get in touch with Diana Reid's nurse who had confirmed the woman was safe and stable. Lydia remembers meeting Spencer's mother on a case in Las Vegas— the man had been struggling with some inner demons, and watching how the mere presence of the women had helped to calm him had made her stomach twist. Spencer loved people in a consuming kind of way, and it was clear when he interacted with Diana that he'd do anything for her.

"How long did he tell the nurse he'd be gone?" Luke asked.

"Three days." JJ supplied.

Emily nodded, "Makes sense, after the Palm Springs case Reid said he had to get back to Houston to talk to his mom's doctor."

"Well, Houston is only a five hour drive from the border." Tara added, "Question is, why did he go down there?"

"And why did he have narcotics?"

"Yeah, exactly. I'm not going to spill any secrets i'm not suppose to, but those drugs where planted on him." Garcia stuttered slightly, determination in her voice. Lydia nodded mutely, feeling anxiety crawl up her from the mere memory.

"Absolutely, there's something bigger in play. That's why he kept it a secret. There's something he didn't want to share with anybody." Walker added.

"Okay, so what would make him risk everything?"

"His mom." Lydia answered, vaguely aware of JJ speaking the words simultaneously. Luke shot her a curious look, but she avoided his gaze so she wouldn't have to answer his silent question how do you know?

"But she's here, and she's safe." Garcia's confusion bled into her voice before she paused, "Wait, Cruz just sent me the arresting report," The sound of her fingers against the keys of her computer sounded, "Says here that Reid was involved in a high speed chase..."

The shock was palpable, "What? But he rarely ever drives?"

"Non of this sounds like him. It says he was wearing jeans, he was really confused, and according to the arresting officer, he was really high on something."

"No, no. He wouldn't do that. Not after what happened with Tobias Hankle." JJ sounded adamant, and she nodded in silent agreement.

"Who was Tobias Hankle?" Luke asked softly.

"He was an Unsub with DID," Lydia explained quietly, "He... kidnapped Reid. Drugged him. It was... well... it was really bad. He almost died—" she couldn't bring herself to say that, technically, he did. It was one of her worst memories. Luke stared at her, disquieted.

Someone must have explained it to Tara too, as she questioned with dismayed surprise in her voice, "When was this?"

"Ten years ago."

A tense silence followed before Rossi changed the subject, "What does the report say about the intent to distribute?"

"It says he was charged with constructive possession, and in the duffle bag there was cocaine, cash and three blocks of heroin."

She felt her trepidation like a vice on her lungs, bringing a hand up to rub over her eyes. It was easy to sense the group's collective unease.

"Okay, we'll be there in less than an hour." Emily said finally, "Dave, can you reach Jack Garret?"

Rossi shook his head slightly "He's busy on a case, but he promised to do what he can."

"Well, were gonna need all the help we can get."

After hanging up on the round table, they talked over more theories and tried to fill in the blanks with possible scenarios. There was too much information missing for anything near definite to be decided on, and within the hour they were landing in Mexico and on their way to the Jail that was holding Spencer.

It was windowless and barely illuminated by harsh lights, a seemingly constant rattle of metal in the air. An older aged man led the group, dressed in a uniform bearing the Mexican police symbol. "Thank you for calling us." Rossi said thankfully.

"It is not often we have a US FED in our custody." He responded, guiding them through a mesh door. Something about his tone was almost accusatory, but it was too faint to be a reasonable cause for worry.

"We appreciate you letting us talk to him, have you gotten his tox-screen back yet?" Emily questioned.

He shook his head, "No."

"You will need to expedite that, we have cause to believe Agent Reid was drugged."

"He was definitely high." He said, "And driving like a maniac with twenty thousand dollars worth of heroine in his possession. Both of which put my officers at risk, you're in our jurisdiction."

Lydia noticed Luke's attention on something else, and she followed his gaze to a sight that made her heart drop. Spencer sat curled in on himself, a set of bars separating him from the rest of the room. She exchanged an uneasy look with the man next to her, hanging back slightly as he approached.

"Hey, Reid," He spoke, and she watched as he turned towards Luke was blank look that vaguely showed his confusion. God, she thought, this is bad. If Reid couldn't recognise someone as familiar as Luke on an instant, then the drugs in his system were still heavily in effect. "It's good to see you brother. It's me, Luke."

It took another moment, and she wasn't entirely convinced he fully recognised him still when he got to his feet. He approach the bars meekly, shoulders hunched, "Luke. Thank you for coming."

Lydia's gaze dropped to the bandage covering his hand, evidence of a nasty injury. Her brows furrowed. Rossi approached next, followed sharply by Emily, "We're going to get you out of here, kid."

Spencer's gaze flickered between them, and she watched him try to piece things together in his head. "We need to work out some things with the locals, okay?" Emily spoke slightly slower, hoping to provide him with some clarity. He gave the smallest of nods.

"Who was your contact down here?" Luke questioned.

He looked up before speaking slowly, "Rosa... Rosa Medina. I think she's a doctor." He pulled up his sleeve, revealing some faint writing.

Luke took a photo of it, "Where did you meet her?"

He shook his head, "I don't... I don't remember."

Emily glanced back at her, features puzzled. She pulled her lip between her teeth and offered a slight shrug, gaze returning to the man that looked almost unrecognisable.

"If you saw her, would you recognise her?" Luke tried, and after a moment of hesitation Spencer nodded.

"You're missing time, aren't you?" Emily asked.

"It's coming in flashes."

"And you've been drugged?"

"Yeah, but I didn't take them myself." He whispered it, but it was the only thing he'd seemed certain of since they'd started the conversation. Emily rushed to reassure him.

"No, of course you didn't." She glanced at the men beside her, "We're thinking it might be Scratch."

The blank look shadowed his features again as he repeated the name. Luke's phone rang and he excused himself, returning a few minutes later with a photo of an older woman. Spencer stared at it for a moment before he nodded, confidently.

"Her alias is Rosa Medina, but her real name is Nadie Ramos." Luke explained, "Garcia tracked it to a motel just outside of town, does that sound familiar?"

"No."

"We'll need to take the officers with us," Emily said, seemingly determined.

"You want company here?" Rossi said gently, and Spencer seemed to need a minute to process what his words meant before responding with a no.

Still, he was hesitant as he spoke, and Lydia watched him for a moment before she said, "I'll stay."

Her non-confined co-workers gave her a questioning look— after all, she didn't tend to volunteer herself for anything where Spencer was involved, but she could tell he needed a familiar face and she'd probably be the most useless out on the field in Mexico. Emily looked slightly relieved as she nodded, though, as if leaving him on his own was not something she wanted to do.

Spencer's brows where furrowed, still struggling to sort through the fog in his brain. The three of them left with the promise of calling her if there was any updates, and for a moment she watched her old friend as he stood in one of the most broken states she'd ever seen him. 

"It must be scary for you," She spoke finally, gathering his attention, giving sufficient enough pause for him to cognitively catch up with what she was saying, "Not remembering things— it would be for anyone, but you even more so."

He swallowed, blinking, then nodded. His eyes were scanning over her— she could tell he knew who she was, just not exactly why she was standing there, "Lydia?"

"It's me," She assured, "Emily, Rossi and Luke just left. I'm going to stay with you till they're back, okay?"

"Yeah," He responded, and his voice was so small, "I-I don't know why..."

"That's okay," She said, "It's just the drugs in your system, I'm sure it'll come back to you with time. Do you want to sit down?"

He nodded, and she expected him to go back to the bench, but instead he took up the floor right by the bars. So she followed, sitting so that she was facing him. It was quiet for a while, maybe half an hour, then he began whispering, "I can't remember, I can't remember, I can't remember."

He repeated it over and over, and she could see the anxiety starting to take hold of him, breaths coming in faster and shorter. She knew she could try to distract him, but his brain had always worked a million times faster and strayed in ten different directions even if he hyper focused on one thing. Still, with the drugs in his system, it was worth a shot. "Spencer, talk me through what you do remember."

He looked confused, "I can't remember anything—"

"Not just about what happened in the last few days," She explained, "Like, for example, you remembered Emily, Rossi, Luke and me."

He nodded, brows still furrowed. "What do you remember about them? Start with Emily."

He thought for a moment, "Emily is the BAU unit chief," he started, "I met her when she joined the team... ten years ago... she specialises in child advocacy, terrorism and... linguistics... she watches... we watch Russian movies together at least once a month."

He looked to her as if wanting confirmation he was corrected, and she nodded reassuringly, "Good. What about Rossi?"

Spencer listed off what he could recall about the older man, then followed it with Luke. After each one, Lydia gave her assurance, and with each nod of her head he seemed to relax slightly. She had not entirely thought through her plan when the realisation dawned on her that he'd have to talk about her next. Still, this wasn't the time to focus on the weight such a topic would normally bring. This wasn't about her, or them. It was about him.

"Okay," She said, pushing aside the knots in her stomach, "What about me?"

She almost didn't want to know what he was going to say, but there was also a part of her, an overwhelming part, that was curious. He seemed to take longer to answer this time, "You're a special agent for the BAU. You started... a year after I did..." He paused to think, and she expected him to list off a couple of her credentials and maybe a vague shared memory with the team, but he surprised her, "On your first case, I took my FBI vest off and you threatened to kick my ass if I did it again."

Her eyebrows shot up, "I-I did." She offered her confirmation again, but he wasn't finished like she thought he was. He continued, "I liked that you never used to cut me off when I went on a tangent. You didn't make fun of me for not understanding a joke. Morgan called us the babies of the BAU, and when Emily was gone you volunteered to watch Russian movies with me even though you didn't speak the language." He looked at her— really looked at her, like for a moment even the drugs couldn't distort his certainty, "We were bestfriends."

Were. Were. Were. She swallowed, nodded, "See," She said finally, "There are things you remember, it'll just take time for the newer ones to come back to you."

He murmured quietly, "Thank you."

Lydia's phone rang before she could speak again, Emily's name flashing on the screen. She got to her feet and took a couple paces before answering, "Hello?"

Emily merely offered her a greeting before she got to the point, "We found Nadie's body at the motel, she was murdered."

"Shit," She muttered, trying to keep her voice down, "Shit. Emily, how bad is this?"

"Honestly?" She responded, "It's not good. This is... it's going to take a lot to clear him of this."

There was a sinking feeling in her stomach— prison was a rough place for anyone to be, but Spencer needed mental stimulation in abundances that just wouldn't be available to him in there. It could quite literally drive him insane— time would stand still for him, and he'd be left alone with nothing but his brain working overtime. "What do we do now?"

Emily exhaled, "We're coming back to you guys soon, I'm hoping he's lucid enough for a cognitive. How's he doing?"

She glanced back to see his head against the wall, eyes closed, but he wasn't breathing heavily enough to be asleep. He must be exhausted, though, and hoped he'd managed to get a-few minutes in before they started questioning him again. "He's doing okay, considering. A little panicked earlier, but he could talk me through some older memories that aren't related to the last few days. I didn't want to overwhelm him by trying to ask about all of this until he's come down a little more." 

"Okay, that's good," She could hear the slight relief in her voice, "We won't be long, should be back in about an hour. There's just a few things to sort through here."

"Alright, thanks Emily. See you soon." Lydia hung up, pocketing her phone and glancing back to where Spencer sat. He was staring into space, but he didn't seem as anxious as before, so she made the decision to wait till the others got back to break the news. She had always been more optimistic in nature, but it was a struggle to see any way out of this. Not wanting to disturb him just yet, she took her phone back out and dialled JJ's number.

"Angel, please tell me sweet boy wonder is okay." Garcia's voice came over the line, and she could vaguely hear JJ making a comment about her taking the phone.

"I'm with him now, he's–" she could hear someone in the background say put her on speaker, "--doing okay. I think he's starting to come down from the drugs, but still a little spaced out. Has Emily called you?"

"About Ramos? Yeah, she told us." JJ spoke, "It's..."

"Bad." Lydia supplied with a sigh, "But we all know whatever is going on, someone else is responsible. There will be a way to prove that."

"Exactly," She recognized Tara's voice, "We'll clear him, don't worry."

Lydia had a feeling her words were more aimed for Garcia, who she was sure was the epitome of worry.

"I should get back to him, I just wanted to make sure Emily updated you."

"Hey, wait!" JJ said, then her voice sounded closer as if she'd taken the phone off of the speaker. There was a brief pause and the sound of a door closing before she spoke again, "How do you really think he's doing? I know it's been a while since you... well, I just... You knew him better than any of us. Do you really think he's okay?"

Lydia tried to push aside the personal issues that attempted to taunt her— she hadn't had to confront anything surrounding her opinions of Spencer in a long time and she hadn't anticipated doing it under these circumstances. The worry for him, though, was no stranger to her. It had been a quiet, lingering ghost that had haunted her on every case she watched him go out onto the field since they stopped being friends. How she'd have to bite her tongue from saying "be careful."

"It's hard to say," She answered, "I've never seen him like this before, JJ. Even with Tobias, he still had his clarity. I think things are starting to come back to him, but I don't know how he's going to be with the knowledge that he lost time like this."

"God," JJ murmured, "This is all so screwed up."

"I know." She emphasised, "But he's more resilient than we credit him for, and he's got all of us to help him if he struggles."

"I'm glad you're there with him." She said after a pause, "It'll bring him more comfort than you know."

She didn't know how to respond to that. Didn't know what to do with how that made her feel. "Thanks, JJ. I should go."

"Lydia?" JJ sensed her attempt at dismissal.

She resisted the urge to pretend she didn't hear and hang up. "Yeah?"

"I mean it," She said certainly, "He misses you."

Lydia hoped she didn't hear her sharp intake of breath, "I'll call if there is an update."

She didn't wait for an answer before she hung up, giving herself a moment before she returned to where Spencer was sitting. He opened his eyes when she approached, and she gave him a small smile which he tiredly returned. It was silent until the rest returned.

[spade-andthe-microwave]

Ball Of Energy (Fives Pets4VetsAU)

AU Blog!: @p4vserviceanimalsau

Dividers used from @dystopicjumpsuit

Pairing: Fives x Non Binary OC

Word Count: 2,168

Rating: Safe for Work Content Warning: Brief Mention of cybernetic eye

“I understand that you aren’t that keen on the idea, Fives, but you seriously need someone or something to help with all of that energy.” Echo attempted to plead with his brother, turning in his chair as he rested his head on his hand, leaned up against the table of their shared apartment. “Fine, if you’ll stop pestering me about it, I will put in an application.” Fives sighed. It had been another long string of nightmare after nightmare, and the only thing that seemed to help was exercise, but the clone hated doing it alone, finding it almost suffocating to be alone for too long with his thoughts. “In person. I’ll even walk you there. Turn in an application, get an interview, they pair you up with an animal that’ll suit your needs.” Echo reassured him, slipping out of his seat and grabbing a few bottles of water, already knowing how long they’d be out of the apartment. Fives rolled his eyes and grabbed his shoes from the door, slipping them on. “At least we’ll be out of the house. How long does this whole thing take anyways?” Fives slipped out of the apartment, Echo following behind him. “Holo-net says the process goes by faster if you’re honest with answering the questions in the paper and the interview.” Echo spoke up, quickly matching Fives’ speed as they continued walking. “Hey, hold up. How do you even know where to go?” “I’ve passed the building a few times out for jogs. I’m not entirely useless here, Echo.” Fives chuckled a bit, continuing to make his way towards the clinic, taking one of the bottles of water Echo offered out. 

“Alright. Tell ya what. How about a few more laps, then back inside, okay?” Roachie attempted to plead with the hyper-active massiff, holding onto the leash for the creature. “Great. Cmon, let’s get a move on.” Roachie immediately stood back up, waiting for the massiff to finish drinking from its bowl before the two began to jog laps around the outside field area attached to the creature clinic. They were beginning to regret wearing their all black flight suit beneath their beskar armor, but they’d push past. The moment the massiff began to slow down, Roachie knew it was time for quits. “Hey! There we go. Finally tired out bud? We’ve only been running for hours on end.” They chuckled, gently patting the head of the creature. The two of them slowly made their way back inside of the clinic, back into sweet sweet air conditioning. “Good job today. Probably felt great to get your limbs all stretched out, huh?” Roachie happily chimed as they unclipped the leash and harness from the massiff, helping to lead it back inside of its pen, locking the cage once it settled down nicely. They carefully placed the leash and harness on the side of the pen and picked up the datapad attached, marking off on all the physical activity and other information they needed to fill out. It had been a decently slow day at the clinic, which the mandalorian always appreciated since it meant they got to spend more time helping the various creatures stretch out their limbs and get acclimated to being walked on leashes and being outside with other people or creatures. Although, that didn’t mean they weren’t wishing it wasn’t at least a little busier. A handful of the staff had gone on their breaks, leaving Roachie with a smaller team so not as many people to talk to. Roachie raised their head, their helmet turning as they heard the chime of the door being opened followed by the unmistakable sound of the doors sliding open. “I got it!” Roachie called to the other staff members who were currently attending to the other creatures, administering medication as needed. They knew the drill. Sometimes, working with vets meant helmets couldn’t always stay on, so Roachie carefully unsealed their helmet, brown hair with orange tips immediately fluffing out. They mumbled a bit as they readjusted their hair, covering their left eye. Or, well, current lack, therefore of considering they’d been in a rush this morning and forgotten their cybernetic eye, so they were currently stuck with their emergency eyepatch. Once their hair was shifted into place, they walked out to the front desk. “Hiya there, welcome to Pets 4 Vets. My name is Remi, though most people just call me Roachie. What can I help you boys out with today?” Roachie chimed as they greeted Echo and Fives with a large smile, leaning against the counter.

“Erm… looking to fill in an application for an adoption?” Fives would be lying if he said he wasn’t expecting a short mandalorian to step out and greet them. “Well, I can certainly help with that. I’m going to ask that you fill out two forms. The first one is just some basic information about you. Name, address, current living situation like how large the area is, all that fun stuff. The second one I promise is a lot more questions. You’ll just need to fill out the form on what is bringing you here with us today, what you’re looking for out of a pet, so that we can get you into an interview and pair you up with a new friend.” Roachie hummed as they squatted down behind the counter, grabbing one of the datapads and punching in their own credentials before handing it off to Fives. “Don’t forget to answer it truthfully, Fives.” Echo chimed in, peering over his shoulder to look at the application. “I already know that, Echo.” Fives huffed, but the faintest smirk could be seen on his face. “If you boys need any more help, or have any questions at all about the application process, feel free to ask me. I’ll be up front until our receptionist comes back from lunch, so I’ll do my best to help out.” Roachie hummed, picking up their own bottle of water and taking a long sip before sitting down at one of the computers to start logging in all the physical activity of the day with the massiff they were currently helping exercise while they waited for someone to come along and adopt. “Hey, sorry to bother. But it’s asking me about my sleep schedule? Why in the galaxy would you guys need that kind of information?” Fives spoke up, holding up the datapad in minor annoyance and mild confusion. “Hm? Oh, some creatures we have for adoption aren’t awake during the day and may only be active at night, while others are active only during the day and sleep through the night. In some instances they may only be awake during dusk and dawn, sleeping the rest of the day and night away. Helps us make sure you and your new companion are synced up.” Roachie answered back plainly, their eye focused on the two clones. “Any other questions?” “No, no. I’m gonna go with the assumption that “activity schedule” also has to do with the whole syncing thing?” Fives went back to the paperwork, eyes glancing over the forum. “Yup, all of the questions on there are to help us out with making sure you get the best companion possible, and your new companion getting the best home possible. Feel free to ask anything else, even if it isn’t about the applications or anything.” Roachie hummed cheerfully, going back to typing.

Echo glanced back over at Roachie, noticing the badge clipped to the front of their armor with their keybadge that very proudly stated “I TALK A LOT” in bright colors that stood out against their primarily brown and red armor. “I gotta ask. Roachie is an interesting nickname. Interesting story to follow up with it?” Roachie looked back over with a sparkle in their eye and a giant grin that could rival the sun if given the chance. “Well, a good part of it is cuz of my armor. Mostly red and brown. Makes me look like a cockroach I’ve been told. Especially when I’m scamperin’ on the ground. I don’t have it on currently, but the whole look really comes together with my kama. Some of the animals here like it when you get on the ground to play around with em, so I end up looking like a massive roach skittering along the ground. Been told I look silly, but I don’t mind. A good smile can brighten some people up, and it helps the animals feel comfortable when they’re getting trained.” “Safe to assume the badge is from your co-workers?” Echo mentioned towards their badge. “Actually! I wear it on my own because I will talk for hours if I’m given the chance. Thankfully for you two, I’m a little less energetic today. One of our massiffs really likes to go out for runs and play a ton, and I’m usually in charge of getting the guy to tire himself out playing so he gets good rest and is happy and healthy. Just got back from it.” They continued, submitting their paperwork before getting up from their chair and stretching a bit before walking back up to the counter. “And… done. There you are.” Fives let out a sigh of relief as he finished the application, passing the datapad back over. Roachie carefully took it from his hands and went over it. “Awesome! Everything looks great! Let me go ahead get that submitted for you, Mr. Fives. We’ll give ya a ring once we get everything through and get ya an interview set up! Now then, was there anything else I could help you out with while you’re here? Of course, if any questions pop up after you’ve left or you wanna check on the status of your application, by all means drop us a line.” Roachie submitted the applications and information, printing it out on a data card which was then sorted into its appropriate slot to be went over once the rest of the crew was back. “Actually, yeah. You exercise in your free time? You said you were running for a while with a massiff and I heard those things can run for hours. So is it just something you do for work, or just in general for fun?” Echo leaned up against the counter, flashing a small grin.

Fives was a bit confused by the question until it clicked for him. He huffed and nudged Echo in the shoulder, recognizing that his brother was trying to get him an exercise friend. “Yeah! I do different kinds of activities in my free time! Usually a lot of jogging, but I’ll usually do whatever sport I end up finding myself in the middle of. Beats being cooped up at home doing nothing and just bouncing wall to wall. Then, weekends means I’m off at whatever dive-bar I’m allowed into and find myself near. But I usually spend most of my time here, practically here all day with naps through the day since some animals are only awake during certain times. That’ll change up soon, I’ve heard. Getting someone new onto the team, which should be pleasant. I know a good majority of the animals love interacting with people of all different sorts. I can absolutely guarantee the most effort will be put forward to get you guys a good animal companion match!” Roachie smiled even brighter, clearly ecstatic someone was actually talking to them for more than a few seconds in a passing hello. “But enough about me! Any other questions? Even about the other program we help offer, called the Right To Love matchmaking services. I won’t be able to help too much on that one, but I can get you guys all the resources you’ll need if you’d like!” “No need, thanks Roachie.” Fives nodded his head, nudging Echo again who just nudged him back. “Oh, and no need for the whole Mr thing. Just Fives is alright.” “Sounds good to me, Fives. Well, feel free to drop a line. Thanks for coming in and filling out the forums, and taking the time to chat! You guys have a good rest of your day!” Roachie beamed as the two clones walked back out. “Echo, I cannot believe you. Seriously?” Fives laughed, shaking his head. “You saw the badge and you spoke with them anyways?” “Hey! I wanted to see if it was true. Besides, it’s good news. They’re almost more hyperactive than you. And now we know that they 1. Are always out jogging in this area. 2. Are frequently at bars in this area, and 3. Will soon have an open schedule.” Echo smirked as the two continued to walk back to their apartment. “Just to tide you over until you get a new companion who’s perfectly matched with you, right?” “Oh, bug off.” Fives rolled his eyes before laughing, feeling the slightest bit of weight off of his chest, now having an animal companion to look forward to.

[raven-dor]

i'll look after you

In which albus potter defends his best friend, even when she tells him not too

PAIRING: albus severus potter x slytherin!reader

WARNINGS: GIVEN LAST NAME, typically jock antics, banter, HERO COMPLEX (he's harry potter's son, like come on), misogyny yayyyy, fluff, OBLIVIOUS FRIENDS, underage drinking

WORD COUNT: 2.2k

AN: this is a chapter from my wattpad story, trust me!! username is also raven-dor, feel free to take a look!! (there's a couple oc's in here as a result)

The crisp September air did little to calm Y/N’s nerves. Lily Luna had lent Y/N her gear—' for the tryout only,' but then she would have to buy her own. The Gryffindor had too much faith in her; Y/N honestly believed she wouldn't make the team. 

Albus stood before the group, clearing his throat. "Alright, everyone, circle up."

Chatter still echoed through the pitch, and Y/N had half a mind to turn and yell at them to shut it. Instead, she decided to wait for Albus to break. He looked at her quickly, grateful for her attentiveness, before yelling, "Oi! If you're still talking, feel free to leave the pitch." Y/N’s eyes widened, smirking as the crowd instantly gave him their full attention.

"Good. Welcome to Quidditch Tryouts. I'll be your captain for the next two years." He clapped his hands. "Right. First we'll start by separating you into the positions you want to go out for. Chasers over by Malfoy." Scorpius waved his hand. "Beaters over there." He pointed to Romeo Zabini and Lola Greengrass. "And seekers, right in the center." He pointed to Y/N, smirking. "I'll be leading the seeker exercises, and the other teammates I've sent you to will lead their respective positions. Pay attention, and try your best."

He walked forward, whispering. "How'd I do?" "Great." Y/N grinned. "Captain." 

"Jones, your turn." 

Tryouts were nearly over, but Albus wanted to see how they played against each other, watching for skill, teamwork, and—well, Y/N honestly didn't know. Taking a deep breath, she soared up high, watching for the snitch. The whistle blew, and the scrimmage began. 

It had been five long minutes before she spotted its fluttering form buzz past her. She gripped her broom and leaned forward, racing after it. That had tipped off her opponent, who was now chasing after her. The only thing that brought her solace was that he hadn't seen the snitch and was now following her blindly. 

The snitch suddenly dropped, diving toward the ground. Y/N plunged after it, not sparing another glance at the boy chasing after her. 

She hadn't noticed how close she was to the ground and reached out, grasping for the ball. At the last moment, she pulled back, barely missing the grass below. The whistle rang, and she grinned, jumping off onto solid earth. Holding out her hand, she dropped the snitch into Albus's palm. 

He glared playfully. "Pull up next time." 

"I did, actually." She crossed her arms. "Maybe too late for your liking, but I did." 

He rolled his eyes before turning back to the crowd. "Thanks for coming out, everyone. Great job all around. We'll have the list posted by the end of the week. And remember, if you don't make it, there's always next year."

A crowd had formed around the far east wall of the common room, and Y/N could only assume that Albus had posted the list. She walked over, standing beside him. "So..." 

"So..." 

She looked up at him. "You seem awfully chipper. It's off-putting." 

He nodded. "Great team this year. I'm excited." He looked down. "Can you blame me?" 

She shook her head, looking back at the crowd. "Can't say I can." 

"You should go take a look." 

She tried to suppress her grin, walking forward. She felt Albus's piercing green eyes following her. The crowd had thinned out, and Y/N walked through, scanning the list. "Seeker... Albus Potter. Spare Seeker... Y/N Jones." She stopped reading after that. Turning around, she shrieked, running towards Albus, who was already smiling. She jumped into his arms, and he picked her up, spinning her around. 

"I won't let you down."

He put her down, laughing at her very evident excitement. "I know you won't." 

"Congrats, Y/N." 

She smiled, nodding gratefully. "Thanks, Scorpius." 

The boy she'd raced against during the scrimmage stalked away from the list, visibly upset. His eyes met Y/N’s for a moment, and he scoffed. Albus placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Don't worry about it, Jones." 

She smiled. "Oh, trust me. I wasn't." 

"All I'm saying is, I'm surprised she made the team." The voice practically echoed through the halls, and Y/N wished she could be as oblivious as they were. Oblivious to how obnoxious their voices sounded. "You know what it is? She's probably sleeping with Potter." 

The others nodded. 

"They've hated each other for years and then suddenly become friends out of nowhere?" He laughed. "I don't buy it." 

His friend (the same boy from the scrimmage) butted in. "She pushed me when we were chasing the snitch." He scoffed. "Can you believe it?" He nudged his friend, laughing. "Have fun getting foul after foul after-" 

She cleared her throat. The boys turned around, their faces bright red. She smiled. "Can I get past you? You're in my way." 

The boys split, and she walked through, her head held high. "See you on the pitch, Montague." 

He waved weakly. "I'm screwed."

Albus looked absolutely livid, pacing around the prefect bathroom. She tilted her head. "What's got your wand in a twist?"

He stopped a very empathetic look in his eyes. "I kicked Montague off the team." 

She crossed her arms. "Why?" 

"He-" Albus huffed. "He was going around saying that the only reason you got on the team was because we're sleeping together."

Y/N laughed. "Well, are we?" 

His eyes widened. "Are we what?" 

"Sleeping together?" She smiled. "Keep up, Potter." 

"NO!" He shook his head. "No, you know that." 

"I do. And you know that. So why pay his obvious cries for attention any mind?" 

Albus spluttered. "Well, he- It's just unacceptable." He sighed, entirely confused at her current state. "Aren't you upset?" 

She shrugged. "It's not the worst thing that's been said about me." 

"Y/N..." He held her hand, rubbing his thumb over the back. "He shouldn't be saying things like that." 

"You're right, but that's no reason to kick him off the team. Now they're really going to think we're shagging." Albus blushed. "Put him back on the team, Albus." 

He rolled his eyes. "I'll think about it." 

She pulled her hand out of his hold, crossing her arms. "You will put him back on the team, Potter. I was at tryouts, too; you can't afford to lose him. The spare keeper is good, but-" 

Albus nodded. "Fine! Fine." He laughed. "You confound me." 

She smirked, putting her hand in his once more. "It keeps me mysterious." 

He scoffed. "You've never been mysterious." 

She gasped, pulling herself away from him. "Well, now you've hurt my feelings." 

"Fine by me." He laughed. "You'll get over it." 

Albus had left their study session halfway through, mumbling something about James and his girlfriend (well, soon to be, anyway). Y/N nodded; she hadn't envied him. In fact, she pitied him. That was a situation she would never want to be put in the middle of. 

She closed her book, concluding that she would get more done if she had a snack from the kitchen. 

"Jones." 

She looked up, fighting the groan that grew in her throat. "Montague." 

"Did you hear the news?" 

She shook her head, leaning back in her chair. 

He smirked. "I'm back on the team." 

"Congratulations." She smiled again. "You're an amazing keeper." 

He nodded. "Thank you..." He coughed. "Upset your little boyfriend doesn't like you enough to defend you anymore?" 

She stood up. "And who exactly is my little boyfriend?" 

"Potter." He crossed his arms. "Came to his senses, apologized and everything." 

She grinned. "Well, I, for one, am glad you're back, Montague." 

He glared. "What's wrong with you?" 

"Nothing. Though, I suspect something is very wrong with you," she said, laughing. "If you're so bored, you make up rumors to justify why your friend, who is a subpar seeker, by the way, didn't make it on the team," she smiled. What intricate imaginations the pair of you have." 

Leaning forward, she whispered. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd rather be anywhere else than here with you." 

The common room was full of fifth years and up (a firm rule that they had established ages ago), a horrible concoction of firewhiskey and butterbeer being served to any poor soul that approached. 

Y/N and Morgana had just finished getting ready, putting the finishing touches on their makeup. They had made a rule when they became friends: always dress to impress. And when they hit fourth year, that rule applied to parties. Morgana chose a gorgeous silver tank paired with leather pants, while Y/N wore a black corset and jeans. They stumbled down the stairs, the effects of their gigglewater shots kicking in. 

Walking over to the table, Y/N grabbed two cups of whatever the drink was called and handed the other to Morgana. "Cheers." 

Morgana tapped her rim to Y/N’s, wincing at the aftertaste. "Salazar, this is horrible." 

"Would you like something else?" Morgana turned around, a blush covering her cheeks. "Zabini." 

He smiled. "Smythe." He gestured to the stairs. "After you." 

Morgana looked back to Y/N, who nudged her along, smirking. "Go on." She glared at Romeo. "Don't try anything funny-" 

Morgana grabbed Romeo's hand, pulling him away before she embarrassed her any further. "Sorry about her." 

Y/N laughed, turning towards the party. Green lights illuminated the common room, and a variety of music played from someone's speaker. It wasn't a nightclub, but it was (in Y/N’s opinion) much better. 

"Jones." 

She whipped around, smiling sloppily. "Potter." 

He smirked, standing beside her. "Are you drunk already?" 

She laughed, smacking his arm. "Just a little." 

He rolled his eyes. "You look well." 

"You don't look too bad yourself." 

He smiled, taking a sip out of his cup. "Looking for someone?" 

She looked over, smirking. "Why? You jealous?" 

"More so curious. I couldn't care less about your love life, Jones. Believe me." He looked out at the crowd. "I invited someone." 

"Let me guess. Nott." She wiggled her eyebrows. 

He shoved her lightly. "Shut it." 

She quickly grew tired of standing silently and walked into the crowd, beckoning Albus to follow her. "Live a little Potter." She swore his eyes were pitch black, and her stomach twisted. He shook his head. 

"Have fun for the both of us." 

Her hips swayed to the beat, waving at Albus every so often, who waved back, admiring her from afar. He looked around the room, starting to grow deeply insecure. Of course she hadn't shown up.

"Captain!" Albus groaned, nodding. 

"Montague." 

The brunette nudged Albus. "No hard feelings, eh?" 

Albus nodded, staring at her. He really wished he’d followed after her now. Montague followed his eyeline, scoffing. "What a slag." 

Albus shook his head, looking at Montague, waiting for him to correct himself. "What did you just say?" 

"First, she steals Liam's spot on the team, then complains about a harmless conversation and gets me kicked off the team." He laughed. "Then she has the nerve to act like you never slept together." He rolled his eyes, nudging Albus. "Slag." 

Albus had clenched his cup a little too tightly, crushing the top. "I have a question for you." 

He nodded eagerly. "Shoot." 

"Were you born an absolute dickhead, or did that happen over time?" 

Montague took a double take. "I'm sorry?" 

"You should be." Albus crossed his arms, stepping closer to the highly confused keeper. "She is the reason your slimy self is back on the team. She never told me about your little conversation, but if she had, trust me, you wouldn't be back on the team." He leaned forward, whispering. "You'd be in the hospital wing." 

"Albus-" 

"It's Captain to you. And if you ever talk about her like that again, I'll make good on my promise." 

"I-" Montague scoffed. "Are you quite serious?" 

He nodded. "Do you understand?" 

Montague mumbled, and Albus raised his eyebrows. "I can't hear you." 

"I understand, Captain." 

Albus nodded, smiling. "Good, see you at practice." 

He turned back to the crowd, immediately noticing that Y/N  had disappeared from where he'd left her. He walked around the common room, a glass of water in hand. Albus forced himself not to laugh when he'd found her, interested as to why she was sitting on the ground. Her head was against the wall, staring at the ceiling. He sat down beside her, holding her hand lightly. "You alright, Y/N/N?" 

She nodded. "Perfect." Without looking over, she grabbed his chin, pushing it up. "Look at the stars." 

Albus couldn't help himself, laughing loudly. "We're inside, love." 

"I know that, silly." She sighed, letting go of his chin. "Just look. Really look." 

He looked over at her, smiling lightly. "Wow." She looked down, smiling shyly. "You're sloshed." 

"You're being mean." She began to stand up but quickly gave up when she realized she couldn't do it alone. "I don't like it." 

"I'm sorry, Y/N/N, it's just-" He laughed, rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand like it was common practice. "It's not often your-" 

She shoved him. "I just said I don't like it when you're mean." She leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. "Can we just stay here until I can get up?" 

"I'm sorry." He hummed, looking down. "Would you like me to help you?" 

She shook her head, scooting closer to him to get warm. "S'fine. I want to do it myself." She sighed, mumbling. "I don't need you to help me." 

He smiled, summoning over a blanket. "I know." He draped it over her form. "Doesn't mean I'll stop." 

[mattybraps10]

Roommates | Joseph Woll x OC

Summary: Jane Cambell is Mitchell Marner's best friend, and when he asks her to let the rookie goalie stay in her guest room, who is she to say no?

Word Count: 1704

By: M

Mitch and I had grown up next door to one another. There wasn’t a birthday party, school event, or family function where we weren’t together. We were inseparable. So, when Mitch got drafted to the Leafs, it made sense for me to follow him and attend the University of Toronto. I loved being around the team and doing homework at practices. I was thrilled to interview Mitch for my final papers, to spend time with him again. Once I graduated, I went on to work for the team, Mitch and I stayed close. When Mitch met Steph, I was overjoyed. She was perfect for him, but it left me with more time to myself. Something I didn’t understand what to do with. I found myself wandering aimlessly after work, never having plans. 

When Mitch told me the team had called up a new goalie, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Since he had recently moved in with Steph, he had asked me if the new guy could use my spare room until he got on his feet. I, of course, said yes. Mitch had always been a great judge of character and if he felt comfortable letting him stay with me, then I felt comfortable. What I didn't expect, however, was for this man to come through the door with lego boxes stacked above his head. And like… goalies are tall, but I couldn’t even see his face.

“Hey! Thanks for letting me crash, let me just set these down in the room and we can properly introduce ourselves…” He said, his voice muffled by the many boxes in front of him.

“Oh yeah of course, um it's the door to the left of the TV.” I replied, stepping aside so he could walk in. It took him about five minutes to set the boxes how he wanted them, the echo of fallen boxes and muttered curse words heard throughout the apartment. 

“Can you help me grab my bags? I don’t really have that much stuff yet… I mean I’m not really new to Toronto but I just lived with teammates when I was on the Marlies so like…” He said, rambling on as he stepped back into the main room. His blue eyes caught mine and he quickly lost whatever thought he was about to share. Like seriously are piercing blue eyes mandatory to be on the Leafs? Because, wow.

“I’m Joseph… Uh Woll… yeah. But I mean most people call me Joe haha…” He said, his left hand scratching the back of his neck and holding his other out awkwardly.

“Jane, but my friends call me Janie.” We shook hands. Joe and I found our rhythm easily. He would leave before I got up in the morning and I would meet him at the office for lunch before going to meetings. We’d head home together on off-days, laughing about anything and everything. I felt like that missing piece I’d been searching for had been found.

The hard-part was always away games. Joe and Mitch would spend weeks away, traveling for games whilst I was left in a mostly empty office, planning future events and booking flights. When the boys are away Steph and I usually grab dinner and talk, but I was hesitant to have to answer questions about my relationship with Joe. He and I had gotten increasingly close and several of his teammates had picked up on some of the underlying tension on my end. It was clear to me, at least, that Joe wasn’t interested in me, despite what Kniesy kept saying. Kniesy and Joe are pretty close, but I can’t help but feel like he’s just messing with me. Plus, I mean I don’t even know what Mitch would do about me dating a teammate of his. I mean he was always protective growing up, purposefully keeping me from his teams. The one time I did go out with someone from his team, we realized we’d be better off as friends, which is how I ended up with Matthew Tkachuk as my fantasy football teammate. 

I decided to go to dinner with Steph anyway, as I wanted to catch up with her. When I sat down across from her at the restaurant, my phone started buzzing. I mouthed, “hold on” to Steph as I stood up and answered the phone.

“This is Jane Campbell speaking…”

“No I know, Janie it’s me, I- I just needed to hear your voice” The voice on the phone, Joe, said clearly out of breath.

“Joe what’s going on? Are you okay?” I started panicking, why was he calling me. He never calls.

“It’s. I’m fine. I just- Did you see the game?” I hadn’t. I was so busy getting ready to see Steph and finishing work, that I’d completely forgotten to tune in.

“No- I- Tell me what’s happening.” I felt like screaming, what wasn’t he telling me? The walls felt like they were closing in.

“It’s Kniesy.” Two words that first had me breathing a sigh of relief and then feeling guilty as the walls crashed in once again.

“Okay,” I took a breath, “okay. What do you need from me? What happened? I’m with Steph. Do you need me to get there?” 

“Just stay on the phone please. He’s. He just collapsed. I mean the hit didn’t look that bad but I guess it was? I- I don’t know Janie. I don’t know.” A sob erupted from him as he tried to keep himself composed. Where was the game again? I could have sworn I’d written it down somewhere… I looked through my bag, dumping the contents on the table in front of a concerned Steph.

“Are you still there?” His voice almost whispers, having been wrecked by his sobs.

“Yeah, I’m here Joey. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” The nickname escaped me before I even knew I was saying it. Shit.

“Joey?” His quiet voice still shaking.

“I- I mean…”

“No- I- Uh- I like it- It just caught me off guard that’s all.” His smile was clear even through the phone.

“Okay wait- The game’s in Buffalo right? Let me just… I’ll see you in a few hours, okay? What hotel are you in?” I blurted out, before I could even process what I was saying. All I know is that Joey needs me and I want to- no, have to- be there. 

“You don’t have to come, I mean it’s fine. I’ll be fine.” He rushed, trying to convince me not to go, but it was too late.

“See you in a bit Joey, bye.” I quickly said, trying to hang up.

“I L-” I hung up.

“Okay Steph, I gotta go. I- uh- I’m so sorry, I’ll venmo you for the salad.” I said, grabbing my coat from the back of my chair and shoveling everything back into my bag.

“Is everything okay?” Steph said, panicking.

“Yeah, Joe’s worried about Matthew, apparently he got hurt during the game. I’m just gonna fly out to Buffalo to be with him.”

“You and Joseph, huh?” She said, winking, “I mean I told Mitch y’all were a good match, but he didn’t think it would happen this quickly…”

“Oh- Um. No, we’re not together. I mean- I don’t think he even likes me like that… Not that I like him or anything.”

“Mhm, and he called his ‘platonic roommate’ for comfort when his best friend got hurt, and, said ‘platonic roommate’ is flying to another country to check on him… Okay!”

“That’s exactly what’s happening. Plus, New York is barely another country.”

“Sure… Sure. Have a nice flight Janie.”

“Thanks.”

The flight went quicker than I expected. I sat in my seat, my knee bouncing as I waited to see Joe. I was still unsure of what happened to Matthew, but if Joe was worried, so was I. The little pest had started to grow on me.

I rushed into Joe’s hotel, asking the front desk to let me through. Joe had let them know I’d be coming and to let me in. When I got to his door, I took a breath before knocking.

“Janie, thank god.” He said, opening the door and scooping me into a big hug.

“I’m here Joey, I’m here.” He stiffened at the nickname as he released me. 

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Nothing… I- I just like when you call me Joey, that’s all.” He said, letting me into his room. 

“How’s Matthew?” I asked, grabbing his hand for moral support.

“The doctor said he’ll be okay, just a concussion. It just really scared me, you know? I mean one moment we were laughing about him asking a girl out, and the next he’s on the ice.”

“A girl?” I asked, waggling my eyebrows.

“Yeah, I mean it feels silly now but he wants to ask the barista at the coffee shop by the rink for dinner.” He smiled, squeezing my hand.

“That’s such a good idea omg! Not silly at all, I mean she’s really pretty and nice.”

“It just got me thinking, you know? Like what if he wasn’t okay? What if he never got to tell the girl? It feels so trivial to worry about rejection at this point.”

“But he will get to tell her Joey. And she’ll say yes and it’ll be great and they’ll be together!” I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but I’m doing my best to reassure him that Kniesy and the Barista will get together in the end.

“Will they?” He asks, furrowing his brows.

“Of course, if they’re meant for eachother, it’ll happen.” I smiled, looking up at him, my hand still in his.

“Will we?” He asks.

“Will we do what?” I ask, confused.

“Will we get together?” He asks and my stomach flutters. 

“Joey?” I feel like I’m hallucinating there’s no way he means what I think he means.

“Jane. Janie. I love you. Every moment we’re apart is like I'm drowning and you’re my air.” He grabs my face, angling my eyes up to his.

“Joey… I love you too.” I closed my eyes as our lips met, fireworks erupting as the butterflies dissipated from my stomach.

[imawreck]

Recruit

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x Original Character

Summary: Based in Season 2, S.W.A.T. is bringing in both old and new recruits as they recover from budget cuts. Among those new recruits, is Lily Blake. With her training and experience, she poses potential for the team. Unfortunately, not everyone is willing to overlook her spontaneous nature, or untraditional joining to S.W.A.T.

Author's Note: The first few parts to this fic will be incorporating the character into the team, but there is an eventual Deacon x OC pairing. It's a slow burn fic, so be patient!

Warnings: Cursing, violence, angst, fluff, team drama, radio communications and time skips are sometimes italicized

Word Count: 1,218

"20-squad, round up and meet me in the conference room in five." Commander Hicks' voice echoes from down the hall, reaching the ears of the team. They hustle into the room, brows furrowed and voices low and curious.

Hicks looks them over with his brows drawn as he waits for them to quiet down. "I want to inform you all of a transfer happening in this division. The L.A.P.D. is recovering from the budget cuts, and in turn, is increasing personnel again. I have hand selected one of these new recruits for your squad."

Hicks seems to sense their unasked questions, and he closes his eyes as their voices rise.

"Hicks, when did we start taking officers that haven't completed the academy?"

"Yeah," Luca chimes in, "a spot on S.W.A.T. has to be earned like all the rest of us!"

20-squad mumbles their agreement and Hicks raises a hand to silence them. "This officer is highly recommended with great marks, not to mention a skillset that this team would really benefit from. This is not up for debate. New recruits arrive tomorrow, I suggest you make peace with it now."

5:15 A.M. Blake-

I shuffle my feet, throwing my weight into the bag as my fist makes contact with a soft thump. It's early morning, way too early to have as much energy as I do, but I couldn't sleep with all the excitement of today. It isn't every day someone's chosen for S.W.A.T.

A smile crawls onto my face as I take another swing, slamming my elbow into the bag in silent triumph. A door opens behind me, but I pay it no mind as I continue to wail on the bag with my mind occupied with the curiosities of the job to come.

That is, until a smiling face peers around the bag and nearly meets the blunt end of my knuckles. "Woah there, I come in peace!" He laughs, his hands raised in mock surrender.

I huff, out of breath. "Sorry, didn't notice you."

"Pretty active for this time of day, huh?" He adjusts the strap of a navy bag at his side, the silver S.W.A.T. logo catching the overhead lights.

I nod, "Couldn't sleep so I figured I'd burn some energy before the day gets too crazy."

He laughs, nodding, "I know what you mean. Names Jim Street."

He holds out his hand to me, and I'm quick to dry my palm on my towel and give it a shake while I respond with a smile. "I'm Lily Blake, it's nice to meet you."

"I haven't seen you around before. You a new recruit?" He leans against the pillar next to the bag, and I take a moment to collect myself.

"Yeah, not sure which squad I'll be put on though." I take a seat on the bench across from him and take a swig of my water. "Are you new too?"

"Oh, no, I'm a member of 20-squad. I finished my academy last year. I didn't hear they had another one." There's a pensive look in his eyes despite his friendly approach.

I shake my head, "I didn't take the academy." It's not much information, but that's all I can really give him. I'm not sure why I was picked to join S.W.A.T., but I wasn't about to tell him that.

"Well, its refreshing to see a new face around here. Even better knowing I won't be the newbie anymore." He laughs at that, "I look forward to seeing you around. Good luck on your first day!"

With a little salute, he turns on his heel and leaves me alone once again. I smile to myself, pleased that I had at least one acquaintance around here. Jim seemed nice enough.

A few hours later, the station is awake and buzzing with voices. More officers flood in, all muttering about new recruits and how happy they are that the budget cuts have finally let up. I stick to the walls, make myself scarce as the foot traffic picks up around the halls. I change, pulling on my casual blues and double checking my belt before I head out again.

"Lance Corporal Blake," someone calls out, and I'm quick to turn around.

"Sir?" I take him in, grey hair, green eyes, and a face that makes me think he hasn't smiled in thirty years. I relax as I plaster on a smile, offering my hand. "You must be Commander Hicks."

His face moves into something akin to a smile, reaffirming my assumption that he doesn't do much more than frown very often, before he nods and shakes my hand twice. "It's a pleasure to have you."

I nod, "It's an honor, sir."

Hicks places his hands on his hips, "Well, I hope you're ready for today. It'll be tough, but I think I've picked a squad that's just right for you."

My heart does a little summersault, nerves jittering, before I take a breath. "I trust your judgement, Commander."

Hicks gives a chuckle, "You ready to meet them?"

"Born ready, sir."

I follow Commander Hicks down a hallway and into a debriefing room, taking in the computer screens and tablets littering nearly every available space. Several individuals stand on the other side of the room talking amongst themselves with their arms crossed and voices low. All of them wear their casual blues, the silver S.W.A.T. emblem gracing each shirt over their left side.

These were my squad members.

"20-squad, this is your new addition. Lance Corporal Lily Blake, this is 20-squad." Hicks nods his head in their direction, and suddenly all eyes are on me.

Five men, and one woman. All various ages, and all sporting mixed expressions. None of which seem too pleased, but not entirely hostile either.

I do my best to keep up a pleasant smile, "It's a pleasure to work with you."

One of them steps forward, charming smile and caramel skin. "I'm Sergeant Harrelson, but you can call me Hondo. Great to have you on the team."

I take his hand, "I go by Blake."

"Lance Corporal, a Marine?" His smile turns upwards a little more and a bit of pride graces his face when I nod.

He steps back as another member of the team comes forward, a much more familiar face. Jim shoots me a wink, "Didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon, Newbie! You didn't tell me you'd rank above me either."

I shrug, "I didn't think it was important to say."

He shakes his head with a laugh, and steps back so the others can take their turn introducing themselves to me. Luca, who reminds me an awful lot of the stereotypical surfer type, seems displeased with my arrival. Probably due to the impromptu recruitment and the fact that I didn't take their traditional route through the academy.

The last man forward was older. Chocolate brown eyes, built in stature, with salt and pepper hair. His smile was pleasant and practiced, but his eyes swam with emotions. "Sergeant David Kay. These guys call me Deacon."

He offered his hand, and I took it. "A pleasure, Deacon."

For some reason, his introduction stuck with me. The weight of his eyes, that practiced pleasantry, the roughness of his palm.

And the silver band on his ring finger.

[writinghabits1]

Karma Part 5

Part 4

Pairing: Ghost x OC

Warning: Gunfight, gunshot wounds, blood, ambush, angst

Summary: Karma knew something wasn't right before they even attacked. But now there are lives hanging on with only a few rounds left.

A/N That picture is something how I imagined Karma. Also, I really enjoyed writing this part!

____________

 It was dark. The night had crawled in fast as Karma and Widow made their way under cover of several trees closer to the compound. Karma’s C8 rifle was slung over her front as she aimed her sights at the compound to get an image of it. She spotted three men carrying what looked to be small automatic weapons as they scanned over the area around the compound.

“Three shooters on the roof,” Karma called out, down her mic connected to her comms. “Check in.”

“Team two approaching point Charlie.” Ghost answered down the mic first.

“Team three, two mikes out.” Price called, confirming his whereabouts.

“Team Four, five mikes.” Glass was the last to update Karma as Widow stopped a foot behind her but two meters to her right. They both took a knee while training their weapons down at the compound.

“Will I be happy to have this over with,” Widow muttered to Karma, to which she received a slight chuckle of agreement.

“You got that right. This prick has been a pain in the tit.” Karma muttered to her, causing Widow also to chuckle.

“The sooner I can get a martini, the better,” Widow answered back. They both knelt there watching, hidden from sight in their black gear. The only thing that wasn’t black was their patch showing white Angel wings with a small flame in the centre. Velcro was attached to their armour over their chests. They both fell into a deathly silence, the calm before the storm. But something didn’t feel right to Karma as the air was too silent.

“Karma,” Widow muttered in a voice that showed she felt the chill of death. Something about how the wind moved against the trees surrounding them felt off. Karma’s heart pounded in her ears as her eyes began to search. Something was not right, and she could always trust her gut.

“Something isn’t right about this.” She told Widow as she began looking back at the compound. The small army they were expecting was nowhere to be seen. Only the three men were on the roof.

“Does anyone have eyes on more tangos?” Karma asked down the comms only to be hit with a chorus of no’s. It took a minute before Karma made a quick decision.

“Laswell, send the chook,” Karma told her over the comms.

“What’s wrong? Has something happened?” Laswell’s voice called back with a worried tone.

“Why are you calling evac now?” Ghost asked as Karma continued to scan the area.

“Karma, I heard something,” Widow said, spinning to her right with her weapon pointing the way she was looking. Karma’s breathing picked up rapidly as her head and eyes snapped in the same direction the Widow said she heard a noise.

“Karma, sit rep.” Price’s voice sounded over her comms, but she remained dead silent, eyes not daring to rip away from the spot to her right. Her jaw clenched as the air around them grew heavier. A noise sounded from Karma’s left, which she heard this time. Karma whipped around with her rifle, pointing toward the new noise. The sinking feeling setting into Karma and Widow that they felt surrounded.

“Widow,” Karma hissed out as she moved backwards until her back tapped Widow’s back. “Move.” Karma hissed again in a low, hushed tone to keep as quiet as possible.

“Widow, Karma, what’s happening.” Fox’s voice sounded concerned over her earpiece, but neither dared to speak more than needed for fear of triggering something. Karma’s finger moved to the safety switch of the weapon and set it to fire with the familiar click. She was followed quickly by Widow’s click of the safety off. Widow was the first to move, keeping as low to the ground as possible, making her way back the way they came.

“Karma, speak to us.” Ghost’s voices echoed in her ear. She wanted to reach up and tell them what was happening. To say they were okay and not worried. But she knew they were not okay. Years of training and practice made her aware that they were not in a good position. “I’m moving to their location,” Ghost called out.

“Negative. Stay where you are.” Price’s voice called out to him.

“Price, Karma called evac. Something is happening.” Ghost stated over the comms. If Karma weren’t too busy figuring out what was making the noises around her and Widow, she would have picked up on the slight tang of fear lacing his words.

It happened in a split moment.

The glint of metal flashed in the moonlight through the bushes next to them. Karma’s weapon was instantly trained on the threat now in front of them. Karma pulled her trigger, sending several bursts of rounds down through the barrel and into the oncoming men as they rushed out of the bushes around them.

“Ambush!” Karma yelled out as she and Widow began to take down men that rushed them.

“Fuck!” Widow yelled as she continued to fire at the men. They seemed never to end as they moved in bounds to break contact. Karma would fire while Widow moved back, and then they would swap. Karma dipped behind a large rock before Widow joined her.

“It’s an ambush. Get to the evac!” Karma yelled down her comms before standing up to fire while Widow reloaded her weapon. Once she was reloaded, Karma dipped down to also reload.

“I’m moving to your location,” Ghost told her quickly as Karma gripped her radio.

“Negative! Get to the Evac!” Karma yelled at him over the gunfire.

“You’re outnumbered!” Ghost yelled to her; she could hear he was running.

“Stand down! Get to the evac!” Karma yelled aggressively. While she appreciated his need to help, she knew it would only put another life on the line if he were to come to them. “That’s an order!”

“Ghost, you heard the Major.” Price warned him down the comms. Karma could only imagine the anger coming from him, but while Ghost was a deadly soldier, he never disobeyed orders.

The dull sound of metal hitting flesh ripped through Karma’s ear as she watched Widow fall back and hit the ground next to her. Widow’s C8 hit the ground hard a second after her body. Widow coughed, splattering blood over her face as a look of fear and pain washed over her face.

“Fuck!” Karma yelled out frantically as she rushed out and grabbed Widow by the shoulders of her body armour and pulled her up against the rock. She stood up and fired off several bursts of rounds, taking out some of the men. Stopping for a moment, she ducked and grabbed Widow’s chin, making her look at her. Widow gasped desperately for breath as blood began to ooze out the right side. The bullet hit just before her armour started under her left arm. “Eyes on me,” Karma told her as she pulled out a dressing from her pouch and pressed into against the hole in her chest. Karma grabbed Widow’s right hand and pressed it against the bandage. “Hold it tight.” She instructed Widow as she moved up and fired off several rounds again.

“Widows hit,” Karma called out over the comms as she fired several more bursts. “I repeat, Widow is hit! GSW to the left chest.” Karma informed whoever was listening. The men kept coming, but there was more than before coming at once this time. Karma knew it wouldn’t be long before she would run out of ammo.

“Karma, go.” Widow choked out as she grabbed Karma’s trouser leg pulling at it. “If you stay, we both die.”

“Pipe it; I am not leaving you!” Karma told her bluntly, earning a small chuckle from Widow. “You think I could face their little faces if I left you here?”

“Don’t be pulling that card.” Widow hissed wetly in pain as blood dripped out her mouth, mixed with saliva.

“You’re damn right I’m pulling it,” Karma told her as she dropped down and pulled one of Widow’s mags from her chest, having run out of her own. “You have two kids that need their ma.”

“Karma,” Widow called to her. “Tell them I love them,” Widow asked; Karma could hear the fear and sadness in Widow’s voice, but she didn’t want to accept it.

“That’s your job to tell them,” Karma told her as Widow coughed hard, causing blood to spill from her mouth. Karma was distracted for a second before being hit by white-hot pain from her right shoulder. She stumbled back slightly, realising she had taken a bullet to the shoulder. Releasing a hiss of pain before moving her heavy arm back to the pistol grip and trigger to continue firing. Her blood began to sock into her sleeve before dropping in a thin river to the ground. The dry dirt ground greedily, devouring Widow’s and her red liquid.

“I’m empty!” Karma called, and she ducked down behind the rock slinging her weapon to her side. She sat with her back to the rock next to Widow as they both panted out of pain.

“It’s been a hell of a ride, boss,” Widow smirked at her as she turned her head weakly to look at Karma, who chuckled with a smile. Karma held her left hand over her wounded shoulder before moving it to her radio.

“All stations, we are out of ammo. Tangos approaching our position.” Karma spoke breathlessly over the comms as she attempted to wet her lips using her dry tongue. “I’ve been hit, right shoulder.”

“Evac one mike out!” Price’s voice called to them over their earpiece. Widow moved, pulled her pistol from her leg, and handed it to Karma, who took it.

“Always come prepared.” Widow dipped her head slightly before Karma took the pistol. She had to make it last until the evac got there. Mustering all her strength, she stood up and counted each shot.

“30 seconds!”

Karma fired her last shot. That was it; she dropped to her knee and grabbed her shoulder as she squeezed her eyes shut to deal with the pain that rocked her mind.

“I’m sorry,” Was all she muttered over the comms as the sound of men yelled grew closer than ever.

“Don’t you fucking give up!” Ghost yelled down the comms as the sound of blades grew closer. But it was too late; the enemy was on them with their rifles pointing directly at their heads. Karma looked at Widow with a sad smile, almost like an apology. Karma lifted her hand to her radio with breaking eye contact with Widow.

“I’m sorry, Simon.”

[bl33dingm3mry]

Heist of The Heart || Chapter 3

Deckard Shaw x OC

Word Count: 1636

Summary: Secrets never stay hidden for long but as old foes threaten to ruin all she holds dear, Sterling Jones seeks help from the most unlikely candidate. Ex-British Special Forces member Deckard Shaw.

CHAPTER WARNING: Swearing (English and Spanish), Panic Attacks, Mentions of Abuse and Death, Guns

A/N: Big ole trigger warning, this chapter covers some really intense themes. If you are uncomfortable with violence and abusive situations please skip or read at your own discretion. Much love!

TAGLIST:

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the list!

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Sterling stepped into the shower letting the hot run over her shoulders and down her back, the heat easing her tensed muscles. She had needed some space away from the others, even if it was just twenty minutes for a shower and getting dressed. The ride back to her house had been awkwardly quiet like no one dared to break the silence. Sure Dom and Letty had seen her through a fair share of panic attacks, but Tej? The man's first introduction to Sterling Jones was her riding the hood of Dom’s charger to hijack a truck full of car parts.

She had spent most of her life crafting her personality to fit her double life. The sweet innocent little sister who worked a nine-to-five and volunteered at the local hospital in her spare time and the cold-blooded sharpshooter who had no fears and no hesitation. She did what needed to be done, and did it with precision. She was proud to be the dependable one the team could go to when they needed help, but her facade had cracked. Did Tej actually see her sobbing on the ground like a child? No. But he might as well have with the look of pity he gave her when the trio walked back to the shop where he had been left waiting.

She could only imagine how awful she had looked to him, her eyes red and swollen from crying, her face hot from embarrassment, tear streaks, and smudged makeup. Her clothes were dusty and disheveled, and no amount of dusting off was going to hide it. She avoided all eye contact for the ride and as soon as the car was put in park, she was walking to the front door, calling out behind her that she’d be in the shower, and there was beer in the fridge.

Having wasted enough water as it was, Sterling set about shampooing her hair and lathering a bar of soap. After letting the last of the suds glide down her body, she shut the water off, lightly wringing any extra water from her strands. Picking up after herself in case any of the others wanted to use it, she made her way back into her room, shutting the door behind her. Sweat pants and a red tank top were her choices of clothes, no need to be all dolled up in her own house. Her hair was messily pulled up into a bun, a wide clip holding it in place. Settling down on her bed, Sterling laid back, letting her body sink into the cloud-like mattress.

~~~~~

Opening her eyes, the room around her was dark, cramped, and had a musty smell, like old books and feet. Her knees ached from being scrunched up to her chest, and her throat ached for a sip of water or any liquid that wasn’t her own saliva. Cranking her neck towards the sound of heavy footsteps, thin lines of daylight filtered their way in through the slats of the closet doors. Her mother’s closet.

“WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?!”

“She isn’t here! This is between you and me Nikolai, leave Camila out of this!”

“You can’t hide her from me bitch. Wherever she goes, I will find her, and when I do you can kiss any chance of seeing her again goodbye. Father will make sure of that. He will rip any chance of having a family from both of you and IF she is lucky she will become one of our best. Unlike you she won’t run away, won’t hesitate to kill. She will be perfect.”

A loud crash echoed from the end of the hall followed by multiple thuds and the hurried sounds of footsteps as her mother came running into the room, trying to push her dresser in front of the old wooden door. Angry stomps grew louder before the door to the bedroom shook, Nikolai's fist hammering down onto it.

BAM. BAM. BAM.

“OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!”

BAM. BAM. BAM.

“I SAID OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR YOU BITCH!”

Sterling shut her eyes tightly, her hands covering her mouth in hopes she wouldn’t be heard by the enraged man. She had promised her mother she would stay hidden no matter what happened, however, she wasn’t even supposed to be in the house. She was supposed to be miles away by now, running to the closest bus stop in town, with enough money in hand for a one-way ticket. Instead, she tucked herself into the farthest corner of her mother's closet, buried under old dresses and dusty textbooks.

Soon enough the man's barrage against the door was too much for her mother and the dresser to handle, sending her stumbling backward as the dresser toppled over. The next several minutes were a blur, her mother screamed, and several thuds and muffled noises echoed through the room as she tried to fight him off before everything went quiet. The man grunted as he pulled on the rope, hanging her mother's lifeless body from the ceiling fan.

Holding her breath, Sterling didn’t dare move a muscle as the footsteps drew closer, the first closet door opening with a stiff creek. Hangers screeched as they were shoved across the bar, each one drawing the man closer to finding her hiding spot. Just when she thought it was going to be all over, another voice sounded from the first floor. Hope surged through her at the familiar tone, Nikolai cursing in Russian before making his escape from the bedroom window in a rush.

“Maria? I heard a scream while I was in the garage, is everything alright?”

The older man’s footsteps were soft and cautious as he made his way to the second floor, checking each room on his way through. The footsteps stopped for a few seconds outside the bedroom door before he rushed in, the gun being placed back in his waistband as he cut her mother down from the fan above.

“Maria… Maria come on, you’ve got to wake up...”

One of the books that had been balanced on her foot started to slide off, panic rising in her chest as Sterling prayed she wouldn’t make any noise. She wasn’t supposed to be there, her mother told her not to stay. She would be so upset with her when she woke up. The closet was flooded with light however as the man pulled open the doors, moving the last few jackets and dresses out of the way, revealing her hiding spot. She bore up at him, her eyes wide with terror and shock, tears silently pooling before spilling down her cheeks.

“...Camila? Mija, what’s going on?”

And that's all it took for her to tumble out of the corner and bury herself into his arms, choking sobs muffled into his chest. Jack Toretto had always been a source of comfort when her mother got into arguments with the men that would stay with them but this was different somehow. They weren’t in his yard and Dominic wasn’t there to make a joke or use his special bandaids. The room was intensely quiet after the violent outburst from before and it terrified her.

“Hey…”

“Hey… Time to get up.”

Sterling bolted upright from where she had sprawled out on the bed, her leg swinging out, catching Dom in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs for a brief moment. Enough for her to get a solid punch to the temple before he grabbed her arms, pinning her down as she writhed under him, kicking, twisting, struggling to get free.

“SJ wake up. Snap out of this.”

It took a few minutes for her brain to catch up with what was happening, the rush of adrenalin subsiding as her eyes darted around the room, taking in the space as well as Dominic who was still holding her down firmly on the bed. His eyes were focused, studying her face looking for some form of recognition.

“Hey over here. Recognize who I am?”

“...Dom…”

“Good. You remember where we are?”

“My house.”

Knowing she was awake and aware, he let go of her, sitting on the side of the bed, watching as she sat up beside him. Sterling stayed silent for a few moments as she tried to think over what had just happened. She must have fallen asleep pretty quickly after laying down however judging by the setting sun outside it hadn’t been for more than an hour. She then took in her adoptive brother's appearance, noticing the cut that had started to bleed by his eyebrow, most likely caused by her ring when she punched him.

“Coño… Dom, you’re bleeding.”

“Doesn’t matter. You gotta talk to me Ster. What's going on?”

“Dom, I… It was about mom. I’ve been so stressed lately and then the team for the op quit when they found out the details. Haven’t really been able to sleep either.”

Sterling let out a defeated sigh, curling her knees up, resting her chin on them as her gaze rested on the scuffed wood floors. The room was silent as he listened to her before chuckling, nudging her with his elbow.

“You still have a hell of a right hook.”

She smiled back at him, softly laughing at his attempt to cheer her up. And it sort of did. It lightened the mood at least and made everything feel a bit more normal. Like she hadn’t just punched him in a half-asleep self-defense attempt. Dom stood from the bed and grabbed her hands lightly tugging her up with him. Sterling’s eyes once again drifted to the blood that dribbled down from his eyebrow and wiped it away with her thumb, shaking her head.

“Let's get you patched up and then we can make dinner. And Tej gets to say grace.”

[league-of-sam]

As Grim as the Reaper | Simon 'GHOST' Riley PREQUEL

Ghost x Reader, Graves x Reader

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Phillip Graves x AFAB!Reader!OC 18+ MINORS DNI! t.w // angst, mental health, language, violence, death, sexual themes/SMUT, military inaccuracies, language inaccuracies (google translate).

As Grim as the Reaper: Masterlist

The Echo 6 squadron became a force to be reckoned with almost overnight.

Your fearless leading, the sheer volume of skill your comrades held, you were unstoppable, and bloody good.

Some may even say better than Echo 3.

Mission after mission, covert op after covert op, you proved yourselves over and over again. Laswell had been right to bring you all together, because now, when enemies knew Echo 6 were coming, they ran.

They ran with the power of fear.

And fuck, did you have so much fun with them.

Orlando and Bradshaw's daily flirting kept the team morale sky high, as the rest of you revelled in his constantly being shot down.

Trace was possibly one of the sweetest men you'd met; he looked up to you, like a little brother looking up to his sister. You'd never had that, so the kind of love you developed for him was foreign to you, but you embraced it wholeheartedly.

And Stevens, well, you and he bonded almost immediately. You reminded him of his own younger sister, and so every mission, he had you back as if you were her.

You met his family, became great friends with his wife, he even made you aunt and god-mother to his son, Charlie, who was only three at the time.

Echo 6 team had become your family, and you loved them dearly.

Even Graves had become close with them, him wanting to know he could fully trust the people who's hands held your life every time you were deployed.

It was hard at first, any time he had to go on a mission without you, or you without him. But you were able to figure it out, because the two of you wanted nothing more than your relationship to work.

And it was.

You'd never been happier, and your relationship with the commander had been growing incredibly. You'd never experienced being in love before, but you were starting to think that maybe this was what it was like.

Because being with him was so fucking easy.

But even with that, even with your team, none of it was quite enough to fill the hole that Alex had left behind.

It was approaching almost a year since he was declared MIA, and missing him never got any easier.

Once again, any intel pertaining to him was being kept from you, General Shepherd wanting your attention on your new team, and your new team only. 

You were all gathered in the break room, Orlando playing foosball with Trace, Stevens video calling his wife, and you and Emily gossiping in the corner. 

"So, are you ever gonna actually give Orlando a chance?" You asked.

She looked over to him, sighing dreamily as she watched him celebrate another point, "I really don't know."

"It's so obvious you fancy him, I hope you know that."

"You're one to talk? We all had bets on how long it'd take you to give in to the Commander." She argued back.

Your jaw dropped open, a laugh coming out as you swiped at her playfully, the two of you giggling.

"Okay, fine, I can't say anything. But I did take the leap, you should too. That boy is head over heels in love with you, Em."

"Yeah, maybe he is."

Before you could say anything else, your phone rang, Laswell's picture flashing on the screen.

Picking it up, you greeted her, and she returned it kindly before telling you that you and the rest of the team needed to come to the conference room as soon as possible. 

So, wrangling up your soldiers, you made your way there.

You followed your team into the room, the five of you taking seats around the table, as Laswell stood at the head of it.

There was a horrible aching in your chest, your fingers shaking as you fiddled with the dog tags hanging around your neck. Because the last time you were here, your heart was broken.

The last time you were in this room, Alex was declared dead.

Five minutes of silence passed by, all of you looking confused between one another, none of you knowing what the hell was going on.

"Jesus Christ, Kate, please, you're killing me." You spoke, head rolling on your shoulders.

She shot you a sympathetic look, "Sorry, honey, we need to wait for General Shepherd to be here for this."

You groaned, but nodded, and the rest of the team engaged in small talk with Laswell while you waited.

Eventually, Shepherd burst into the room, Graves following him in. He spotted you straight away, opting to come over, placing a quick kiss to your lips and taking the empty seat next to you.

Instead of telling you of the purpose of this meeting, Shepherd began addressing your team one by one, almost as if he was giving out appraisals.

But you weren't stupid, you knew that's not why you were here.

You sat there for almost another hour, listening to Shepherd drone on and on about the success of the team, the success of missions, and frankly, with everything going on in your head, you'd had enough.

Standing up, your chair screeched, and you started collecting your things.

"Lieutenant, where do you think you're going? We're in a meeting." Shepherd addressed you.

"I am aware, sir, but this meeting is going nowhere. You didn't bring us here to sing our praises, and I don't have time to listen to it, not today."

Laswell stood up, then, coming over to you, "(Y/N), if you'd just wait a second-"

"No, Kate! I'm not being funny, but the last time I was dragged into this room by the two of you, you told me my best friend was dead."

Involuntary tears sprung to your eyes as you relived the memory.

They knew how much it had hurt you.

"I know, but this is important. You need to be here."

"Why? Why do I? What could possibly be more important than me taking the time to mourn my best friend?"

The door opened behind you, but you were too in your feelings to take any notice. Not even when your team let out numerous gasps, not even when Kate whispered your name.

No, the only thing you could hear was the squeaking of metal, and a voice.

"Sorry, angel. I gotta be dead for you to mourn me."

The breath was knocked from you.

You could barely see from the tears swimming on your waterline, but you didn't miss Laswell's smile, and her nod for you to turn arouns.

Slowly, you turned in your spot, looking to the floor at the feet - well, foot - of the person behind you. 

Your gaze followed his body, seeing a prosthetic leg from his left knee to the floor. Then your eyes landed on those tattoos. 

You knew those tattoos.

And finally, when your eyes landed on his face, you let out a sob, and your tears began to fall.

"A-Alex?" You spoke, barely above a whisper.

"Hey, angel." He smiled back softly.

"N-no...you died- you..." You turned back to Laswell, refusing to believe he was really in front of you, but she nodded once again, and you felt your heartstrings snap in your chest, "You're alive?"

"I'm alive."

You couldn't say any more.

Relieved sobs broke out from your chest, and Alex opened his arms, inviting you in.

No second was wasted, and you leapt forward, jumping into his arms and holding onto him as if your life depended on it.

"You're alive." You repeated, hands locked around his neck.

His arms wrapped around your back, holding you flush against him, his grip tightening with every cry you released. His own tears sprung to his eyes, the overwhelming feeling of guilty, knowing how much you must have missed him, as he'd missed you.

"I'm alive, angel. I'm here."

You pinched yourself, one more try to see if you were dreaming.

But you weren't, he was here.

Alex was alive; you had your best friend back, and that void within you was filled once again.

You felt complete.

[photogirl894]

"Sun and Rain"

Chapter 42

"The Snowstorm"

A "Bad Batch" fanfic!

Pairing: Hunter x fem OC, Echo (more best friend pairing)

A/N: I'm back, y'all! Sorry this one took a while! It was one of those things where I knew what I wanted, but putting it into words just wasn't happening 😅 I even had pretty much most of the dialogue in the later part of this chapter all planned and written out before anything else! But now the new chapter is here and it's a longer one! I hope you all enjoy it!

(I know some of you were skeptical after last chapter...😅😁)

Taglist: @the-sad-batch , @nimata-beroya , @intrepidmare , @mrskenobi677 , @tech-aficionado , @ladykatakuri , @d1n0-dan , @sammi9498 , @darthzero22 , @scarlettroseog , @tech-deck , @thebadbatchscyare , @chxpsi , @ilikemymendarkandfictional

《 Chapter 41

》 Chapter 43

All chapters

Explanation: Kimber's loyalties are tested during a mission with the 501st to the icy planet of Rhen Var.

“You feeling ready for this mission, Kimber?” asked Jesse as they climbed onto the gunship.

Nervously, Kimber shook her head and answered, coming up beside him, “Not in the slightest.”

It had now been a month and a half since she had left her squad and only a few weeks since the night Jesse told her about Umbara and Fives. Her training had continued to progress, but recently, Rex had required Jesse’s help with some missions and she had been brought along, as well. Mostly just helping with some Droid incursions on a couple nearby systems while the 501st’s General, Anakin Skywalker, was out on other assignments for the time being. She was getting to put her training with Jesse into action. With how well things went on those missions, she was beginning to feel better about herself. She hadn’t been hurt or ended up in a precarious situation that required anyone to come save her. She was able to help defend her comrades of the 501st with relative ease. She was beginning to feel like the soldier she should be, but she also thought she needed a bit more training before it was time to return home.

At the present, the 501st were getting ready to head to Rhen Var, a frigid ice planet…and Kimber, having been raised on a hot desert planet, was definitely not feeling ready for the mission at hand. She had been given snow gear that matched with everyone else’s in the 501st, but she still had no idea how she was going to fare in such frigid conditions.

The gunship jolted ever so slightly as it picked up off the ground and began to make its descent towards the planet. She gripped tightly onto the handle above her head, nervously anticipating whatever awaited her down below. She looked up at Jesse who gave her an encouraging smile and a pat on the shoulder.

Captain Rex stepped forward in the middle of his men and spoke up sternly, “Listen up, boys. General Skywalker is still on another assignment with General Kenobi, so it’s just us going in. Here is our mission: the Separatists are attempting to settle a Droid base of operations down on Rhen Var and it’s our job to take it out. There is a tactical Droid that’s running the base and we’ve been instructed to bring back its intel if we can, but our primary objective is taking down the base.”

“Rough up a few clankers and destroy a Seppie base? Should be easy!” commented one of the Clones.

“Nothing we haven’t done before,” added another Clone.

“Exactly,” said Rex with a cocky grin. Then he removed a holopad from his belt, activated it and a hologram of a tall, square-shaped building surrounded by Droids in front of a mountain appeared. “The outpost is near the base of a mountainous region. We’ll be landing the gunships about twenty klicks out so they won’t see us coming and then we'll take the speeders. We’ll split into three teams. Mine and Vaughn’s teams will clear a path up the center and then cover the left and right flanks of the base while Jesse’s team infiltrates the base, shuts down operations from the inside and gets that tactical Droid.”

Jesse stepped forward and asked, “How will things look once we’re inside?”

Rex tapped the holopad and the hologram changed to show the schematics of the base. "There's a lift as you come into the base that leads up to the main control room. You'll be met by dozens of Droids from the lower rooms as well as the control room. You'll find the tactical Droid there."

"You want us to destroy the base from the inside, sir?" Kimber then asked.

"It'll help ensure it gets taken down, so have at it," Rex answered with a grin.

She chuckled. "You can count on that, Cap."

"Ha! I like her," commented the Clone known as Vaughn.

"We all do," added Jesse, giving her a smile.

Kimber smiled back at him. However, she couldn't help but wonder if his comment meant something more as her mind wandered back to their last holoshow night when he had kissed her on the cheek before leaving. He hadn't done anything like that since then, but she had been afraid to bring it up on the off chance it wasn't meant to be anything more and risking making things awkward between them. Though, what if it was? What was she going to do then?

Before long, the gunship landed on Rhen Var and the doors opened. A wall of icy air hit Kimber hard and for a moment, she feared her blood and body would freeze and never function again. She'd experienced cold before, but never anything this harsh. Immediately, she put on her helmet and ran from the gunship after the Clones into the snowy atmosphere. A carrier ship with the BARC speeders they were going to use had landed prior to their arrival and the speeders were all ready for them on the ground.

All the Clones leapt from the gunship and started jumping on the speeders, zooming off immediately. Kimber disembarked the gunship right behind Jesse and swung onto a speeder next to his. She’d never really driven a speeder before, so he had given her some pointers prior to the mission. She was able to pick it up pretty well. Though, this was a bit different than on Coruscant considering the snow that was falling and blurring her vision somewhat. She looked up to the sky and could see some dark, thick clouds on the horizon. 

“Jesse, are those clouds supposed to look like that?” she asked, pointing up to the sky.

He looked up and answered, “Well, looks like a storm’s headed our way.” Then he called out to Rex, who was the last to leave the gunship, “Captain, we’ve got a snowstorm incoming. We’d better make this takedown quick if we’re going to outrun it.”

Rex looked to the sky himself and replied, “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s make this quick then. If we get caught in that storm, the gunships won’t be able to take off and we’ll be stuck here until it passes.”

Hearing that sent an extra cold chill up Kimber’s spine. Being on Rhen Var for what should be an easy mission was already hard enough for her, but she didn’t want to imagine being stuck on the planet in a snowstorm. That would be even worse!

“I have a bad feeling about this,” she groaned before revving up her speeder.

After that, she, Jesse, Rex and the remainder of the Clones sped off in the direction of the Droid base. It was times like this Kimber was definitely grateful for her helmet. If she wasn’t wearing one, there was no way she would be able to see. The whipping whirlwind of snow would have blinded her. At least with the helmet, she could keep her eyes open wide enough to see. It was a little rough at first steering her speeder given the harsher weather conditions, but after a few seconds, she was able to gain a steady balance and better control of her vehicle enough to where she could follow right behind Jesse.

“You doing all right back there, Kimber?” she heard Jesse ask over comms.

“I had a rocky start, but now I’ve got the hang of it,” she answered him.

“Excellent. Keep up then!” he replied.

The Clones and Kimber rode on through the snow wastelands for a few minutes until before long, through the mists of snow in the air, they could see the outline of the Droid base emerging. 

Rex’s voice rang out through their helmet comms, “All teams, assume formations!”

In one fluid motion, the Clones of the 501st all split into their three respective teams. Kimber remained in the center group, still behind Jesse. Seeing they were quickly approaching the base, she withdrew one of her blasters from the holster, ready for a fight. They inched ever closer until an army of Droids surrounding the base came into view.

“Blast those clankers!” came Rex’s command.

Within seconds, the other Clones all had their weapons drawn and began firing at the Droids, who were taken by surprise by their attack. Because of this, a good portion of the front line was taken out immediately. Very soon, the Droids that remained started firing towards the Clones.

“Team Rex, with me!” ordered Rex over comms as he proceeded to swing left and head around the left side of the base, his team following and continuing their attack.

“Team Vaughn, veer off!” then stated Vaughn over the comm as he in turn turned off to the right, his team of soldiers going after him and firing at the Droids on that side.

“Jesse’s team, push forward and let’s take down this base!” exclaimed Jesse as he halted his speeder and leapt off, running towards the building.

Kimber did the same along with the rest of their team, holstering her blaster and pulling her sniper rifle off of her back. She kept her eyes peeled as best she could, judging the attack patterns of the Droids to ensure she wouldn’t get shot. As she ran forward, she fired a few shots at some Droids that were gunning for them instead of the other Clone teams. Each shot found their targets and the Droids all dropped. Jesse and the other Clones were all doing the same as they continued to press forward to the front of the base. Once they reached the front, they all ducked behind the walls of the entryway.

Before charging in, Jesse reaffirmed to the group, “Remember, boys: our priority is bringing this base to the ground as well as the tactical Droid on the second level and there are battle Droids on both floors. Some of you, stay on the ground and provide cover for the rest of us as we head up top. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir!” the rest of the Clones replied. 

With a nod, Jesse then stated, “All right. Let’s move!” Then he slammed his hand on the button to activate the door.

As soon as the door was opened, some of the Clones rushed forward and started blasting the Droids inside. Kimber waited briefly and then charged forward with the half of the team that was heading to the second level, dodging the blaster fire that came her way and shooting down a couple Droids along the way. She, Jesse, and four other Clones all hopped onto the lift and Jesse inputted the command for it to go up. The lift rose up from the ground and a few seconds later, they came up through the floor of the second level and were met with over two dozen Droids spread throughout the room along with the tactical Droid in the center at the main control console.

“Destroy them,” the tactical Droid ordered in a low, monotone voice.

“Fan out! Take cover!” Jesse cried out as they all ran into the room and started firing.

Kimber, however, stayed behind by the lift and was sniping the other Droids from a distance that were providing cover for the tactical Droid. While she was dealing with them, she took notice that the tactical Droid was trying to sneak away and escape. 

“Oh no, you don’t,” she muttered to herself. 

She leapt to the side into a tuck and roll behind another console to escape the incoming blaster fire and to inch her way closer to the direction the tactical Droid was running. When she peered back over, the Droid was making its way towards a side door that most likely led outside. Just as she raised her rifle to fire, she heard a cry not far from her. Her head whipped around and her heart dropped at seeing Jesse falling onto his back, clutching at his right shoulder that now had a smoking blaster wound in it. 

“Jesse!” she yelled in alarm, almost getting shot herself in the process before ducking back down.

He himself crawled on the floor behind some cover, grunting in pain as he did so. “I’m all right!” he called back to her. “Don’t worry about me, Kimber. Go after the tactical Droid.”

Kix, who luckily happened to be part of their group, came over, crouched beside him and cried, “I’ve got him! Go!”

Even though she still felt worried for Jesse, Kimber managed to snap out of it and redirected her focus back to the mission at hand. "Get the explosives ready. I'll give the all-clear once I have the tactical Droid," she cried back.

Both Kix and Jesse gave her affirming nods.

When she looked back, the tactical Droid was already through the side door. She dashed from her hiding spot, firing at other battle Droids as she made her way to the door. She punched the button on the wall to activate the door and it opened, a wave of icy air hitting her right away that she could feel even through her armor. Through the harsh snow, she could still vaguely the see the outline of the Droid and what appeared to be flight pods on the far side of the platform. It was going to try and escape.

The wind and the snow was starting to pick up and it was getting harder for her to see the Droid even as she ran after it. She had to catch it either before it made it to the flight pods or she lost it in the snowy chaos. Finally, she stopped and decided she was going to do what she did best: be a sniper. She took her stance, raised her rifle and peered carefully through the scope. She could still see the shape of it not too far ahead of her, just enough to have a clear shot.

"Got you," she stated to herself before taking the shot.

The bolt went straight into the Droid's metal neck, separating the head from its body. The head clattered to the ground while the body collapsed.

"Yes!" Kimber cheered to herself as she jogged forward to retrieve the head.

Her helmet comm beeped and she heard Jesse's voice, "Rex, the charges are set to blow the base. Kimber, do you have the tactical Droid?"

Just as she was about to answer, there was suddenly more blaster fire coming in her direction as a wave of battle Droids on stap speeders came flying towards her from overhead. She had almost grabbed the Droid head, but now she was avoiding fire from the Droids and shooting at the ones she could see, kicking the Droid head over against a wall to avoid it getting caught in the crossfire.

"Kimber, do you copy?" came Jesse's voice again over comms.

Ducking behind the railing of the platform, Kimber activated her comm and responded, "I have the Droid, but I'm pinned down. I'm on an outside platform taking fire from stap Droids." She came out from her hiding place and took a couple more shots.

Just then, there were shots fired from elsewhere and suddenly, all the Droids that were shooting at her all exploded. Right after, Rex came zooming up through the air on his speeder. He swerved around in a circle and stopped right at the platform's edge.

"Need a ride?" he asked, holding out his hand to her.

"Right on time, Captain," she replied.

After that, she put her rifle onto her back, picked up the Droid head and then climbed up onto the railing. She reached down, took Rex's hand and hopped down onto his speeder behind him.

"This is Rex. Kimber's with me and we're in possession of the tactical Droid," Rex informed everyone over comms as they flew down to the ground. "All troopers, clear the building before those explosives go off and let's get out of here."

They reached the ground where the other two teams of Clones were waiting and Kimber dismounted right away, giving the Droid head to Rex and then making her way over to her own speeder just as the Clones inside the base came dashing outside. Kix and Jesse were the last two to rush out.

"Are you okay?" Kimber asked Jesse, going up to him.

He waved a hand dismissively. "I've had worse. Don't you worry about me, darlin'," he answered.

"Let's go, the explosives are going to detonate in a few seconds!" cried Kix, urging them to their speeders.

They leapt onto their speeders, fired them up and sped off in the opposite direction of the base along with the rest of the Clones. Very soon after, there was the thundering, booming sound of a large explosion going off behind them as the Droid base was destroyed.

Their mission had been accomplished.

They had been riding for only a minute when suddenly they heard more blaster fire from behind them. Kimber whipped her head around and, through the snow, could just barely make out thin shapes up in the air following them. The sky was growing dark as night time was approaching and the storm was definitely almost upon them because visibility was getting more difficult.

“We’ve got more stap Droids incoming!” Kimber called out over comms.

“Evasive maneuvers!” Rex ordered. “Maintain your course to the gunships.”

All the Clones and Kimber split from their formation in all different directions to avoid the Droids. Some of them withdrew their blasters and began firing back at the Droids, but they were also quick to maneuver through their shots.

Then Jesse cried out, “You all keep going! I’ll fall back and try to get them off our tail!”

“Jesse, wait!” called out Kimber, but he was already flying back in reverse past everyone else to get behind the stap Droids. She watched him zoom by and then disappear into the thick cloud of swirling snow.

Knowing Jesse was getting their assailants off their backs, Kimber increased her speed as did the other Clones, the snow making it harder to see even with their headlights showing them the way. The blaster fire from the Droids soon died away, so either they had lost them in the storm or Jesse had taken care of all of them. They had heard a few explosions behind them, so it seemed like everything went okay.

A few minutes later, they could see the overhead lights of the gunships waiting for them and they all heard Rex’s voice over comms ordering the pilots to fire up the ships. They all pulled up, got their speeders into the carrier ship and then quickly moved over into the other gunship, ready to depart as Rex ushered everyone in.

Just as he and Kimber were about to jump into the ship, Kix asked aloud, “Where’s Jesse?”

Kimber answered, “He went back to get those stap Droids off our backs.” She looked back, expecting to see him pull up right after them…but after a few seconds of waiting, there was nothing. Where was he?

Rex got on comms and said aloud, “Jesse, it’s Rex. We’re ready to take off. What’s your status?”

Everyone waited to hear a response…but there was silence.

“Jesse, do you copy? Jesse!” Rex called out.

Still no answer.

Finally, Kimber got on her comm and cried out worriedly, “Jesse, come in! Where are you? Answer us! Jesse!”

Radio silence.

“Something must’ve happened,” said Kix.

“Then we have to go back for him,” Kimber urged, looking to Rex standing in the ship.

However, he responded, “With this storm coming in, there’s no way we’d be able to find him.”

That answer wasn’t good enough for Kimber. “That’s exactly why we need to try! If he’s still alive, he’ll be trapped out in the storm. He’ll die out there!” she urged him.

Rex responded calmly, “Kimber, I hear what you’re saying…but we’ve got to go or else the gunships won’t be able to take off and we’ll be stuck in this storm. If Jesse went after the Droids and he hasn’t come back yet…then there’s nothing more we can do. I don’t want to believe it either, but the chances of him still being alive are very slim. I’m sorry.”

Crestfallen, Kimber turned her head and looked back in the direction they had come from, still waiting to see Jesse arrive. What if Rex was right? What if something had happened to Jesse? She didn’t even want to entertain the thought. He was an ARC Trooper; he was unstoppable, especially not by some meager stap Droids. Then again…he had been hurt during the mission. Maybe they did get him. She could feel her heart breaking. It couldn’t be true, it just couldn’t be. What would she do without Jesse? She couldn’t leave without him.

No…she wasn’t going to leave until she knew for certain what had happened to him. Jesse meant too much to her and, if by some miracle he was still alive, then she would never forgive herself for leaving him.

Looking back to Rex, she stated, “That’s a chance I’m still willing to take, Captain.” Then without waiting for a response, she dashed over to the speeders and hopped onto one of them, firing it up immediately.

“Kimber, wait! No!” Rex called after her, but she was already reversing out of the carrier and speeding away into the dark snowstorm.

“What is she thinking?” one of the Clones asked in disbelief.

As she sped away, she heard Rex on her comm cry, “Kimber, get back to the ship! That’s an order!”

She pressed the comm on the side of her helmet and replied to him firmly with determination, “I can’t do that, Rex. Jesse is my friend and he took me under his wing when he didn’t have to. I can’t repay him by leaving him to die, especially if there’s a chance he could still be alive. Even if he isn’t, I need to see for myself before I can believe it. Get everyone else out of here. I’ll find another way back.” Then she continued onwards.

Back at the ship, Rex exclaimed in frustration, “Blast it!” Then he turned around and said, “Vaughn, get the Droid head back to the Jedi and get the gunships out of here.” Then he handed Vaughn the head of the tactical Droid.

“What about you, sir?” Vaughn asked as he took the head.

“I’m going after Kimber. I’ll signal for evac once the storm passes,” Rex answered him.

Kix stepped up next to him and stated, “I’m going with you, Captain. Jesse was already injured during the attack. If he’s been hurt worse out there, then you’re going to need my help.”

Rex gave him a nod of approval and the two of them jumped off the gunship and over to the speeders. They each got on one and sped off in the direction Kimber had gone. They could hear the sounds of the doors to the gunship closing and a few seconds later, they could very faintly hear the ships taking off. They were on their own now.

“I hope you’re right about this, Kimber,” Rex thought to himself as they rode along, hoping to catch up to her fast.

In the middle of the harsh blizzard, Kimber pressed forward, searching for any signs of Jesse. Her heart was racing and she was white-knuckling the handlebars of her speeder. She had to find him and soon. The temperature was dropping rapidly and he was hurt from before; he wasn’t going to survive long. Where was he? Was he all right? Had he been hurt even more by the Droids? Was he even still alive? These questions ran rampant through her head and she tried ever so hard to keep any tears from forming in her eyes. It was already hard enough to see with the blinding snow blowing around. She didn’t need to make it harder by crying…but she couldn’t help it. She was worried and she was scared. If Jesse was dead, she didn’t know what she was going to do. Even though she knew the risk of any of her friends dying in combat increased with every battle, she still held onto the hope that they wouldn’t. Now, she was afraid of facing the reality of one of them actually being dead…a friend she had grown close to and cared so much about.

She couldn’t lose Jesse. Not now. Not when her training wasn’t complete yet. Not when they had been getting closer to one another. Not when she was starting to….

“Oh no…!” she thought as the sudden realization of how she was feeling dawned on her.

However, before she could fully process it, Kimber then spotted a vague shape ahead of her in the snow. Upon seeing it, she directed her speeder in its direction and then hopped off just a few feet away from it. It was partially covered in snow, so she brushed the snow away as she crouched down next to the round object. She uncovered a Clone helmet, one with the Republic symbol embossed on the outside.

Jesse’s helmet.

Her eyes darted back and forth. If his helmet was here, then that meant he had to be close by.

Just then, she heard someone cry out her name. Was it Jesse? She turned around to see Rex and Kix pulling up behind her on their speeders. She was surprised to see that they had followed her, especially after she’d told Rex to get himself and everyone else off planet. Though, she couldn’t deny that she was also grateful.

As they approached her, she held up the helmet for them to see. “I found Jesse’s helmet. He has to be here somewhere,” she said loudly as the wind was picking up.

“I’m surprised you were able to spot that in this storm,” replied Rex in a louder voice, as well.

“I can’t see anything close by,” put in Kix.

Then Kimber happened to think of an idea. “Kix, do you have a datapad?” she asked.

In response, he reached to the back of his belt and pulled out a datapad, showing it to her.

“Do you have that configured to scan for heat signatures?” was her next question.

He answered, “I don’t, no, since we were just going up against a bunch of Droids. I didn’t think we would need that.”

She got back up to her feet and motioned for him to hand the datapad to her, urgently tapping in the configuration sequence after he did so. In the back of her mind, she subconsciously thanked Tech for teaching her how to do that. Seconds later, she had the heat scanner going and started moving it around, hoping it would pick up a heat signature. For a moment, there was nothing…until she saw a red shape appear on the screen.

"There!" she exclaimed, pointing to the screen. "Just up ahead!"

Without waiting for the other two, she booked it in the direction of the heat signature, keeping an eye on it on the datapad.

Before long, Rex pointed ahead and cried out there, "I see something buried in the snow!"

Sure enough, Kimber and Kix could see what Rex was pointing at and all three of them rushed over. There was something dark poking out from under the snow and as they got closer, they realized it was a blue pauldron and then Jesse's head came into view, his eyes closed, face buried in the snow and the rest of him unmoving.

"Jesse!" Kimber cried, dropping to her knees beside him. Immediately, she found his pulse point on his neck and felt for a heartbeat…

…and she felt a light thumping beneath her fingertips.

She gasped out in relief. "He's alive!"

The joy that filled her at finding out he was alive was overwhelming. She nearly let herself cry tears of happiness, but knew there was no time for that. Jesse was alive and that was all that mattered.

"We need to find shelter soon or else he won't be for much longer in this cold!" stated Kix.

Rex then pointed in another direction and said, "I think I see some caves nearby. Kix, help me get him up and we'll make our way there."

The two Clones lifted Jesse from under the blanket of snow that covered him and hoisted each arm over their shoulders. Kimber led the way in the direction Rex had gestured to, hoping to find the caves so they could get out of the blasted storm.

Jesse's eyes weakly fluttered open and he could make out through the blurriness a dim light in what seemed like darkness. There was pain in his shoulder where he had gotten shot as well as dull aching in his back, chest and head. He groaned aloud as he felt the pain starting to kick in. He heard a light, familiar voice speak his name and he turned his head to the side it came from. As his eyes adjusted, he found Kimber looking down at him, a concerned yet relieved look in her eyes. Close by, there was an electric heater that was alight and sending waves of heat out to keep them warm.

"Kimber?" he asked in a strained voice. He carefully sat up and realized there was a blanket draped over him and a wall behind him, so he sat back against that. He looked around and saw they were surrounded by rocky walls. "Where are we? Are we still on Rhen Var?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're in a cave avoiding the snowstorm," Kimber responded. "Rex and Kix are here, too, but they're asleep while I'm keeping watch. You got banged up pretty good, but Kix got you all patched up and then we put your armor back on to keep you warm. Luckily, he also had blankets in his pack."

"Where's everyone else?" he then inquired.

She answered, "They're already gone. Rex told the gunships to leave so they didn't get caught in the storm."

"Why didn't you leave with them?"

"Because we came to look for you."

Jesse couldn't help but feel taken aback at hearing her say that. In the conditions they were in, he was surprised that they didn't presume him dead and leave him on the planet. Instead, his most trusted brothers and his closest friend had risked their lives to find him. Instinctively, he reached out and took Kimber's hand, grasping it tightly.

"You came back for me?" he questioned aloud, his eyes seemingly searching hers for something she couldn't quite figure out.

In a quieter voice, she replied, "Of course, I did. I didn't know where you were or what had happened to you and I didn't want to risk you being alive and us leaving you here for dead. I couldn't leave without you, Jesse."

His expression softened and he looked at her with reverent gratitude; a look that for some reason made the heat rise up in her cheeks.

To try and push that aside, she proceeded to ask him, "What happened out there?"

He shifted up a little further up the wall and told her, "I fell back to take care of the Droids, but those clankers were quick. A few got behind me again and shot at my speeder. They blew out one of the engines, I lost control and I veered off course. I hit something, I was thrown off and then I blacked out. Next thing I knew, I woke up here…and you were right beside me."

Suddenly feeling a little awkward about the attention he was giving her, she timidly looked away and glanced to where she could see Rex sleeping on the ground, his back facing them. "Rex wasn't too happy with me running off," she said, once again trying to change the subject, "but…in the end, I think he's grateful for it." Then she turned back to Jesse. "We found you and you were alive. He didn't want to leave without you either, but he was also thinking of the others. I just gave him the push he needed."

Jesse snickered. "You really are a stubborn one, aren't you?"

Kimber grinned and shrugged. "Well, you know me."

"I do know you."

His voice was soft yet firm with conviction that seemed to catch her off guard. There he was doing it again, directing his attention to her and gazing at her with a smile and a look in his eyes that was suddenly making her heart race. She hadn't felt anything like that in a while. What was happening? What was he doing to her?

He went on, "You are loyal to a fault, you care for your friends, you love deeply, you're a fierce soldier and you fight for what you think is right. You just saved my life." Then he reached up and lightly caressed her face from her temple down to her cheek before cupping her jaw, smiling warmly at her. "I have never met anyone like you, Kimber. You really are one of a kind."

Kimber found herself lacking the capacity to form words in that moment. She was tongue-tied hearing Jesse speak in such a way about her. His eyes were glowing in the light of the heater as they gazed at her with immense fondness. In the moment, she couldn't deny how truly handsome he was, though she had always seen that. Her body was frozen; she wasn't sure what to do. Then he was leaning towards her, gently bringing her face closer to his, and Kimber couldn't find the will to stop herself as Jesse's lips met hers in a sweet, tender kiss. They were warm, soft and inviting and it proved for certain what she had been wondering since the night outside her hotel, which was how he really felt about her. She began to softly kiss him back, realizing how much she missed this sensation. She hadn't experienced it since her last night with Hunter before she had left.

Hunter!

Remembering her Sergeant broke her from her trance and she pulled away quickly, crying quietly, "Jesse, wait!"

For a second, Jesse appeared startled, but then a look of regret showed on his face as he closed his eyes and sighed, inwardly chiding himself. "I’m sorry. That was a mistake," he said, turning away.

Immediately, she said back, "No, the mistake was mine. It’s my fault. I was caught up in the moment when I shouldn't have been...but the truth is: there’s something I should’ve told you a long time ago, but there’s just never been an occasion to say it."

Jesse turned and looked back at her. He didn't look upset; more curious as to what she had to say than anything. She was uncomfortable as guilt wracked her whole being. What had she done? She didn't want to do this, but she had let things get too far. Now, she had to potentially break his heart and she hated herself for it.

She took a deep breath, exhaled sharply and then informed him, "I already have someone."

He got a knowing look on his face and looked down to his lap.

"I’m so sorry, Jesse. I shouldn't have led you on; I shouldn't have let things get this far," she added.

Then he asked her, "Is it one of the Bad Batch boys?"

She was puzzled for a second, half expecting him to start yelling or getting angry with her, but then she nodded. "Hunter."

For a moment, he was quiet, but then he asked her another question: "Do you love him?"

She mustered a small smile, but answered sadly, now feeling even more guilty inside, "I do. Very much."

"Does he love you?" he then inquired.

Her expression fell. "I hope he still does."

Jesse tilted his head and narrowed his eyes curiously.

Kimber explained to him, "When I left my squad, I did it while they were on a supply run and I had been resting on the ship. I recorded a message for them and then left while they were gone. I left everything behind, including my comm so they couldn’t reach me or track me." Her hand came up to her chest where Hunter's credit once sat some time ago and her eyes drifted to the ground. "I even left behind a necklace that Hunter gave me…so he’d have a part of me to hold onto and as a promise that I would come back. Though, I'd imagine that he was really hurt by what I did…I probably broke his heart. I wouldn’t be surprised if he no longer wanted me after this."

"Hunter would be a fool to give you up like that."

Surprised, her gaze shot back up to look at Jesse, not expecting such a response.

He kept going, "He might not be happy that you left, but if he really loves you, then he should be willing to work things out between you two when you go back. That and you promised you’d return, so that should give him some hope, especially if you gave the indication that you still love him." Then he laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Kimber, you’re amazing and Hunter is lucky to have your heart. I hope he still sees that. Otherwise, I’ll come over there myself and make him open his eyes."

All she could do was stare at him dumbfounded. This was not what she predicted she'd receive from him at all. She had thought he would've been mad and would've called her a liar or something for unwittingly leading him on, but no...he was actually being supportive.

"So…you’re not upset?" she asked hesitantly.

Jesse removed his hand and gave a small shrug. "Maybe a little sad," he answered rather nonchalantly, "but I also had a hunch you might’ve already had feelings for someone in your squad, given how long you'd been with them. I thought it was at least worth a shot."

"I really am sorry, Jesse."

"Don’t be. You’re still my friend and that’s what matters to me. Nothing's going to change that."

Kimber's eyes welled up with tears. How was Jesse this amazing? How could be still be so supportive and understanding despite her having to reject him? She just couldn't believe it.

Seeing her on the verge of crying, he reassured her, "I’ll be okay, I promise you. The Batch and I may have our differences, but I can’t deny that they’re great soldiers who excel at what they do. They’re good men and they’re lucky to have you in their squad. I know they make you happy and that’s all I care about. I hope Hunter is smart enough to realize that still and hasn’t given up on you."

"So do I," she replied, blinking her tears away. Then she wrung her hands nervously as she then confessed to him, "I will admit, there was…some attraction to you on my part and I do care about you a great deal, but when it comes down to it...I still love Hunter and I can’t betray him."

He nodded and smiled. "I understand."

Kimber still was amazed at how lucky she was to have such a forgiving friend like Jesse. It just seemed too good to be true...yet it was.

"I will say, when I do go back, I’m going to miss our time together," she told him. "It felt nice to have a sense of normalcy for a little while with our holoshow nights."

Jesse chuckled. "Yeah, it did and I’m going to miss that, too," he agreed. Then he straightened up and declared, "That just means, after the war, whenever you’re on Coruscant, you’ll have to let me know so we can keep that tradition going."

"I think I’d like that." Kimber then laid a hand on his arm. "Thank you for understanding."

"Yeah, of course, darlin'," he replied cordially, "and thank you for your honesty."

"Of course," she said with a nod.

Then he narrowed his eyes and held up a finger. "Though, I’m totally serious. If Hunter tells you he doesn’t want to be with you anymore, I will come rough him up and make him realize how lucky he is to have you."

That made Kimber laugh just a little, but the sentiment of his offer still made her glad nonetheless. "Thanks, Jesse," she said with a smile. Then she gave him a light pat on his good arm. "You should go back to sleep. You need your rest and we'll probably be here through the night."

"Yes, ma'am," he said as he obeyed, slipping down under his blanket onto his back.

Unbeknownst to either of them, on the other side of the cave, Rex had been awake through their whole conversation. He had heard everything...and when there had been a brief moment of silence, he had carefully peeked over his shoulder behind him and caught them kissing. When he quickly turned back, they had broken apart and he'd overheard the aftermath. Before, he already knew that Jesse had developed feelings for Kimber, despite his warnings against it. However, he hadn't known that Hunter and Kimber were together, though upon reflection, that now explained why Hunter had been so protective of her back on Kuat when he'd last seen them. It all made sense now. Overall, though, he was glad that this misunderstanding and moment of honesty wouldn't come between Kimber and Jesse. Rex had been watching them whenever he got the chance to see them in training and he could see there was a bond between them, much like the bond he'd seen between her and Echo. They had a good relationship that he hoped would last and now it was happening with Jesse, too.

Kimber really was one of a kind, Rex thought to himself. She was someone it seemed any Clone she came in contact with were drawn to in one way or another. She was loved and cared for by all Clones more than anyone else in the galaxy. He was grateful that the Bad Batch had found her...for she had changed all of their lives for the better.

He hoped that, once the storm passed and they returned to Coruscant, things would continue the way they had been until it was time for her to go back to her sqaud...and he hoped both Kimber and Jesse would be ready for that day.

[slothspaghettiwrites]

Kingpin Baby Split

Kingpin Baby Split - I Walk The Line

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: dubcon (because someone's been on the whiskey), alcohol consumption, prostitution, degradation, daddy kink, slight obsession, flashbacks, one derogatory use of the word fairy, internalized homophobia, mention of scars, it's the 1960s.

Relationships: Lee Bodecker x Babyboy (Male!Reader/OC)

Word Count: 3700

Summary: Daddy Lee remembers when his dreams became reality

Playlist: I Walk The Line

A/N: It's finally here! I've only been writing this for like months... hehe. Anyway enjoy and let me know what you think.

This work has Adult Content. By clicking “Keep Reading” you have agreed that you are over the age of 18 and are willing to view such content. My work is not to be copied or translated onto any other platform.

The sound of rubber soles on perfectly waxed hardwood echoes around Lee. The cavernous gymnasium, all rickety bleachers and high ceilings, reminded him of a church. Well, there were certainly people in Meade who thought basketball was their religion. Spending all year preparing to worship at the altar of an orange ball.

He can feel the energy of the crowd, amped up and ready to burst as the game in front of him nearly reaches the halfway marker. Cheerleaders in short skirts and tight sweaters guide the color-coded congregation through ritualistic chants. All Lee can focus on right now though is Babyboy. His boy hollers plays, sending coded messages to his players as they race up and down the court in a last-ditch effort to score a few more points. He's in control, in command of the five-man unit trying to play a simple game of basketball, but to Lee? It looks like his angel is trying to command one of the armies of heaven.

The smell of concession stand popcorn wafts by Lee as a gaggle of girls walk up the old wooden bleachers. He's awash in a new kind of heat now, one that radiates from a set of spit slick lips and not the crowded gymnasium. His mind easily rolling him down the long lane to the bowling alley across town.

//

The summer heat had set in early, weighing heavily on the people's minds and bodies. The heat made people do crazy things, made them angry and dangerous where they otherwise would be rational. Lee was drowning in call-outs and arrest reports. He'd been neglecting his deals, unable to make regular checkups and pick-up payments because of the amount of work he's been swamped in. His own attitude was affected by it, the low lusty thrill of giving orders and being feared manifested itself into stones in his gut the less control he seemed to have over himself and others. He needed to be in control, craved it.

Cravings were nothing new to the sheriff. Between the cigarettes, whiskey, and candies he'd tell ya he knew what it meant to hunger and thirst for something that was no good for you, he knew what it was to fight your inner demons. He thought he knew withdrawal, the internal ache of not being able to have what your soul yearned for, but he was wrong.

If it was hot outside, the bar tucked in the basement of Lucky Lanes bowling alley was sweltering. The Tuesday night crowd was mostly regulars, older men who have told their wives ‘it’s bowling night honey, the team can’t compete without me’ and few unsavory men who’ll stick their dick in anything because they’re so lonely. It’s an easy lie for most of them now, one they’ve been doing most of their lives. Lee would rather be alone the rest of his life than have that look about him. That resigned, lost look that some of them have, shit some of them had even seen war and survived, but the real hell for them was living with their own guilt. All of them were living the same lie.

A glass of cola was placed in front of him by the bartender, one of the boyfriends of the guy who owns the bowling alley. Lee relaxed into the neon lights and smokey atmosphere of the bar as he waited for his payment. Overhead, he heard the crash of pins falling over and the gears of the machine grinding to set them back up again. The rhythmic sounds were comforting, familiar to Lee for so many reasons just as the smell of popcorn eased his mind, seeped into every surface in the bar, even more so than spilled beer and cheap cigarettes.

This was his last stop of the day. He was ready to go home with his fat wallet to a cold-cut sandwich and a cool shower. Anything to cut through the heat before he laid in his bed and fought a different kind of heat. One that pooled in his dick as his mind inevitably wandered back to the town hero for the hundredth time.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the boy, couldn’t get that look out of his mind. He was so utterly beautiful, heavenly even when beaten down. Lee wondered more and more what he’d look like with tears in his eyes and a cock between those lips. He’d be at work, reading another report about a chopped up body being found in the river, and his mind would warp and twist until all he could picture was that boy, whole and ethereal, floating in the river calling out to Lee, begging him to join him in the cool water. The sheriff knew his little obsession would probably get him nowhere, but-

But then he saw the town hero stumble out of the bathroom after Jim. Jim, who had a smug, satisfied look on his face and a hitch in his giddy-up, while the younger man looked almost fucked out. Anger, possessive and unfounded, bristled up in Lee. He had no claim to the boy but seeing him with another man made his jaw clench. That was his angel.

“Gimme a whiskey, Clint, double please.”

His words slurred a bit, his eyes not really focusing on anything. He looked thinner, gaunt, and exhausted. The boy was clearly not taken care of himself. Lee’s hand twitched around his glass, fighting an urge to take the boy out of this dump and to get him something to eat.

“Kid, you’ve had enough for one night, don’t ya think?”

“I need to wash the taste outta my mouth, and he’s payin’,” the boy pointed at Jim, who had rejoined a table of men, all whispering and looking their way.

“I got this one, Clint,” Lee offered.

The bartender passed him a look, before pouring the amber liquor into a glass and passing it to the kid. Lee watched him, enraptured by the way he slumped into the bar three seats away. The neon lights glowing off his skin haloed his frame, made the boy look otherworldly and sinful and still pure to Lee despite what he now knew. The angel down the bar sipped on his whiskey, swished it around his mouth, coating his teeth and gums before swallowing the harsh liquid.

That fucked-out look faded after that first swallow. Whiskey had washed away whatever gumption the kid had about what he was doing. A forlorn facade, empty and guilty all at the same time, replaced the look. Lee watched shaking hands pull the crumpled bills from his breast pocket, carefully smooth out the paper and fold them neatly into a thin, battered wallet.

He caught Lee staring, not that he was really trying to hide it. The boy, devastatingly pretty and sad, captivated him. He wouldn’t deny that, and his obsession was only growing the closer to him he got.

“So Sheriff, you think buyin’ me a drink’ll get your dick wet, or are ya lookin’ ta ‘rest me?”

Lee took a drink of his cola, bubble erupting over his tongue and tickling his nose. The younger man had finished his whiskey, now rolling the empty glass between his palms in a motion that hypnotized Lee. He licked his lips, slow and deliberate before he answered.

“What would I have to arrest you for, Angel?”

He wanted the boy to admit he’d just sucked off some middle-aged shit bag in the bathroom. He wanted to know why he did it, was it for the money or for the thrill? Did he like the taste of cock or was he so desperate for cash he was willing to do just about anything to pay for his vices? Lee wasn’t really sure what he wanted the answer to be, he just knew he had to know.

They stared at each other, neither of them moving to close the gap or make a break for it. Lee got a bit lost in the way the boy bit his bottom lip. The way those plump lips looked slicked up with whiskey tainted spit. He could tell he’s being observed as well, but the angel three seats away from him was looking at him with a real hunger in his eyes. Lee couldn’t remember the last time anyone’s looked at him that way.

“Sheriff,” Clint pushed an envelope across the counter and broke the spell around them.

Lee just nodded to the man and got up, adjusting his belt and sucking in his gut some, before he spoke again.

“I’ll be seein’ ya, Angel, take it easy on the drinkin’.”

He wasn’t expecting the kid to follow him, he really wasn’t, but he had hoped he would. A small selfish part of Lee wanted the town hero to be just as obsessed with the big bad sheriff. He wanted what was too good to be true. He wanted that golden angel that could have whoever he wanted to want him. Any girl in town would spread her legs for that boy, but Lee wanted to spread his legs. Lee wanted to feel that sweet boy pussy wrapped around his dick. Lee wanted to ruin that angel.

“Sheriff, do you think I can get a ride home?”

Lee didn’t spare him a glance, just motioned with his hand for the kid to follow him. He opened the side door into the bowling alley, the popcorn smell assaulting his senses. His angel fell into a wobbly step next to him, tripping over nothing and bumping into his side. Lee gave him a look then swerved them into the concession stand. The harsh crackling and popping of kernels drowned out the words Lee spoke to the girl behind the counter. She was too busy staring at his tipsy angel to really do anything but nod. The boy was quiet now, but he accepted the hotdog handed over to him, while Lee paid for it and the packet of wild cherry Now and Laters.

Stepping outside revealed the night to be just as oppressive as it was inside, still and humid. Lee unwrapped a candy and popped it into his mouth to cover up the drool threatening to drip down the corner of his mouth. Maybe a hotdog hadn’t been a good idea, watching the boy eat it was bringing other images to his mind. One that involved him showing that boy exactly why his lips were made for sucking cock. Lee adjusted his duty belt, pulling up his trousers some, anything to relieve the slight ache and to do something with his hands.

By the time they made it to the cruiser, the hotdog wrapper was gone and his boy was sobering up some. He kept looking back at the bowling alley, then into the forest to their left, to Lee’s vehicle.

“You doin’ alright there Angel? Forget som’in?”

“I-uh, yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Jus’ tired, I guess.”

Lee climbed into the cruiser, its metal frame creaking as he slid into the leather bench. His boy climbed into the passenger seat, barely, his whole frame stiff and as far away from Lee as he could get. He tried not to think too hard on what that meant, instead of focusing on lighting his cigarette before starting the engine. Lee just started driving, the two-way radio turned off, and the stereo playing some low bluegrass music. He knew where to go, he just wasn’t sure how he wanted to get there.

“You wanna smoke?” He asked, trying to squeeze something out of his angel while he had him all to himself, anything to fill in the gaps in Lee’s imagination.

“No, Sheriff, sir.”

“You can just call me Lee,” he inhaled slowly, “I’m off duty.”

The cherry glow of the cigarette between his lips didn’t provide enough light to see the boy’s reaction, but he heard the sigh, the shifting of fabric as he relaxed into the seat. The rest of the drive went by in silence, except for the burning sounds of tobacco and occasional hum from the passenger side. Lee stopped at a fork in the road, left sending them up the hill to finish the trip or right, taking them somewhere else. Lee flicked the cigarette out the window into the gravel.

“You still livin’ up with your pa?”

There was a pause, Lee saw the tension forming over his angel’s brow. “For now.”

“Do you wanna go home?”

Lee turned right before he’d even registered the subtle shake of his head. He drove without a thought of where to go, ending up at the lake that bordered the county line. He parked the cruiser on a bank overlooking the water and leaned back. It was a known makeout point, a place horny teens came out to for necking parties and skinny dipping. He wondered if his angel knew that.

“I-Sheriff,” his voice faltered. “You-”

“I busted up a coupla high schoolers here the other night,” Lee interrupted. “But ain’t no one round tonight I guess. You ever come up here when you were in school?”

“No,” he rushed out. “I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Just blowin’ old dick in a dirty bathroom?”

He couldn’t stop himself, the words coming out of his mouth before he could think of something better to say. Maybe he just wanted to see the boy get flustered. Maybe he just wanted to twist the knife deeper into his chest at the thought of someone else using his boy.

“That’s- what, no,” he tried to deny it, but Lee knew better. He saw the way his angel clammed up, rubbing his neck and not looking him in the eye. “That’s different.”

“How is that different?” He stared, a smirk forming on his own lips while the younger man squirmed in his seat. That familiar thrill of control bubbled in his gut.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “It ain’t like what I’m doin’ really matters, just needed some money.”

“It seemed like it mattered to you in the bar,” Lee gave him a hard look. “You sure you’re okay, Baby?”

He let the question hang, the sound of the water lapping at the beach made the air around them seem thicker. The broken, wet sounds that came from his angel clawed at something inside him. If he were a better man, those glistening eyes probably wouldn’t make him hard, but Lee isn’t better. He just wishes those tears came from somewhere else, a different kind of ache that he could fix. Not the one weighing so heavily on his boy’s shoulders. Sorrow wasn’t a good look on his angel, he was a glorious being who should shine even with darkness surrounding him.

Lee didn’t even think about it. The act of pulling the smaller man into his shoulder, holding his head right to his neck while he sobbed was natural, second nature to him even though he ain’t held another person like that since his mama’s funeral. His arms wrapped around his boy, holding him, feeling the sharp bones under the thin t-shirt wore. He let his angel cling to him, savored the way he felt so different and so right. It didn’t even occur to him that pulling that thin frame into his lap was going too far. He just needed to comfort his baby.

“Sshh, Angel, Baby, c’mon, it’s alright. Ya ain’t got nothin’ to cry ‘bout.”

“You don’-on’t get it, ya ain’t a fuckin’ fairy.”

The words felt like a slap to the face. Did he not realize the position they were in? Did he not feel Lee’s cock straining against the thick fabric of his pants? Lee gripped the back of his baby’s neck, squeezed, and yanked at him until he was looking him in the eye. The tears continued to leak from his angel eyes and Lee smirked. How could he not? Those wet tracks were making a beeline straight for his plump, sinful lips that really were just the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

Lee took advantage of situations, was always working an angle to make things better for himself. It’s how he got elected Sheriff. He was a selfish and greedy man. He took what he wanted in this life because sure as fuck was no one going to give it to him.

So he took what he wanted from the town hero, stole a kiss from the angel crying in his lap.

He tasted the salty tears and whiskey still tainted his lips, the alcohol on his breath just as intoxicating as the feeling of making a dream come true. Lee let his hand fall down his baby’s back, let it caress him tenderly before he got to his ass. His hand squeezed the meat of it, smiling into the kiss at the little whimper getting trapped in his baby’s throat. He pulled him down, as flush to Lee as he could get, and held him there. When he licked at the seam of his baby’s lips, Lee felt him pull back.

“Where you tryna run off to, Babyboy?” Lee whispered, nosing his cheek, teasing the smooth skin with his own stubble.

“I ain’t,” he breathed heavily, fists clenching tighter into Lee’s shirt like he wasn’t really sure he was holding on to him. “Jus’- jus’ ain’t ever been kissed before.”

“Oh, Angel,” Lee sighed, feeling the lust roll like waves over him, making him ache with desire. “I bet ya ain’t ever been with a real man before have ya baby? Just abusin’ that sweet mouth of yours with some dirty dick. S’not what ya want those is it Babyboy?”

There was stutter, hips jerking forward just enough to reveal that his baby’s cock was hard and wanting just like his.

“Tell me what ya want, Angel, and I’ll give it to ya.”

“Can we kiss again?”

Such an innocent request, murmured against Lee’s lips like a secret, shouldn’t make him go so crazy, but it did.

“S’at all ya wanna do Baby? You wanna have me kissing on ya for a little bit longer? You don’t want me to make you feel good all over?” Lee moved his hand from Babyboy’s ass to the front of his jeans and pressed down on his cock. “Cause I think you’re wantin’ somethin’ more.”

Babyboy nodded, eyes closed and tilting his head to the side trying to get his lips back on Lee.

“Say it, Baby,” he commanded, squeezing his hand around his baby’s cock until he gasped.

“I don’t know,” he whimpered. “Just, please, touch me.”

Lee took some pity on his baby, can’t let his baby suffer too much when things were still so new for him. He captured that addictive bottom lip between his teeth and tugged Babyboy forward just enough to have him tipping forward into Lee and losing some of his balance. Their mouth crashed together, that hungry look in the bar came back to Lee’s mind as a tongue now slipped into his mouth. It was sloppy, too much spit if that were even possible, but he didn’t care. He was more focused on snapping open the button of his angel’s jeans. He pulled and tugged until his fist was fully wrapped around Babyboy’s cock.

“Aw, Angel, Baby,” Lee mouthed at his jaw, nipping at the sharp edge of it and kissing the sting away. “Your pretty lil prick is already leaking all over my hand.”

Babyboy couldn’t do much more than whimper, his hips jerked while he tried to fuck his hand. Lee squeezed, twisted his fist just enough to tease him some more. He wanted to look at the cock burning his hand, wanted to taste the precum dribbling from the tip, wanted to devour his angel. Lust was boiling in his gut now, making it difficult to think of much else. He couldn’t stop the words streaming from his mouth as his baby got off on his lap.

“That’s it Babyboy, fuck Daddy’s hand with that little dick, keep grindin’ that sweet peach of yours onto my cock Baby. Shit, you’re a sensitive little thing ain’t ya? Can’t stop moanin’ like the whore you was tryna be. Don’t you worry Baby, Daddy’s gotcha now. He’ll treat you just like you deserve Angel.”

“Sh-eriff,” Babyboy stuttered, eyes half-lidded and lips swollen. “I-"

"Ya gonna cum, Baby? Ya that easy, Angel? Daddy's just had to touch on your pretty cock for a few minutes before you were bustin'."

"She-sheriff, Le-e," he whimpered, Lee caught the glimmer of fresh tears in his eyes and sweat dripping from his hairline.

Lee licked a trail to Babyboy's ear before whispering, "who's gonna make you cream all over yourself Angel, Baby? Who's gonna ruin ya like ya deserve?"

"Daddy."

//

The world shattered around Lee. The wet gasp of a word, filled with passion and need, still echoes around his mind. It was easy to get lost in old memories like that, secret rendezvous and sloppy suck jobs. Though those memories were precious, held close to his heart, Lee preferred their relationship now.

He loves getting to hold his Babyboy close in an evening, whispering comforting words into his ear as he falls asleep. He loves getting to take his Angel apart slowly, worship every bump and scar on him until he was begging for more. He loves getting to hear his Baby scream for him, squealing and moaning while his Daddy fucks him like it’ll be the last time.

A buzzer overhead goes off and announces the end of the game. Lee can't believe he's completely lost the last half of the game, but on the scoreboard, he can see they won. Babyboy is shaking hands with the opposing team’s coach and Lee is trying to hide the fact he's half hard. Daydreaming like that will get him trouble one day he's sure of it. He waves to some of the guys from the diner when he gets up to leave. As he puts his hat on to leave the gym, he catches Babyboy's eyes and tosses him a wink. He'll see him soon and then the victory celebration can really start.

[kodzukyan]

two hearts, four broken pieces (now we’re unbreakable)

notes: happiest belated birthday to my grand king <3 lots of (long?) dialogue, long talks at the beach, kinda clunky, but i hope you enjoy :> song accompaniment recommendation: unbreakable by lauren dyson (carole & tuesday) & everything i need by skylar grey! also posted on ao3.

summary: you were there like the air when i felt like i was underwater. AU in which you have matching birthmarks on your heart as your soulmate. - oikawa/oc

wc: 6.2k

The clock ticks continually as you finish reviewing the club budget for the upcoming school year. As the last rays of the sun begin to dim into a darkening blue, the clock rings loudly, signaling the end of club activities. The other student council members routinely leave by five, and after a quick goodbye and wave, two hours pass by without you knowing. You glance at your watch, and you sigh softly as you see the shorthand reach seven.

There are still numbers that do not add up, but you suppose that has to wait. Getting up to stretch, you automatically head to the keys cabinet to see which keys are still missing. As usual, the keys to the volleyball gym have yet to be returned.

Like any other day, you sigh again. This is a rather normal occurrence as the volleyball team tends to stay as late as you do. Normally, you don't mind since it’s not a big deal - you’re usually still here to lock up after they leave. Today, however, you’re rather exhausted and would like to finish up your report and just go home. Putting on your white blazer and patting down the wrinkles of your tan skirt, you make certain you’re presentable before you head out of the room and towards the volleyball gym.

A resounding smack reverberates through the air before you even enter the gym. You knock twice on the gym doors, and when there is no answer, you open the doors soundlessly and enter the gym. The gym is unoccupied except for one lone player, making the echoes of each movement louder. 

He doesn’t notice you, and as you see him jump to hit a serve, you are in awe by the strength and impact of it as it lands. It astonishes you a little to discover the normally flirty eyes and teasing smiles with such intense concentration and seriousness. When you see a faint smile on his face as his serve lands within the lines of the court, you wonder if this is what he really is like. As he recovers another ball to try again, you clear your throat. This time, you catch his attention, somewhat.

“Sorry, Iwa-chan! You don’t have to wait for me. I’m almost done!” he calls out, eyes never leaving the court.

“Sorry, Oikawa-san. I am not Iwaizumi-san. While I do have to say I am extremely impressed with your tenacity, I am afraid it's late and time for you to go home,” you say politely with a perfectly practiced smile on your face.

The ball he tossed into the air previously drops straight down onto the floor and bounces as he hears your voice. He jerks his head towards you, and you almost want to laugh when you see his gaping mouth.

“Oh, Pres-chan! I wasn’t expecting you!” he recovers swiftly, a hand behind his head and his tongue sticking out humorously.

Ah, he’s back to his normal self.

“Apologies again,” you nod, a courteous smile never leaving your face, despite your slight disdain for your new nickname. You’ve learned it is easiest to deal with people with a perfect smile, lips upturned slightly at a 45-degree angle and eyes crinkled together lightly.

He stares at you intensely as you smile. While his eyes are analytical enough to press anyone under, it doesn’t bother you because you are used to such scrutiny.

“I’ll pack up! Pres-chan, wait for me! I’ll walk you home since it’s so late.” He finally softens in his stares and begins picking up the balls around the court.

“No need to worry about me, Oikawa-san. There are still some matters for me to finish up at the student council room,” you assure him courteously despite your mild annoyance at your stray strand of hair that fell out of your neat ponytail as you tuck it behind your ear.

“No, no! I insist! It’s so late, so it’s dangerous for cute girls like you, Pres-chan!” he protests as he continues cleaning.

You begin assisting him to pick up the balls and grab the mops to clean up the gym. The more hands there are, the faster you two get to leave. After cleaning up the gym and returning the keys to the student council room, you continue to decline his offer of walking you home. Being around him for a little less than 30 minutes has already tired you, but you find it more draining to talk him out of it so you just relent.

He accompanies you back to your house at your pace, constantly filling the silence with some sort of conversation. He seems to recognize your need for distance, so he keeps the conversation light, never diving in deeper than what you are willing to give. You respond as amiable as you could with this surface-level sort of conversation. This is comfortable, this is straightforward, this is not about who you are, so you find it easy to keep up your practiced smile and pleasantry. 

For what it’s worth, you can understand why he’s so popular. He’s attractive, and his personality is tolerable enough. But something about him is slightly unpleasant to you. You have an inkling of what it is, but you’re not ready to open the tightly sealed jar of emotions yet.

When you reach your stop and he bids you goodbye, you find yourself face to face with your cousin, who just squeals and questions you.

“Who is he?” she exclaims loudly, far too energetic for so late at night. “What if he is your soulmate?!”

You smile tersely, “He is just a classmate.”

She only looks at you in confusion. “Eh? You never know! Did you already see his mark?”

You flash her a practiced smile as you excuse yourself.

“No, I was born without one.” 

---

You like routine. This is something you’ve established for as long as you remember. If things are set in place, set in stone, then they are less likely to fall apart, to break.

So when walking home with Oikawa Tooru stays as a recurring part of your days, it makes you uneasy.

This is not part of your normal routine. But you suppose him returning the volleyball gym keys instead of you wrestling him for them is also not part of your normal routine.

“You know, for someone so smart, you’re kind of dumb."

You finally look up from your papers. Your pen still in hand, eyes in disbelief, and voice laced with venom as you hiss, “Excuse me?”

“Pres-chan, even I know when to stop. It's nearly 8 in the evening. Your body needs rest so you can function as efficiently as you always want to,” he rolls his eyes as he air-quotes the word efficiently. The volleyball gym keys jingle in his hand as he does so, and the sound of it aggravates your headache.

"This is coming from the one who stays behind two hours every day after club activity ends? Stop trying to preach what you don’t practice." Your grip on your pen tightens.

"I take Mondays off," he shrugs and offers a lopsided smile. There's a serious glint in his eyes despite his casual gestures.

You know he's right because the keys to the volleyball club always hang neatly and untouched every Monday. You know he's right when you finally let yourself feel the tiredness in your body. You know he's right when your headache finally catches up to you, but you simply cannot completely let go.

Maybe he sees your sagging shoulders and weary eyes, so he doesn't press the matter anymore. He hangs the clubroom keys in the cabinet before he walks over.

"You can rest, you know?"

You do, but you can't. Not when there are so many reports to fill out and papers to file, not when the club budgeting still isn't adding up, not when you have to be the you that your father created inside his head. Your brows cease together as your head throbs. Before you could respond, you feel a gentle pat on your head that brings you out of your thoughts.

"You're doing great, Pres-chan. Take a break," he speaks softly as he strokes your head.

You close your eyes at his touch, and you relish in his gentleness. For someone with such calloused hands, his touch is surprisingly tender. His voice sounds distant, and it feels like he's speaking past you, like he's speaking to whoever he sees in place of you. You think maybe this is what you needed anyways, this is what you want to hear even if he’s speaking to himself through you.

"Take a nap. I'll wake you up in 20 minutes," he ruffles your hair, messing up your perfectly tied ponytail.

You glance at him briefly, and his stupid smile irritates you. Maybe your headache is getting the better of you, maybe you’re just too tired, but you find yourself nodding as your shoulders finally drop in defeat. "10 minutes."

He laughs as he agrees, and when you finally lay your head down and close your eyes, you briefly feel the warmth of his jersey before you drift off.

When you wake, you find that Oikawa is sitting beside you, humming a soft tune as he scrolls on his phone. It takes you a moment to blink the sleep out of your eyes, and then it occurs to you that he never woke you up. Your eyes flutter to the clock, and when you see that it's a little past 9, you panic. You shoot instantly up from your seat, and your sudden movement leaves you dizzy as the world around you rapidly spins in color. Oikawa stops mid-hum as looks up from his phone before he secures your arm to steady you.

"Holy shit, I thought I told you to wake me up in 10 minutes. The papers need to be filed so we can work on the report due next week. I need to finish the reports, so I can turn them in on Friday. The budgeting excel -."

"Pres-chan." He cuts you off as he takes his hand off your arm and pokes your forehead. "I filed the papers on your desk. They go into their respective color-coded drawers, right? And the reports are just club updates, yeah? I arranged them by club type, so you can just sort through them later. Also, I put the volleyball club on top, so get to us first, okay?" he teases lightly and sticks his tongue out mischievously. "I didn't mess with your budgeting excel because it's not my place to, but don't you think you can ask your treasurer to explain their budgeting and money management so far?"

You blink at him in silence as you take in all the information he told you. You glance over at your desk and see the piles of loose paper gone. In place are new stacks of reports clipped together with the assortment of pastel paper clips you brought last month on a whim. Your surprise overtakes you as you let out a shaky breath. 

"Oh," you whisper, breath still quivering and voice slightly trembling. "Thank you."

You make a mental note to double-check everything again in the morning, just in case. That thought almost flies out of your head when you glance over, and the smile he flashes you is so bright you almost forget how to breathe.

"You're welcome."

When he accompanies you home that night, your steps feel a little lighter and your heart soars a little higher as you catch a glimpse of his profile, eyes fixated on the stars above as he tells you stories of constellations and aliens. 

---

While you’re not an avid volleyball fan, witnessing their defeat to Karasuno in such a close match, watching the light in their eyes dim into a quiet somber crush on your heart. When the match was over and they asked for the keys to the gym, you gave it to them without hesitation although the gym is supposed to be closed for cleaning later today.

Throughout the hours, you find yourself unable to completely focus on the paperwork in front of you. Your eyes keep trailing to the empty key slot where the gym keys are supposed to be, and your ears are fixated on each tick of the clock. Fidgeting with your pen, you finally give in and let out an uneven sigh when the clock rings eight. After smoothing out your skirt and blazer and retying your neat ponytail, you make your way to the gym.

As always, you knock on the doors before coming in. Only silence greets you.

The gym is vacant, and the cheering crowds and rest of the volleyball team members have long gone home after their spontaneous practice. Volleyballs are still scattered everywhere, the net is still up, but none of that matters as your eyes focus on the lone figure lingering in this solemn, almost crushing, silence.

His eyes are downcast, but you can tell from the hitching movement of his chest and the pooling puddle in his lap that he hasn't stopped crying. There is so much you want to tell him, but no words come to you. You’re not even sure if you’re in a position to say anything, but when you see him sitting there defeated and crying silently, a split image of yourself instead of him appears for a moment. The tightly sealed jar of emotions you’ve repeatedly tried to suppress opens.

"You don't have to be perfect, you know?" you tell him softly.

He doesn't look up and only clenches his fists.

You pat the creases out of your skirt as you squat down, hands gently touching his before clasping them firmly. The words burn in the back of your throat as your eyes tear because you know. You know this feeling, this absolutely crushing feeling when all you have is taken away and you’re just left with nothing. Maybe you’re projecting your failures onto him, maybe this is just what you wanted to hear, but you tell him all the same.

"You're so much more than just your losses," you whisper with gentle firmness, "This is not the end. Not for you. Not for your volleyball."

His calloused hands only grip yours tightly as his silent tears fall and roll off your skin.

"You are not your failures."

You barely detect the sound of him letting out a deep breath, but he squeezes your hands. It may not be enough, it may not be okay, but it’s a start.

As the two of you sit in silence, you can merely laugh at yourself for ever thinking Oikawa Tooru was anywhere close to perfect. He is incredibly fragile, human, and unlike a star that you thought you could never reach, he is here beside you. He sniffles every so often, and when every so often becomes more often than not, you laugh lightly and offer him a tissue.

He accepts it with a sniffle, and as he blows his nose, you could only crinkle your nose.

“Ew, you’re gross,” you lightly poke fun at him.

“I was going to say thank you, but I take it back now,” he gasps dramatically.

You roll your eyes as you offer him the rest of your tissues. “It’s fine. I don’t need your thanks. Just… feel better.”

“Thank you,” he whispers anyway as he props his head on yours.

---

You hear three knocks, two fast knocks, a pause as if it’s left for drastic effects, before the third knock, in a familiar rhythm. Instantly, the wooden doors of the student council room open, and brown hair and honey-colored eyes peek in.

“Wanna do something fun with me, Pres-chan?” Oikawa asks, eyes brilliant and smile equally mischievous.

"... Depends on what it is," you raise an eyebrow at him as you look up from finishing some preparations for university. You've substantially given up trying to advise him to wait before barging into the student council room.

He wiggles his eyebrows before he grins. “Let’s go to the rooftop!"

It takes you a moment to comprehend what he said because while it’s not that crazy, the rooftop is off-limits to students. Subsequently, it occurs to you that out of your three years here, you've under no circumstances done anything remotely rebellious. The adrenaline hits you, so you snatch the keys to the rooftop before heading out the door.

"Alright, let's go."

He freezes before his mouth drops and gasps dramatically. "Heh, Pres-chan, looks like you really aren't that much of a good girl after all."

You roll your eyes at him, and a soft smile finds a way to your face before you walk out. "Hurry up, or I'm leaving you behind."

"Wait for me!!" You hear the scampering footsteps, and you swear you can hear his pout.

This is the first time you’ve ever been on the rooftop, you think, as you finally unlock the door and step out into the sun. It’s a little past seven, and you think the sun is going to set soon as it slowly fades behind the Miyagi skylines in bursts of orange. You close your eyes as the wind blows, almost as if it’s greeting you. You can see why people skip all the time to be up here. 

“Feels pretty good, huh?” Oikawa stands beside you as the wind tousles his hair and the sun kisses his skin. He looks radiant under the sunlight, and you merely hope he doesn’t hear the fluttering of your heart.

“Yeah,” you nod along, “I… I wish I came up here earlier.

Honey brown eyes so deep and warm, staring directly at you, and there is something that you’re terrified to name. You always thought love was something dramatic, once in a lifetime, and it just hits you like a train out of nowhere. With Oikawa Tooru, it feels more like learning to walk - steadily, one step after another, until he becomes a part of your natural routine.

You can see the longing and something akin to love in his eyes, but you know it's not love. You know when he loves, he loves with all his being. Right now, there is something, but it's not love because he sees not only you but also past you. He sees the light at the end of the tunnel, the future where he's standing on a volleyball court with his name on the back of a national team jersey. He sees the passion and the love he has for volleyball beyond you, and even when he's here in the moment, even when he likes you, he sees something greater.

Your heart clenches because you want it to be you, you want you, this to be enough. But you know he is meant for something so much greater. He is meant for the stage lights of an international court, living and thriving with so much passion and love for the sport he dedicates his life to. He is unmeant to be here, to be held back by something called love.

You try ignoring the way his eyes soften when he looks at you, try ignoring the way his eyes linger at your lips as if he wants to kiss you. You try ignoring your yearning heart when all you can hear in your head is him telling you he's going to Argentina.

“You’re going to do great in Argentina.” You swallow the lump in your throat and interlace your own fingers together to prevent yourself from reaching out and holding his hand.

He blinks, and slowly retracts his extended hand, and swallows the words he wants to tell you. “Oh, uhm,” he hesitates. “Geez, Pres-chan! Don’t make it sound like we’re never going to see each other again!” he pouts dramatically, voice creaking just ever so slightly and eyes lacking the playful glint in it. “We’ll see each other again.”

He sounds hesitant, almost as if he’s doubtful if he can uphold the words of a promise. He doesn’t deserve to be held back by a promise.

You let him go.

It’s funny because you don’t even think he is yours to let go, but you smile anyway as you catch his unfaltering eyes back on the sunset. He is the one who teaches you a little bit about being okay, the one who first opens the tightly sealed jar and lets a gale of fresh air into your world.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly. Your hand finds its way to him, fingertips ghosting over his hand almost as if you didn’t just reject his moments ago.

The wind blows softly, and the blooming cherry blossoms flutter as he blinks in confusion before he smiles crookedly too. In a world where you are braver, you would have voiced the three words lingering on your mind instead of the two that came out, and your lips would have been on his instead of settling for a ghost of a touch of hands. But in this world, this is all you can do, all you can intend for.

Instead, the two of you continue to stand in silence, sharing this one last moment where he can stand on both legs without leaning to his left to accommodate for his right knee, where you can laugh in a loose smile and ruffled hair without feeling the need to fix them. It’s satisfactory, you tell yourself, this is enough.

While he may not be your soulmate, while you have no soulmate mark, it hurts all the same. Your heart still breaks as the falling sunlight fades into the deep indigo skies, as he waves goodnight, as you watch him go with the world on his shoulders and wings on his back. The hollowness in your chest aches, and you wonder if this is what heartbreak feels like.

---

“Funny, huh? Out of all the people in the world, out of all the places in the world, I end up meeting you on an Argentinian beach, thousands of miles away from home,” you stifle your laughter softly.

The hot summer wind blows into your unbound hair, bringing grains of sand and the scent of the ocean. The shore calls you, and you find yourself wiggling your toes in the clear waters. As you look to the horizon, you find that the crystalline waters contrast vividly against the soft pinks and oranges of the fading sun.  It’s so surreal, and it makes you momentarily forget that there are responsibilities, people waiting for you back at home. 

The faint rustling and the loud splash of water wake you from your trance, and you find Oikawa Tooru running into the waters carefreely. His pants are roughly rolled up just barely above the water level. His eyes are tender and his smile is wide as he holds his hand out to you.

“Come on, Pres-chan,” he gestures his hand in front of you again. “The water feels really nice!”

You take a moment to breathe because he looks beautiful with his brown eyes twinkling mischievously and lips upturned jovially and carefreely against the fleeting sunset. You smile once more, lips upturn softly instead of the traditional 45 degrees, as the last strands of your hair frees from your hair tie. 

You briefly remember being eighteen, standing on the rooftop of your high school. His hand is extended, but you were too afraid to take it, too afraid to become a burden. You blink once and think maybe this time, he should have a say in his own decisions instead of you selfishly making it for him. You take his hand, hesitantly and shyly, as you take your first steps into the water.

Time stills as your eyes meet his brown ones. He stares at you dumbfoundedly, and you are unsure if the pinks of his cheeks are from you or the sunset.

“You look happier,” he finally comments softly, “I’m glad.”

Now it’s your turn to stare at him dumbfoundedly. Your hand covers a slight laugh that breaks from your lips. You take in his wind-tousled chestnut hair and eyes closed from his laughter, his muscular body that no longer tends to lean on his left side absentmindedly to protect his right knee, and you realize he is more genuine, more candid, more Oikawa Tooru than the one you’ve known since high school.

“You do too.”

”Wanna grab drinks after?” Oikawa asks nonchalantly as the two of you finally make your way out of the water and sit under the broad umbrella from the blazing sun. His long legs are stretched out as he leans back, hands propping him up.

Despite his relaxed posture and even voice, you see his fingers wiggling in the sand and the pinks peeking on his cheeks and the tip of his ears. It almost makes you laugh because you’re certain you can reckon on one hand how many times Oikawa Tooru seems so timid.

“I mean”- he continues, taking your silence as a declination, -“just as friends, to catch up, you know? How have you been? Oh! What about your cousin? Didn’t she -”

“Okay,” you laugh lightly. “I’d be happy to.”

“-Oh, now that I think about it, what did you end up doing- wait -” he pauses mid-sentence as he stares at you bewilderedly, ”-okay?”

“Yes,” you laugh again, much louder and without restraint. “Okay.”

“Okay,” he repeats after you again.

“Yes, okay.” You nod.

The smile he gives you is so bright it outshines the sun.

---

"So, how are you?" he asks again once you're seated beside him, a beer in hand and dusk in view.

You offered a general answer earlier, and it started a train of small talk that never breaches past the surface. It reminds you of high school and leaves a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. 

The beach in Argentina is always full of life, but it's quieter now. Maybe it's the fact that it's getting late or the fact that you're on your third beer already, all you can focus on is the man beside you.

Maybe you're more honest now too because he looks like he wants to ask more. (Like he asks “how are you?” when all his eyes are saying is “I love you.”)

"I threw my phone into the ocean and got in a screaming match with my dad," you tell him honestly.

You can feel his gaze on you as he lets out a soft hum to let you know he's listening. It used to unnerve you whenever he looks at you like that, whenever he makes you feel so transparent. Now, it makes you smile because he always makes you feel so seen.

"He told me to be all these things that I am not because he wanted me to have a good life. I know his intentions and know it makes him happy. But I was so fed up with just constantly not being enough for who he wanted me to be, so I told him I just wanted to be his daughter."

You don't realize your hands are shaking until you feel his hands on yours. He pulls the beer bottle out of your hands before he places them into his own and squeezes them.

"And what did he say?" he asks softly, recalling all the late nights and the mask you put on at school in the name of a shadow that always looms over you. He remembers the instant drop of your face whenever your father comes up, when the words duty and filial piety become a burden instead of pride on your shoulders.

"He just kinda stared at me and stopped talking. I think it didn't occur to him that this was a thought in my head. I cried a lot." You squeeze his hands back.

"Yeah, I'm glad you gave him a piece of your mind, though." His voice is gentle as his thumb brushes over your knuckles.

"He cut me fruit after, so I think we're okay," you laugh awkwardly as you flash him a smile. "I think I'm okay."

He smiles too when he notices your smile is a lot freer now, that the corners of your lips are no longer locked in place and forced in front of fake pleasantries. Maybe he's freer now too, he thinks as he looks at the brightly lit skies, as he continues his volleyball journey, feeling so fulfilled despite being thousands of miles away from home. 

"I used to think I wasn't good enough," he starts honestly with a small laugh. "No matter how hard I work, I could never be enough compared to geniuses who just get it." 

“I used to think you were so put together when I initially met you, like the universe's spotlight was meant for you,” you hum. “Until I realized you were the reason why the volleyball gym keys were never returned on time.”

He laughs light-heartedly. “Hey, I had an image to keep up, okay?”

You tuck in your knees and prop your head on top of them, eyes never leaving his, hand still in his. “I think I realized you were a lot more reachable, human even, when I saw you broke down after losing to Karasuno our third year.”

“Are you deriving comfort in my pain? How rude!” He pouts. “But I somewhat get it. I used to think you were super snobby with your fake smiles and your super tight ponytail. I used to think you were going to be balding early!”

“You were the one who habitually had a hoard of fangirls around you, and nobody could get anyplace in the hallways!” You retort with a fond smile.

Memories of high school seem so long ago, and as you recall each one, you see the light in his eyes waning and waxing with the tides. The feelings you try so hard to bury, the ones you try to let go of the day he set off to Argentina bubble through your chest and flow onto your lips.

"I think I was too scared to love you," you finally whisper as the moon rises and the waves kiss the shore.

He stares at you and blinks once, twice, before he breathes a soft, “Oh.”

You finally take your eyes off him, hand finally wiggling its way out of his to encase yourself as you bury your face in your knees. “I wanted to be enough. But I wasn’t. I wasn’t for my dad, wasn’t for myself, wasn’t for you.”

He leans closer and brushes a strand of loose hair off your face. “You are always enough. For your dad, for yourself,” he pauses and smiles gently, “And you are more than enough for me.”

You peek at him through your lashes. The ocean waves drown out the sound of your heartbeat as he stares at you earnestly, eyes honest and lips so, so close.

“I didn’t want you to regret me,” you whisper, voice barely audible, “I didn’t want to be someone who holds you back from your dreams. I didn’t want to be just temporary until you find your soulmate.”

His eyes widen, but he persists steadily close. “I don’t think I could ever regret you. My dreams will always be the national court, but you being there, by my side, would be the best part of it.”

He takes a breath as he reaches for your hand, much like he did at the rooftop of your high school.

“I was born without a soulmate mark. Initially, I was so upset because I thought no one would love me unconditionally like a soulmate is supposed to. But honestly, fuck that. Fuck soulmates. Fuck some pre-destined person supposedly made for you because no one is. We are in control of our own fate, and we are in control of whom we choose to love. And I like you Pres-chan. I have since I was eighteen and dumb. I still like you now at twenty and still a little dumb. But no matter how old I am, how old I will be, it’s always you. I will always choose to love you.”

You breathe in sharply as you listen to his words, every sound and syllable clear as his eyes as he looks at you, only you. There is only truth in his words, and as your eyes wander from his to his hand and back to his eyes, the overwhelming amount of sincerity overwhelms you. 

Oikawa Tooru has always been dedicated in all that he does, and the thought that he is offering you that very same dedicated heart of his becomes a consuming warmth in your chest. The heat of your fluttering heart radiates off your cheeks, and the feeling that has been blossoming in your heart blooms into an indescribable softness and affection.

Love has perpetually been something out of reach, something you witness in movies and read in books, something you witness in your friends and cousin. But love is here now, in the form of Oikawa Tooru with his hands stretched out for you to take, with his heart bare and exposed for you to have.

“I was born without a soulmate mark too. I used to hate it because it felt like it was another thing I was lacking in. I wasn’t even enough to have a soulmate,” you breathe out, eyes on the ocean that reflects on the moonlight. The last bits of the tightly sealed jar of emotions you’ve kept finally flows out.

“But if soulmates do exist, I would like to think they are made. Not in the sense that they are made for each other, because fuck destiny, but in the sense that we wake up every morning and choose who fits us and how they fit. And whatever this is we have between us, we forged it,” you start firmly as you place your hand in his, eyes meeting his. The last bit of bitterness flows into the sea, and the only thing that remains at the bottom of this jar is hope.

“I like you too, Oikawa. I have since I was eighteen and smart. I still do at twenty and moderately smarter but still trying to figure life out. And I don’t know what the future holds or even what I’m doing to do from here on, but I want it to be you.”

“I want it to be you too. I can’t promise you the world or where our lives will lead from here onwards. What I can promise is I will choose you, from the moment I wake up until the moment I sleep, from now until the end of the ocean.”

A promise, his truth. While the unknown horrifies you, this is enough. You smile as you squeeze his hand. When he grins and squeezes your hand back, you think maybe love is irrevocably here to stay.

---

“What were you before you met me?” He takes one of your hands in his and uses his other in an attempt to tame your unconstrained hair against the wind. He pouts when he finds that your hair just blows wildly and gives up, but he smiles, nonetheless, when he hears your unrestrained laughter.

You shake your hair out of your face and turn to face him, hair blowing wildly and freely with the wind. You tear your eyes away from slow waves of the ocean, illuminated by the brilliant reds and oranges of the setting sun, and you find yourself more captivated by glowing brown eyes than you ever could by the dazzling colors of the horizon. 

You stare briefly at him, looking into his eyes and seeing his relentless soul, and the butterflies in your stomach flutter like they did the very first time, feeling absolutely starstruck. You hum softly as you turn back to the peaceful waves and remember the tight ponytails and painted smiles of your high school days. You remember the weight on your shoulders to become someone ideal and the heaviness on your heart to become a you that only lives to make your father proud.

“I think... I was drowning,” you answer almost inaudibly but honestly, both hands gripping his tightly as if you’re holding a lifeline.

He pauses for a moment before he squeezes your hands again. He whispers then, reluctantly and almost fearfully, “And what are you now?”

You turn to meet his eyes. You recall him at seventeen and feeling annoyed because he mirrored every bit of the pretense you put up in all the undesirable ways. But you see him now, twenty and free of the inferiority and limitations he places on himself, and you wonder if you also look older, wiser, happier because you are now the you you want to be.

You have always associated him with air because he is terrible and unpredictable, destructive and clear, focused and silent. But he is also comforting and calm, like an invisible force, who's consistently going and going, with unhindered sight. He is always persistently here and cannot be turned away, and before long, you find yourself not knowing what to do without it.

At the moment, you find the last bits of the riptides that pull you under the waters finally cease, and as you enjoy the scent of the salty ocean and hear the lull of the gentle waves, you think you can finally breathe freely and vivaciously.

Slowly, you take a hand to trace the outline of the miniature matching sun tattooed on his chest, where the soulmate mark is supposed to appear. You smile undoubtedly and wholeheartedly.

“Water.”

---

you’re what i need cause now i can breathe; you put the beat in my heart. somehow we fit together, and now we’re unbreakable. 

[philicheesecake]

Refugees pt 1 (vore fic)

Note: this takes place with my two newest OCs, Zi and Baka. I might write more about them as their story comes to me. I haven’t given them an exact size yet, but for now I’m saying Baka is 7-9 ft tall while Zi is 4 ft tall.

Warnings: Soft attempted fatal vore, minor burns and injuries, but safe in the end. A lot of cursing and general stinky behavior from Baka

—————

It had been nearly a week hiding underground. The sewer systems were growing claustrophobic and the darkness only grew as the two travelers tried to conserve the energy of their flashlight. Food supplies had run out two days ago, and both of them were growing restless.

Prince Baka as usual seemed to not take the situation seriously. How could he? He was a sheltered spoiled brat who knew nothing of how the real world worked. Zi was only doing their best to try to keep him out of trouble.

But now starving, with no clean water supply, and lost within the winding dark tunnels, anything seemed preferable to dying in here.

Zi stepped ahead through the tunnels, ears twitching as  they listened out ahead for any sign of danger before motioning behind them to follow. There was a pause, but now steps forward. Only an exhausted groan. Then a splash.

Zi blinked in confusion, turning to see the prince trying to get up, having to crouch badly within the tunnels even as he got to his feet, due to his towering size. With the dimming flashlight shining towards his face, his weathered features could be seen. A crocodilian-esque being with three webbed crests spanning from his head to the tip of his tail. His green eyes were dry and exhausted.

"Mmmstarvin'. Fuckin starvin' down here," the prince bellowed weakly. "Can't go on like this..."

Zi sighed, stepping patiently over to the prince and mutely held out their hand to try to stabilize him to encourage him forward. The prince leaned his weight on Zi, before toppling over, splashing into the smelly sewage on top of the smaller creature. Zi coughed, wiping the contaminated water off of their face and grunted as they tried to crawl out from under the prince, trying again to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled, resisting the assistance, seeming set on dying here and now, in the midst of his toddler-like dramatic tantrum.

"Mmmwwwanna die then," Baka whined.

Zi grunted silently under their breath, managing to crawl out from beneath the prince and tugged on the side of his arm to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled dramatically once again, not wanting to move. "Lemme stay here. Don't wanna move... leave me to die..."

His stomach growled pleadingly, echoing through the dark tunnels. Zi sighed, letting the prince's arm splash to the ground like a ragdoll. They picked up the flashlight again and stood before the prince, thinking quietly for a moment before speaking. "Wait here,"

With a small bow of their head, they left through the tunnels, leaving Baka lying baffled in the puddles. Baka had told Zi to leave, but he hadn't really expected them to. Zi had sworn to serve him until they were freed. Did they just see the prince's death as their chance of freedom?

"You can't fffuckin tell mmme what to do!" The prince babbled. His voice only echoed uselessly through the sewers. He let out a whale-worthy moan and slumped back down in the puddles. He smelled awful. He hated the smell. He hated Zi. He hated his family. He hated the world. He hated everything. With this litany of hatred coursing through his mind, he slowly succumbed to sleep, believing this to be death at last.

A gentle hand shaking his shoulder was what brought him back to his senses, and the returning light of Zi's flashlight. Baka grumbled tiredly, closing his eyes again, not wanting to be brought back into this hell. He was perfectly content lying in this puddle and hating everything, and sleeping. He didn't have to exist in this disgusting sewer if his mind was somewhere else.

It seemed Zi had other plans, however. The smaller reptilian's soft voice insistent through the silent dripping ambience of the sewers. "There is a path leading to a river. We can get fresh water and fish there,"

The prince seemed reluctant at first, but anywhere but here was ideal. He was starving, and fish sounded better than nothing. He hoped it wasn't raw, though. He groaned as he lifted his head, reaching for Zi for assistance to get to his feet. Zi complied as well as they could, though they were just as equally deprived of strength, they just tried not to show it as much.

They led the prince to a low opening where the sewer runoff poured into a polluted river. It wasn't the sight that Baka had wished for, but anywhere was better than those sewers. He was never going in there again. Zi made sure the coast was clear before hopping softly into the river and nodded for the prince to follow. Baka collapsed into the running water, rolling a bit beneath the surface before resurfacing, refreshed to have his scales rid of the sewage slush and at least feeling a little cleaner. It seemed Zi had already done so before leading Baka there, visibly appearing cleaner in the better light. Although it was night out in the fresh air, the light from the stars and moons was almost overwhelming to get used to after being stuffed in the pitch darkness of the sewers for so long.

Zi frowned, looking into the river hopefully, though even in the darkness, they knew the prince was right. "We can at least collect some water here. But we can't stay out here for long."

"You fuckin cheated me," the prince growled. "You kept my fuckin hopes up this whole fuckin time. 'Just last one more day sir,' 'now isn't the time for cannibalism. I am here to serve you'  'tomorrow we'll have better luck' 'tomorrow we'll have better luck' and again and again and again and AGAIN. I'm fuckin SICK of this disaster," he managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly. "So you have to serve me one last fuckin time here. Help me out,"

Zi's brow furrowed slightly, showing the slightest trace of concern before stepping closer to take to the prince's side, seeming to assume that Baka needed some help standing. Baka's behavior altered, however, gripping Zi a little too tight for support, instead, bringing them closer and his mouth yawned wide above them, suddenly clamping his jaws over their shoulders. Zi was shocked, sucking in a surprised breath. The prince had mentioned eating Zi before while they were in the tunnels, but they hadn't considered that he would really do it. In panic, they struggled against the prince's grip, but he simply ignored it. The prince's mouth watered heavily, drenching Zi's upper half with sticky drool and drew them in deeper, beginning to swallow. The throat opened up before them and the slight jerking of the jaws forced Zi in deeper despite their protests. The tight throat dragged them downwards more quickly with each swallow and the shove of Baka's hands.

He didn't have long to enjoy this feast, however, when a beam of light shown down from the slope near the river and a team of uniformed armed men were all directed at him, quickly making their approach to surround him. The prince tried to sit up, wincing as the weight in his stomach sloshed and resettled from the action. "Can you just leave me for five fuckin minutes?" Baka grunted. The soldiers surrounded him and patted him down to search for any weapons, finding none, before binding his hands behind his back and led him up to their transport.

Sitting alone in the back of the high-security transport vehicle, he could feel Zi's struggles begin to weaken. They were just as weak as him, and he doubted they would last long. They seldom spoke normally, though he could hear their normally level voice sound out more fearful, albeit muffled, pleading for reason. The prince didn't bother listening, pressing a hand to his middle to coax them into digesting already.

"You're wasting your breath in there. You dragged me through fuckin hell, and now ya get your fuckin share of it," Baka grunted under his breath.

Zi went silent, hugging themselves in the hot, slimy darkness. Their struggles stopped, but their breathing was still fairly normal, a little panicked. They were probably trying to preserve energy.

"My service meant nothing?" They spoke quietly.

"Your service meant food that I should've given into a week ago," Baka grumbled. "And now we got captured anyways, so dragging me through those sewers was fuckin useless."

Zi went dead still, probably from disbelief, or despair, though it was hard telling their reaction without a visual. Not that Baka cared anyways. They should be dead soon.

The car came to a halt and the back doors opened from the truck. Armed guards led prince Baka through a sheriff's office, leading him to one of the back cells. They had been remote enough to be far from the capitol, so the police had to wait for the officials to show up before transporting him back to the new enemies' capitol.

For now, Baka slumped within the holding cell, lying back on the hard bed. "I don't wanna die... they're going to kill me," Baka spoke to himself, though his occupant heard. Ironic that he was complaining about dying while he was currently killing his most loyal and perhaps only ally.

"If you let me out, I can help... we can escape again," Zi offered hopefully, trying to keep emotion out of their voice. It was really beginning to sting in there, and the acid levels were steadily rising. The clenching walls persisted to grind the caustic fluids into Zi's exposed skin, and it was growing increasingly painful and unnerving.

"Mmmh, I don't wanna," Baka responded.

"Neither of us want to die, Baka. If we fail, we both die. If we succeed, we both live. If you kill me now, it would be inevitable for both of us,"

Baka groaned. He didn't respond for a moment, rubbing his gut almost mournfully. The acids were getting worse from this action, their level rising to fill half the chamber. Zi withheld a worried whimper in their throat, trying to keep their chin above the acids. The walls suddenly clenched tighter around the smaller reptile, painfully this time, nearly crushing their ribs, before the motion forced Zi back up the throat, carrying them upward with difficulty. The little breath they had collected was squeezed out of their lungs and they choked on the slime around them, nearly suffocating before their release.

A gagging sound and a glimmer of hopeful light beyond the jaws greeted them before they were coughed up onto the floor in a puddle of slime and acids. Zi gasped for air, shuddering violently and coughed up the slime that had caught in their throat. They dragged themselves across the floor to prop themselves against the wall of the cell, looking over at the prince with unveiled residual fear in their eyes.

Baka was on the floor lying on his stomach with drool dripping from his jaws, looking further nauseous and miserable. He let out a long drawn-out dramatic groan.

Zi hastily tried to wipe some of the slime off of their face, glancing down with a disgusted shudder to notice the nasty burns that marred their scales. They couldn't focus on that traumatic experience though, shakily getting to their feet. They stumbled over to the barred entrance of the holding cell, examining the lock and took out a lock pick, beginning to get to work.

A small click sounded once they succeeded, and they looked over at the prince, trying to help him to his feet. His hands were still bound behind his back, and Zi was almost too afraid to release him. Just as they helped Baka to his feet, alarms suddenly blared. They winced, ears flattening back and they looked towards the doorway fearfully.

"...fuck," Baka growled.

"We have to go," Zi went out the opening of cell, looking carefully down the hallway. Oddly, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and action was heard further within. Their brow furrowed in confusion, and they stepped silently into the main area of the police station, Baka dragging himself behind them with no regards for stealth, and seeming further interested in making as much of a dramatic scene as possible along the way.

The door opposing them suddenly swung open and several assorted armed men entered, not wearing the police uniforms, and appeared like standard civilians. Their eyes lit up in relief and one rushed forward to greet the freed prisoners with a bow. "Prince Baka, please come with us. We're here to help, and we're loyal to your line to the end,"

[haliyam]

interim (i)

zeke x reader/oc (warning: slow burn with some plot)

summary: You return to Liberio not long after the Warriors arrive home from their failed mission in Paradis and discover that things have changed. (Or they will, and maybe a little more with Zeke than you expect.) [Season 4 and manga spoilers ahead]

AO3 link | Ch 2

Hi everyone! This is part of the series I mentioned on my oneshot Asset, but it's a prequel. I'd love to continue the season 4 stuff, but I want to see how the manga ends first so I can plot out Reader's part in it all. (Also edit post-139, I've completely fallen in love with Zeke who deserves so much better and while I always intended to take my time with the Asset prequels, I'm in no rush to get to the Asset sequel. I do want to update as regularly as possible though, rl willing!)

The Reader/OC will be a cis-female Eldian character with a set background, as you'll find at the end of this chapter. Reader’s default name is Lucy, just because I personally don’t like writing ‘Y/N,’ but please feel free to set the substitution for Lucy to you or your character’s First Name using the InteractiveFics browser extension! So on the browser extension that would be: Lucy = Your or your character's First Name. Because reader will have a set background, you'll have a set surname as well.

I will say that Zeke may seem a little OOC/angsty in the beginning of this story, if only because Reader and Zeke were good friends before he became the shitstain we know and love today and Reader is fairly familiar with his true moods even when he is being annoying as hell. (And Zeke is annoying. I swear I do like this guy hahah...)

I hope you enjoy!

--

Chapter 1

It’s strange how easily you fall into step with the soldier ahead of you. 

You don’t march, and your eyes wander stern walls and imposing doors that have long left your dreams, but your footfalls follow only one beat that echoes throughout the hallway as he leads you through it. There’s an almost comforting order to the sound that belies the way your heart tries to hammer its way through your ears or right out of your chest. 

It feels like forever and far too soon when you arrive at a familiar waiting room. Motioning to the chairs around a small round table, the soldier knocks twice on the door opposite where you entered. When no one responds, he simply stands there, and you have no recourse but to take that seat. 

Voices filter in, muffled, from the other room, and you slip your hands under the desk to squeeze your fingers together. Maybe this was a terrible idea after all. You can still leave, pursue your medical degree back home…

“No,” you whisper to yourself, even if you do abruptly stand from your chair. You just need a moment to freshen up. Facing the soldier, you begin, “I would like to—”

Alarm replaces the question in his gaze when two heavy knocks cut through your words. He stares at you a little longer, a new question, and you reply with a deep exhale. 

“Never mind.”

He nods. “They’re ready for you.”

You enter the conference room, which is far too large for the four people sitting at one end of the long table there: an older man with more lapel pins and crow’s feet than you remember, and three others closer to your age—the esteemed Warrior Unit and their commander, Theo Magath.

Six long years later, they all look different enough that under other circumstances, you might hesitate to recognize them. But you know this place all too well, the lighting and their seating arrangement so familiar that you can mistake them for no other than Zeke Yeager, Pieck Finger, and Porco Galliard. 

It soon appears from their expressionless gazes that they can’t say the same for you. Not that you can blame them—they had no reason to expect your arrival, and it’s Commander Magath who huffs at their frigid reception. “Is that how you Eldians treat old friends?”

The three glance at one another. You venture a small smile, and the recognition and surprise that sink into Zeke’s features make Magath snort as Pieck leaps from her chair, shattering the chill in the room as surely as she crashes into you with an embrace.

“Lucy!” 

The joy in her voice sweeps aside your initial fears and brings your excitement bubbling out of your throat in your own laughter. “Pieck!”

She’s talking before you even part and still holding onto the back of your blouse when you do. “You look so… old,” she grins. “That is—me-old.” 

Her languid excitement makes it difficult for you to keep your composure. “I am you-old,” you say, trying not to giggle, but your toothy smile already reaches from ear to ear. 

Before you can say more, Commander Magath clears his throat. “If you two are finished…”

Both of you freeze instinctively at his tone. Stealing another squeeze, Pieck steps aside as Magath rises from his chair. “Good of you to drop by, Blanchard.”

You quickly cross the distance to shake his proffered hand. “Thank you, Sir. And congratulations on your promotion.”

He shrugs, taking a seat and gesturing that you and Pieck do the same. “Still not a far cry from playing nursemaid sometimes.”

Pieck shakes her head. “Don’t say that, Sir.”

“You’re right. I’m at least a pay grade or two above nursemaid,” Magath chuckles just a little, and to his right, Zeke continues to stare at you. 

“Is that really you?” he asks, mouth set in a line under his new beard. 

“In the flesh.” His expression remains neutral through your nervous chuckle. Shifting in your seat, you nod away toward Porco. “It’s so nice to see everyone again. Galliard.”

Though he gave you an appreciative once-over as you entered, Porco is now as uninterested as they come. “I didn’t think you’d still know our names. Thanks for taking the time to drop by, I guess.”

“Oh, come on, Pock,” Pieck teases, ignoring the air of hostility that starts to surround you. As though Porco is only an unruly child, she says in feigned apology, “A few days with the Jaw and he’s already this cocky.”

“Ah.” You can’t bring yourself to mirror her mirth. “I heard about that. I’m sorry about Marcel. And Bertholdt—and Annie…”

Pieck glances away, and because you can’t meet Zeke’s eyes at the moment, you address the commander instead. “What about Reiner? I heard he’d returned.”

“Braun is still undergoing a debriefing.”

A debriefing, you think, when they’ve been back a fortnight already? But it dawns on you easily enough that what Reiner is undergoing is an ideology test. Reindoctrination.

“I see… but…”

“It was on my recommendation,” Zeke cuts in, daring you, a civilian, to protest. His arms are crossed now. “Otherwise he’s in danger of passing on the Armor a full six years too early.”

“I only meant to say that Reiner is the most loyal Eldian I know,” you answer levelly, eyes boring into his. Your nails dig into the cloth of your skirt on your lap as you pretend not to hear Porco’s scoff. Taking the Armor from Reiner? The operation was a massive failure, but that consequence is far too severe... however expected. “After you, of course.”

Zeke tilts his head, obscuring his gaze from your view when the light above reflects off his glasses.

“It’s a good thing, in any case,” Magath explains. “Behind enemy lines for over five years, he—” 

Whatever his opinion, the commander abruptly stops himself from sharing it and clears his throat instead. You know better than to protest when an unsettling pause rests over the room—exactly what you feared would occur.

To your surprise, it’s Porco who comes to your rescue, even if his disdain is palpable. “Why are you here, anyway?” 

“Well,” you begin gratefully, “I’m—”

“I asked her to come,” says Magath, completely ignoring the tension. “But my meeting prior ran overlong, and I have another coming up. Can you come in tomorrow morning? Ten sharp?”

You sit up straight when he addresses you. “Of course, Sir.”

Magath smiles—still a novelty to you—and pushes himself up out of his chair. The rest of you do the same, following him to the door as he speaks. “Go ahead and catch up in the meantime. And Blanchard—it’s good to see you again. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“The rest of you—dismissed.”

He leaves the room with the Marleyan guard at the door. The other three let out a breath of relief once it closes. 

“Blanchard,” Porco enunciates, stretching his arms. “Are we really still doing that? Who are we supposed to be fooling here?”

Pieck sighs, but it’s Zeke who stays him with a light backhand to the stomach. “Settle down, Galliard.”

Porco pushes his hand away. “Seriously? Of all people, you—”

“Your first transformation was pretty brutal, Galliard,” Zeke casually announces. He winces for good measure, like he’s actually worried. “Why don’t you get some rest?”

The hostility on Porco’s face quickly shifts to embarrassment, and you feel for him. “You’ve transformed already?” 

“I wanted to go check on the Warriors anyway,” he says instead, eyeing you with a curled lip. “Nice seeing you again, Blanchard.”

“You too,” you call out, but he’s already stalked out of the room.

You feel Pieck’s hand loop around your arm. “Don’t take it personally,” she says gently. “Learning about Marcel was difficult for him.”

“I can only imagine.” She gives you a small smile at your words, and you understand. Casting a more pleasant gaze around the room, you ask, “How are you two? I thought it might be nice if we could get some lunch together.” You check your watch. “...Very late lunch.”

“I would love to,” Pieck says cheerfully, leading your way out of the room— “Tomorrow. I still have so much paperwork to do.”

Zeke snickers. “The joys of working with a team.”

“Life is unfair,” Pieck declares, but smiles when her hand slips down to yours. “I’ll pick you up after your meeting with Magath tomorrow. It’s a date, right?”

You squeeze her fingers in return. “Definitely.”

Her leisurely footsteps fade down the hallway, and you soon find yourself alone with Zeke. You dust at your blouse idly, but you must eventually look at him. “I suppose it’s just you and me today, then.”

He only eyes you, scratching the side of his bearded jaw. It’s even worse than him outright declining.

“Unless,” you quickly add, detesting the dead air, “are you… training the new Warrior class?”

Zeke snorts. “No. I’ve been busy with other work, but you can check in on their progress if you’re interested. Seems like the Commander wouldn’t mind, seeing as he invited you here.”

You ignore the jab: And you accepted. “What’s kept you busy?”

“Good question.” His smile is a facetious one. “But you know that’s top secret.”

You scoff, but you were braver in front of the others. Now his indifference is too much to bear. 

It’s only after you turn away that Zeke asks, “Why don’t you drop by the house? My grandparents should be happy to see you again.”

“I… actually came from there. They asked me to stay. I hope you don’t mind,” you follow, and regret the words as soon as you say it. It’s like you’re trying to piss him off. “I’ll pay for my share of everything, of course.”

He doesn’t react with anger, but you were stupid to expect him to. “Oh?” he asks instead, managing the most sarcastic one-word question in existence. His voice has gotten so much deeper in the last six years, and somehow that makes it worse. “I would have expected the distinguished Miss Blanchard to prefer better accommodations by now.”

You resist the urge to wince. “Don’t say that. The Yeager household was like home to me for several years. More than home, sometimes.”

There’s a pause where only your footsteps, still in time with one another, are all you hear as you make your way down the empty hall. The thought of Zeke’s gaze right now shames you, but it’s ahead he’s looking when he lets out a whistle. “You’re making this difficult for me,” he laughs. “How can I kick you out after such high praise?”

Your last footfall echoes as you stop, reaching for his arm. “Zeke—”

He yanks it away without even looking at you. “We should head back before the Commander decides he wants something from me after all. Come on.”

Your face burns with humiliation even though there’s no one else around to watch him walk away, his long strides too fast for you to catch up.

--

The Yeagers are pleased to have you over for dinner and beyond, and though you already dropped by before making your appearance at HQ, Mrs. Yeager does not run out of subjects to discuss with you, updating you on several of your neighbors’ lives. Who has married, who has passed away, and whose children have joined the Warrior program themselves, only to fail. Zeke doesn’t talk except to comment on something his grandparents say, or very rarely something you say so as not to arouse their suspicion. They have none. They are too busy doting on you after your long, long absence.

After dinner, when your stomachs are full and your chest is light with laughter, you stand up to collect the dishes and bring them to the sink. “Absolutely not,” Mrs. Yeager says, realizing your intention once she hears the light clatter of tableware. “You’re our guest, Lucy!”

“Please,” you call from the sink. “I miss doing this with all of you around.”

Dr. Yeager sighs in agreement with his wife. “Not on your first night. Zeke.”

Zeke is already on his feet, leaving only everyone’s glasses as he makes his way to the sink with the placemats. Dr. Yeager has brought out their good wine to celebrate your return. “I can do this myself,” he tells you, trying to wave you aside. 

You don’t budge. “But I can help. We’ll get it all done more quickly.”

He levels a look at you—one you haven’t seen since you were very young, from before you were friends. “Sit with my grandmother, Lucy,” he murmurs so that only you hear. “Don’t make her crane her neck just to talk to you.”

Shame and something completely unfamiliar fill you at his reprimand, and you surrender with a nod. You make your way back to the table and squint at Mrs. Yeager. “Only tonight, though.”

Mrs. Yeager laughs, reaching for your hands across the table. You give them to her easily. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful young woman,” she says. “Your parents must be very proud of you.” You nod with some unease, and Dr. Yeager, even as he enjoys his wine, clears his throat. Mrs. Yeager realizes her mistake. “Ah—I...I’m sorry, dear. I know they passed away several years ago. But I’m sure they would be proud of you now.” 

“That’s all right,” you reassure her. “I hope it’s not too bold to say, but… you and Dr. Yeager were mother and father to me for a time as well, when they couldn’t be. I will always be grateful for that.”

“Oh, Lucy,” Mrs. Yeager smiles, her eyes quickly shining, “That isn’t bold at all. We felt the same way. We only wish you had written more!”

A scoff makes its way from the kitchen. “Grandma,” Zeke reminds her lightly, even as he scrubs the plates with renewed vigor, “you know Lucy has been busy.”

“I know that, dear, I wasn’t trying to—”

“No, it is my fault,” you agree. “I promise I’ll be better about that the next time I go.”

“Next time?” asks Dr. Yeager, suddenly sitting up straight. “Where are you going?”

You blink, turning your attention to him, and attempt to wave the confusion away with your hands. “No, no, Dr. Yeager, I’ll be staying here for a while. I only meant that for the next time I leave Lib—”

“Next time?” Dr. Yeager repeats, his hand knocking over his wine glass as he eyes your left sleeve with intent. It trembles as he grasps at his scalp. “If you’re leaving, why aren’t you wearing your armband?”

The faucet shuts off, leaving only the sound of alcohol dripping from the dinner table to the floor, and Mrs. Yeager turns to him nervously. “Dear—”

“Don’t leave without your armband again, Faye,” he pleads, looking straight at you. He rises from his seat, voice more and more frantic as he swipes at a nearby cabinet with nothing to show for it. “Where is it? Where did you put it?”

Zeke is already wiping his hands on the hem of his shirt, and Mrs. Yeager goes to take her husband’s arm. “Darling, no, this is Lucy, remember?”

But Dr. Yeager is already heaving. It’s not long before tears are streaming down his face and he cries, “Why would you do this to me again? Why did he let you remove your armband, Faye?!”

“Dr. Yeager—I’m Lucy. Lucy,” you insist, hurrying over and tucking your hair behind your ears to show him your face, smiling as you’ve done many times in an attempt to calm him. You hold his arms, trying to jog him back to reality, but by now he is screaming and weeping, digging his fingers into your arms and repeatedly calling out his daughter’s name. 

“...Come on, grandpa.” Zeke pries Dr. Yeager’s hands from your sleeve with his grandmother’s help. Stunned by his sudden lapse, you can only watch—able to follow only when they are already struggling with him by the stairs. 

“Zeke—”

“Stay there,” he hisses with rancor that freezes you in place. Mrs. Yeager apologizes, but of course you shake your head and return to the dining room. Your hands shake as you clean the spilled alcohol from the dinner table and the floor, going over what you could have said to set off Dr. Yeager. 

This is hardly the first time you’ve seen him like this, but it used to take only very specific words to remind him of that event, and so much easier to bring him back from those memories. The memory of his weeping face seizes at your heart, tempting you to launch yourself upstairs and ask after him, but Zeke is right. You’ll only make things worse.

You’re getting started on the dishes again when you hear heavy footsteps plod down the stairs. 

Zeke. You cuff the faucet off, mouth already open when he smiles, reaching over to graze your exposed ear with his thumb and his index finger. “Did growing up damage your ears? I said I’d take care of the dishes.”

The unexpected contact sends a strange rush through you, but it’s the insult you focus on ignoring. Even if you do untuck your hair. “I’m sorry about Dr. Yeager.”

“It’s not your fault,” he shrugs. “It happens more often nowadays.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten so bad.”

“How could you? You’ve been away.”

You gnaw on your cheek at that. “I’m sorry, Zeke.”

For a moment, you finally see it—the recognition of the words you’ve been trying to say since you met earlier that afternoon, and the reason why. An eddy of hurt and confusion reflects in his eyes, pulling at the air around you. You want to rise above it, or else drown, or just beg for his forgiveness, but he knows you, or knew you as much as you knew him, and he cuts you off before you can speak. 

“You really have grown up.” His droll chuckle makes your heart sink into your stomach. “You never used to apologize for anything.”

You make a face. “That’s not true.”

“Maybe. You were pretty damn insolent when you wanted to be.”

“I guess I could be,” you murmur. Your eyes lift to his, on a tightrope’s edge. “Remember when Marras overheard me complaining about firearm maintenance?”

Zeke snorts. “Magath had you cleaning Warrior arsenal for a week.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That was awful. Only Marcel snuck out to help me at night, and that was to impress Pieck. Thank you for that, by the way.”

“You’re welcome.”

You squint at him. Zeke grins, warmly now, and hope almost finds you—but your words catch up with you first, and both of you remember when you really are. 

“Marcel,” you can’t help but say with regret.

“Yeah.” Coursing a hand through his hair, Zeke brushes past you to the sink. “Anyway, I’ll take care of this. You go to bed. You have a meeting with Magath tomorrow—that’s why you came back, right?”

“No, not just—”

The sudden burst of running water from the faucet and the wall of his back means the conversation is over. Again. Clenching your fist, you bite your tongue and slowly breathe out your growing frustration. 

“Good night, then, Zeke.”

You’ve already gone up the stairs when Zeke swallows the lump in his throat, staring at the spoon splashing water upon his palm. He’s been washing it for the last two minutes. 

“Night, Lucy.”

--

Zeke has already left for HQ by the time you come downstairs the next morning. Dr. Yeager is still in bed, exhausted as he gets whenever he remembers his children, but Mrs. Yeager has prepared breakfast. Try as you might, you cannot resist sitting with her and sharing a meal together. You make it to the Liberio military headquarters just in time to hear the new Warrior instructor barking out to the children jogging around the courtyard.

You wander a little closer, unable to help your curiosity—but a nearby guard spots you and quickly corrals you away, back to the offices. “They’re expecting you,” he says, looking you over as he hands you back your permit. “Don’t know what top brass wants with a civilian, much less an Eldian, but...”

“Top brass?” 

The soldier almost sneers at you. As if you don’t know, Eldian, it says, and you’re starting to think you actually don’t.

He’s led you not to the same conference room as yesterday afternoon, but to an office that you distinctly remember as off-limits. When the soldiers standing guard let you inside, you understand why.

Top brass is right. More than Commander Magath, there are a number of higher-ups waiting for you inside - some faces you’ve glimpsed since you were a child, and others you have seen as recently as months ago. One in particular stands out—an intelligence officer who reports directly to your brother. Three are generals at some of the highest levels in the army.

“Blanchard,” Magath calls out. You nearly stiffen at his voice again, but relax in time, to the chuckles of the men in the room. The commander ignores them, staring straight at you. You detect the slightest hint of an apology in his hardened gaze, or maybe that’s wishful thinking to keep your growing displeasure in check. “Glad you could make it.”

“Sir, I—”

A nearby general cuts you off. List. “You can dispense with that, Magath,” he says. “We’re all in the know here.”

“Yes, Sir.”

General List turns toward you. 

“Thank you for coming, Miss Tybur,” he says. There is no smile in his harsh features, but he is not unkind. Careful, maybe. “Please, sit. We have a proposition for you.”

--

So... yes! I admit, part of the reason I wanted to write something in the AoT/SnK series is because I loved and hated the addition of the Tyburs. So I wanted to write a little more about the family but also since I'm thirsty, write a Zeke fic and eventually a Levi one (whether AU or not). Obviously we'll eventually go into why the Tyburs would send one of their own into the Warrior program, among other things, but bear with me for now.

Also disclaimer: This is a Zeke/Reader story set in the AOT world, so it’s a romance with a guy who gleefully murdered a shit ton of innocent people and helped Marley level countries. Please don’t look to this story for a completely morally upright character/reader/OC who makes all the right choices. (Though expect that Reader will take them into consideration.)

Last thing! This is a slowburn with some plot, so while you can definitely expect romance (and smut) down the line, and while this fic does go heavily into Lucy's/Reader's relationship with Zeke, it also features interactions with other characters. I just wanted to give fair warning if you expect it to focus only on Zeke.

Thank you for reading! 

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Three: A New Alliance

Both Chishiya x OC or a Chishiya x Reader depending on how you wish to read it.

You can find this - along with the first and second chapters - on AO3 here. The formatting is a little better on AO3, but it’s here if you prefer Tumblr :) 

Thanks for reading! 

-----------------------------------

According to the phone I had picked up in the Jack in the Box game, I had an eight-day visa. That could only mean that the card number of each game was equivalent to the number of days you were awarded on your visa. And the suits? Well, I still hadn’t figured that out just yet.

It was eight days of calm… eight days of sleeping away the burnt singe that came with every breath, and the taste of smoke that lingered on my tongue. But it was eight days that I couldn’t have let go to waste. The day after my win, I visited a deserted bookstore and swiped several Japanese language textbooks off the shelves. I hated the idea of stealing them as they were luxuries, but it wasn’t as if I could pay for them either. Money had no value in this strange, gruesome world.

I picked out the textbooks that I hadn’t been able to afford in my previous life and spent eight days cramming my head with as much Japanese as I could. If I was going to survive, I couldn’t keep going into games with a scrambled-up knowledge of the rules.

But naturally, eight days isn’t enough to learn a language, and far too quickly, my visa was due to expire.

This time, when I left the apartment, I walked further from the city centre to see if the games were spread out right across Tokyo or confined to a limited space. Then I stopped in the middle of the street, the cool night air whipping around me.

A light glared bright on the horizon.

Here we go again.

------------------------------------------------------

The apartment complex was around seven storeys in height, each floor glaring under blue strip lights. Following the signs once more, I walked up a set of stairs and through the entrance to find ten other figures stood around waiting. A few of them looked at me curiously, probably trying to suss out whether I was new to this or not. Ignoring them, I took a phone from the table in the centre of the room.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE’

Like always, I snuck my way into a corner and let my eyes drift over the players around me. If our lives were on the line, who could I team up with? Who couldn’t I trust?

Trust nobody.

It was a motley crew. There was girl with bobbed hair doing stretches on the floor, a middle-aged woman still clutching her handbag, two hardened men who looked ready for anything, a peculiar man with a hat, two young women who were clearly best friends, a guy dressed in blue who kept asking what was going on, and –

White Hoodie.

He was staring at me from beneath his hood, with that same arrogant smirk decorating his features.

‘I look forward to seeing you again in another game.’

It was almost as if he had planned this.

His staring stirred something uncomfortable within me, as if I were a creature only just noticing too late the eyes of a predator lurking in the foliage. I nodded at him, hoping he would lose interest. And sure enough, it worked, as his features relaxed and his eyes lowered back to the ground.

I let out a shaky breath. Avoid him. Definitely avoid him.

There were footsteps as two tall young men waltzed through the entrance. They looked a little dishevelled and they glanced around anxiously. But from the way they immediately went to the phones, this wasn’t their first game. The strange man in the hat started talking to them, but I tuned out their voices. I needed to focus on the situation at hand.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

The talking hushed as everyone listened closely and peered at their phones.

‘GAME – TAG

DIFFICULTY – FIVE OF SPADES

TIME LIMIT – 20 MINUTES.’

‘RULES –

RUN AWAY FROM THE TAGGER.

FIND THE SAFEZONE IN ONE OF THE ROOMS WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT.

AFTER THIS, THE TIME BOMB HIDDEN IN THE BUILDING WILL EXPLODE.

THE GAME WILL BEGIN IN TWO MINUTES.’

I was almost proud of myself. I had been able to understand more of the grammar this time rather than relying on the select words I could pick up.

The players around me had started moving toward the stairs. And if the game officially began in two minutes, that meant we were able to choose our starting location.

White Hoodie instantly moved towards the elevator, but he was the only one, and I didn’t want to be stuck in there with him.

Instead, I waited a moment, before hopping into the elevator with the two hardened men. Pressing the button for floor seven, I waited for them to choose their floor, but instead they just glanced down at me silently. When the elevator doors opened, I scanned the area for the best place to observe as the two men stepped out in front of me.

A corner would be bes—you’re kidding me.

White Hoodie was in the very corner that I had set my sights on. He was waving, possibly at the two men, possibly at me.

Nope, I thought. I’m not doing this.

I stepped back into the elevator and jabbed the button for floor six. Irritation. That was all I could feel as I made my way to the same corner, one floor down. He’d only gone and taken the safest seat in the house, leaving me no choice but to opt for second-best instead. It’s true, I could’ve taken the seventh-floor corner on the other side of the block, but I’m not sure the two hardened men would’ve wanted a tag along. Perhaps it was stupid or stubborn of me to do this, but I didn’t have the patience to deal with White Hoodie’s psychotic calmness. He would make a smart ally, that’s for sure, but someone like him wouldn’t hesitate to throw someone like me under the bus.

I propped my elbows up on the edge of the walkway, observing the other players as they scattered throughout the building like chess pieces. Some were using the extra time to test the locked doors while they could.

‘Everyone looks like they’re about to die, as usual.’

I groaned and looked up at the ceiling above me. How can I still hear his snarky commentary from all the way down here?

If it weren’t a life-or-death situation, I’d have gone down yet another floor just so I wouldn’t have to listen in. But there was no time for that.

‘GAME START – THE TAGGER IS NOW ON THE MOVE.’

Everyone was silent. I could see them all poised, terrified, waiting, as trumpets filled the air, echoing through the long walkways and staircases. A racing fanfare? I held my breath, waiting for something to happen. For the tagger to make themselves known.

And then, a chime.

The elevator doors opened up. They opened up on floor six – my floor.

My heart jumped at the sight. He was tall, clearly well-built despite being shrouded in a coat. But what was most striking was his head, or should I say, his mask. He was wearing a large mask stylized as a horse head. The racing fanfare suddenly clicked into place… as did something else.

He was holding a submachine gun.

And he was looking right at me.

‘Shit!’

Fueled by adrenaline, I ran to the far edge of the walkway, hoisting myself up onto the balcony as the tagger calmly made his way closer, getting ready to aim. Clasping onto the drainage pipe, which trembled under my weight, I prayed that it wouldn’t collapse to the ground. The metal groaned as I pulled myself up with strength I didn’t know I had.

I heard the bullets before I felt them, a small, sharp whoosh of air that burst across my skin.

I’m almost there! Almost there. Just a little more.

The tagger was leaning out now, growing closer and closer while firing away and missing me only by a hair’s breadth. Soon he’d be close enough to aim properly. Channeling all my energy, I pushed my feet against the pipe joins, trying to pull my body up just a little further.

A hand reached out.

Clinging to the pipe with one arm, I grasped the hand and felt myself being pulled up against the balcony and onto the seventh floor where I rolled to the ground.

The gunshots stopped.

I couldn’t move from where I lay, staring at the roof as I tried to catch my breath. My muscles quivered, shivering with fight or flight.

‘危なかった,’ a familiar voice said. That was dangerous.

My eyes slid over to my rescuer. White Hoodie was leaning against the balcony.

‘でも,’ he continued. ‘感心した.’

I frowned, confused, trying to think back to the textbook I had poured over. The eight days of studying had almost gone to waste.

‘Sorry,’ I said, still a little breathless. ‘I don’t know what that word means.’

He laughed, a short puff of air. ‘It means you’re an idiot,’ he said. ‘You should’ve stayed up here rather than being stubborn.’

I pushed myself up and sat against the wall, as I wasn’t confident I had it in me to stand just yet.

Then, he added, ‘you’re also completely unprepared for a Spades game.’

Oh? So the suit does have something to do with the nature of the games…

I gave him a questioning look, hoping he’d elaborate, but he simply turned around to observe the game going on around us. I didn’t take his dismissal personally. It was hardly the time or place.

It must’ve been a few minutes I spent sitting there before I eventually decided to stand. Now that the adrenaline had passed, my muscles were beginning to ache. But I couldn’t let that keep me from the game; I needed to be able to run if the tagger came up here. I stood next to White Hoodie, observing the players around us.

From the third floor, gunshots and wet gurgled shrieks resounded. Left, right and centre, players flopped, limp as dolls as floor sprayed across the walls. We watched on as the two young women were slaughtered one by one, the second one wasting a perfect opportunity to escape by instead throwing her shoe at the tagger.

‘He was reloading his gun,’ I said, incredulous. ‘She could’ve gotten away so easily.’

Beside me, he made a noise of agreement, then we fell into silence. Even though we only had 20 minutes in total, it seemed to last a lifetime. Things got interesting very quickly when the two disheveled men started running across their floor, one of them shouting that everyone should call out the tagger’s location and help each other.

‘It’s not a bad idea,’ White Hoodie said, ‘but nobody will respond.’

‘You don’t know that,’ I replied. ‘Somebody might.’

At that moment, the girl with the bobbed haircut yelled out, ‘the tagger’s moving! He’s on the fourth level of the central area! Anyone who’s nearby, run!’

At first, I felt a sense of satisfaction that he had been proven wrong. But then the same girl tried to save the middle-aged woman, before leaping off the side of the balcony and climbing a drainpipe with the agility and grace of an expert. I tried not to feel jealous. I tried.

She makes it look so easy. And she did it while dodging all those bullets too.

‘A climber? How interesting…’ White Hoodie mused. Leaning toward me, he added, ‘you see, that’s how you’re supposed to climb things.’

‘Shut up,’ I snapped. ‘I never asked for your opinion.’

He gave me that same condescending look that he had back in the entrance, and I squirmed inside. After that, we returned to silence. I checked the time on my phone. We only had 12 minutes left. It wasn’t long before we needed to head to the safezone, wherever that may be. Eying the guy next to me, I wondered whether he knew exactly where it was but was waiting until the last minute.

Gunshots sounded once again. However, this time they were coming from a floor just below us. The tagger was firing his gun at a door across the walkway on a floor below. In between gunfire, the scared newbie from the beginning peeked his head over the edge of the balcony, before ducking down again in fright.

Something wasn’t right. It was quite a considerable distance for the tagger to shoot, and so far, he had just been shooting anyone he came across at random rather than targeting those on different floors.

Unless… that door behind him.

‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ I said.

White Hoodie nodded and glanced at his phone. He then pulled off his signature hood, revealing his pale hair once more.

‘Should we begin?’

I didn’t like the idea of tagging along behind him, but he seemed to know what he was doing. I clearly couldn’t trust him, but at the same time, he’d helped me up the balcony. He didn’t have to do it, but he had. But then what if it was so he could later use me as a human shield? There were too many what-ifs, and it was impossible to tell whether to consider him an ally.

Up ahead, he stopped. He turned around to where I was still standing, lost in thoughts.

‘Aren’t you coming?’

I won’t trust you, but I’ll stand by you.

‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

He smirked. ‘Chishiya.’

Somehow, it suited him. And it felt more like an alliance now that I knew his name.

I gave a firm nod. ‘I’m coming, Chishiya.’

Jogging to catch up, I followed behind him as we made our way downstairs. The tagger seemed to be on one of the lower floors, but this didn’t make me any less apprehensive as I stayed a few paces behind Chishiya, unable to stop myself from staring at the white tendrils of his hair that blew back in the breeze.

As we approached the door, another familiar face appeared. It was the disheveled one who’d suggested we all work together. Looking at him up-close, he had a friendly, attractive face, but his hair looked like it’d seen better days.

‘I see you noticed it too,’ Chishiya said.

The man nodded, although he looked unsure. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he didn’t seem willing to go any further.

Chishiya raised a brow. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

The man glanced between the two of us, then said slowly, ‘if I was the tagger, I’d have just stayed here. There’s something missing in this game, something we haven’t thought about.’

He had a point. There was likely more to this ‘safezone’ than the rules had specified, just like how one of the codes in the Jack in the Box game had been a lie. There was probably a trap hidden somewhere behind the apartment door.

‘That’s probably true,’ Chishiya agreed, then pulling out his phone, added, ‘but there’s no time.’

He also had a point. There was only three minutes of the game left before the bomb detonated and it was game over for everyone.

The man nodded, and slowly opened the door.

I hid behind Chishiya as the three of us quietly entered. The place was just an empty room, with nothing particularly safeabout it. But at the far end, there was another door. That was probably the real safezone. The three of us made to inspect it –

Click.

Chishiya was pushed aside, his body thrown onto mine as we fell to the ground. Deafening gunshots rained everywhere, marring the walls and ceiling.

A second tagger!  

I felt Chishiya’s weight suddenly leave me as he crawled to his knees. Scrambling out of the way, I saw Chishiya hastily pulled a battered Walkman out of his pocket. To my surprise, he pushed it against the second tagger, and electricity juddered from one end, sparks flying.

No, not a Walkman… a taser!

The moment it touched his skin, the tagger spasmed and jerked before dropping to the ground. Beside me, Chishiya climbed to his feet and offered a hand to pull me up. Together, the three of us stared in amazement between the converted taser and the still body on the floor.

Chishiya inspected his weapon. ‘It’s good to come prepared—’

Bullets burst through the air, the room glowing orange. I barely noticed the hand clamped like a vice around my wrist as my body was dragged outside, the door slamming shut behind us. The metal of the door protruded grotesque as fresh bullets hit, and I glared at Chishiya in disbelief.

‘He’s still in there! We can’t just leave him!’

For the first time, he seemed to be out of breath. ‘Do you want to die?’ he asked dryly.

Then his eyes, suddenly hard and serious, began to drift down further, coming to a stop on my upper arm. I followed his gaze to discover that a large red stain was oozing from my upper arm. Even by the second, the blood was rapidly soaking the fabric of my clothes. Perhaps I should have been panicking. Perhaps the sight should have made me more worried, but it didn’t. If the bomb detonated, we’d be dead, and a gunshot wound wouldn’t matter.

‘I can’t feel it,’ I told Chishiya. It was the truth.

He pursed his lips, staring darkly at the messy red wound. ‘You will soon.’

I sighed. We probably only had about two minutes, if that, to clear the game.

‘Let’s go back inside,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll go in first if you want.’

The scorn on his expression was quite something. Now standing, we both inched the door open, to find the room empty. Or at least, the main room was empty. The door at the back had been forced open, and a series of struggled groans could be heard.

Chishiya went first, creeping towards the doorframe and peering his head around. He whipped back as another wave of bullets scattered across the wall opposite.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked, scanning him over.

‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘There’s two buttons in there. Two people need to press them to clear the game.’

Should’ve seen this coming. It wouldn’t be so easy.

By now, although I hated to admit it, Chishiya had been right; my arm was just starting to throb. In another few minutes, it would likely become too painful to move freely.

Suddenly there was a crash, and a familiar female voice could be heard inside the room. From what I could remember of her, it was the climber girl. Leaning into the doorway once more, Chishiya hesitated, holding the makeshift taser in his hand.

‘TEN SECONDS REMAINING.’

There’s no time for this!

Snatching the taser from his fingers, I ignored the pulse of pain from my arm and sprinted into the room. Then, ducking low, I shoved the taser into the tagger, feeling the electricity shudder violently through the Walkman and around my fingers.

‘FIVE… FOUR… THREE…’

The tagger slumped against the wall.

‘TWO…’

The man and the climber girl launched themselves across the room.

‘ONE.’

Their palms hit the buttons.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

[yandearest]

May The Odds Be Ever in Your Favor (Hoseok x Reader Hunger Games AU) Chapter 4: The Interviews

Summary - Living in District 4 you never thought you would have to worry about being selected for the Hunger Games. With a training centre right near the dock of the houseboat you lived and fished from, your district was known for volunteers who trained their whole lives for a shot at glory and riches. But at age 18, your name is called and no girls volunteer to take your place. Your devastation is answered when Kim Namjoon volunteers for the males shortly after. Tall, muscular, highly intelligent and charming, the years of diligent preparation have bestowed Namjoon with the expectation of being the next District 4 champion after Finnick Odair last won 3 years ago.

Fishing for a living has granted you skills with a knife but, as your mentor Finnick is quick to describe, your beautiful face may well be your best asset.

Upon arrival in the Capitol you are quickly faced with the reality that Namjoon may not even be the biggest danger inside the Arena. Especially when you capture the obsessive attention of District 2′s own volunteer, and killing machine, Jung Hoseok. Hope soon fades from ‘survival’ to ‘the mercy of a painless death’ but Hoseok certainly has other plans.

Pairing - Hoseok x (fem)Reader

Genre - thriller, angst, yandere

Word Count 8.1K

Warnings - [in later chapters] major character death, graphic depictions of violence, swearing, obsession, dubcon-smut (smut will be marked so reading is optional), gore, unrealistically beautiful oc because I’m a sucker for that shitty trope and want to live vicariously through my writing (sue me)

The following is a dark fic featuring a yandere character, violence, obsession, and coercion. By no means does writing about this in a fictional setting condone any of those behaviours, much like Stephen King writing horror doesn’t mean he approves of psychotic killers in reality. Please avoid reading if any of these warnings makes you uncomfortable.

Previous Chapter: 1, 2, 3

Cross posted on A03 so people can subscribe for updates/notifications

Very little was said throughout the rest of hearing the other tribute’s scores, and as soon as that was finished you were hurried into a car to the studio to begin getting ready. You were pleased to discover that each tribute was granted their own dressing room and you didn’t have to share with your district mate. You wondered if this theatre was uniquely built for The Hunger Games given the twenty-four individual dressing rooms. As you were ushered into the make up chair and had a black cape draped around your neck, you thought about all the other female tributes from district four that could have been seated in this very room before you. You wondered how many of them had lived beyond the next week.

Before you could fall into a depressive spiral you were yanked back into reality by the team as they began to work on styling your hair with an array of wands, brushes and sprays. From the corner of your eye you could spot a rack of dresses two of the stylists were arguing over, but you couldn’t turn your head to properly look at the options with the way your hair was being pulled.

Unlike the chariot ride, where your hair had been pulled into a partial up-do and styled with various decorative clips, extensions, and a tiara, your stylists were discussing with each other how best to show off your “natural beauty”. Their reasoning seemed to be that in the arena you would not be wearing make up, so they wanted to create a look that could somehow capture your beauty and still transition from the stage into the games.

They had chosen to leave your hair down and loose, the treatment from a few days ago still feeling soft and looking healthy. They had elected to tame your natural wave into a smoother style, running a straightener through your hair before going back over it once more to apply a very soft curl towards the ends. With the hair finished the team quickly moved on to make up as the two stylists, who had previously been arguing by the clothes rack hurried over with the dress they had decided on.

“Isn’t it perfect!” Garnet sighed, holding up the white gown that seemed more fitting of a bride than a teenager, but you couldn’t help admitting that the dress was indeed very beautiful. Made of lace with a pattern of flowers and vines crawling across the fabric, the dress was adorned with shimmering crystals that resembled snowflakes throughout the fabric. Although you didn’t understand how it was supposed to fit a “natural beauty” aesthetic. You didn’t bother questioning it, the logic from Capitol people was something you had far given up on trying to understand.

Ruby and Quartz chimed their agreement as the rest of the team all chorused their approval whilst hurrying to start picking out matching accessories and select coordinating colors for your makeup. The fact no one had bothered to ask for your opinion wasn’t lost on you, but it’s not like you could see anything else on that clothing rack, or anywhere else around the room, worth arguing to wear instead. You were forced to shut your eyes so the artist could begin applying your eye shadow and in the resulting darkness you imagined yourself walking out on to the stage in the casual attire you were still dressed in, no make up, and damp hair still not properly dried from your earlier shower. You smiled to yourself at the imagined scandalized reaction from the audience, pretend Caesar sputtering as he somehow tried to carry on with his interview, and imaginary Finnick watching backstage with his head in his hands. If only you were allowed not to care about all of the showmanship of these stupid games. You dress up, smile and wave, and still get slaughtered anyway, so what good did playing along with their little show do?

'Sponsors!' Imaginary Finnick answered your own thoughts, although this time his voice in your head was an echo of a real memory.

From what time you had spent strategizing with him, the most important thing he had reiterated was always the importance of sponsorships, and the repetition of how he acquired his stupid trident. Easy for him to say when he had his carved face and had nearly been six foot back when he was fourteen. But Finnick had also been quick to rebut your snark with his reports and clips on how well received your chariot appearance had been in the Capitol. With training and the nightmare of dealing with Hoseok keeping you otherwise occupied, you hadn’t had any time to monitor the reactions of the people who were supposedly going to be betting on you. According to Finnick over the last few days, you were by far the most popular female tribute. As he walked you to the dressing room before, he told you that your surprisingly high Tribute score had done even more wonders for your odds, and all you really had to do now was show up on stage and look pretty. If everything worked out, you may actually have a shot of surviving this thing.

Was it fair that your only chance of survival in these games depended on outside interference?

No.

Did you care when a fair game would mean a guaranteed death?

Also no.

So you passively sat in the chair and allowed the team to work, until they told you it was time to stand up and change into the dress. You were lead to a privacy screen in the back corner of the room, and told to put the dress on as far as you could before you required help. You wondered how hard putting on a dress could be, but as you stepped into the lace and put your arms into the sleeves you realized the garment had a corset in the bodice, and you would need someone to pull the threads. You took a moment to enjoy the last few easy inhales and exhales you would enjoy for the next hour before calling on someone to assist. One of the triplets – you weren’t capable of telling them apart on their own – had you brace yourself against the wall as they set to work tightening the ribbons around your torso.

When she was done you fidgeted, trying to adjust to your newly restricted range of motion. Thankfully the corset was only under the bust so it wasn’t pressing upon your chest as badly as you were expecting. You uncomfortably stepped out from the privacy screen and ignored the staff reaction to your dress. You had already seen them fawn over you before, during the chariot parade, and you couldn’t care less how pretty they thought you were. Instead you looked around before spotting the pair of shoes that went with the dress; glittery silver pumps, with a modest heel so you could easily walk on stage. They were next to a full length mirror, so you walked over and slipped them on, before taking a step back to assess your appearance.

Oh.

The dress had appeared as merely a nice piece of fabric on the hanger, but actually being worn, it truly was stunning. The garment looked like a whimsical winter garden, the various jewels glimmering like snowflakes on the lace patterned white leaves and flowers that crawled across the fabric. The bottom part of the gown was long and flowed to the floor, with extra fabric underneath to create more volume. The corset cinched your waistline in tightly before ending just below your bust, pushing your breasts up, in the sweetheart-neckline bodice. The dress had below-the-shoulder sleeves that were sheer, with snow embellishments ending at your wrists. Your makeup was flattering; a neutral lip with a little gloss, and a focus on the eyes. Shimmery pearls and purples were used to create a smoky eye and crystal gems had been placed on the outer corners. You looked like an ice princess.

A knock at the door broke up your self assessment, before Finnick walked into the room.

“Show’s starting now, District 1 will be on in five, you’ll be up in about another fifteen minutes.”

Finnick stopped to take in your appearance, nodding his approval to the team, before coming over to stand before you.

“You look wonderful,” he spoke softly, reaching to pick up one of your hands and hold it both of his. He gave it what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you,” you whispered, with a mild squeeze back.

“The Capitol already adores you after your chariot ride, so tonight just seeing you again, looking this beautiful will be all they need. You’ve done the hardest part with your tribute score, so just try to relax as much as possible.”

“Easier said that done,” you replied with a shaky laugh.

“I know that all too well,” Finnick conceded with a lop sided smile.

You envied him and his natural charm. But you supposed you had to have some of your own to have caught the Capitol’s attention, not to mention Hoseok’s too. You hadn’t been trying for either of those, so perhaps that was your best tactic to use with Caesar.

“How’s Namjoon?” You asked, your district-mate hadn’t said a word to you since the scores were read back in the living quarters.

“Calm.” Finnick replied honestly.

“Can’t even tell you what his plans are ‘cause he barely even tells me anything. Makes it hard to try and strategize, but if he doesn’t want the free help then I’m not going to force it.”

“But I thought you guys spent heaps of time together?” you frowned. If Finnick wasn’t helping you much, and Namjoon didn’t want his help, then what had he been doing? You guessed he had work to do with trying to gather sponsorships or trying to extract information out of the other mentors.

“Hardly. What little time you may have felt that we spent together is more than twice the time I’ve spent with him.” Finnick dismissed with a shrug.

“For the record, you’re my favorite between you, and I’m not just saying that based on your scores tonight. You’re humble and you listen. Arrogance doesn’t go far in games like these.”

“It did for you.”

Finnick huffed out a laugh.

“Keep that wit with you on stage and you’ll be swimming in sponsors. But to be clear, my arrogance was tactical, and I took outside help when it was offered.”

You nodded, not really knowing what more to say.

Finnick stepped past you to turn on a TV in the top corner of your dressing room. Krystal appeared on the screen, wearing a silk red dress and matching lipstick, laughing at something Caesar had just said. From the looks of it, her interview was nearly finished.

“Interviews are usually three minutes each, so not that long. There’s twenty-four of you and they have to keep the show under two hours,” Finnick explained as Caesar bid Krystal farewell.

Yoongi was quickly announced and stepped up on to the stage, to a round of applause from the audience.

“It’s worth paying attention because Caesar can be very tricky. He’s a showman and he needs to extract interesting information and reactions for ratings. Sometimes a tribute will accidentally let too much of their game-plan slip, and you can take advantage of that in the arena. Some of them crumble and you can pick out the easy targets, others become too hot headed so keep an eye open on people to avoid too.”

Finnick explained, as you simultaneously listened to Yoongi explaining how he volunteered upon hearing his sister’s name being drawn. Much like you had already suspected, his goal was to ensure that Krystal is the one to survive. You wondered how Hoseok, Athena, and Namjoon felt.

Once your supposed final six broke down there would already be a team of two. Knowing Hoseok he’d have to have some plan in place, especially given he was goading Yoongi over Krystal earlier. You didn’t like how his plan had involved you in it, immediately making you a threat to the alliance the same way Yoongi and Krystal were. But at least you had a friendship with Krystal. Maybe that’s what Hoseok was banking on. A team up of the two teams, to take out the outliers of Namjoon and Athena, then a fight between the duos. Hoseok could easily take Yoongi, but if this was his plan, he was giving you far too much credit against Krystal, who had kicked your ass most of the time in spar training. But he had been watching you and had to have known that too. Maybe he was planning to take her out another way? Maybe Krystal’s entire reason for being kind to you was to bring you into a team of three with her brother for their added protection, which also gave you a better shot of surviving against the likes of Hoseok and Namjoon in a final showdown. Or perhaps you would all be taken out by some rogue from an outsider district. You had seen a couple of pretty respectable scores of 7s and 8s.

“I’m going to go make sure Namjoon is ready, I’ll be back in a minute.”

You nodded in recognition at Finnicks words, whilst keeping your glazed over eyes in the direction of the TV. You weren’t actually paying attention to Caesar starting to wrap up Yoongi’s interview, too busy lost in your thoughts of how impossible this whole game was. Having strategies for the arena almost felt entirely pointless given how many things had to go right in order for them to work out vs the millions of ways something could go wrong. Alliances stab each other in the back, other districts are underestimated, the Capitol always throws out insane and deadly traps. Hoseok had to be insane to think he could somehow plan for all of these factors. But perhaps insanity would be the biggest advantage in the arena.

Finnick’s knuckles wrapping against the door broke your reverie and you turned to face the sight of him and Namjoon in your doorway.

“Let’s get this over with,” you muttered, walking out to join them and following along as Finnick started on a path through the corridors.

“That’s the spirit,” Namjoon sarcastically cheered at your monotone, clapping his hand over your shoulder to give it a shake.

You immediately swatted his hand away with an annoyed twitch of your nose. Finnick sighed, not even turning around as he continued to lead you, but you could see him pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He didn’t have time to stop and scold, as you could see you were approaching the backstage area. Several Capitol workers were busily rushing around each other, clasping clip boards, coffees, headsets, camera equipment, and a range of other items. A woman dressed in black impatiently waved her hand in Finnick’s direction with a frown. You weren’t sure if he was late or if she just hated her job.

You quickly found it was a combination of the two when she immediately scolded Finnick for showing up ‘one minute’ late as per the official schedule, before launching into snapped instructions on where you and Namjoon were to stand, how you would be called on stage, and where to go after. You didn’t say anything, and neither did Namjoon, just nodding docilely as additional staff hovered around you both; clipping on a tiny microphone, putting a small listening piece into your ear and applying last second touch ups to your hair and makeup. From here you were then escorted into a waiting section, at a wing on the side of the stage.

You swallowed a lump in your throat at the feeling of claustrophobia that the wing created. You were surrounded by large black curtains that hid you from sight and created a backdrop behind the constructed stage pieces. At the very end you could faintly see a tiny part of the stage, and a crop of short blonde hair you recognized as belonging to Athena. A few feet in front of you, behind a section marked off with red tape on floor, were the tributes from District 3 and their mentor, and at the corner of the curtain waiting with his own mentor and a stagehand, was Hoseok.

You vaguely recognized his mentor from a Hunger Games a few years ago. You didn’t recall her name, but from the sharp teeth you could see, you remembered her as the victor who had literally ripped a tribute’s throat out. You swallowed thickly thinking about Hoseok’s earlier bloodthirsty threats against your own alliance.

He was peering out from behind the curtain, watching his district mate with a bored expression, the angle giving you a view of his sharp side profile. He was dressed in a suit; fitted black pants, a white shirt with a thin black tie, topped off with a black jacket that was covered in black sequins. His outfit was completed by a pair of bronze boots, which complimented the shade of his russet hair that was styled in loose curls that framed his forehead.

His head turned at the sound of your heels on the floor, piercing brown eyes making contact with your own. You instantly froze, as if his eyes somehow were capable of inducing paralysis. He was eerily stunning, handsome beyond belief, but there was something more about him that sent shivers of fear down your spine. Memories from merely a few hours ago of him trapping you in the hallway, isolating you from the others, and forcing you into a kiss came to mind. You hated yourself for how weak you had felt, not even capable of pushing him away, again you still weren’t even sure that you wanted it to stop. Even now you could still feel the lingering tingle upon your lips, like a remaining taste of electricity that he had sparked. That same electricity was hovering in the air as the two of you stared at one another. But did you actually want him? Were you actually attracted to him, or was your fear of the games causing you to project these feelings?

“Two! You’re on!”

The stagehand’s instructions caused Hoseok to break the eye contact, nodding to the staff before turning to walk out. But not before he could look back at you once more, leaving you with a final wink. You shuddered uncomfortably, suddenly feeling cold and raising your arms to cross over your chest. You glanced up between Finnick and Namjoon, the latter watching you with a look of amusement whilst Finnick was staring out at the stage with a concerned frown. You knew he didn’t like Hoseok from the details you had already told him, so you could assume that little display didn’t help with his impression.

It was clear very early that the Capitol had taken a liking to the District 2 male. Hoseok walked out to loud applause, cheers, and a few whistles. He took it all in his stride, waving to the people, and smiling in a way that flashed his dimples and almost made his mouth look like it was in the shape of a heart. He charmed Caesar and answered his questions about his home life in two confidently (“We work hard to provide The Capitol with the finest weapons and masonry we can provide, in return the Capitol provides us with everything we need”), along with providing some details of his family life (“what can I say, I’m a momma’s boy at heart”). His mentor watched on stoically by the wings, the barest hint of a nod every now and then being her only reaction. You could tell Finnick was trying to get a read off of her, but she wasn’t giving anything away. Meanwhile the mentor for Three was doing all they could to try and reassure their tributes they weren’t going to die on stage.

“What are your expectations?”

Caesar’s question brings your focus back to their interview and you pay extra attention for this answer, given Hoseok has always been extremely vague with his actual game plan besides ‘kill everyone except you’.

“You know, it’s funny Caesar, the thing about these games is you can never truly expect anything. I spent eighteen years of my life training myself for this moment to come. I’ve studied all the arenas, prepared as much as I could for wherever we may end up, but nothing could prepare me for who was going into that arena with me. I showed up to the chariot ride and training, expecting to meet people who I would just see as targets to kill. Instead I’m now going into the arena with the love of my life.”

Oh no.

You feel your stomach drop as you instantly realize Hoseok is about to talk about you.

“Three days is an awfully short time period to fall in love with someone, don’t you think?”

“It took much less time than three days, Caesar. I was in love the second I saw her.”

Shit.

“So what was it about these games that made you realize your dormant feelings for Athena?”

Hoseok balks at Caesar’s assumption, his eyebrows raising, before he quickly moves to smooth his expression over with a laugh

“No, my feelings are for YN.”

Oh no, oh no, oh no.

“Mother fucker,” Finnick curses beside you. N

amjoon merely looks amused, whilst you also notice Hoseok’s mentor has now turned her attention from the stage to you. You feel even further unnerved from the fact she doesn’t seem remotely surprised by his words. She is far from an expressive woman, but you somehow get the feeling from her as she assesses your appearance, that it’s out of interest to know who her tribute has been talking about the last few days.

Meanwhile you wish that the floor would somehow open up and swallow you whole. Away from Hoseok’s advances, all the unwanted attention it resulted in and away an imminent painful death.

“But this is The Hunger Games, surely you know only one of you will come out alive?”

“I’m faced with an impossible task, but I’ve never felt more certain of anything in my life. Maybe we will both die in that arena, and that will be our way to live together in eternity in the next life. However, I do have one idea, and it’s a crazy long shot, but for her I have to to try.”

“Well I am just dying to know what that one idea is, but I have a feeling if I asked you wouldn’t tell me anyway!” Caesar exclaims with his trademark uproarious laugh at the end.

“Absolutely not,” Hoseok shrugs and shoots him a grin.

Caesar’s laugh continues and the audience joins in before the host bids him farewell and Hoseok leaves the stage.

You’re still lost in your desire to no longer even exist anymore that you barely register anything that has happened. You vaguely hear Hoseok’s concept of a long shot plan but it seems so unrealistic that it’s not even worth considering what it might even be. It’s not like you were planning on going along with it anyway, especially not after how he had just thrown you to the wolves in his interview.

You realize that Finnick is talking to you again, he’s trying to process Hoseok’s interview just as much as you are and has quickly taken to offering advice now. “This may not actually be too bad, maybe we can work this to our advantage. Hoseok is the top betting favorite, so potentially this can boost your odds too” … “Caesar loves gossip so the more time he spends talking about Hoseok in your interview, the less time he’s trying to extract things that could make you slip up” … “talk about your loved ones back in four” You’re not sure if you’re capable of processing his advice but you nod along anyway.

Namjoon continues to say nothing, but you don’t like the expression on his face. He has a smug air about him, similar to the one back in the apartment when his scores were read. You have an eerie feeling from him and you don’t like it.

The time district three takes for their interviews passes in what feels like seconds. Before you know it you have the stage hand waving you on stage and Finnick whispering a rushed “good luck” as you’re ushered out.

The first thing you realize is that you can barely see the audience, the bright lights being directed upon the stage are nearly blinding and you can’t see much from behind them besides a warped blur. The next thing you realize is that although you cannot see the audience, you can definitely hear them. You are met with a loud reception of applause and cheers as you make your way over to the directed couch. You attempt to take it in your stride, smiling and waving before you dip to a curtsy as you take your seat.

“Isn’t she lovely folks!”

You turn your painted on smile to Caesar, who is even more green in person. His hair is shockingly vibrant, his emerald suit reflective in the stage lights and you can see the sparkling details of his matching contacts.

“Now YN,” Caesar immediately launches into business and you mentally begin a countdown clock of the 180 seconds that you will be forced to remain in his presence. “I simply must say that you are gorgeous on camera, but even more stunning in person! I almost can’t even believe you’re a real person and not some divine creature!”

You respond with an awkward shrug and humbly averting your eyes to the floor, your hair flows down over your shoulder at the movement. The audience cheers again and whistles their approval at Caesar’s assessment of your appearance.

‘Shallow cunts.’ You remember Finnick’s words from the train, and you huff a small laugh to yourself in agreement. You allow this to bring a more natural smile to your face as you raise your eyes to meet Caesar’s once more.

“Oh Caesar, you really are too much. I assure you that much of this is the work of my talented stylists and make up artists.”

“Now, now don’t be so modest. Surely your beauty must still exist without these glamorous outfits for you to have District 2 so enamored with you!”

You have to mentally restrain yourself from scowling at the mention of Hoseok and his interview. Instead you settle for attempting to coolly rebuff him.

“I’m flattered, but really I don’t even know him.”

Caesar isn’t deterred and continues with his angle.

“But yet Hoseok still fell in love with you. And who could blame him folks I mean look at her everybody isn’t she gorgeous!”

At this the crowd launches into another round of applause. You attempt to appear bashful, yet flattered. You pretend to hide behind one hand whilst waving to the audience with the other.

“Now come on YN, tell us what you really think of Hoseok,” Caesar begins to press and you find yourself becoming increasingly frustrated with how he’s making your interview about another competitor. As if you are only in these games to exist as a romantic interest for a man.

“I don’t.” You reply bluntly, and if you weren’t in a fight for your life that relied upon being likeable you would have folded your arms and left it at exactly that. But instead your force yourself to continue on.

“At least not in an emotional sense. These games are so intense, from the parade, to the three days of training, the assessment, and now this interview, and that’s before we even step inside the arena. I barely have time to breathe, let alone develop a romantic connection.”

You hope this is enough to get him off your back.

“She’s really not going to give us anything!”

You’re confused for a moment before you realize that Caesar thinks you’re lying.

“I swear, it’s the truth,” you try to implore, looking at Caesar in the eyes before trying to see into the audience as if begging them all to believe you.

“The only man I love is back home in four, my father. I can’t allow myself to get distracted by anyone when I need to win to see him again. My mother died a few years ago and I’m an only child. All we have left in this world is each other.”

You have to stop and take a deep breath as by the end your throat is starting to choke up. You’ve barely allowed any thoughts of home to enter your mind, as you know it will only lead to you becoming upset and you have to remain focused for any chance of survival.

Sensing your distress Caesar finally starts to change the topic.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry about your mother,” he coos and you hear similar hushed “awes” from the crowd.

You refrain from snapping that they’re clearly not sorry about the loss of life to prevent the annual slaughter of twenty teenagers. Instead you settle for a demure “thank you”.

The remainder of your interview is spent talking about your parents, your home, your work on the boat and ends on a final note of your skills with a knife. By the end you are exhausted; emotionally spent from the topic of your parents and feeling like Caesar had somehow drained the energy out of you through his exuberant and overbearing presence.

After your final courtesy to Caesar and the audience, you are directed to an exit on the opposite end of the stage from which you came. You don’t stick around to watch Namjoon from the side, all you want is to be by yourself and you figure that your dressing room is probably the best place for that. Following signs that are up on the walls of the hallway, you easily navigate yourself back to your room. Though you pass some of the other tributes who are approaching the stage for their interviews, you are relieved you don’t see anyone you really recognize.

Entering your room, you head straight for the chair you had been sitting in before, noticing that the TV had been left on from before. The camera was focused on Namjoon who sat comfortably on the lounge, and gave the impression that he was totally at ease.

“…doesn’t know what he’s talking about when it comes to Y/N.” you catch him mention your name and frown.

“He thinks he’s fallen in love with her at first sight just because she’s beautiful, which of course she is, I mean come on Caesar we all have eyes.”

He pauses to look to the audience with his arms outstretched, as if he’s stating the obvious, and they respond with a laugh. Caesar cackles along, clearly please to have a guest that is hamming it up for the cameras.

“But she’s my teammate. We’ll work together in the career pack as long as we can but when that inevitably reaches the end I’ll be the one protecting her, not him. He’s known her for less than a week, we grew up together.”

What?

“Why Namjoon, is there a bit of a love triangle going on here!”

“There just might be”

Whatever relief you were hoping to find upon your interview being over and finally having some time alone was absolute gone. For the second time in less than half an hour, you feel as if your stomach is made of lead and plummeting to the floor.

“Tell us more! You simply have to tell us more! When did you first realize your true feelings for our darling YN?”

He doesn’t!

“There was no moment, no instant spark, because that’s not how love really works. Love is the familiar, the regular presence and comfort she brings just from knowing she’s in my life. Her name was never meant to have been called at the reaping and I wish when I volunteered it could have been in her pla-”

“What a load of bullshit!” Your cry at the television, cutting off the sound of Namjoon’s lies, as you threw the remote at the screen.

Perhaps the Capitol had experienced tribute outbreaks in the past because it merely bounced off the surface, however it thankfully turned off the stream. You bunched the skirt of your dress in your hands, preparing to storm out onto the stage and call out Namjoon’s bluff yourself. You turned towards the exit of the room, only to swirl into a hard surface. You grunted at the impact of hitting a muscular body, the toned figure made you think it was a Capitol security guard coming to investigate your TV tantrum, but a familiar drawl suddenly caused your blood to run cold.

“What’s the rush, darling?”

Even in all his terror, Jung Hoseok truly was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. The television cameras failed to do him justice. They didn’t capture the warmth to his skin, the softness of his hair, nor the addictive scent you were being forced to inhale from his sudden presence.

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice was unintentionally soft as a whisper, almost as if you were praying he wasn’t really in the room. But your hands on his chest from where you had collided reminded you he very much was real, as you tried to push yourself away. He only hummed in contentment upon feeling your touch on his body, locking his hands upon your wrists to keep them there. Hoseok’s long fingers were like iron chains, grasping so tightly you couldn’t even think to try and push past him.

“Get out, or I’ll scream,” you hiss, trying to sound threatening, but the instinctual fear that Hoseok’s presence set off only caused your breath to shake and your words to sound pleading.

The corner of Hoseok’s lip raised upwards into a cruel curl as he stepped forward, you instantly took a matching step back. But this only continued until your back collided with the wall, his body pushed against yours and your wrists held tightly in his clutches.

“I thought you were going to scream?” he taunts, cocking his head to the side, his eyes seeming to sparkle with glee as he mocked you. You were trembling, you had wanted to scream, but the second he started to advance upon you all of your thoughts had instantly turned into flight mode, foolishly backing away until there was no space left to go. Oh god, you truly were dead once you stepped into that arena tomorrow. Over his shoulder you could see the door shut on the other end of the room, with no way for anyone to see him inside of your room. How had he even managed to get inside without being noticed?

“HEL-”

Before you could even get a word out, his forearm was pressed against your windpipe, cutting off your cry. Your already panicked eyes blew wide open in fear, unable to move or breathe.

“Shhhh,” he coos, leaning in so his lips were ever so slightly hovering over yours as you tried to push him off – your lungs starting to burn from the lack of oxygen.

“You know I promised not to hurt you love, but if you’re going to be that fucking stupid then you leave me no choice.”

Restricted between his body and the wall, it was all you could do to vainly scratch your nails against his grip on your wrists, desperately trying to get him to release his hold. But all Hoseok did in return was gently brush his lips to yours, in a move that contradicted his violent chokehold, before pulling back to watch you struggle.

“C-a-nt … br-eee…” with no air, you barely made a sound, eyes watering in pain. You try to kick, but Hoseok’s body is too close, his hips and thighs pressing against yours making it impossible to move.

Finally, his pressure relaxes, although his arm still remains resting upon your throat.

You inhale a choked gasp before letting out a broken cough. You weren’t sure how long he had cut off your airway, every second burning in agony had felt like a minute, and the impact left you struggling to regain your breath even after he had backed off. Meanwhile Hoseok released his hold on your hands to snake his arm behind your waist and pat against your back, as you continued to splutter trying to suck in air with tears streaking down your face.

“You’re insane,” you wheeze, voice raspy and barely audible, but Hoseok’s quirked lip breaking into a wicked smile showed you that he had heard.

“Only because you drive me crazy,” he grins, moving his arm away from your throat to catch a tear rolling down your cheek with his thumb.

Your head was spinning and your vision was filled the kind of black spots you would get if you stood up too fast. Your throat was sore and your lungs still burned as you tried to regain your breathing. Too weak to fight back, it was all you could do to try and lean as far away from him as you could, turning your face to the side. But Hoseok wasn’t having any of that, tightening his hold on your waist.

A choked whimper escaped from your lips, the sound similar to that of an injured animal. You were frightened by the ease he had overpowered you, contrasted by his sickening affection. With his arm holding you around the waist, he gently rubbed his palm up and down against your back. His other hand came to rest on the side of your head, tenderly running his fingers through your hair, as if soothing a child woken up by a nightmare.

“I hate you.”

Your voice was a strained whisper, as your eyes deliberately focused on the ground to avoid his burning stare.

Hoseok merely hums in recognition, content to remain in this position for as long as possible – trying to ingrain everything into his memory. The softness of your hair was like liquid silk passing though his fingertips. Despite the thickness of the bodice, he could still feel the warmth of your body beneath his palm through your dress. As he looked down, he had a direct view of your exposed cleavage pressing against his chest, watching the swell of your breasts heave with every breath.

‘Soft, soft, soft’ his mind repeats over every little detail. From your hair, to your skin, to your breasts and your scent, everything about you was so delicate and enticing. He almost felt bad for how roughly he had handled you, except that doing so had resulted in you becoming so pliant in his arms. ‘a necessary evil’

“Good,” was his eventual reply.

“I hate you,” You repeat again, raising your chin to glare at him for dismissing your anger so flippantly.

He only smiled at you fondly in return.

“I love you.”

It was somehow like he had knocked the winds from your lungs all over again. In his interview it was possibly an insane strategy, but seeing the burning intensity in his eyes as he stared at you like you were the only thing in the universe, made you truly realize that this was what he actually believed.

“That’s impossible, we’ve known each other for three days,” you hiss back. “And you don’t hurt someone you love!” 

Hoseok closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head slowly.

“Oh but darling, you hurt the ones you love the most”

As if to emphasize his words, his hands in your hair tighten into a painful grasp, causing you to whimper. You reach both of your hands up to hold onto his grip, trying to get him to release. In turn, he does, but only ever so slightly, just so he can enjoy the feeling of your hands touching him.

He leans further in to press his lips to the shell of your ear, the tickling feeling of his breath causing you to shiver.

“I love you so much it causes me far more pain than whatever you’re feeling now. I looked at you for one moment and you were like an insidious vine that crawled inside of my veins to wrap around my heart. So now it belongs to you, beats for you, burns for you and craves only you.”

“Please, I didn’t do anythi-”

You tried to beg, but he immediately cut you off.

“That doesn’t matter.” He snaps and you flinch.

“The instant I saw you it was like every tie that once bound me to this earth was cut, and then every thread was tied to you. In just a second you become my oxygen, my gravity, my entire reason for being.

Every night since the moment I saw you, I have dreamed of you. I dreamed of kissing you senseless at the chariots, like how I wanted to do the moment we met. I dreamed of you during training, that it was my bed you came back to at night. When I saw you in this dress I instantly knew that tonight I will dream of making you my wife. And I have a plan that will make that dream a reality.”

Finally, he released his hold on your body, stepping back to watch as you slump against the wall and slowly fall to sit upon the ground in a combination of exhaustion and horror. Your eyes were wide in a shell shocked daze.

Slowly, he steps backwards towards the door, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. But you don’t even notice. You’re no longer even looking at him anymore, just staring emptily at the room, but not seeing anything inside

“If you try to run from me tomorrow, I will find you. I will hunt you down and drag you back to me, where you belong.”

For a brief moment you regain a sense of clarity to ask him the question that has been burning in your mind ever since he started his insane proclamations.

“What happens when we’re the last two? Who dies?”

Stepping out of the room, his answer offers you no sense of closure before he shuts the door behind him…

“You leave that for me to deal with. All you need to know is that you will leave these games by my side, or not at all.”

 ***

 After Hoseok had left you in your dressing room, you had immediately scrambled to your feet to lock the door behind him. From there you rushed to strip out of your dress and back into your lounge clothes. Grabbing wipes from the counter, you angrily scrubbed off all the make up from your face. You weren’t sure if you had to go back out on stage at the end with all the other tributes, frankly you didn’t care.

“Hello?”

You’re startled by a knock at the door.

“It’s Finnick, can I come in for a moment?”

You suppose he’s only asking to be polite, given he very likely has access to any room you’re in as a mentor. With a huff you storm over to the door, unlocking it and wrenching it open.

“Did you tell him to say that about me?” You snap, referring to Namjoon and his earlier interview. Finnick hurriedly enters the room and pulls the door shut behind him.

“Is this part of your little fucked up plan for the tribute with the better prospects to actually win, by using me to try and humanize that bastard?” You continue to yell.

“No!” Finnick replies, vigorously shaking his head.

“Then what the fuck was that?” Your pent up frustration and anger comes out in a harsh shove, causing Finnick to stumble backwards, though he quickly regains his balance.

“I only told him to show that he cared about you as a teammate” Finnick sighs, holding his hands up in a surrender gesture, whilst emphasizing the word ‘teammate’ slowly. “I swear I never told him anything about acting like he had romantic feelings.”

You immediately feel bad for pushing him.

“Whatever rage you feel at me, and especially at him, save it. Save it and use it tomorrow the first thing you wake up because that is what you’re going to need to become a killer.”

“Can I kill him tomorrow?”

The question slips out before you can think it might be a bad idea to confess to your mutual mentor that wish to kill your district partner.

“If you think you can, that is the game after all,” Finnick shrugs with a lopsided grin.

You’re too stressed to properly laugh, but you let out an amused hum at his quip. You’re grateful for Finnick’s good nature towards you.

“I’m sorry I pushed you,” you apologize.

“It’s fine,” Finnick quickly shrugs it off.

His relaxed demeanor quickly tenses though, before he turns back to the door to make sure it’s locked behind him. You mentally kick yourself for not doing that earlier.

“Listen, I’m here because I wanted to tell you that it appears the president has taken a liking to you.”

You blanch.

From all the ridiculous shit you have heard today, the president joining your little fan club is the least thing you expected.

“President Snow? But why?”

“I’m not one hundred percent certain, but if you remember when we first met on the train I told you that the Capitol loves beautiful things. I wanted to at least warn you.”

You nod to show you remember the conversation, but you’re still confused as to how this involves the president.

“But isn’t this a good thing? Maybe I might even be able to survive if the president wants me to. All those ‘natural disasters’ that game makers can cause and all”

“Yes, it’s very likely you won’t be impacted by that in the game. I especially wanted to tell you that alone, because I feel Namjoon would be too short sighted and threatened by any idea of favoritism, to see the long term benefits of keeping a protected tribute in his alliance.”

You nod again.

“Is that all?”

“No.”

Finnick pauses.

His intended break slowly extends into an uncomfortable silence. You want to ask him what he’s trying to say but you can tell he’s struggling to find the words, so you remain quiet and let him think.

“If you win, you don’t just survive the games and retire in peace in the victor’s village.” He eventually begins. “You have to keep coming back; for the victor’s parade, as a mentor, for visits to the Capitol for all your adoring fans”

“I… I could do that,” you respond, but the pained look in Finnick’s eyes tells you that there is more.

“But you don’t deserve to have to.”

It’s a strange moment to watch your mentor, the person you trust to be strong, the survivor of these games, appearing vulnerable before your eyes. The six foot one man in front of you is suddenly just another teenager, around the same age as you.

“As a tribute, what I wish more than anything my mentor had warned me about, wasn’t what was inside of the arena, but what awaited outside. I can forgive you for being preoccupied and not noticing but I haven’t been spending any of these nights in my own bed since we’ve been here and that’s not by my own choice”

“Why?” you whisper, although a sickening sensation in your gut tells you, you can imagine the reason why.

“The Capitol loves beautiful things.”

You don’t know what to say. There’s nothing you ever could say to express your sympathy for his situation. You’re torn between wishing to offer comfort that you cannot, and a newly awakened fear that this could be what awaits you should you somehow make it out alive.

“I wish I could say that you are too young to hear this, but I needed to hear it at fourteen, and I have spent every day since winning those games regretting the fact that I did. There are fates in life that are much worse than death. By all means fight to protect yourself in that arena, no child or barely legal adult deserves a painful death, but if an opportunity presents itself to go in peace, seize it, or else you will spend every waking moment of your life outside in regret.”

[wiypt-writes]

Stark Spangled Banner

Ch 28- Crossbones

Summary: The Avengers uncover the identity of the mysterious Crossbones and mount a mission to apprehend him in Lagos.

Warnings: Bad language, Smut! (NSFW, Under 18s) Bad Language words.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC Katie Stark

A/N: NEW BANNER ALERT @angrybirdcr​ has made a DOOZY for the Civil War part of the Story.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar Katie Stark and the other OCs. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Chapter 27

Stark Spangled Banner Masterlist // Main Masterlist

January 2016

“Are you sure this isn’t a team call?” Katie asked Steve, watching as he picked up his shield.

“No.” He shook his head firmly as they walked down the corridor.  “We don’t even know if he will be there.”

“But…”

“Katie, stop!” Steve chuckled, pushing the door open to enter the hangar. “We’ll be fine. This is intelligence gathering, I’ve no intention of heading straight off after this guy, not until we find out what his play is.”

“His play is arms trading.” Nat interjected dryly as she appeared at the side of the jet.

“Which we are going to gather intelligence on.” Steve looked at her sternly “Nothing more.”

Katie bit her lip, she wasn’t convinced.

“We’ll be fine.” Steve continued, putting both his hands on her shoulders before he deftly changed the subject. “Don’t you have an interview to be getting ready for?”

He watched as the gentle smile spread across her face, a surge of pride flooding his system. She’d recently found out that the author of one of the books SIP had published last year had worked their way onto the Pulitzer Nominee list for fiction. The book itself held a plot centred around a War Veteran and the letters he wrote to his girl back home, and she’d roped Steve into helping the author keep it as factually correct as possible, something he had found strangely nostalgic yet enjoyable. Upon publishing it had flown off the shelves, the original five hundred copies went within three hours causing a mad scramble for a second run and downloads had been off the scale. Other than the Thrombey book they had published, it was their biggest seller to date, shifting almost half a million copies in a month, and with a foreword from Steve Rogers, critics had raved about how poignant it was.

Whilst it hadn’t won the prize, simply being a nominee was an honour in itself according to Katie. The Publicists at SIP had arranged for the author to be interviewed in a few newspapers and magazines along with one of them also requesting Katie, to discuss the launch of her new charity The March Foundation, which would sit alongside Tony and Pepper’s latest initiative- The September Foundation, but instead of focusing on inventors and science, it would instead be centred around authors and the arts.

The name was a play on words, not only being another month to compliment Tony’s, but also to honour both the War Based fiction that had inspired it and the man who had saved her life as March was the month of Bucky’s birth. A decision that had really touched Steve.

She took a deep breath and sighed, as she eyed Natasha heading up the ramp into the jet.

“Just be careful…”

“I’m always careful.” Steve kissed her gently.

“Liar.” She mumbled against his lips. He grinned and pulled back, pecking her mouth once more before he started up the ramp. He paused at the top and turned to face her. “We’ll be back late tonight. Don’t wait up.”

“I won’t!” she teased.

He flashed her another smile and then he hit the button and the ramp started to close. A loud siren told Katie that the hangar door was opening and that was her cue to leave. She headed back over to the steps at the side, leading up to the mezzanine, and as she watched through the window she saw the jet fly out of the side and over the frosty compound grounds. It up through the clouds and gone from sight before she had reached the double doors at the top.

The base was a hive of activity already, despite it being little after seven am. Katie was heading for an hour or so in the gym before her day began properly. She stuck her Bluetooth headphones in, selected the usual work out play-list and began to run on the treadmill, slowly at first to ease herself in- she was a little bit stiff and sore from her sparring session with Natasha yesterday. Nat had really upped the ante on Katie over the last month or so, which was good as Katie was now pretty much on a par with her when it came hand to hand, something Steve had been completely astonished to see after walking in on the two women just as his wife floored Natasha with a well-placed leg swipe the red head didn’t see coming. 

Forty minutes later, Katie swapped to the rower to finish off, and was approximately half way through the three-kilometre distance when her music cut off and the screen to the right of the machine switched over from the play-list to a visual of Rhodey.

“Hey Kiddo,” He smiled as she stopped rowing to look at him. “Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve had a sensor trip on the outer perimeter of the facility.”

“You send someone out there?” She frowned, catching her breath as she picked up the bottle of water that was to her right.

“Yeah, Sam is currently out there looking for it, just thought, well seeing as Cap and Nat are out, you’re technically the one in charge so…”  

She let out a snort as she swallowed a mouth full of her drink.  Being third in command was something she didn’t really care for, knowing full well it was Steve’s way giving her some kind of authority over simply being the Captain’s Wife, but she’d accepted the gesture simply because he’d been so excited when he had asked her she couldn’t refuse.

“Okay, I’ll go and check it out. “

Standing up she left the gym and moved quickly to the armoury, grabbing a gun, a coms piece and a fleece jacket before quickly making her way outside.

“What’s going on up there, Sam?” Rhodey spoke in her ear as she walked into the cold air, spotting Sam circling above.

“I’m at the location of the sensor trip, but I’m not seeing anything.” He said. “Oh, hang on…”

“What is it?” Katie asked, watching him as he circled above her.

“Roof top…”

“Gimme a lift?” 

Sam swooped down from the clear, winter sky and she grabbed his arm as he effortlessly pulled her up, dropping them both onto the flat roof of one of the buildings.

“I can see you.” Sam called out loudly as they landed.

Katie frowned, as she didn’t know what Sam was talking about until out of nowhere a man in a red and silver suit, with an insect like helmet suddenly appeared. Katie cocked her gun and aimed it at him.

“Who the hell are you?” she questioned. As they watched the man started to awkwardly introduce himself to Sam, his mask lifted to reveal a shaky smile as he waved.

“Hi, I’m Scott. I know who you are, obviously, you’re Katie Stark, I mean Rogers…” Scott started trying to hold back his enthusiasm and motioning towards Sam and Katie with a chuckle. "I’m a big fan.”

"Appreciate it. But like the lady asked, who the hell are you?” Sam echoed Katie’s earlier sentiments.

“I’m Ant-Man.” Scott or Ant-Man answered confidently. Sam and Katie shared an incredulous look and Katie mouthed the name back to him and he shrugged. Katie lowered her gun slightly.

“Wanna tell me what you want?” She questioned Ant-Man as the man tried to explain why the two Avengers hadn’t heard of him.

Scott pointed towards a building to their left, maintaining eye contact with Katie as he spoke “I was hoping I could grab a piece of technology. Just for a few days, then I’d return it. I need it to, uh, save the world- you know how that is.”

“Yeah, we know exactly how that is,” Sam said to Scott and Katie felt her mouth twitching into a grin.

“What piece of technology, and what do you mean saving the world?” she asked.

“I’d love to tell you but Hank Pym said never to trust a Stark.” The man called Scott, or Ant-Man was almost apologetic. “Even though you’re technically a Rogers now.”

Katie frowned, she’d never heard of a Hank Pym before, but that was irrelevant now. Sam gave a sigh besides her and stepped forwards.

“We’ve located the breach.” he spoke “Bringing him in…”

“I’m really sorry about this.” Scott rushed out and as Sam reached out to him he vanished.

“What the…” Katie spun round and felt something hit her, hard in the back. She fell forward onto the gravelled surface of the roof before rolling onto her back, gun raised again just in time to see Sam flying backwards off the edge, tumbling through the air and grappling with something whilst flying over the lawns of the facility.

Katie could do nothing but stand and watch from her vantage point as Sam continued to wrestle with, then shoot at the man who could shrink and grow seemingly at will. And if she was completely honest, it was kind of entertaining to watch.

“This guy would actually be pretty useful.” Katie mused into the coms, trying but failing to hide the amusement in her voice “Are you recording this? For future, recruitment purposes obviously.”

“All over it.” Rhodey responded, a slight chuckle punctuating his confirmation.

It was when the two men crashed into the storage unit that Ant-Man had wanted to break into in the first place that she started to get concerned.

“Err do we have cameras in there?” she questioned Rhodey.

“Uh… negative.” Rhodey answered after a short pause.

“Shit.” Running to the side of the roof she scaled down the metal ladder at the side, dropping the last eight feet or so, landing gently before she ran towards the storage building. At that point Sam came crashing backwards through the metal door and Katie flung her arms up to shield her face from the debris before glancing up. Sam’s flight pattern was jerky and off and he was gripping at his pack on his back.

“He’s in my pack!” Sam shouted before he landed hard in the dirt and with a groan, pulled himself into a standing position, yanking off his goggles.

“You okay?” Katie asked as she ran over to him.

“Yeah, fine…” He sighed before he looked at her. “You know, it’s really important to me that Cap never finds out about this.”

Katie grinned and the pair of them scouted around but to no avail, there was no sign of Ant-Man, or Scott anywhere. Katie instructed Rhodey to get the door fixed and lock it down again and said she would speak to Tony to find out what was in there. Sam was luckily not hurt, just a slight bruising to his pride so Katie left him at the lab with Lawson to look at making the repairs to his pack before she headed off to get changed.

*****

Steve and Natasha landed in Sadove, Crimea and were instantly greeted by the man who was leading the investigation into the raid on the local police station. The last three out of six hits the guy had made had been on small, local outfits with less resistance than the other places he had hit but that was hardly surprising. The former SHIELD base he had hit in Mexico had been heavily guarded, which made Steve think that he had perhaps suffered losses to his team which was making him rethink his strategy. As Natasha chatted to the man in his local language, Steve hung back before the man nodded to Natasha and strode towards him.

“Captain Rogers.” he said, English thick with accent “Inspector Chernov.”

Steve shook the man’s hand “Pleasure to meet you in person Inspector.”

“So you are interested in the man who raided our local station?” “He’s been on our radar for a while.” Steve said, choosing his words carefully “But we don’t have much to go on.” “Well, I’m not sure we can help but I can take you down there and you can see for yourself.” Steve nodded. “That would be great, thanks.”

It wasn’t a long drive, and once they arrived Steve and Natasha were allowed to wander round the scene undisturbed, providing they didn’t interfere with the police and teams already swamping the area. Their search showed them nothing new and they moved to watching the CCTV which the Authorities had refused to send them. They could have hacked into it, but Steve was keen to keep the tentatively growing communication lines with Crimea and Russia as amicable as possible, especially in the light of Sokovia. The Avengers were not a political party, so by remaining respectful of their requests to meet only in person he hoped it went someway to proving they were here to help and had no ulterior motives.

As such they sat in the mobile control centre, scanning the CCTV. Steve watched the footage and sighed.

“This isn’t HYDRA.” Nat concluded and Steve agreed.

“I know, it’s not their MO. This guy is too haphazard.” Steve pondered. “Just wondering why, considering how well organised he is, he is leaving so much devastation behind.”

“Minimum effort leaving maximum casualties.” Natasha said, watching the footage “He simply doesn’t care who he takes out.” “Well he’s hardly gonna care about that if he’s dealing black market arms.” Steve sighed.

They watched the footage some more and Steve held his hand up to Natasha to play it at normal speed when they reached the bit where the key perps were on screen.

“What’s he doing?” He frowned, looking at Crossbones. The man was stood in the middle of the room, looking around.

“He’s scanning for Cameras.” Nat answered as they both watched. 

There was something familiar about the way the man walked and held himself, but Steve couldn’t quite place it. As they continued the footage, Crossbones located the camera they were watching through and looked directly up at it, pulling his mask up a little to reveal his mouth, clearly saying something.

“Can you enhance that?” Steve asked. Natasha tapped at it.

It zoomed in on the man and Natasha spoke “looks like something about it being personal…”

She held her phone up to the footage and then pressed something, and the phone spoke to her in a robotic voice.

“Big Guy…I just want you to know, this aint personal.” Steve’s gut clenched. The last time he had heard those words were in an elevator in the Triskelion.

“Rogers?” Natasha looked at him, noticing the nerve which was twitching in his jaw “What is it? Does that mean something to you?”

“In a fashion.” He turned to face her. “It’s Rumlow.”

****** The interviews went well and once the photos etc were done Katie and Tony retreated to the living area of the Tower for a well-earned drink as they put the final touches of their tour together. They were to start visiting various Universities across the US to roll out their foundation grants. To ease them both in gently, the first University they were going to was Columbia, so not far from home. Tony and Pepper would be presenting and discussing to students within the School of Engineering and Applied Sciences and Katie in the School of the Arts for Students on the Writing Programme.

Their chatter moved from work to Tony asking how the Compound was going, and Katie remembered the events of that morning.

“You ever heard of a bloke called Hank Pym?” she asked suddenly.

Tony paused for a moment, frowning at her sudden change of subject, but something stirred in his mind. “The name rings a bell, hang on…FRIDAY, search all files reference Hank Pym.” He instructed, tapping at something on his tablet.

After a few seconds something flashed up in the corner of the screen.

“Yeah, here you go.” He pressed another button causing the image to reflect in front of them as a hologram. “He worked with Dad and SHIELD on a programme called Project GOLIATH.”

“What the hell was that?” Katie asked, taking a pull from her bottle.

“A research programme into some kind of Nano particle.” Tony said as the pair of them simultaneously ran through the information on the screen.

“Ahhhh.” Katie nodded, “makes sense…” “What does?”

Katie explained about the encounter with Scott and Tony gave a hum of agreement. 

“That could actually be kinda useful.”

“I know.” she agreed “But he vanished after he got whatever he wanted. Any thoughts on what it could be?”

“That facility holds a load of crap that was Dad’s” Tony said simply “Could be anything.”

“Well, nothing we could see was missing, but it might be worth you taking a look.” she suggested.

He shrugged “I can do, but there was nothing remotely dangerous in there. Was just a load of old signal jammers and code breakers we don’t really need anymore.”

“Well, I did try and ask what him what it was he wanted, you know, on account of him saying he was saving the world, maybe we could have helped with that, being the Avengers and all, but he simply turned round and said ‘Hank Pym told me never to trust a Stark’.”

She drained her bottle of beer as Tony did the same and he stood up, taking the empties to retrieve 2 more from the fridge.

“Clearly one of many in the long line of people dad pissed off.” Tony rolled his eyes as he popped the lids, before he sighed “I’m actually surprised no one tried to kill him before, you know, he rammed their car into a tree.”

Katie looked at her brother and swallowed. Tony had no idea how close to the truth he was.

“Sorry.” he slid the beer across the bar, mistaking her guilty silence for one of upset “That was out of order.”

“For all his faults I don’t think Dad was a bad man.” Katie spoke quietly “And he did love us.”

“I know.” Tony nodded, squeezing her hand.

She stayed for another drink and then headed home. She had checked in with Sam before heading back to their apartment and she was settled on the couch with a glass of wine when Steve called.

“Hey Soldier.” she said, smiling at the screen as she flicked the phone to project the image in front of her, muting the TV.

“Hey Darlin’.” He smiled back

“So, how was it?” she asked

“Well we got the intel.” 

“Solid?”

“Pretty solid yeah.” Natasha spoke, appearing by his side. “We think we know who he is anyway.” “Who?”

Steve sighed. “It’s Rumlow.” “What?” Katie spluttered into her wine glass. “Are you sure?”

“Oh pretty sure.” Steve nodded. “He left me a clear message.”

“Steve recognised him on the Video so I ran a crosscheck.” Nat picked up. “Turns out he was listed as severely injured and was taken to the hospital. After that, our trail runs cold.” 

“Until now.” Katie sighed.

“We’ve also got a list of his associates, some known faces he’s been seen with.” Steve shrugged “So we’re putting out an alert.”

“Doesn’t give us much to go on though.” Katie rubbed at her temples.

“When have we ever had much to go on?” Natasha asked and Katie shrugged

“Fair point.” she conceded as Natasha moved off out of sight.

“So how has your day been?” Katie looked back at Steve as he spoke.

“Not bad actually.” she said, “Interviews went well, oh, and we had a bit of an incident at base before.” “Incident?” he frowned, “What kind of incident?”

“Attempted break in, nothing major.”

“Everyone ok?”

“Yeah, honestly it was no big deal, I’ll fill you in on when you get home. For the rest of the day once the interviews were done Tony and I drank beer.”

“Sounds pretty productive.” Steve raised an eyebrow, smile playing on his lips.

“Beer is always productive.” Katie informed him and he chuckled.

“We’ll be airborne in thirty minutes and then we should be home in about four hours.” He said, as Katie looked at her watch. It was almost 8:30 pm. 

“Alright, I’ll see you soon.”

“Love you.”

“And you.” She blew him a kiss and cut the call with a yawn. She was tired. Really tired, so she headed off for a bath. After soaking and listening to music for forty minutes she dried off and shoved on one of Steve’s T-shirts before climbing into bed and laying there for a moment, flicking through the TV channels. She settled on an episode of Family Guy and snuggled down into the large bed, wrapping herself in the soft covers. It always felt odd sleeping without Steve being there. Sometimes she quite enjoyed being able to starfish in the middle of the Emperor sized bed but tonight she wasn’t enjoying being alone.

****

Steve was whacked when they arrived home. Bidding good night to Natasha, instead of changing in the armoury he headed straight back and let himself into their quarters. Crossing the hallway he made his way into the bedroom he paused, a gentle smile spreading on his face. Illuminated in the light from the hallway he could see Katie was curled up in the middle of the bed, using his pillow as a hugging buddy. He quietly crossed the room and perched on the bed, stripping off his boots and uniform top. He paused slightly as Katie stirred and he turned to look at her, gently brushing her hair of her face. He glanced down at the freckles he knew by memory, long thick lashes, soft pink lips, that familiar Stark nose…she looked so peaceful asleep.

She stirred again, and that nose he adored wrinkled in the way it did when she was waking up and she cracked an eye open before her face split into a smile at the sight of her husband.

“Hey.”

“Hey, baby girl.” He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you”

“It’s Okay.” She yawned, leaning into his touch.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?” He asked, and through the tiny sliver of light coming from the hallway Katie could see his eyes were full of their usual warmth.

“I don’t think you did today, no.”

“Well in that case, you’re beautiful” He smiled and she chuckled slightly as he dropped a soft kiss on her head. “I’m gonna take a shower and then I’ll be right with you.”

She watched him appreciatively as he stood up and pulled his compression-shirt over his head, leaving him bare form the waist up as he headed into the en-suite. For a moment she was tempted to join him, but then decided against it, laying back onto her side, dozing.

It wasn’t long before the bed dipped and she felt him slide under the covers next to her. She turned over to snuggle up into the crook of his shoulder, her head laying on his chest.

“So, you wanna tell what the incident was today?” he asked, his right hand reaching up to play with the strands of her hair that fell over her shoulder.

“Oh yeah.” she grinned before she launched into an explanation about Scott-slash-Ant Man. He fell silent for a moment but in the end came to the same conclusion as Tony had, there was nothing in there that was dangerous so they just needed to remain vigilant.

“Yeah, well Sam seemed to be taking vigilant to the extreme as he’s already been on the phone to numerous contracts, trying to track him down.” she said “I think he’s a bit annoyed the guy basically kicked his ass. Rhodey caught it all on video but Sam told me never to tell you about it. He’s taken it quite personally.” “I’m not surprised, he had his ass kicked.” Steve sniggered. “Where do I get a copy of the CCTV?”

Katie grinned, “I have it on my phone, Rhodey sent it to me.”

“Play it.” he instructed.

“What now?” “Yes, right now.” he nodded, moving so he was sat up, jolting her off his chest.

“No Sam will kill me!” she laughed, propping herself up on her elbow

“Screw Sam!” he snorted “He plays those damned Phys Ed videos every chance he gets.”

“That’s true.” Katie pondered “Ok, hang on…”

She turned, reaching over for the phone and the TV remote. Blinking at the sudden light, once her eyes were accustomed to the change she pressed a few buttons on her phone and beamed the footage to the TV on the wall. She had to admit, it looked even funnier from the video play back than it had when she had been there.

Steve let out a huge, genuine laugh, his head thrown back, banging against the headboard, arm clutched across his chest as he laughed, and laughed.

“I’m so showing that at our next briefing.” he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes.

“You can’t…” “Oh, I can!”

****

The next morning the pair of them made their way to the briefing room both munching on a piece of toast and each carrying a mug of coffee. It was early, before 8, but Steve wanted the team to be prepared. Everyone filed into the room along with some good humoured grumbling about the time before they dropped into their preferred seats and looked to the front of the room.

“I know it’s early and I’m sorry…” Steve held his hands up, looking round at the team assembled in front of him “But this is important.”

“More important than sleep?” Sam yawned.

Steve ignored him. “Alright, here’s what we already know.”  Steve began to explain how they believed Rumlow to be Crossbones, the masked man who had been causing a whole lot of chaos in the wake of what happened at the Triskelion. Katie knew he was annoyed at himself for not realising he had survived sooner, but even if they had, they’d so much going on, not to mention Ultron had been a much bigger threat in the immediate future

"He’s been targeting former SHIELD labs and police stations all over the country and selling products on the black market.” Natasha spoke.

“Police stations?” Katie asked.

“We think he suffered heavy losses at the raid prior to the last three, so he’s going for easier targets whilst he regroups.” Natasha answered.

“Still no intel on who his buyers are?” Wanda asked.

“No.” Steve shook his head, “He seems to have become an independent terrorist, and doesn’t appear to be working for anyone”

“Our recon yesterday told us that Rumlow seems to be operating with this guy.” Natasha explained as the photos flashed up “He’s known as the Black Mamba…” “Black Mamba?” Wanda deadpanned. “Cross Bones and Black Mamba?”

“NATO has every available pair of eyes out looking for them.”  Steve ignored Wanda and looked at Rhodey.

“Soon as they break cover, we’ll know.” Rhodey nodded

“So then what?” Sam frowned

“More recon?” Katie asked

Steve looked at his wife and nodded. “Possibly, but for now we need to let intelligence do their job. But be prepared, when we get a lead I want to be ready to go.”

There were mumbles around the room and Steve let the team lead the discussion. Sam commented on the crap code names again, causing Wanda to laugh. Katie suggested they should compile a detailed profile on Rumlow, see if they could find a pattern to his behaviour, nodding to Vision. the AI had a knack for it as did Katie, so Steve and Natasha nodded, both agreeing it was a good idea.

“We need to be vigilant.” Steve instructed. “Keep our eyes open for anything that’s out of the ordinary.” He caught Katie’s eye, a wicked smirk crossed his face and she shook her head smiling as he continued “Speaking of which…FRIDAY, play the video”

“Certainly Captain Rogers.” The pictures of Rumlow and Black Mamba disappeared from the screen and suddenly the footage of Sam spiralling through the air started to play. The room started to snigger as Sam looked at Katie who held her hands up in an “it wasn’t me!” gesture.

“Oh come on Man!” He groaned as the room gleefully watched the film, laughter ringing round the room.

******

The next four months ticked by with no further information on Rumlow. They pulled together a potted history which tracked the hospital he had been in, when he had escaped (the local authorities had been searching for him for ages since he threatened his nurse upon waking before violently breaking out) his movements since (ones they knew about and some they hadn’t) but it didn’t give them anything new.

Katie and Tony were buried deeply in their Foundation work, which was taking up a lot of Katie’s time so she wasn’t as close to the investigations as she could have been. Steve was fine with that though, the further away she was from Rumlow frankly the better, but he still made sure she was involved with what they had found and she attended the briefings as best she could when she wasn’t travelling the country. Steve’s chest burst with pride every time he saw his girl on the news, in papers, as the press seemed to be lavishing praise upon the siblings for what they were doing. 

Then, one day in the middle of May, they struck gold when one of the Facial Recognition Alerts they had set up pinged to Black Mamba being spotted in a Lagos, Nigeria. As a result Steve had scrambled them all to attention as soon as he could, which was four am. But there were no complaints about the time, not when they knew this could be their chance to bring him in. They all pitched round the screen as Steve and Natasha identified the local police station that they suspected of him hitting, given where the FR had pinged several times.

“We think they are scoping this area.” Nat said, drawing a red circle round a part of the town.

Katie moved the screen with her fingers, enlarging the aerial shots as she looked at them, her analytical brain going ten to the dozen.

“Layout looks pretty standard.” she said, scanning the map, frowning slightly. Something was nagging at her. And as she looked, she realised what it was.

“What is it?” Steve asked, recognising the tone of her voice and frown on her face.

“The Science Institute.” She nodded towards the screen. “Big white building at the end of the road.”

“Biological weapons are big on the black market.” Sam cottoned on, nodding slightly.

“Yeah but his recent previous hits and our pattern analysis don’t give us any reason to believe that’s what he’s going to be aiming for.” Nat suggested

“You said yourself that you suspected he was going for easier targets whilst he regrouped.” Katie bit her lip. “What if he has?”

“We have to assume Rumlow will go for the police station, it’s the best intel we have.” Steve looked at her and he noticed the expression on Katie’s face as she crossed her arms and opened her mouth to argue. “But we should be vigilant, keep alert.”

She exchanged a glance with Sam, who simply shrugged

“We do this with stealth.” Steve continued, “I want us on the ground and out of sight, we need to catch him with as little fuss or danger to civilians as possible”

"Yeah, and with that in mind Viz you may need to sit this one out.” Nat tossed out and Vision nodded deprecatingly

“We’re still working on him blending in.” Wanda added.

“Same for you too Rhodey.” Steve looked at him “We need someone back here, we could be gone a few days.”

Rhodey nodded. “No problem Cap.” “Get what you need. Wheels up in twenty.” Steve dismissed everyone who immediately went their separate ways to prepare for the upcoming mission leaving Katie, Natasha and Steve alone

“You think she’s ready?” Natasha looked at Steve, nodding to Wanda. He took a deep breath, staring at the door through which she had just left with Vision.

“You say she’s been training hard.” He spoke after a moments pause, looking at Nat.

“Yeah, she has but her powers are still largely impacted by her emotions.”

“Aren’t everyone’s?” Katie asked. “I mean I’m angry or upset I fight harder, as you know.” “Yeah but,” Nat sighed “It isn’t the same, she can do a lot of damage.”

“We have the bare bones of a team as it is.” Steve shook his head and Katie looked down, feeling slightly guilty. She had discussed this with Steve, she wasn’t going. The Stark Foundation Tour had another few visits to Universities this week. Steve spotted the look on her face and he gently nudged her arm “That’s not a criticism honey…” “I know…” she bit her lip. Maybe she should postpone…

“Throw in the fact that this is the first full team mission we’ve had since Ultron and I don’t see any choice but to take Wanda” Steve shrugged, ending the conversation.

Nat took a deep breath and nodded “You’re right. And maybe being in an actual mission environment might help her gain some control, I mean practice makes perfect.”

“You trying to convince me or yourself?” he asked, eyeing her

“Both.” she drawled, heading out of the door.

Katie took a deep breath as Steve turned to her. “You best go.” she smiled softly. Steve bit his lip before he pulled her into an embrace, kissing her softly.

“I’ll call as soon as I can.” He promised, pressing his forehead to hers.

“Stay safe, please.” She whispered as he kissed the tip of her nose and hurried out of the door.

Once he was gone, Katie sank onto a chair, her head in her hands. She was torn, really torn. For the last year or so, post Ultron, they’d had a pretty quiet time of it, mopping up any stray Hydra operatives that strolled into their patch. But this, this was big. Was the Foundation really more important than putting a halt to whatever shitty plan Rumlow was trying to pull off? She was still an Avenger after all, she’d never quit that, and would never quit that.

She’d always be Supernova, whether she wanted to be or not.

“I’m gonna regret this.” She groaned to herself as she jumped up, and headed after the rest of the team.

*****

Steve, at first, had tried to argue against her coming but when Natasha had pointed out they could do with the support he had relented and the team had been bolstered by Supernova’s return to active duty.

Their support staff had done a great job on such a short time, and rented the group a four bedroomed apartment overlooking the street the Police Station was on. It wasn’t fancy, but it was the last place anyone would think would house Avengers. They spent their first day setting up a command centre, with coms links back to base and the next morning they began their recon.

The first two days were completely uneventful. No sign of Rumlow or any of his associates. Nat was the expert at covert ops and so she took the lead, directing them to all the right places coaching Wanda along the way and Steve was pleasantly surprised to see how well the younger girl took to the task, blending in with the locals. Katie took to observing from up high with Sam, her attention on the Biological Institute, unable to shake the nagging feeling she had about the place. She hadn’t mentioned it since their brief a few days ago, but Steve knew when she had an idea in her head she wouldn’t rest so he left her to it. Between them they had the area covered, which was good enough.

On the evening of the fourth day Wanda, Sam and Natasha headed out for a little undercover work in the bars at night, “So you guys can have a little undercover activity of your own” Sam teasingly stated, patting Steve on the back as he left, drawing an exasperated sigh from the Soldier. Nevertheless, the door had hardly clicked shut before Steve had his wife pinned up against a wall, hands wandering all over her body, lips and teeth clashing, her hand fisting in the slightly longer strands of hair at the top of his head as they’d furiously taken advantage of their first time alone in days.

The next morning Katie woke at about five-forty-five am and rolled over only to find the bed empty besides her. Steve could never rest when they were in the middle of a case like this. The clothes they had shed and left scattered all over the floor the night before were now folded and placed on top of the dresser, and she had to smile. Even now he was a total neat freak. Knowing full well where he would be she climbed out of the bed, pulled on Steve’s T-shirt and a pair of shorts before making her way into the dark corridor. She stopped in the doorway of the small dining room which was functioning as a makeshift office and sure enough, there he was, the lamp softly illuminated his handsome face as he flicked through a file, crease evident between his brows.

“Soldier, you’re up so early.” She said gently. Steve had heard her coming of course. Smiling softly, as he was always pleased to see her, he turned to face her as she crossed the room.

“Yeah, sorry, I woke about half an hour ago and couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“You know, I get that you’re fed up of just waiting but sitting here re-reading all this isn’t going to help you know.” Katie sighed, taking the file off him and dropping it onto the wooden table, before she perched on the edge.

“I know, it’s just so goddamned frustrating.” Steve ran his hand over his face. After pondering for a moment Katie stood up and walked behind the chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. He let out a groan of satisfaction and leaned back in his seat as she kneaded the muscles with her hands. She found a particularly bad spot just under his shoulder blade and began to push harder with her thumb. Steve, unable to decide if it was pleasurable or painful, made a little noise which was half way between the two.

“God your shoulders are so knotty.” Katie mused and he left out a breath through his nose moving his head to the side.

“Yeah well, I did a lot of exercise last night.” He quipped back as her hands continued to work at his shoulders.

“I’ll say.” She grinned. “You know that thing you did with your mouth is actually illegal in several countries.” “Good job we live in the land of the free.” His voice was low as he fully relaxed under her touch.  Katie carried on working at his muscles in silence for a moment, happy to let him bliss out. 

“So… answer me a question?” She spoke after a short while, rousing him a little, and he hummed, unable to bring himself to be bothered to talk.

“If you couldn’t sleep why didn’t you wake me to help you?” Her voice was loaded as she leaned forward to wind her arms around his neck, running her hands up and down his chest from behind. Steve loved it when she touched him like that which was why he pouted slightly when she pulled away, but the pout didn’t last long and a smirk crossed his face as Katie walked round to the front of his chair

“And how, exactly, would you have done that?” His hands moved to rest on her hips as she lowered herself so that she was straddling him. She slid one of her hands around the back of his head to tangle in his hair the other settling on his chest.

“Reckon I can think of a few ways.”  She smirked slyly before using her hand in his hair to pull him forward and connect their lips. Steve kissed her back immediately as one hand crept up the back of her top, the other on the side of her thigh, sliding up her shorts.

“Sleepy yet?” She murmured.

“Not exactly the word I would use.” Steve raised an eyebrow.

She grinned and then began to rock her hips on top of him grinding down on his growing hardness and he sighed slightly, kissing her harder as she pushed down again. With an automatic reaction he raised his hips, rocking up to meet her and this time she groaned as she could feel the friction of their clothes grinding against her clit. His hands were now firmly holding her hips underneath her, no, his top, and he sat forward so his mouth could cover the spot under her ear that drove her wild. With a soft sigh she titled her head to the side as he trailed kisses across her jaw until his mouth met her lips again. His hands reached down to grasp the hem of her top and he had just begun to slide it upwards when they were interrupted by a raspy voice.

“I thought all the making out fully clothed supposedly stopped when you reached the age of seventeen.” Natasha scoffed from the doorway. Katie looked up over Steve’s shoulder as he sighed, dropping his head onto her chest, letting out a groan of frustration.

“Don’t you know how to knock?” Katie sighed.

“Don’t you know how to lock a door?” She retorted, dryly.

“I take it this isn’t a social call?” Steve’s voice was muffled as he spoke into his wife’s chest, not bothering to move his head. Katie chuckled a little, her hand running through his hair.

“Half and half.” Natasha arched an eyebrow, “Unsociable hour it maybe but Wanda’s already up and wants breakfast, she was going to head out to the local bakery but I thought it might be an idea to start the re-con early.”

Steve’s head looked up to Katie’s as she shifted off his lap and straightened out her clothing and hair. Steve glanced down at his crotch and Katie raised an eyebrow slightly as he stood up and adjusted his sweats in an attempt to hide his slowly ebbing arousal before he turned to face the red head.

“Well, you’re the expert in this covert stuff.” He raised his brow. “What have you got in mind?”

*****

“All right, what do you see?” Steve was coaxing Wanda, as ever, to observe her surroundings, see and hear everything, on the job training he supposed you could call it.

Meanwhile, Katie glanced down from the rooftop on which Sam and her were currently stood, her scanners doing their usual work. No weapons spotted yet.

“Standard beat cops. Small station. Quiet street. It’s a good target” Wanda’s voice came through the ear piece Steve was wearing.

“There’s an ATM in the South Corner.” he replied “which means….”

“Cameras” Wanda said instantly.

“Both cross streets are one way.” He carried on

“So, compromised escape routes.”

“Means our guy doesn’t care about being seen, he isn’t afraid to make a mess on the way out.” Steve concluded. “You see that Range Rover halfway up the block?”

“Yeah, the red one? It’s cute”

“It’s also bulletproof,” Katie cut in as FRIDAY completed a scan on the vehicle “Which means private security…”

“Which means more guns, which means more headaches for somebody. Probably us” Nat finished

“You guys know I can move things with my mind, right? “ Wanda replied

“Looking over your shoulder needs to become second nature.” Natasha continued

“Anybody ever tell you you’re a little paranoid?” Sam asked and Katie turned to look at him, retracting her face plate to give him a grin.

“Not to my face. Why? Did you hear something?” the exchange continued.

“Eyes on target, folks” Steve spoke firmly with an air of authority, bringing them back to the job in hand. “This is the best lead we’ve had on Rumlow in six months. I don’t want to lose him.”

“If he sees us coming that won’t be a problem. He kind of hates us.” Sam replied

As Steve watched he noticed that a garbage truck was slowly pushing its way through traffic, with no regard to pedestrians or other vehicles. He frowned and kept his eyes on it as it continued to gather momentum as it went.  

“Sam, Katie…see that garbage truck? Tag it.”

Sam’s small drone launched, swooping down to scan the vehicle as Katie instructed FRIDAY to do the same.

“Give me X-ray.” Sam spoke. There was a pause before he gave a little moan. “That truck’s loaded for max weight.”

“And the driver’s armed.” Katie concluded.

And in that second it dawned on Steve that his wife had been right all along. The Institute was the target after all.

“It’s a battering ram.” Katie’s voice mumbled on the coms, clearly having realised the same thing he had, and with that Steve turned from the window, running for the door.

“Go, now!” He yelled into his coms as he sprinted down the stairs. “There not hitting the station…” “The institute…” Sam spoke as Steve burst onto the street looking up in time to see Falcon and Supernova spiralling into the air.

And once more the fight was on.

**** Chapter 29 Part 1

**Original Posting**