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rachelkaser · 1 year

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Resident Evil 4 Remake: 4 characters who were improved, and 2 who were ignored

After several weeks and multiple playthroughs of Resident Evil 4 Remake, I’ve finally made up my mind on which topic I wanted to write about. Believe me, there was a lot of ground to cover -- if you want an overview of what I think of the game generally, go read my review on GamesBeat. But here I wanted to keep it to one specific thing about the game: The characters.

More specifically, I want to go over which characters I think were improved in the remake, at least with regards to their overall writing and story arcs. I mean no disrespect to the original game, but the characters there, such as they were, were parodies and stock figures more so than people.

I’ll talk about four character that I think got an upgrade, in terms of character or (to a lesser extent) gameplay. I’ll also talk about two characters who could have used an upgrade, but were not given one -- and it might not be the ones you think.

I think it goes without saying, but just to be clear, there are going to be SPOILERS for Resident Evil 4 Remake in this post. If you haven’t played it yet, read at your own risk.

Character Improved: Ashley Graham

The original Ashley Graham has become the poster child for “annoying video game NPC” especially under the subcategory “escort missions.” Granted, I doubt I would have done much better than she did were I dropped into an infested foreign village as a college student. But even so, her grating voice and personality were not built to endear her to the player. As with everything else on this list, don’t mistake what I say as being a criticism of the original game. The original Ashley was deliberately written that way for maximum comedic effect.

Everything in RE4 was campy and exaggerated. Leon was a parody of a slick action hero. Ada was a stereotypical vamp in an impractical dress. The villains all spoke their evil monologues in self-indulgent drawls. Unfortunately, Ashley’s archetype, the damsel in distress, was also exaggerated -- and the exaggerated damsel is, by necessity, kind of shrill and needy. Gamers became fonder of her over time, if begrudgingly in many cases, but let’s not pretend the devs didn’t know how annoying she was when they made her.

Just to clarify: When I say “improved,” what I mean is that the character was changed in a way that made them better fit the world. Resident Evil 4 was never meant to be a compelling yarn but an action-packed good time. Resident Evil 4 Remake had ambitions to be both, and that meant the characters, Ashley included, had to change. As such, the new Ashley has been rewritten to be far more likeable and helpful. It sounds like an oxymoron, but she comes across as both younger and smarter.

In her first scene, the new Ashley attempts to defend herself when Leon enters her room, already making her a bit more competent than her previous iteration. She bolts out of the open door the first chance she gets, not listening to Leon. You later find out this is because she was abducted by Krauser, an American agent she probably thought she could trust. Therefore, she’s less inclined to blindly obey an agent she doesn’t know until the approaching Ganado leave her no choice.

She gets more conversations with Leon, commenting when he startles her throwing out a grenade or when he does something ridiculous like swing from a chandelier. Hints of her personality outside the crisis occasionally shine through, such as when she tells Leon she wants to be an agent and save the world with him. She helps in gameplay without having to be asked, dropping a Regenerator down a chasm of her own accord should it get too close to her. I feel that change alone has to have endeared her to most RE4R players.

The fact that she’s more proactive in the story also helps. She’s the one who cures Leon of his Plaga, figuring it out on her own despite having been too out of it to see him start the process on her. She helps Leon escape Mendez’s burning boss arena by smashing a window with a chair. She even leaps at the chance to drive the wrecking ball machine (and her apologies should she accidentally smack Leon with it are adorable). One of my favorite changes in RE4R is that she acknowledges Luis’s help and shows some emotion when Leon tells her about his death.

There’s one change that improves both her and Leon: The fact that she’s infested with a Plaga and has been for some time is far more important in the remake. The encroaching parasite absolutely terrifies her, and she nearly has a panic attack when Saddler remotely mind-controls her during the castle section. I appreciate that the game treats her like the vulnerable young woman she is rather than like the brunt of a game-long joke. She isn’t subject to Leon and Luis’s inappropriate teasing, and they’re quicker to reassure her that they’re friendly and want to help her.

I want to praise the new version of Ashley’s chapter, which is the only part of RE4R that puts the “horror” into “survival horror.” Granted, if I’m being really honest, there’s slightly less context for this section than there was in the original -- in the original, the enemies were cultists combing the castle looking for her; in the remake, they’re random, Plaga-infested suits of armor that are hanging out in the library. But I’m not inclined to criticize that because the whole Ashley section already felt like an out-of-body experience.

But alongside the tougher and nastier enemies, Ashley is more determined and courageous in this section. She’s unarmed and terrified, but she perseveres because she has to, and her pluck had me grinning ear to ear. My favorite moment was when she has to crawl under several immobilized Armaduras and pleads with them to behave themselves. The new Ashley isn’t completely free of the original’s annoying characteristics, but it’s a whole lot more excusable than it was the first time around.

Character Improved: Luis Serra Navarro

Let’s face it: Leon S. Kennedy is not the greatest judge of character in the world. His longest-lasting and most meaningful relationship in the whole series is with a woman who either can’t or won’t give him the time of day. It’s rare to see him get a meaningful moment of camaraderie with another character. So to see his relationship with Luis Sera -- here rechristened as Luis Serra Navarro -- go from a tentative détente to an actual friendship where they help each other feels rare and glorious.

Luis was always a bit of a wild card in the original game. It wasn’t exactly clear where he came from or what his deal was. We knew he had some kind of connection to the village, but not exactly what. He claims at various times to be a former police officer from Madrid or a researcher who worked on Las Plagas. How much of it is true, Leon never discovers. There are various points in the story where it seems Luis is going to give Leon and Ashley some answers, but he never gets around to it before Saddler impales him.

Luis in RE4R, on the other hand, is far more forthcoming and amiable. While he doesn’t disclose everything to Leon -- he conceals that he was once an Umbrella researcher -- he tells the heavily armed American stranger everything he needs to know to escape the situation safely. As the game progresses and he and Leon learn more about each other, he shares his reasons for helping them: He feels guilty about assisting Los Illuminados and wants to undo some of the damage he’s done.

Capcom knew not to fix what wasn’t broken, as Luis’s best moment from the original game, the cabin battle, is brought into the remake almost completely unchanged. He still helps Leon in combat, tossing him ammo when he gets low and attacking enemies that are giving him trouble. Sure, he’s still got a bit of a cheeky attitude, but the scene where it’s most prominently displayed is also the scene where he tells Leon where he can find Ashley, so I think we can forgive him that one.

Luis is much more compassionate in the remake. He explains to a scared Ashley what’s wrong with her and promises to help, and goes out of his way to get the suppressant to Leon. Given that his deal with Ada was for the Amber and he’s the only one who knows where it’s hidden, he could easily grab it and bail, but he doesn’t. And speaking of Ada, Luis is much more hesitant about contacting her, knowing that whomever she’s working for could be just as bad as Saddler, if not worse.

If the original’s backstory wasn’t explained to my satisfaction, two parts of it are expanded in the remake. First, his connection to the village. RE4R doesn’t precisely spell it out, but anyone who’s even slightly paying attention can piece together that Luis was originally raised in the village by his grandfather. Leon finds his grandfather’s diary, where the old man effuses about his grandson’s brilliance and how he’s wasted in a small town. I like to imagine the Red 9 Luis wields is actually his grandfather’s.

Another element is his work with Umbrella. In the original, it’s not explained where Luis’s scientific bonafides came from (not that we really required explanation), just that he was a researcher who balked at Saddler’s plans for world domination. In this one, we discover that not only was Luis part of Umbrella, he was in part responsible for the Nemesis, having been part of the European team that created it all the way back in the original RE3. Considering they don’t address that in the RE3 Remake, that’s a pretty deep cut (and it makes sense, given Luis’s history with the Plaga and how tentacle-y Nemmy is, though I’m not sure which one came first).

Of course, I’ve not yet addressed the biggest change to Luis -- namely, that he dies much later in the remake than he does in the original. Here he accompanies Leon through the entire mine level, including the outrageous mine cart chase and the Novistador infestation. He gets a more interesting (if less ostentatious) death, being knifed in the back by Krauser and surviving just long enough to shoot the knife out of his killer’s hands at a critical moment (taking Ada’s place in that scene, which doesn’t bother me).

Also, maybe I’m the only one who noticed or cared about this, but I appreciate that he’s more Spanish in this one. Far be it for lil ol’ American me to judge someone for not being an adequate representation of their country, but the original Luis always sounded like someone trying on a vague approximation of the right accent. Not only does Luis have a better voice this time, but he now has an appropriately Spanish name. Perhaps it’s a touch stereotypical to have him be so obsessed with Don Quixote, but hey, I’m obsessed with it and I’m not remotely Spanish.

Character Ignored: Ingrid Hunnigan

This one was a disappointment. I loved Hunnigan in the original game. In RE4′s world of hammy lunacy, she was the grounded character, the one who let you know that there was order and safety for Leon outside of his mission. Someone had to be the straight man, and Leon only plays the part intermittently. Ingrid Hunnigan, Leon’s handler, was the voice of order in the chaotic, fast-paced world of RE4, and we all loved her for that.

The version of her that appears in RE4R doesn’t play as much of a role in the plot, if only because Leon doesn’t need quite the same level of moral support. The two of them end up getting cut off from each other early in the castle level -- around the same place the villains hijacked Leon’s radio signal in the original game. So it’s not that we have less Hunnigan in the remake, per se. But it’s more that they completely whiffed the chance to give her more attention than they did in the original game.

The version we have in RE4R is . . . passable. Given that the remake doesn’t really need someone to play straight man as often, it makes sense that Hunnigan’s role in the game would be somewhat muted. I don’t mind that she’s no longer subject to Leon’s ridiculously un-smooth flirtation attempts. That was cute before, but this new, more serious Leon would give us all even more secondhand cringe than the original did.

Now that I think of it, since Salazar and Saddler didn’t hijack Leon’s communications in the remake, there’s not much of an explanation given for why he’s cut off from her? If it were just an interference issue, wouldn’t that clear up at least slightly on the way to the island? Regardless, I think there was still room for Hunnigan to play Leon’s tether to reality -- not necessarily because the villains are so cartoonish, but because Leon’s kinda losing his grip thanks in part to his parasite hitchhiker.

The remake makes the plot point about Leon and Ashley having Las Plagas implanted in their bodies more important and uses it to add a sense of urgency to the story. One of my favorite new additions is a lengthy sequence in which Leon has to fight off Plaga-induced visions in the final stretch to reach the cure. Wouldn’t it be trippy as hell if we heard Hunnigan’s voice during these sequences, sliding in and out as Leon starts to lose it? In-game, he just kinda snaps out of it and unlocks the door to the lab with no explanation -- wouldn’t it be great if, instead, it was Hunnigan’s desperate attempts to reach him that woke him up?

Here’s an alternate scenario: Maybe Hunnigan could have been a secondary antagonist? I don’t mean a villain, but someone who begins working against Leon as the mission goes sideways. I’m not the first one to point it out, but once Leon was certain Ashley was in the village, he should not have been the only law enforcement officer on the spot. You could make the case that everything happening in a night could have stymied backup, but I think that leaves open a new possibility to make the mission more hectic and time-sensitive.

To that end, maybe Hunnigan could have tried to call in the Spanish authorities and/or a backup Interpol squad, but each time Leon keeps trying to reassure her that this wouldn’t be helpful and he’s got the situation under control -- perhaps because he’s fearful of having another Raccoon City, where every police officer besides him got absolutely mauled. The game keeps hinting Leon has leftover guilt from that incident -- perhaps that would have been a way to exacerbate it?

The player might be tempted to think she has a point, given that Ashley slips out of Leon’s grasp like a greased cat. This would have made Mike the Helicopter Pilot’s death more interesting. Mike is Hunnigan’s way of trying to help, compromising with Leon’s lone wolf attitude while still providing what, from her perspective, is much-needed firepower. And Mike is helpful, at first. Then he gets killed by the Novistadors, proving that Los Illuminados are able to fend off a military assault and that Leon is right to be going this alone. Also, Mike the Helicopter Pilot? One of my favorite things about the remake.

Character Improved: Ada Wong

I think this might be a more controversial take -- especially considering I criticized this depiction of Ada in my official review. And don’t get me wrong, I’m still not really a fan . . . though, I will say that anyone who might have used my critique of Lily Gao’s performance as an excuse to harass her should go flog themselves, because that is unacceptable. While I have my reservations about Ada’s interactions with other characters (which might still be improved in the inevitable Separate Ways DLC), I still appreciate this updated take on her. Let me explain.

Resident Evil 2 and Resident Evil 4 (the originals, that is) felt like they were from entirely different planets. If I were to put them in front of a person who knew nothing about games, I’m willing to bet money they would never peg them as being from the same franchise. That’s not a criticism, by the way -- just an observation of the generational differences that affected the series.

Resident Evil 4 had a vastly different tone from RE2. The original RE2 was, while a little corny, intended to be a sober horror game. So it makes sense that Ada in that game is more of a dark femme fatale, beautiful and beguiling to the naïve Leon but still a ruthless and efficient spy who is willing to kill to accomplish her goals. Ada in RE4, on the other hand, is a more openly sexy and flirtatious character, less serious and more flamboyant. Again, this completely fits the tone of the game, as everyone is less serious and more flamboyant in RE4.

I like to use her outfits as a point of comparison. Ada in RE2 wore a short red dress, black leggings, and ballet flats -- not the most practical outfit for a zombie-infested city, but it fit her cover story of being a civilian looking for her boyfriend, and one could make the case that Ada didn’t know exactly how big a mess Raccoon City was. In RE4, on the other hand, she wore a stylish red cheongsam and black heels -- not because it fit her cover story, or because she didn’t know the seriousness of her mission, but apparently because that’s just what she wanted to wear.

The remakes, on the other hand, are more or less homogenizing the major games in the series. These new games are more consistent in tone, gameplay, and story. Your mileage may vary on whether you enjoy that, but I look at it as simply a different artistic directive -- not good or bad. One of the major sources of that consistency is the characters. In 2005, it beggared belief that the flippy, quippy government agent was the same baby-faced cop from Raccoon City. In RE4R, I can completely believe it’s the same person.

To keep to that more consistent sense of tone and character, Ada can no longer be that stylishly appointed nor that overtly flirtatious. It wouldn’t be in keeping with her RE2R design. But she is still stylishly dressed and flirty, just in a more restrained sense. I appreciate as well that they give Ada a sense of agency I felt she lacked with regards to the original game’s ending. Ada’s always walked the line between good and bad, but at least in RE4R she doesn’t just blithely ride into the sunset with the BBEG’s key to world domination in her pocket.

So yes, while I do love both versions of Ada, I like that this one is written to be more in-line with her portrayal in RE2R, the same as with Leon. RE4R does pay homage to the original in the sense that she’s still dressed far sexier than I would think practical for the setting -- a skin-tight turtleneck sweater dress with thigh-high boots. But at least you could make the argument that it’s workable for a mission on what appears to be a chilly weekend in Europe.

Character Improved: Jack Krauser

As with all the characters on this list, I would never dream of suggesting the hardass military officer from the original game wasn’t a perfectly adequate specimen for the time. Quite the opposite. But let’s be honest with ourselves -- he was as much of a cheesy parody of action movie BS as Leon himself was. I love him dearly for that, but that kind of character wasn’t going to work in the remake.

Out of all the villains of the game, Krauser’s undergone perhaps the biggest facelift. Like all of them, he gets a general threat upgrade and has had most of his sillier affectations removed. Krauser is also changed from a former comrade-in-arms of Leon’s fallen from grace to his former drill instructor. He still has his flare for the dramatic, but here it’s less dark Rambo and more Lt. Col. Kilgore. I’ve heard some gamers aren’t huge fans of his new voice, but I think it’s at least of comparable quality to the original.

Leon establishes almost as soon as he sees Krauser that the new version was always an asshole, but he at least had some kind of a code of honor. It’s a little more clear in the remake that Krauser is a cautionary tale of a good soldier going bad thanks to ill fortune and a lack of faith in his superiors. Even in his final moments, he encourages Leon to finish him and complete his mission. I actually kind of hope he’s not in the Separate Ways DLC because I like his big finish in the main game.

This change extends beyond the original game and into The Darkside Chronicles, to my surprise. They keep one element of Krauser’s backstory consistent: Namely, that he and Leon were both involved in Operation Javier, which left him psychologically scarred and with a massive chip on his shoulder. However, they’ve altered this somewhat to imply that Operation Javier was some kind of government screw-up that was covered up, and Krauser was left to die. This is not Operation Javier as we were shown in Darkside Chronicles.

I can only see this as a good thing because one of the big disappointments of Darkside Chronicles was the reveal of why Krauser became a villain in the first place. I wasn’t exactly expecting a Shakespearean tragedy of a fallen hero, but let’s just say that the reason he betrayed his friend and country was way pettier than RE4 implies. So RE4R retroactively creates a better backstory for Krauser, if only in a read-between-the-lines kind of way.

Also, this relieves Krauser of the responsibility of being the one to tie the story to Umbrella. In the original game, that part came as a non sequitur that Krauser blurts out. The remake shifting that responsibility to Luis is not exactly contextualized much better, but it at least feels a bit less like something the devs threw in at the eleventh hour when they remembered they were making a Resident Evil game.

This makes his role in Los Illuminados clearer. In the original, he was Wesker’s infiltrator who became a little too enamored with having his own Plaga, which is why Wesker sent Ada to finish his original mission. It makes a bit more sense that Los Illuminados would proactively reach out to and convert a government agent, rather than happily accepting one who just happened to turn up at their door.

And I’m not the first one to say it, but his new boss battles are so much fun. The parrying mechanic feels like it was created specifically for the Krauser fight, replacing the QTEs of the original. While Leon shares some boss fight banter with all of the big bads, the stuff he has with Krauser feels way more personal and nasty. The game may not exactly spell out what kind of history the two of them have together, but you can definitely feel it in the way they insult each other.

I’m not saying the new Krauser is perfect, mind you -- I still think it's too much of coincidence that a random American soldier Leon knows is one of the final bosses of the game. But at least I understand who he is, what he wants, and why he’s so mad at Leon a little bit better. And Leon having a more personal connection to one of the bads was a fun element of the original that’s given a bit more emotional weight in the remake.

Character Ignored: Osmund Saddler

Ah, here he is: The big bad of the game, or at least the final one. Saddler is the leader of Los Illuminados and the mastermind behind Ashley’s kidnapping, so him keeping his position as the final enemy Leon must destroy is fitting -- but it feels like the RE4R devs missed an opportunity to flesh him out even more. All of Saddler’s lieutenants get a bit more meat on their figurative bones: Mendez’s history as leader of the village is explored; Salazar’s lineage is expanded on; and Krauser’s military record is completely overhauled. But Saddler himself? Not so much.

Saddler had a presence through the whole of the original game. In the remake, we don’t meet him in the flesh until the last few hours of the game, when he confronts Leon and Ashley as they’re almost to Luis’s cure machine. Granted, he makes quite an impression, mind-controlling Ashley and forcing her to shoot Leon. But considering we’ve seen Mendez, Salazar, and Krauser (making his earlier-than-before appearance in the castle section) already, Saddler feels almost like an afterthought in this adaptation.

Unlike Hunnigan, who gets the same amount of screentime as the original but feels less necessary, Saddler straight up gets deprived of screentime for the majority of the game. In the original title, he appears in both the village and castle segments of the game and talks to Leon over the radio. None of that happens in the remake, and Leon only “sees” him via flashes across the Plaga hivemind after he’s infected. So by the time the two actually interact, it feels like too little, too late.

I understand that some changes needed to be made to Saddler -- he was by far the campiest villain in the original, with his oh-so-slimy voice and jabs at Leon’s American-ness. He implied more than once that he wasn’t so much a devout cult leader as a con artist trying to use Las Plagas to gain wealth and power. In the remake, he fully believes in his cause and intends to use Ashley to infect as many people as possible, seeming to care little for wealth.

The fact that he’s in so little of the game comparatively feels like a huge missed opportunity. His new motives and possible loss of identity to the will of the Plaga would make for a great new villain arc, and his aesthetic has only gotten creepier with the graphical upgrade. And granted, there are hints of a richer backstory for him, as Leon finds evidence on the island that Saddler’s ancestors have been involved with Las Plagas for a long time.

But again -- and I hate to repeat myself -- it’s not enough to make up for his dearth of actual screentime. The trippy visions of him over the hivemind are cool, but lack any sort of context. Leon doesn’t discuss seeing these things with Ashley or comment on the mysterious man’s identity. By the time Saddler starts to explain himself, Leon is so thoroughly done with this shit that he just shoots him before he can say anything. He and Ada repeat this before the boss fight, so Saddler never has a chance to explain his new motives.

The one positive I will add is that RE4R explains why Saddler is so resistant to Leon rescuing Ashley. Given that his plan in both versions involves Ashley going back home and infecting her father, the President, with Las Plagas, he sure is cavalier about her safety. In the remake, it’s implied that he’s waiting until her Plaga has fully matured and she’s not capable of fighting it off anymore. If she goes back with enough willpower to inform someone that something is wrong, Saddler’s plan is scuppered, so he’d probably rather she die than for the plan to go off half-cocked.

As with Hunnigan, let me propose an alternate scenario: If we must keep Saddler confined to the hivemind visions, I would like to see him deliberately induce those visions for Leon. Throughout most of the game, Leon seems to see him mostly by accident, like he’s tapping Saddler’s telepathic phone. I would like to see Saddler turn to the camera and tell Leon (and the player) that he knows the American is listening, that he knows Leon is aware of his plans, and that there’s nothing Leon can do to stop him.

As it is, it feels like we missed a chance to get a really threatening and badass version of Saddler. The remake expands on his non-existent backstory to reveal that he and his family have been steadily working on restoring Las Plagas for centuries -- you’d think Saddler would have more to say to Leon and Ashley, the instruments of his plan’s completion. Mendez, Salazar, and Krauser all got their moments to shine in the remake, while Saddler himself is confined to RE4R’s final hour.

That’s my take on the characters in Resident Evil 4 Remake. If you think differently -- or heck, if you think I put too much thought into it -- feel free to drop me a line letting me know.

#midweek madness #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 4 #leon s kennedy #ada wong #ashley graham #capcom #video games

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onestepbackwards · 2 years

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Not a request, as you said those are closed, but a scenario that the reader-falls-through-the-screen part of the #self aware au brought to my mind. Personally, if I ended up in Hisui by mistake, I’d be in severe trouble. I’m not in the best of health, and so I take a bunch of medications daily. Aside from being necessary to keep me functional, several of those meds make a person extremely sick if they are stopped abruptly.

So if I were to wake up in Hisui, the first thought (after the whole ‘omg I’m in the Pokémon world’ freak out) that would go through my head would be something on the order of “I have 48 hours, maaaybe 72, to get back home before the side effects kick in and I’m in serious trouble. Crap.”

Given that I, as the reader, would probably have mentioned my med regimen to Ingo as we would be at least friends by this point, he would probably understand why I’d be a bit less than likely to engage in anything more spicy than a “omg it’s you thank you for saving me!” hug. Of course, even that would depend on when during that time he found me. At least the wild Pokémon would be quick.

I’m fairly certain Ingo would do everything possible to get me home, but if this is before he has found a way out through the screen, would could he possibly do? I had vague ideas of him going to Akari/Rei and asking Arceus for help, but that’s where my mind sputtered out for this plot. I might come back to chew on it later, but as is was inspired by your AU, I thought I’d share.

Omg that is very true. I have really bad migraines, and need to take medication for them constantly, or else they just get worse until they make me pass out. I also have to eat and take certain stuff in general, and just popping into HIsui would very much nearly kill me if I didn't have the stuff with me. Thankfully though, If you fell into Hisui with Ingo still in there, he'd probably know immediately. He can sense everything in the code, and you being there would be like an alarm going off in his head. He'd be overjoyed to see you! And he'd love to have you stay with him, and him take care of you, and maybe even more... ....But if you need medication, he's immediately at your side, trying to help get you home. He would not risk your health. He has a faint idea how important specific medications are, and how dropping them out of nowhere can be awful health wise. In some cases, even deadly. He would not risk that with you. If Ingo didn't already know how to go through the screen, you can bet he would be on it. Now that he didn't have you worrying about his safety as much with the code, and your health was on the line, he wouldn't hold back. Besides, if you were able to fall through the screen, surely there must be a way back out?

Expect him to have it done in about 3 days, tops. He'll work overtime, just to make sure you are happy, healthy, and safe. ...But surely, you won't mind if he follows you into your world, right? Especially after he worked so hard to get you home? I'm glad my AU inspired you! I hope to see more from you in the future! ヾ(•ω•`)o

#pokemon #ingo x reader #self aware ingo #yandere ingo #subway boss ingo #warden ingo #submas #yandere pokemon #self aware pokemon #self aware au #zed.talks #anon #ask

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ijustwant2write · 3 years

Text

Reconnect-Finn Shelby x Reader

(GIF credit to @peakystitches)

Masterlist

Tags: @captivatedbycillianmurphy @jenepleurepasbaby @amirahiddleston @bloodorangemoonlight @haphazardhufflepuff @mzcrazy2

Requested by anonymous: ‘Hello! May i request an either tommy or finn shelby x reader? (Whicheverr one u think suits best) for this prompt i found: character A and B have been in a longterm relationship and nothing can get in between, until one day something does and they drift away. But then they reconnect emotionally and everything feels like the first time again (first kiss, first meal together etc) 🙏🏼💜 i love ur writing thank u’

Characters: Finn Shelby x Reader, Polly Gray x Reader (platonic)

Meanings: (Y/N)=Your name

Warnings: Swearing, arguing, finance issues, drinking, fluff

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Finn, is that you?" I called out from our bedroom as I heard the front door open. I tensed up when I didn't hear a reply, only to let out a sigh when I heard him giggling.

He was drunk again, it happened almost every week now. Tommy would have given him something important to do for the gang, and whether or not Finn succeeded with that task, he would go out and celebrate with his mates. I would sometimes tag along if I wasn't tired from the week of working, but after seeing our finances, I realised we needed to stop acting like teenagers and start saving wisely.

"Hello my gorgeous girl." he slurred out as he entered the room.

"Hello Finn." I replied as I received a sloppy kiss to my forehead.

He flopped down beside me in bed, taking the book out of my hands and throwing it to the floor. Finn wrapped his arms around me, snuggling into my lap. I took off his hat, stroking back his hair. He was cold from the brisk walk home, causing me to shiver.

“You should have come out tonight." he said.

"I got off work late."

"He kept you again?"

"No, I decided to stay."

"Why? You always say you're tired."

"I'm tired because I'm picking up extra shifts and hours so that we can start saving up for a house."

"I've told you, we don't need to worry about that. Business is good."

"Finn, we're not going to be given the money. We have to earn it."

"Tommy will help us."

"He might help but he won't give us a lot. And even if he did hand us a house, we've got to have enough money for the bills, furniture-"

"It will be fine."

"Finn, we've not even had our wedding yet!"

We had been engaged for half a year. We were wanting to be married sooner, but problems arose with the Peaky Blinders it distracted us both from it, especially since our lives were in danger. I desperately wanted to have enough money for the wedding and house, though it looked like it was going to be one or the other at this point.

"What's wrong with the flat?" Finn now sat up.

"Did you seriously ask me that question? There's only so much I can do to this dump to make it look somewhat liveable. It just doesn't feel like home."

"We'll get the money. Don't worry. Look, look," he took my hands in his,"we will get a house. I promise. And believe me, I want to marry you as soon as I can, there needs to be another ring on that finger. And I need to see my name at the end of yours."

I stupidly believed him. Those adoring eyes I once trusted had lied to me. Finn kept his promise for a week at max, soon breaking it. I didn't mind him going out with friends, we both needed to socialise, I just disagreed with the amount of times he was out and the amount of drinks he was buying each night. He would always offer to get the next round, and although he was a Shelby, the discounts didn't make much difference at the end of the night. I decided I had to go with him to ensure that our money wasn't being poured away, struggling to stay awake for those long nights, and making work even harder every day. It was impossible to keep an eye on him like that.

Usually Finn would tell me if he was going out that night so I wouldn't worry. That stopped too. My mind was never at ease. How did I know he wasn't lying in a ditch somewhere after a job gone wrong? Or what if he was trapped somewhere by a rival gang? I could only rest when he returned, which he always luckily did. I pretended to be asleep, trying to not push him away as he slipped his arms around me, cuddling me for the rest of the night. My patience began to grow thin. I was too scared to speak up about it, worried that we would just end up having an argument. However, I knew we would have to bring it up soon, because our money was only disappearing instead of increasing.

One morning when I was leaving for work, I noticed that the drawer we locked our savings away in was slightly ajar, meaning someone had unlocked it and stupidly left it open. Of course it had to be Finn, no one had broken in during the night. My eyes widened when I saw how much he had taken, enraged that he would think me so foolish. Why would he take the money without asking? What was he using it for?

As I stormed towards the shop, I heard whooping from men in a car further up the street. My face turned into a deep frown when I recognised the car, managing to catch a glimpse of the people in it. They hadn't seen me, and I had to make sure my eyes were deceiving me.

I didn't care about the looks on me as I burst through into the shop, making a beeline for Polly's office. I harshly knocked on the door, entering when she called me.

"(Y/N)? What's wrong?" she asked, a lit cigarette in hand.

"Where's Finn?"

"Off out with his brothers, why?"

"Where are they going?"

"To the races."

I scoffed, placing a hand on my head in defeat.

"Why? What's wrong with that?"

"He told me he would be in the office all day today."

"So? Things change."

"No, he specifically told me that. I never even asked about it. He made a point meaning he didn't want to risk me waltzing in. That means he's hiding something."

"(Y/N), they're only going to bet on horses today. They're mingling."

"They're betting today?!"

She stood, putting a hand on her hip."What am I missing here?"

"Pol, he's using money that we don't have! I need a car, I need to get to him."

"Look, even if my nephew is being the biggest idiot, it's a bad idea to go there."

"Why?"

Her eyes widened."Don't snap at me young lady."

"I'm sorry, I just, I just know he's going to be stupid with what little money we have at the minute."

Polly was silent for a few seconds, and I didn't know if she was just staring me out, trying to make me leave. Perhaps she didn't think it was anything to worry over. But it was to me. She surprised me when she went into one of her drawers, pulling out a set of keys.

"Come on. I'll get one of the girls to call your work, say you're sick."

I tightly clasped my hands together as Polly drove. I was furious, trying to think of what to say to Finn when I got there. He stole our money. He went behind my back, gambling away the money we worked hard to earn. I had never said it, but Finn had it much easier than I did. For one, he worked with family, and although I liked my job, the boss could sometimes be an arsehole; second, he earned a lot more than me, so he was the bigger breadwinner between us, but I worked longer hours. Yes, he was in a gang meaning he had more days where his life was under threat, but he seemed to be having a jolly good time anyway. Really, it wouldn't have mattered who worked longer or harder, or who earned more, it was still our money to spend on our house.

As soon as Polly parked up, I was straight out of the car. She quickly followed grabbing my arm and warning me to not get lost in the crowds. I couldn't make a scene, especially since there could be potential business partners or enemies about. I refrained from rolling my eyes, knowing she was right but also knowing that I would find it extremely hard to not scream at Finn.

Polly guided me to where the men would be, ignoring the shoving and shouting. I wished for her to walk quicker. We swiftly entered the posher boxes, almost stopped by a doorman until his accomplice shut him up. I even heard him whisper 'That's Polly Gray you idiot.', the one time I was glad we had a reputation. She only paused to scan the room for the boys but I spotted them first. Quickly moving past her, I couldn't stop my fists from clenching, seeing Finn joyfully drinking and laughing with his brothers only added fire to my fury.

"Finn!" I snapped, quickly catching his attention.

"(Y/N)?" he exclaimed, struggling to stand and clattering the plates and glasses on the table."W-what are you doing here?"

"Stopping you from spending our money like a fucking idiot! Where is it?"

"Oh, Finn boy is in the doghouse." John chuckled.

"Shut up!" I fiercely pointed at him.

"Where's what?" Finn brought me back.

"Our money!"

"I told you, you do this outside." Polly warned, shoving Finn in that direction, and I knew I had to follow him.

Luckily, we were left alone. Finn continued on, finding someplace we would be alone. Once we were in the clear, the distant roar of the crowds covering our conversation, I saw him sigh quietly, running a hand down his face when he realised what was coming.

"Where's the money Finn?" I asked, calmer but with a mean tone.

"Let me explain first.”

"Explain how you took our money without asking? How you just waltzed out this morning without consulting me?"

"Tommy said that there was a good chance, a very good chance that this horse would win, and I thought it would help us if we put our money on it. Imagine how much we'll have if it wins!"

"If it wins Finn, if! You're gambling our money, why would you do something like that?"

"Because you went on about not having enough money! And here I am trying to help!"

My mouth dropped open in shock."You really don’t see the problem here."

"No, actually, I don't." he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Finn, you stole money from the drawer! You then go behind my back and bet it away. Have you thought about what we'll do if that horse loses?"

"But it won't, Tommy said."

"And what if Tommy is wrong this time? Also, don't pin this on your brother, I know he hasn't even suggested this idea."

"I'm not-urgh!" Finn groaned."Why don't you trust me?"

"I can't trust a gamble Finn. I don't think you realise how many nights I've spent lying awake, worried that we'll never have enough for our own home, and thinking that you don't even care anymore."

"Of course I care. This is why I've bet the money."

"How is this not getting in your head?"

"(Y/N)," he took my hands in his, but I couldn't even look at him,"in a few minutes we will hear them announce the winner, and we will start jumping for joy when we realise how much money we're going to get back, and we're going to be so much closer to getting our home."

"Finn, I desperately want to believe that. But even if we do win, you're in deep trouble." I took my hands away from him, turning around. I couldn't even look at my own fiance.

On queue, we heard a man come over the intercom, it was muffled to me but I knew Finn was listening intensely. Glancing over my shoulder, I watched for his reaction, turning around fully when I saw his expression. We had lost. We lost all that money.

"How could you be so fucking stupid?!" I screamed at him, throwing slaps onto his chest."Why couldn't you just listen to me? I don't understand why you had to lie to me Finn!"

I broke down crying, shoving him away from me. My sobs were loud but I didn't care. Finn could watch, see how much he upset me. My heart sank at the thought of it all gone, Finn had left scarcely any money in the drawer back at the flat.

"I'm sorry (Y/N)." Finn pathetically said.

"You know how you always go on about your family never trusting you enough for the big jobs? That you never get to go out with them and help? This is why. Because you do things like this, you fuck everything up Finn. Fuck!" I wiped away my tears, even though more spilled out."You know I've always stuck beside you, but this is the last straw Finn. I can't be with someone who doesn't want to put effort into their future."

"What are you saying? (Y/N), I can fix this. I promise I'll get the money back, I'll-"

"How? That took us so long to build that up. And you were spending our money almost every night on useless drinking. I can't Finn, I can't live like that anymore."

He ducked his head, and I almost wanted him to say something. When he didn't, I knew what I had to do.

I took a deep breath before speaking."I'm going home. I suggest you stay at Polly's tonight."

"Let me take you home-"

"No!"

"What's going on?" Tommy suddenly appeared, he, his brothers and Polly approaching.

"Your nephew, your brother, just gave away almost all of our money betting on a horse. Not only that, but he took the money without telling me. That was money for a house." I angrily explained.

"Is that true Finn?"

Finn shamefully nodded.

"We can get you your money back (Y/N)."

"It's not about that Tom. He's lied to me. He promised me he wouldn't spend our money every week, yet he did. And then he takes our money without asking me about it first."

"I'll fix it (Y/N), I promise I will." Finn was begging at this point.

"Another promise that you're bound to break. I've had enough today."

"Let's get you home love." Polly said, putting a stop to this argument as she stepped forward, taking me under her arm.

Finn didn't come home that night. I didn't sleep. I was sat at the tiny dining table, staring at the ring on my finger, wondering what to do. It broke my heart to think about leaving him, but it also broke my heart thinking about how reckless he had been. Did I really want to be marrying someone who acted like this? Would he mature? My heart wanted to believe he would, but my mind kept telling me that today confirmed he wouldn't. That was one of the worst nights of my life.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

I couldn't stand this job any longer. But it was the only thing keeping me alive. It was crappy work, the pay was just above minimum, enough for me to buy food, pay my rent and have the tiniest amount left over. Saving up money was hard when it was just you. Even after two years, I didn't have enough to consider looking at places of my own, or with less roommates. It was exhausting keeping up with these girls I lived with, there were 6 of us altogether. It was a big change when I moved away from Small Heath.

"You ready (Y/N)?" one of my roommates called out to me as I finished applying my lipstick.

"Just a second!" I replied, checking myself in the mirror.

It was the rare occasion that I was going out with them, the one time we could all go out together at all. I was looking forward to a few drinks, and although that sounded hypocritical, I realised that I had to have a night or two in at least a month to relieve myself of the stress I put upon myself.

We arrived at the small club we always went to, it had the cheapest drinks this side of town. We all shivered in the cold weather, walking as fast as we could to make it to the club. The warmth was very welcome, as well as the loud music that drew us further in. It was the usual routine, a few of us grab a table, the others get the drinks in, then we would all make our way to the dance floor. Hours passed, and I had to get away from the heat coming from the dancing, stepping back towards our table to get a drink. I saw my roommate stumbling in the direction of the bar, rolling my eyes as I went to help her, perhaps getting a drink whilst I was there. However, once I got closer, I stared at the man she was starting to flirt with.

"Isaiah?" I said as I got closer.

"(Y/N)!" he smiled, bringing me in for a hug.

"You two know each other?" my roommate asked, looking disappointed.

"He's an old friend. Just that, nothing else."

Isaiah let me go."How long has it been? Two years?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, two years. What are you doing here?"

"Business. Nothing dangerous though, you girls are still in for a good night. Especially you if you're good." he winked to my roommate.

"Is he...is he here?" my voice suddenly went shaky, and I felt almost completely sober.

Isaiah's playful nature dropped."Uh, he is. He's really misses you (Y/N). Hasn't even looked at another girl since you left. He's just not been the same." I wasn't sure how to reply.

"I can't not tell him I saw you. Imagine if he found out, he would be so upset with me."

"I know. I wouldn't want to hurt your friendship."

"Maybe you should see him. It might do you both some good."

"Or the opposite."

"He still loves you. Even if you don't feel the same, it could bring closure. But I know you (Y/N), I can tell what you're thinking."

"You were always annoying like that."

"He's out front, in the corridor. That's all I'm going to say."

I looked at him for a few seconds, trying to make my mind up."Well, this one is a handful, just so you know."

"I think I can handle her." Isaiah smirked.

"I was warning her about you."

I giggled at his reaction, walking away and leaving him in his natural habitat of flirting. But as soon as I turned around, my stomach dropped, nerves filling up my entire body. He was here. I hadn't seen him for two years, though I thought about him everyday. Would he look different? Did I look different? What was he going to say? What was I going to say? My brain didn't want to think of any words, maybe I was about to babble absolute nonsense to him.

Upon seeing him, my throat tightened, the cool air slapping me in the face; oh, now I was sober. He hadn't noticed yet, leaning up against a wall, hands in his pockets. Wow, he had changed. His boyish charm was still there, yet he had matured into a handsome young man. It was like I was seeing him for the first time all over again. I was just happy that he would be seeing me in my finer clothes rather than catching me after work.

Urging my feet to move, I almost sighed at how small my steps were. I really was scared. Isaiah had said reassuring things, yet I couldn't even walk up to him. It was too late to back out now, especially when he finally looked up at me. I froze on the spot, not knowing what to do. Finn seemed the same way.

"(Y/N)." he said, I only just heard it.

"Hello."

Hello? Really, that's all I could come up with?

He pushed himself off the wall, coming to stand in front of me, though not too close."I...I can't believe you're here."

"I could say the same about you."

"This is where you've been living then."

I nodded."It's not too bad. I mean, I'm on a night out."

"Who are you with?"

I knew he was wondering if I was with a man."My roommates, I live with five other girls."

"Oh, that's a lot."

"Yeah, it's the only place I could afford."

"I hope it's nice."

"I shouldn't complain. A lot better than other places."

We both knew we were making an awful attempt at small talk. I was sure he had so much to say like I did, we just didn't want to dump it on each other in case the other ran away. It was like we were teenagers again, awkwardly trying to think of something to fill the dreaded silence.

"I really want to talk about us (Y/N)." Finn said.

"You do?"

"I...I just have so much to say to you. I can't do it now, but what about tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? Tomorrow, um, yes, yes tomorrow works for me. It's the weekend, so I'm not working."

He smiled slightly."OK, good. I'll come get you. Um, I need your address."

"Oh, here." I dug around in my purse, thankful there was a folded up tissue and a pen, it was good to be prepared. I wrote down my address, handing it to him.

"I'll pick you up at one. I would want it to be earlier, you just never know what time you'll be back with this sort of thing."

"I understand Finn, I did live this with you once."

I barely slept, even when we stumbled in at three in the morning. Luckily I hadn't seen Finn, Isaiah or any other Peaky Blinder that evening, no doubt settling business behind the scenes. Despite the lack of sleep, I was wide awake the next morning, up before everyone else who were nursing their hangovers, trying on multiple outfits in a desperate attempt to look nice, but not as if I put too much effort in. The clock was rolling onto one o'clock, and my heart was beating much faster than usual. I was about to make my way downstairs when something glistened on my small vanity. Should I take it? Yes, I would.

Finn knocked on the door, and I waited a few seconds before opening it. We smiled as we greeted each other, not going in for a hug or kiss on the cheek, something I was worried about. That was the first hurdle jumped over.

"How was your evening?" Finn struck up a conversation as we walked further into town.

"Much better than yours I presume?" I smirked. He chuckled."Yeah, didn't exactly get to enjoy the music. Small fight, nothing we couldn't handle."

It was strange hearing about Blinder business again."Well I'm glad you're all safe."

"I thought we could go out for lunch, saw a nice place round here."

"Oh, that would be lovely."

"We don't have to, if you don't feel comfortable."

"No, no, no, it's not that. It's just a lovely thing for you to do."

We both bashfully smiled, luckily the restaurant was just around the corner. I had expected nothing less when we walked into the fancy place, not because I thought I deserved it, but because Finn wouldn't be seen anywhere else. His clothes were even more tailored now than they had been the last I saw him, indicating that the gang had been doing well, more money was coming in. We both immediately picked up our menus as we sat, hoping someone would speak first. Our eyes glanced over the top of them, it was as if we were on our first date again, only this time in a better establishment.

"You look beautiful." he said, still hiding part of his face.

"Thank you." I blushed.

"I'll never forget what you wore when I picked you up for our first date. That blue dress you just bought, with a matching purse, and those heels that you hadn't practiced walking in. Well, you used that as an excuse to latch into my arm all night."

I smiled, placing down my menu."It was a good plan, wasn't it? And I did struggle in those heels, I just didn't want to embarrass myself."

He copied me."I liked holding your hand all night."

"What a sweet sentiment."

"I mean it. And I mean this date. That didn't sound right, but...what I'm trying to say is that I want to make it all up to you."

"You do?"

"Yes! I really didn't expect you to leave. I mean I did, but I didn't want to believe that. I didn't want to believe that I had been so selfish that I couldn't even see how much I had hurt you."

“That was the hardest decision I ever made. Most days I battle with myself whether I made the right choice. All night I kept making deals with myself. If you came back, I would hear you out, and if it was good enough for me I would stay. But then you didn’t, so I said to myself ‘Give him another hour.’. An hour went by, and I said the same thing to myself. That went on for the whole evening until I found myself angrily packing my things. Even then, I sat by door on top of my suitcase for another hour or so.”

“I thought you just got up and left. I didn’t realise how long you waited for me.” he sighed into his hands.“I’m such a fucking idiot.”

I could tell he was full of regret. Although it sounded sadistic, I was glad that he was upset when reflecting on our past relationship, it meant he realised his mistake. On the other hand, I hated seeing him sad. I took his hands away from his face, hesitantly reaching into my handbag to pull out the engagement ring I kept.

His eyes widened.“You still have that? I looked everywhere for it when you left, guessed you took it to sell.”

“I won’t lie, that was my intention at first. But it meant too much to me. It was like selling a piece of my soul. I kept it hidden, I didn’t want to risk any of the girls seeing it, they would just ask too many questions.”

I kept my eye on the beautiful ring as I spoke, slowly twirling it around to catch it twinkling in the light.

"I had such a hard time picking that out. I knew what you wanted, but I had to get it right for you. I'm so glad you kept it."

"I did try to sell it. I was stood outside of a shop for ten minutes debating with myself. It would have helped a lot for the deposit on the room, but I couldn't do it."

We were silent, both staring at the ring. We used to do that a lot actually. Finn would take my hand and hold it up as we laid in bed together, both giggling as we watched it glisten like it was in present times, before squealing at the thought of us being married to each other. I constantly fiddled with it when he was off on business, a habit which never wore off, even now; whenever I was nervous or worried, I would automatically do the same action, just without the ring.

A waiter awkwardly interrupted us, and I hurriedly put the ring back in my bag, sharing an embarrassed smile with Finn as we ordered. Once he was gone, I quietly sighed, looking out of the window. We were in such a nice part of town, so many ladies in beautiful dresses and men in smart suits strolling around.

"Are you...are you OK for money?" Finn boldly asked.

I was a little shocked by that.

"I don't mean anything by it. I just want to make sure you're OK, I would hate for you to be struggling, if you were."

"Uh, no, no I'm fine actually. It's not as generous as my old wage but it keeps me alive, I can live with the bare necessities."

I could see him itching to say something else, to keep the conversation going. I wasn't sure if we could go back to the serious topic we had before. However, I also wanted to bring it back up, it felt like we needed to talk about us.

"How's the family?" That's all I could come up with.

"They're fine. Everyone is the same. Well, they're not, they're a bit more serious nowadays."

"They weren't in the first place?"

He smiled."I suppose they were. Tension is the right word, tensions have been rising. Tommy's taking on a lot more, Polly knows all these secrets that no one else does, Ada is rebelling against anything Tommy says, Linda is still annoying, Esme and John have been popping kids out left, right and centre. Arthur is still crazy."

"Sounds like business as usual to me."

"They miss you too."

"Do they?"

"Yeah. Almost as much as me."

I cast my eyes down as butterflies rose in my stomach.

"I heard nothing else for the next few weeks after you left. They all told me what an idiot I was, that I was an extremely reckless, stupid and immature boy, and that I had let the best thing in my life get away from me. And they were right. I knew all of that already."

"I...I don't really know what to say right now."

"You don't have to say anything, let's just enjoy this meal, no more of that talk."

The nerves making my stomach flip built at that. What if we had nothing else to talk about? What if it was too weird to dive into our separate lives? I didn't want to sit across my ex-fiance, painfully and politely smiling through forced conversation.

The spark was still there.

When the waiter had returned with our drinks, we were already deep in talk about what had been happening in our personal everyday life. We were non stop, even as we ate through dinner. The waiters had trouble catching our attention each time they checked on us. I was deep in those eyes again, the ones I always dreamed of seeing. We were laughing hysterically, not at all acting how we should have in that establishment (there were a few eye rolls from other patrons). As if time had gone by in a second, the bill was slipped towards Finn, though I still reached into my purse.

"Are you mad? No, put your money away, I'm not taking it." Finn stated as he carelessly threw down some notes, surprisingly taking my hand in his and guiding me out of the restaurant.

I was tense as we walked, and I saw a flash of realisation in Finn's eyes as we made it outside. Both looking down at our interlocked fingers, Finn broke away, clearing his throat.

"Sorry, force of habit."

Hesitating, I smiled up at him, lacing our hands together again."These are new heels I'm breaking in. Need help walking in them."

He chuckled, pulling me closer as we walked down the street. We were silent, feeling like kids in love again. I couldn't deny that my feelings were still strong for Finn, I missed him dearly. At first, part of me had been wary of all this, wondering if he really had good intentions, or just thought he could get a quick shag in from an ex before he left; but the effort he went through, the things we spoke about, trying to heal old wounds, Finn had matured and he was wanting to fix this. I wanted to fix this, my heart was aching for my old life with him.

“We’re not done yet, are we?” I timidly asked.

“Not unless you want it to be.”

I instantly shook my head.“No, I’d like to stay out for longer.”

“Even though you’re struggling in your heels?”

I smirked.“I know a nice place we can sit down.”

I took him to the local park, it had a huge lake with benches dotted around, luckily it wasn’t busy, there was somehow a hint of privacy here. We sat down close to each other, hands still entwined.

“You still hungry?” I asked.

“Hm?”

I dug into my purse, producing a bag of sweets I had bought the previous day. I laughed as his eyes lit up, taking one without even asking. I took one too, reminiscing on how we used to do the same thing as kids. It seemed he was thinking about it too.

“Just like the old days.” Finn said.

“We spent way too much money on sweets back then. It’s a wonder we still have our teeth.”

“Wish I got out of that spending habit. We could be married and in our new house by now.”

“So you never wanted to move on? You didn’t give in to those girls wanting to be with a Peaky Blinder?”

“Never. I couldn’t. I couldn’t even fathom being with anyone else, it was always you (Y/N). Did you date?”

“No, I felt exactly the same. Which is why I was angry at myself for a long time. I was supposed to be upset with you, not still in love.”

His head whipped round to face me.“You still love me?”

My mouth was still open, unsure how to answer. It seemed I didn’t have to as Finn leaned in, placing on hand on my cheek as we kissed. Instinctively I kissed back, placing my hands on him where I could, hearing the bag of sweets fall to the ground and spill its contents. This kiss was needy, the type of kiss you gave your partner when you had missed them, when they had been away for a long time; and although we had our hands on each other, our touch was still gentle.

“Get the ring.” Finn breathed out, our lips still almost touching.

I carelessly got it for him, heart beating extremely fast. He took it from me, pecking me on the lips one last time before standing up. He straightened out his suit, took a deep breath and got down on one knee. I was just as emotional the first time he did it.

“(Y/N), I know I messed up everything in the past, I was careless when I should have been supportive and helped to build our future. I learnt from those mistakes, and I really, really want to go back to how we were. I need you (Y/N), I love you so much. There aren’t enough words to express how much love I have for you. Will you marry me?”

I didn’t need to think about my answer. I blurted out a yes, waiting for him to slide the ring back on my finger before throwing myself onto him. We stumbled back onto the ground, our arms around each other as we laughed and cried. I believed him this time, I truly believed him. He put in the effort to show me his changes, he wanted to fix everything. I wanted things back to the way they were with my man, and we were back to building our future and living the rest of our lives together.

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the-wild-wolves-around-you · 3 years

Text

hear those bells ring: chapter 2 (a deaf!bakugo x reader fic)

Summary: Reader has to deal with the aftermath of Dynamight exploding through her window and trying to bleed out on her floor.

Pairings: Katsuki Bakugo x Reader; Katsuki Bakugo x You

Rating: M(ature)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of gore, and adult language.

A/N: Here’s chapter two, hope you enjoy! ~*~*~ No spoilers or anything. This is just a self-indulgent AU fic with aged up characters. Everyone’s in their mid-20s. Fic title is from a song called “Achilles Come Down.”

AO3 Link: Here

Ch 1 Tumblr Link: Here

Chaos. You intellectually knew the word, in several languages in fact, but nothing could have ever prepared you for the reality of it.

Information assaulted your senses in a deluge. The gust of cold air whistling through the broken window, raking icy fingers down your exposed arms. The bright flare of flames, even behind your clenched eyelids. The dissonant, haunting wails of several car alarms, each one just a second out of sync with the next, barely audible over the loud ringing in your ears. The taste of ash, gritty on your tongue as you sucked in heaving, panting breaths. The sharp smell of smoke and something… sweeter. Like caramelizing sugar.

The sweet scent, incongruous with every other heinous detail, seemed to snap you fully back into your body, and your eyes flew open with a gasp.

You were curled up in a tight ball below your now broken window, and you gaped at your ruined apartment. The lights were out, so the only illumination you had to see by were the flames behind you on the street, but it was enough.

It looked like a tornado had torn through your home. The remnants of your window and wall—broken bits of glass, wood, and plaster—covered everything in sight in a fine layer of white dust. Your sewing desk/kitchen table was in splinters, and even with the dancing shadows, you had the distant thought that the dress you’d just finished mending was most definitely ruined.

Then someone shouted outside on the street, and you felt it like a sledgehammer to the skull.

Oh, god. The villain. The heroes.

You scrambled up onto your knees, hissing when shards of glass tore through your sweatpants and bit into your skin. You’d worry about that later. For now, you focused on getting to your feet…

And not falling out of the gaping hole in your apartment wall.

You stumbled back a few steps from the edge, stabilizing yourself on one of your kitchen chairs that seemed to have survived the blast. The smoke was thicker now that you were off the floor, and you coughed and squinted against the hot, irritating air.

The street in front of you was a warzone.

The windows in the building across from you were all blown out, the empty frames like black gaping voids. The building housed a café/tea shop owned by Mr. and Mrs. Yamato, and you felt a small modicum of relief at the knowledge that they didn’t live above the shop like you did with yours. They lived in a neighborhood not too far away, and they wouldn’t be happy when they came to open in the morning, but at least they were safe.

Safe…

“Mr. Takeyoshi!” you gasped as you remembered your neighbor. He’d been standing on the street and nearly attacked by the villain, but a blond hero had pushed the middle-aged man out of the way.

Your eyes scoured the street as you leaned forward as much as you dared, and just as your heart was beginning to clench, you spotted him. Mr. Takeyoshi was sitting on the curb across the street and about four storefronts down, hunched over with his head in his hands. Two heroes stood above him and seemed to be tending to him, and all three of the men looked whole for the most part.

“God.” You exhaled shakily, your heart still stuttering in your chest, and then movement in your peripherals caught your attention.

One hero seemed to possess a water quirk, and she was quickly working to spray down the numerous small fires still flickering up and down the road. As you watched her work, you realized the street wasn’t as badly demolished as you first assumed. It was still pretty wrecked—all of the asphalt was cracked and even just missing in some places—but aside from broken windows, the rest of the shops seemed mostly intact. The worst of the damage was centered just in front of your apartment, and as your gaze flickered over the large crater in front of you, you saw another two heroes dragging a third body out of the pit.

The villain.

The hero with the water quirk paused in spraying down the smoking remains of a car and turned to shout something at the other heroes. You couldn’t hear what she said over the persistent ringing in your hears, and you frowned as you focused your own quirk toward your ears.

In your hopped-up-on-adrenaline state, you didn’t even notice the energy dip, and a moment later, your hearing returned with a loud pop. Thankfully, all of the car alarms seemed to have been cut, so you could hear the heroes pretty well.

“—still alive,” a tall hero in a red and purple suit said. You didn’t recognize him. “He’s pretty beat up, but he’ll make it.”

“Great,” the water quirk hero sighed. “Let him be the cops’ problem now.”

As if on cue, you could hear a siren start up in the distant, slowly moving closer.

The threat was over. The villain was neutralized, the fires put out, and the authorities were on the way.

So… why did you feel so on edge, like you were waiting for the other shoe to drop?

“—fuckin’ Dynamight,” one of the heroes suddenly spat and drew you out of your thoughts.

You frowned in confusion as the words registered. Dynamight… why did that sound familiar?

Then your eyes widened as you remembered the blond hero, literally exploding onto the scene. His face—snarling and illuminated by the white-hot flare of his quirk—flashed in your mind’s eye, and you dropped your gaze back down to the street below.

Dynamight, Japan’s Number Two Hero. You couldn’t believe he had been the one to turn up and save you.

Well, not you specifically. Your neighborhood.

You’d seen the ash-blond on television before. Usually, the media just liked to harp on his crude language or brash attitude, but you’d seen this one story of how he had saved every single person from a collapsed building. A teary blonde gushing about Dynamight rescuing her had gone briefly viral, but the clip that stuck with you was when a reporter asked the pro hero why he decided to go into the unstable building without any reinforcements.

The blond had scowled into the camera, sweat and dirt still streaked across his pale face, his scarlet eyes flashing from beneath his black mask.

“What was I supposed to do?” he scoffed. “Leave them in there and sit with my thumbs up my ass while the fire department takes their sweet fuckin’ time? Don’t ask me stupid questions.”

Of course, the media had another field day with that response, but… something about it struck you as incredibly genuine. Yeah, the pro hero could have phrased it better, but the core of what he was saying was he couldn’t sit back when people were in trouble, no matter the risks.

You had thought that very brave.

And now you’d witnessed his bravery first hand. You weren’t confident—or really self-centered enough—to go down and thank him for what he’d done, but you thought you would just be satisfied with seeing him from afar now that things weren’t so dire.

But, the longer you looked, the more the pit grew in your stomach.

You couldn’t see the blond hero anywhere. He wasn’t with Mr. Takeyoshi, still hunched over on the curb. He wasn’t with the two heroes who were trying to establish a perimeter and keep out the arriving crowd of spectators. And he wasn’t with the other heroes standing watch over the unconscious villain laid out on the sidewalk.

The rest of the heroes seemed to be arriving at the same conclusions as you. You could hear Dynamight’s name being thrown about, and then the heroes were splitting up, taking different sides of the street, peeking into broken windows.

You wrung your hands as you watched them search from your apartment. No one had noticed you standing there yet, and you were just contemplating going downstairs to try and help in some way when a noise caught your attention.

In the grand scheme of things, the noise wasn’t very loud, especially given the shouting on the street and the loud sirens now that the police were arriving on scene.

But since you lived alone, someone coughing in your apartment, someone who wasn’t you, was cause for a little alarm.

You inhaled sharply as you glanced back over your shoulder, every atom of your being standing at attention. The apartment behind you was a study in contrasts, dark shadows and the flashing lights of the emergency vehicles outside. Your eyes fell on the empty spot where your couch used to be located, and then your gaze followed the drag marks that had been carved into your wood floor.

The couch was half embedded in the wall beside your front door, with one of the armrests denting into the plaster and the other pointing toward your gaping window/wall. The sofa’s legs had been broken, so it slumped to the floor at an angle, and some kind of stuffing spilled out of several rips in the cushions.

But your eyes were glued to the leg sticking out over the armrest and the arm thrown over the back of the couch, which was blocking the rest of the… person from view.

Oh, fuck. That was a person.

Your legs reacted before your brain could even process what you should do, but you were at least cognizant enough to pick your way over the worst of the debris. Your thin, rubber-soled slippers would protect you from the small pieces of glass and rubble, but you really didn’t want to step on a nail if you could help it.

Since your apartment was so small, and there weren’t any full pieces of furniture in the way anymore, you crossed the distance in a handful of strides, but you jerked to a stop when you reached the back of the couch.

Your lungs seized up so suddenly they hurt. The smell of caramelized sugar was stronger now, almost overwhelming, and you actually had to grip the back of the sofa for support, your hand right next to Dynamight’s leg.

Because it was Dynamight half-strewn across your broken couch. Even when you first saw the leg, you hadn’t imagined it could be…

But there he was. And he looked surprisingly… human.

His face was lax with unconsciousness, lacking the perpetual scowl or snarl he wore in pictures or on TV. His hair, which looked paler and somehow softer in person, was tinged red along his brow line, where a cut was still trickling sluggishly. He wore a non-descript black hoodie over dark jeans and darker combat boots, but a glint of color and light around his midsection caught your eye.

You frowned and leaned down without thinking, your fingers reaching out to brush… something wet.

“Oh, shit,” you breathed when you lifted your hand to your face and saw, even in the darkness, that the pads of your fingers were red and glistening.

He was bleeding.

You moved a step closer, but then your foot lost purchase, sliding, and when you glanced down, you saw your once white slippers were dark, more wetness seeping in around your toes.

Oh, god. He was bleeding a lot.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You fumbled for the phone in your pants pocket as you scurried around the opposite end of the couch and dropped to the ground. Glass bit into your knees again, this time deeper, a sharp, brilliant pain, but you ignored it as you tried to turn your phone’s flashlight on. The touch-screen wouldn’t register your finger at first, your blood-slicked skin skimming across the glass, and you could feel a scream building in your throat just before the light flashed on.

If you thought things were bad in the dark, being able to see made it a thousand times worse.

Blood had already pooled around Dynamight, dark and glinting like an oil spill. The sleeve on his left arm had been burned off, and the skin below was pink and raw. It smelled like cooked meat, and the curry you ate what felt like a lifetime ago churned hotly in your gut.

But the burn wasn’t even the worst of it.

A wooden stake, about as wide as three of your fingers, protruded out of the pro hero’s gut by several inches. You thought part of it might have looked like your window frame, but the thought came and went when you noticed the tip of the wooden splinter was dyed red, which meant it must have come through his body.

That had to be where all this blood came from. Was still coming from. God, there was so much of it.

Your eyes shot to the gaping hole in your wall, your voice rising in your throat as you prepared to scream for help, but a sudden gasp nearly made you jump out of your skin.

You whipped back around to find wide, hazy red eyes trained on your face, and the hero’s mouth gaped open as he dragged in a ragged breath.

“Wh—hnng!” he groaned as his body seized, his right hand coming up to clutch at his stomach.

“Don’t!” Your phone clattered to the floor, throwing light, as you lunged forward, and you caught his hand before he could jar the piece of wood lodged inside him. “D-Don’t move, a-and try not to speak.”

The hero panted as he cracked open his eyes and looked at you. Or maybe through you. His gaze wasn’t very focused, and blood from the cut on his brow was still dripping into his right eye.

But the scarlet color of his irises was still striking, even in the dimness of your apartment.

“You’ve… been hurt,” you said as you met his eyes as best you could. You weren’t a doctor or an EMT, but you knew the best way to keep people calm in emergency situations was to let them know what’s happened and reassure them. “There’s a piece of wood inside you, so you can’t move or you might hurt yourself worse. But y-you’ll be okay. I’ll go get—”

“Villain,” Dynamight suddenly spat out, cutting you off and spattering you with a fine mist of blood.

“What?” His voice was rough and guttural, so it took your brain a moment to translate the slurred Japanese. Did he think you were another villain?

The blond hero winced and groaned again, and it wasn’t until he squeezed down on your hand that you realized you were still holding his. His palm was rough and calloused against yours—and warm, so inexplicably warm—but then he dug his nails into your skin, and you gasped.

“Vil… lain?” he rasped again, and you realized it was a question.

“Oh! The villain’s been arrested. You… you beat him.”

Dynamight scowled at you, brow knitting in confusion, and he grunted what sounded like a questioning noise at you.

Then he shifted his head, and you saw the dark stain of blood coming out of his ear.

He must have ruptured his eardrums in the explosion.

You didn’t want to shout and damage his hearing even more, so you squeezed his hand back and smiled in what you hoped was reassurance.

“You won,” you mouthed as clearly as you could. “You won, Dynamight.”

His narrowed eyes widened a little bit with recognition, and you could have sworn the beginnings of a smirk twitched across his lips before his eyes suddenly rolled up into his head. The tension fled his body as he went limp, like a marionette with its strings cut, and your heart lurched up into your throat.

“Dynamight?” you asked, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you with his ears the way they were. “Dynamight?”

You squeezed his fingers, shaking him a little, but his face remained slack.

Dropping his hand, you reached up to flatten one of yours across his chest, the other going up to feel at the underside of his neck. A moment ticked by, two, but you found his pulse, weak and thready beneath your fingertips. His breathing was shallow beneath your other hand, and the knees of your pants were warm and soaked with his blood.

“F-Fuck,” you breathed shakily as you sat back for a moment, your hands limp in your lap.

He was dying. Dynamight… was dying. This was too much blood, and even if you called out to the heroes right now, and they got here in seconds, it was still ten minutes to the nearest hospital.

He didn’t have ten minutes. You didn’t think he had five.

You stared down at the pro hero’s blood-streaked face for half a beat before you made a decision.

Then you were moving. Consequences be damned.

Your hands went to the hem of his hoodie, and you flinched as you pulled it away from his belly with a wet sound. You didn’t want to hurt him, but you also didn’t think he was feeling much of anything now, so you worked the hoodie up and over the stake as best you could before you shoved the fabric the rest of the way up his chest.

The flashing lights from outside played across the dips and valleys of Dynamight’s abs, but your eyes were immediately drawn to the wooden stake. It jutted out between the hero’s belly button and his right hip bone, and every splinter was coated in tacky, crimson blood. More of the viscous liquid bubbled up around the torn skin at the stake’s base, and it trickled across his pale, alabaster abdomen like spilled paint.

You bit your lip as you considered your next move, but then Dynamight’s breath hitched with a wet sound, and you knew you didn’t have time for doubts.

“Okay, steady,” you muttered to yourself as you knelt over the hero’s prone body. Your knees burned, glass digging deeper into the skin by the second, but you shoved away your own pain as you reached out and wrapped both hands around the stake. Splinters tore into your palms, and your heart hammered out a staccato rhythm beneath your sternum.

Then panic started to creep up your spine like a million little spider legs. What if removing the stake only made him worse, killed him faster? What if you killed Japan’s Number Two Hero?

Just as you were about to let go of the stake, Dynamight hacked out a gurgling cough, blood bubbling out of his dry, cracked lips, and you felt the warm spray of it against your collarbone and arms.

The sound rattled something deep inside you, and before you could second guess yourself again, you tightened your grip on the stake and tugged it up and out in one single motion.

Dynamight wheezed once more, but you were already dropping the stake, hands slapping down against his abdomen. Warm blood pulsed through your fingers like pliable clay, and bile rose in the back of your throat before you took a deep breath, closed your eyes, and called upon your quirk.

An instant later, agony like you’ve never experienced slammed into you, ripping a gasp from your lungs. It felt like someone had stuck a white-hot poker through your gut, ignited your insides, and twisted. The pain was so intense, your ears started ringing again, and when you cracked open your eyes, your vision quickly began to tunnel until the only thing you could see was the bare outline of your hands, lined with green, against the hero’s stomach. You gritted your teeth as unconsciousness threatened to pull you under, and you groaned as you shoved as much energy as you could spare into the dying hero.

As your quirk flooded into the blond’s body, you received vague impressions of his injuries healing. It was hard to describe, but it was kind of like you could see flashes of the tissue in your mind as it was stitched back together. First, the jagged hole on his back sealed over, and then your power wormed its way through the hero’s insides, patching up nicked arteries and punctured organs. The pain was still intense, so intense that your already limited vision was blurred by tears, but once you reached the top layers of his abs, you ripped your hands away with a gasp.

You fell back on your ass, more glass and debris digging into your cheeks and the palms of your hands, and you sucked in ragged breaths as you tried to keep from passing out. The hero swam unsteadily before you, both from the tears in your eyes and because the entire apartment was swaying. Saliva pooled in your mouth as nausea clamped down on your stomach, but you focused on the burning in your palms to center yourself. Then you started counting deep breaths, and when you got to thirty, the darkness had receded from the corners of your vision, and the apartment more or less steadied out around you.

You still felt like shit warmed over, like you’d been run over by a car and then dragged for several miles, but the bone-deep exhaustion could be cured with a good night’s sleep. The rest of the nicks and cuts on your body still burned like a million paper cuts, too, but your quirk was down to embers and was of no more use to you.

But was it worth it?

The two feet of distance between you and Dynamight felt like a canyon that stretched for miles, but somehow you found one last burst of strength to drag yourself forward a few inches. Then you held your breath and leaned over the hero’s abdomen, wiping away most of the pooling blood with the hem of his hoodie.

There was still a significant gash carved into his skin, but when you shakily picked up your discarded phone from the floor and directed the light at him, you saw the wound was much shallower, maybe a few centimeters deep. The first few layers of skin were flayed back, but the muscles beneath were intact and healthy looking. A small trickle of blood continued to drip into the valley of the hero’s abs, but instead of a broken fire hydrant, it was just a leaky faucet.

You dragged your tired eyes up Dynamight’s body, and you very quickly realized his breathing was deeper and not as wet sounding. Just to be doubly sure, you reached out and tentatively wrapped your fingers around his left wrist, only absently noticing that the once raw, flayed skin had been partially healed from third degree burns to first.

You had poured more energy into him than you meant to, but it was hard to regret anything when you felt his pulse against your fingertips, strong, steady, and sure.

“Oh, thank you,” you choked out as you closed your eyes, tears stinging in the corners. You didn’t know who you were thanking. You didn’t know if you believed in a “god” in the colloquial sense, but you felt as if the universe had given you a gift just now, and you could be nothing but grateful for it.

You sighed as you slumped a little, and it was like weights were strapped to your eyelids as you struggled to open them and keep them open. You might have actually gone under, succumb to the exhaustion…

If you didn’t catch sight of two crimson eyes staring back at you.

“Fuck,” you gasped as a zap of adrenaline shocked you upright, and your phone clattered to the ground once again.

Dynamight squinted, irises still a little glassy, but unlike last time, his gaze was very much focused on you.

And the weight of it, the intensity, pinned you to the floor.

“Y-You’re awake.” The words tripped off your tongue, chased out by the panic running circles in your brain. Damn it, you hadn’t even had time to come up with a plausible backstory for the pool of blood he was lying in.

The blond hero’s eyes widened a fraction as he stared at you for an immeasurably long moment, and then you remembered with a start that he hadn’t been able to hear you before. This could work in your favor, though. You opened your mouth, ready to pantomime an elaborate story, but his voice—deep and rough, like crunching gravel or an expensive engine turning over—cut you off at the knees.

“And you have eyes,” he said in clipped Japanese, a note of snide derision in his tone.

You blinked in shock—at his attitude, the steadiness of his voice, and the fact he could hear you just fine all the sudden—but he just barreled onward like he had barreled through your window.

“What happened?” he asked. No, demanded. “Who are you?”

“I—”

“And where’s that fuckin’ villain?” he cut you off as his split upper lip curled into a snarl, and his red eyes jumped to the gaping window over your shoulder.

You frowned at him, pursing your lips into a thin line. “Are you going to let me answer?”

A part of your brain was screaming at you, distantly: Are you giving Japan’s Number Two Hero attitude after he saved your life?! You normally weren’t like this. Every inch the people pleaser, you were usually deferential to the point of your own detriment.

But you were still so tired, every inch of you aching, blood still dripping and slick along your exposed skin, and he was the one who decided to be rude first.

Plus, you saved his life, too, thankyouverymuch.

Dynamight actually seemed surprised by your response because his gaze stopped its frantic search of your darkened apartment and settled on you. Those scarlet eyes raked over you quickly, a flick from head to toe, before they met your own.

A beat of silence passed between you, and then his face pulled into a sharp frown.

“Well?” he grunted. “Are you actually going to answer me?”

The nerve of this man. Maybe the media had been right.

“What happened was you decided to practically drop a bomb outside on the street, and then you crashed straight through my window and destroyed my apartment,” you said in a short, clipped tone. “But don’t worry. My couch managed to break your fall, so you’re mostly in one piece. Oh, and you beat the villain, the other heroes are outside handing him off to authorities. Satisfied with my answers?”

You sucked in a deep breath after your little tirade, the blood roaring in your ears. Absently, you patted yourself on the back for the impromptu white lie you’d fed him. The couch did in fact break his fall… and shoved a stake through his gut, but he didn’t need to know that. Fortunately, you had dropped said impaling object behind you in your haste to keep some blood in his body, and you shifted a little now to insure it was blocked from his view. You had healed his life-threatening injury—and his hearing, apparently, though you hadn’t intended that—but he was still covered in scrapes, cuts, and minor burns along his left arm. It was a… plausible amount of wounds, so hopefully your little quirk indiscretion would go unnoticed.

Dynamight was still staring at you in silence, and you began to fidget, on the edge of saying you were going to go flag down another hero, when he finally spoke up again.

“No, I’m not satisfied. You didn’t answer all my damn questions. Who the hell are you?”

A flush of heat infused your cheeks—part anger, part embarrassment for being put on the spot again and being the subject of his intense glare—and you averted your eyes as you mumbled out your name.

“Hah?” he practically shouted as he leaned forward, bringing with him that bewildering scent of burned sugar, but he suddenly stopped with a wince that he quickly turned into a scowl. “Speak up, I hate when people mutter. Just like goddamn Deku.”

The last sentence wasn’t directed at you, but you found his mention of Japan’s Number One Hero intriguing.

You sighed and repeated your name for him, a little louder this time, and he grunted in what seemed like acknowledgment before he started to struggle upright again in the ruins of your couch.

“Don’t move too fast, you’ll start bleeding again,” you chided and scooted closer to stop him from aggravating the injury on his abdomen. You’d healed the worst of it, but it was still an open wound, and he was bound to be sore as hell after smashing through a window/wall.

“M’ fine,” he grumbled as he settled into a slightly more seated position. Then he looked down and noticed his hoodie was still partially rucked up around his arm pits, and his red eyes shot back to you. He studied you for a long moment, but his face was unreadable. “Undressing me while I was unconscious? You’re not one of those damn obsessed fangirls, are ya?”

Your cheeks flared red-hot, but you scowled at the ash-blond hero. “N-No! I—You were bleeding, so I wanted to make sure it wasn’t too b-bad. But, uh, the gash isn’t that deep.”

It was a little harder to make more articulate, detailed lies, especially when his blood was still drying on your hands and you could remember the exact feel of his pulse slowing beneath your fingertips.

Dynamight narrowed his scarlet eyes at you, and you knew you weren’t being convincing. Panic started to claw up the back of your throat again. His burning gaze was charring away at your weaknesses, your resolve. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, confessing. You’d saved his life after all. That wasn’t a bad thing.

Then you remembered all the articles you’d looked up one anxiety-filled night, soon after moving here. All the stories about people using their quirks and causing damage. Of people with healing quirks trying to help and only doing more harm. The fines, the charges, and in rare cases, imprisonment.

You didn’t think you’d be locked up, but you couldn’t afford any fines now, and as an immigrant, any mark on your record could get you immediately deported.

Your mouth dried up. You couldn’t be deported, sent back to your parents as a failure again. What’s more, you had people who relied on you here, like Mrs. Kojima. You weren’t a hero, not important by any means, but… you had just found something to give your life a little purpose. A little stability.

No, you couldn’t be discovered. You just couldn’t.

Your newfound resolve stiffened your spine a little, but when you lifted your chin and met those piercing crimson eyes again, your courage—along with your tongue—shriveled inside you.

Fuck, how were you going to lie your way out of this?

Unfortunately, Dynamight didn’t give you any more time to get your story straight.

“Your hands are all fucked up.”

You startled at his rough voice, instinctively flipping your hands palm-side down and tucking them between your legs. Then, when your brain caught up to your body, you cursed yourself.

Could you be any more obvious, any more guilty?

“I, uh, i-it’s nothing,” you stammered, clearing your throat before you continued. “I cut myself on the broken glass from the window, but it’s not serious. Nothing a few bandaids won’t fix, anyway. Maybe some gauze and antiseptic, but definitely not a hospital visit or anything.”

You knew you were babbling but somehow couldn’t stop it, your anxiety just seizing control of your tongue, and you clenched your torn-up hands into fists until the stinging pain centered you a little bit.

Once again, Dynamight studied you in silence, like he was choosing his words carefully.

“Did you nick your damn wrist, too?” he finally asked as his neutral mask twisted into his signature scowl. “Looks like a lot of blood. Don’t be an idiot and bleed out on me. I don’t wanna deal with the fuckin’ paperwork.”

Well, maybe not that carefully.

“I-I’m not bleeding out,” you protested with a frown. “I’m fine.”

“Let me see.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?

The hero stuck out his right hand, palm up, his scowl only deepening. “Let me see your hands.”

Fuck. A drop of icy cold fear slid down your spine. Your hands were indeed “fucked up” like the blond said, but the cuts were all shallow and minor. They would in no way explain how you were coated in blood up past your wrists. None of your injuries would account for that.

And none of his current ones would, either.

“I—” You opened and closed your mouth several times like a gasping fish, and Dynamight’s eyes narrowed on you with what you were sure was suspicion.

And then, like a gift from the heavens, a small but bright beam of light suddenly flooded your apartment from over your shoulder.

“Dynamight?” a male voice shouted.

The blond hero clenched his eyes shut and turned away from the light, and you. “I’m here! Turn that damn light out.”

Said light cut out an instant later, and you seized the opportunity that had just been presented to you.

Quick as a whip, you leaned over and snatched a large swath of dark fabric that you’d seen in the brief moment of illumination, and you reeled it into your lap quickly. The fabric had been a personal project of yours, a gown you’d started on a whim, but that didn’t matter now. Dynamight was still rubbing at his eyes, grumbling about being blinded, so you kicked half of the unfinished garment under and around the base of the ruined couch, effectively covering up the large pool of blood that had congealed under the splintered furniture. Then you reached behind you, grabbed the bloody stake, and shoved it between the folds of fabric.

There. Now, most of the evidence was hidden.

And not a moment too soon, because in the next breath you heard the crunch of glass as the unnamed hero stepped into the apartment behind you.

“Hello?”

“We’re over here,” you called back, struggling to your feet so the hero could see you over the back of the couch.

The hero was silhouetted against your ruined window and the flashing police lights outside, so you couldn’t see much of his face, but you could tell he was tall and broad-shouldered, wrapped in a red and purple suit you didn’t recognize.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” the hero asked in very formal Japanese.

You opened your mouth to reply, but Dynamight cut you off. It seemed to be a habit of his.

“We’re fine,” he grunted, and you turned to see the blond shoving himself to his feet. A gasp caught in your throat, and you made a half-aborted motion to stop him, but his red eyes snapped up and glared at you, freezing you in your tracks. “Aren’t we?”

It took a moment for you to realize the last question was directed at you, and when Dynamight’s lip curled up into a sneer as he accusingly dropped his gaze to your hands, you realized none of your lies had convinced him after all.

“Y-Yes.” The word stumbled out of your mouth without your permission, but you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes off the blond as you felt your world falling in around you for the second time tonight. “We’re fine.”

The hero behind you said something, but it was lost in the static suddenly filling your head.

He knows. He knows. Dynamight knows.

The words cycled through your brain again and again, a broken record. What would he do? Would he tell the other hero? Or take you down to the authorities himself? And what then? Would they arrest you? Give you a few days to pack up and say your goodbyes before your deportation?

Just as you were beginning to spiral, movement caught your attention, and you watched as if from a distance as Dynamight suddenly stepped past you, the scent of burnt sugar stinging your nose as he went. He was talking, and the low rumble of his voice vibrated through your body since he was so close, barely a hair’s breadth away, but he seemed to be talking to the other hero.

Was he confessing your secret already?

You couldn’t seem to turn around, your slippered feet rooted to your debris strewn floor. Even in the dark, you could see the black stain of Dynamight’s blood on your ruined couch cushions, and without thinking, you leaned down, picked up another torn and dirty piece of fabric, and threw it over the stain, blocking it from view.

You didn’t know why you did that. It didn’t matter now. Dynamight knew, and—

“Ma’am?” A hand touched your elbow, and you jumped, whirling around. “Whoa, careful there.”

It was the tall hero in the red and purple suit. He was wearing a partial mask over his eyes, so only the lower half of his face was visible, framed by two pieces of dark hair. He smiled at you, a pleasant, reassuring gesture, but you could only gape at him.

“Are you alright?” he asked you again, a frown replacing his smile. His eyes started to look you over, but you shoved your hands into the pockets of your sweats before he could see them.

It doesn’t matter, you idiot, your brain screamed, but your body was still going through the motions of keeping your secret, twisting your hands in your pockets, trying to rub out the blood.

“I’m fine,” you said again and then realized repeating the same trite phrase probably wasn’t convincing. So, you smiled at the hero, or at least you thought you did. Your face felt strangely stiff and numb, but you flashed your teeth and crinkled your eyes just the same. “Really. I’m just a little… shaken up is all. I have a few cuts and bruises, but nothing serious. The apartment took the worst of the damage, obviously.”

You laughed, a hint of hysteria in your voice, as you gestured to the gaping hole in your wall behind the hero, hoping to get him away from your blood-soaked couch. And, blessedly, he did turn, so you took a few steps past him until you were both facing the broken window.

Then you noticed Dynamight was standing near the hole, very cautiously leaning against the last remaining, exposed stud in the wall, with his hands shoved in the pocket of his hoodie. His body was facing out into the street, but his eyes were still locked on you, the red of them only intensified by the police lights still flashing on the street.

His eyes seemed to say, I know what you did, and all the saliva dried up in your mouth.

“Well, as bad as the damage is to your home, I’m glad you weren’t seriously injured, ma’am,” the hero at your side suddenly said, and you jolted when you realized he was responding to your inane babble from what already felt like hours ago.

“O-Oh, yes.” You smiled again, just as forced and twice as shaky. “I was… very lucky. A-And thank you! For doing your part to s-stop that villain before he hurt anyone or caused even more damage.”

“Yes, well, there was still more damage than I would have preferred,” the hero replied, and you didn’t miss the dirty look he shot Dynamight, who just deepened his scowl because he was still looking at you. “But let’s get you down to the street. The paramedics will look you over, and the authorities will want to take a statement. But don’t worry, they’ll also put you up in a hotel for the night since you obviously can’t stay here.”

He threw the last part of the sentence at Dynamight like a dagger, and the blond finally tore his eyes off you to glare at the other hero.

You waited for the explosive hero to… well, explode, but he only stared down the tall man beside you before he rolled his eyes, glanced at you one last time, and then jumped out the hole in your wall.

“No—” you gasped, stumbling forward like you could stop him, but an instant later, you heard a mini-boom out on the street, followed by Dynamight barking orders at someone.

Oh, yeah. You remembered how the blond had burst through the air while fighting the villain and realized he didn’t just ruin all your hard, illegal healing work by face-planting onto the concrete.

You sighed and suddenly swayed, like the blond leaving had finally cut all of your tense strings. The adrenaline was fading at last, exhaustion leeching through your veins in its place, and you listed into the hero beside you.

“Ma’am?” he asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“Sorry,” you mumbled sleepily, trying and failing to find your balance. “I think… the shock is wearing off. Just… tired.”

“Would it be alright if I carried you down to the street?”

You wanted to protest, say you could take the stairs down to your shop, but your tongue felt sluggish in your mouth, and all you managed was a vaguely affirmative sounding hum.

“Okay, hold on.”

You felt one hand wrap around your shoulders while the other scooped you up around the knees, and usually, you would protest, insecure about your weight, but the hero settled you against his chest with ease. The instant you were off your feet, every muscle in your body went limp, and you were too tired to even be embarrassed when your head flopped against the hero’s collarbone.

You had the vague thought that he didn’t smell like warm sugar, followed by a flash of disappointment, but then the hero was moving, jumping, and you were falling through the air.

Unfortunately, you didn’t get the luxury of passing out.

Once you hit the street, it was all sirens and shouting, flashing lights and flashes of people, so many people.

True to his word, the hero in the red and purple suit carried you over to an ambulance and two waiting paramedics. The American in you panicked, instinctively trying to refuse care because your shop and home were just destroyed, you didn’t have money for an ambulance ride, too.

But as the medics peppered you with rapid fire Japanese questions, you were reminded of where you were, and the bright flashlight shining into your eyes sure woke you up a little.

The next half an hour was a blur. The paramedics tended to the wounds on your palms, knees, and, embarrassingly, ass, but all of the cuts were shallow, and none of them even required stitches. You knew they wouldn’t require stitches anyway, because once you rested up, your quirk would heal you, but you kept your mouth shut and let the medics wrap you in gauze and bandages. You seemed to have rubbed away enough of the blood on your hands that they weren’t suspicious, but it brought you no relief.

While they worked, you watched the heroes and police out of your peripherals. They were still working to seal off the scene and tend to your neighbors, who were gathered further down the block behind some yellow tape. It didn’t look like anyone else had been injured beside you, and for that you were grateful.

But your stomach was still in knots.

More than once, you heard Dynamight’s brash voice bark over the sirens and other voices, and as the paramedics were finishing up the bandages on your hands, a head of ash-blond hair jutted out over the police car closest to you. Unable to stop yourself, your eyes zeroed in on that distinctive hair color, and you saw the explosive hero was speaking—well, yelling—at two police officers.

Your mouth felt suddenly dry despite the multiple cups of water the medics had fed to you. What was Dynamight saying?

As if he could hear your thoughts, red eyes snapped to the side and locked onto yours, and the breath hitched in your chest. That crimson gaze held you trapped, unable to look away, so when the two officers he’d been speaking to suddenly stepped into your field of vision, you gasped.

“Apologies, didn’t mean to startle you, ma’am,” one of the officers said. He was a middle-aged man, balding, with a serious face and a no-nonsense expression. “We just wanted to ask you a few questions, if you feel up to it.”

You swallowed, your throat clicking, and your heart stuttered into a breakneck pace beneath your sternum.

“O-Of course,” you replied, only stumbling a little over your Japanese. You smiled at the officers, but the expression felt stilted, and fear seized you by the throat and squeezed until your breaths were shallow and grating in your ears.

“Thank you.” The balding officer nodded. “My name is Detective Nakahara. I’ve been told you witnessed and were injured in tonight’s attack.”

You thought the injury part was obvious, given your myriad of bandages and the fact you were sitting in the back of an ambulance, but you nodded to confirm anyway since your voice had abandoned you.

This was it. He was going to ask you the damning question, and you were going to tell the truth. Lying to a hero in the heat of the moment had been one thing, but lying to a police officer during an official statement was another thing entirely. It would take one database search for them to confirm your quirk and Dynamight’s story, and then you really would be in trouble. Maybe imprisoned instead of deported. You cursed yourself for not knowing more about the laws that were going to quickly ruin your life.

But… then Nakahara started asking you about the villain and what you saw, and you stuttered out an answer to the best of your ability. You thought this might have been a disarming tactic, to lull you into a false sense of security, but when you got to the part of the story where Dynamight burst through your window, the officer sighed.

“I take it that’s your apartment there?” Detective Nakahara asked as he gestured to the gaping hole.

“Y-Yes.” You nodded. “And I own the shop below.”

Which you now realized looked no better than your apartment. The windows were all blown out, black scorch marks along the door frame, and you didn’t want to even think about the shape of the interior.

“What kind of shop is it?” he followed up, but he sounded more curious than interrogatory.

“Clothing alterations,” you said. “M-My grandparents were a tailor and seamstress. I inherited the shop about a year ago, after they passed.”

“My condolences,” Nakahara murmured with a small dip of his head, and he seemed genuine. “For your grandparents, and your home and business.”

You blinked in surprise at the turn in conversation. “O-Oh, thank you, that’s very kind.”

“Do you have anywhere to go for the night, or were you on the way to the hospital?” he asked as he looked you over.

“No,” you said quickly and then blushed. “I-I mean, my injuries aren’t serious enough for a hospital visit. Just some cuts and scrapes.”

“Alright.” Nakahara nodded. “Is there any family we can call for you? Or take you to?”

“N-No,” you repeated, a little more timidly this time. “My parents… don’t live around here, and I don’t really have any other family.”

“Any friends?” he asked with a furrowed brow.

Your face was red-hot now, and you dropped your eyes to your lap, fiddling with your bandaged fingers. What were you going to say? That you were an introvert, and the only “friends” you had were the old ladies who frequented your shop?

“None that I would want to bother in the middle of the night,” you muttered before you suddenly remembered something. “But, um, one of the heroes said you could maybe take me to a hotel?”

“Of course, we can take you right now, and we’ll also pay for the night,” the detective said.

“Oh, you don’t have to—” you started to protest as you snapped your head up, but the officer held up a hand.

“The city has funds to aid those displaced by villain attacks,” he explained. “The next forty-eight hours are guaranteed, so if I were you, I would use the opportunity to rest.”

Detective Nakahara glanced down at your bandages, and you bit your lips as you nodded.

“Okay, thank you for your help then, sir.” It was all you could think to say.

“You’re welcome.” Nakahara nodded back at you and then reached out to help you out of the ambulance. “If you’ll come this way, we can have an officer collect some things from your apartment, and then we’ll head to the hotel and get you settled.”

The finality in his tone and the idea of a hotel drew you up short. What… was happening? You had thought the detective was going to interrogate you about your quirk, not… chauffeur you to a nice hotel.

The practical part of your brain was screaming for you to let it go, but the words were high-diving off your tongue before you could stop them.

“I-Is that all?”

Detective Nakahara paused and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “Is what all?”

“I—” Shut up, shut up, shut up! “You didn’t have any more questions for me?”

“No,” the detective said simply. “We have your statement, and it matches the others we’ve obtained.” Here, he frowned and seemed to study you for a moment. “Did you have any other questions for me?”

“I… was just wondering what the next steps are for my apartment and shop,” you blurted out the first thing you could think of. “Will the… city pay for repairs? Do I have to fill out some forms?”

It was an honest question, a real one you had, but your mind was still reeling. He wasn’t going to ask about your quirk? Had… Had Dynamight not said anything?

Nakahara sighed but held a hand out for you to take, and you absently let him help you down from the ambulance. Then he slowly began walking toward one of the police cars, and you had no choice but to follow since you were still holding onto his arm for balance.

“Unfortunately,” the detective started, “the city will not be able to repair your home or business.”

“Why?” you asked with a frown. “I thought you said there were funds.”

“There are,” he said, and when you looked up at him, you noticed his lips were pursed into a thin line. “And, if the villain himself had thrown debris through your window, then the city would compensate you. But, in this situation, Dynamight caused the damaged.”

The detective practically spat the blond hero’s name, and your surprise must have shown on your face because Nakahara quickly cleared his throat and schooled his expression.

“Because of this, his agency will be responsible for repairs, so you will have to contact them,” the officer finished.

Contact them? You had to contact Dynamight’s agency, which meant… fuck. You felt the blood drain from your face, and your expression must have shown your dismay because Nakahara patted your hand that was still looped through his arm

“But you can worry about that tomorrow,” he said. “Let’s get your things and get you to the hotel so you can rest.”

You nodded blankly and let the detective lead you to the open backseat of a police car. Nakahara called another officer over, and the woman asked you questions about where things were in your apartment. You answered numbly, listing out different clothing items and how to get to your bedroom. Then she was gone, and Nakahara stepped away to do something else, so you were suddenly left all alone.

Unbidden, you looked up and searched for that pair of scarlet eyes, that head of ash-blond hair, but the explosive hero was suddenly nowhere to be found.

The crime scene continued to bustle around you, but all the while, two thoughts circled each other in your head, like binary stars stuck in each other’s orbit:

Dynamight didn’t reveal my secret.

But I’m going to have to face him again.

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wanderinginksplot · 3 years

Note

Hi! Coul you do a Hunter x Jedi FemReader fluff. Myybe They are reunited after a long time and they hang out in secret.

Hey! It took a few days, but here’s where this prompt took me:

Hunter + Jedi F!Reader + Fluff

“Steady!”

“Watch the far side - it’s tipping!”

“We need another few troopers over here to help balance it!”

“It’s too heavy!”

“Stop, men,” you ordered, your calm voice cutting through the clamor with ease. “Let me get it.”

Lifting the heavy crate with the Force was simple, one of the first things you had learned to do in the Temple. From there, transporting it to the correct section of the hangar wasn’t any more difficult, and you accomplished the task with ease.

“Still showing off, General?” a rough voice asked from just behind your ear.

You turned around, already smiling at the familiar face. “Sergeant Hunter,” you greeted. “I had no idea you were on-planet.”

He shrugged, the movement flowing with grace that would have made even a Jedi jealous. “We picked up a new member for the Batch. We needed to have him cleared on Coruscant before we could risk taking him into action.”

“And?” you asked, already thinking about how you could help. Force-healing wasn’t your strong suit, but you could pull a few strings to get the right padawan to the GAR headquarters. If Hunter needed something, you would do everything in your power to get it for him. He had saved your life often enough to deserve that dedication from you.

“And he’ll be fine,” Hunter reassured you. Gesturing to the flurry of men working to unload your gunships - each one painted with a flattering caricature of your profile with a lightsaber held out in front of you - he asked, “How did the mission go?”

You shrugged. “It went as well as can be expected, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means- Well, it…” you sighed. “This war never seems to have a true victory. There are always losses, and those sacrifices don’t always make sense given what little is accomplished in return.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “That’s what we’re made for. Sacrificing.”

You hated hearing that, no matter how often it had been repeated by the Kaminoans, the GAR, and the Jedi Council. These men weren’t a product and their lives weren’t something they should expect to lose simply because they had been created rather than born. They had names and personalities, painted their armor with patterns in your favorite color, and some troopers even asked for permission to use your handprint in their designs. Hunter’s casual defense of what you saw as the fatal flaw of the Jedi Order made your stomach lurch and your spirits drop.

“So they keep telling me,” you agreed, mustering a smile for Hunter. “It was a pleasure seeing you, Sergeant. It has been far too long.”

"Wait," Hunter called and you paused in turning away. "What did I say?"

His earnest question only served to make you feel worse. "Nothing, Hunter. The problem seems to be with me. I just need some time away from the war, the loss."

Hunter's eyes cut a neat contrast against the darkness of his tattoo. "I can't help much, but how about some time spent with an old friend?"

"I have to go make my report to the Council," you hedged.

"After that, then," Hunter suggested. "I'm not gonna twist your arm about it, but you're the one who said it's been too long since we saw each other."

You gave a small smile at that. "That's true. Meet me at Dex's Diner tonight?"

"Comm me when you're leaving the Temple," Hunter instructed, giving a respectful nod as the two of you parted.

As soon as you had finished with your report and washed the grime of a long mission from your skin, you contacted Hunter and started your journey to Dex’s Diner. The small restaurant had been a Coruscant staple for years, but it had recently seen a huge surge in business. Not only did Dex make fantastic food, but he served meals to anyone who wanted to buy them. The Besalisk had a firm open-door policy, especially where clone troopers were concerned. Off-duty clone troopers were a common sight in the diner, laughing and mingling with Coruscanti civilians.

Hunter was already inside, having secured a booth tucked away in the corner. While clone troopers were far from rare at Dex’s Diner, Jedi were seen less often, especially since the war had begun.

Still, you slid into the booth across from Hunter and gave your usual order to the serving droid. Surreptitiously, you input your credit information as well, paying for the entire meal before it had the chance to deliver a total.

“What is that smile?” Hunter asked, offering one of his own.

“Nothing,” you said, waving off his question. “So, what have you and Clone Force 99 been up to since I saw you last?”

Hunter blew out a breath. “It’s been - what? A year since we saw you?”

“Yes, nearly that,” you agreed, trying to keep the edge of sadness from your voice. Early in the war, you had been on a series of missions with the Bad Batch and had planned to keep working with them, but a member of the Jedi Council had sensed your attachment when you returned planetside. You had been reassigned and ordered to cut ties with the enhanced troopers before the attachment grew stronger.

You had reluctantly done as you were told, but saying goodbye to Clone Force 99 had been difficult. In retrospect, that was likely a good sign that you were indeed getting attached to these troopers. However, that hadn’t stopped you from meeting Hunter today, the first time you had ran into him since following that order. It was with a surge of guilt that you realized you had taken care not to let any other occupants of the Temple see you leave. You hadn’t wanted them to ask where you were going…

“Hey,” Hunter said sharply, drawing your attention back to him. “Where did you go?”

“Nowhere in particular,” you excused yourself. “I’m sorry, I missed what you said.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Hunter told you. “I just sat here and watched you get lost in your own head. Stay out of there. After all, I don’t get to see you every day.”

“Fair enough,” you conceded. “How have things been going for you out there?”

Hunter shrugged. “Pretty well. We haven’t found another Jedi who works with us as well as you did, but the few we’ve been assigned to have been competent.”

From Hunter, that was high praise indeed. “And who have you been assigned to?”

“Well…” he mused, “We did a few missions with General Unduli and you know we usually work with Commander Cody and General Kenobi. We did just finish a mission with General Skywalker, though.”

“And how did that go?” you asked, smiling at the thought of the GAR’s most unorthodox squad working with the Jedi Order’s most unorthodox Knight.

Hunter rolled his eyes dramatically and launched into the story of rescuing one of Skywalker’s troopers who had been captured by the Separatists. It was horrifying to think of one of the Republic’s soldiers in enemy captivity for so long, but Hunter nearly had your sides splitting when he talked about Captain Rex brawling with Crosshair, Tech leaping onto the back of some winged creature, and Wrecker demolishing an entire Separatist fleet.

“I bet Wrecker was thrilled!” you said to the last point, still laughing.

“He was, of course,” Hunter agreed, sending a soft smile your way. “He’ll forever be looking for ways to top that mission, so I guess I have Skywalker to thank for that.”

“Oh, I needed this,” you sighed, wiping a tear from the corner of your eye.

“Want to talk about it?” Hunter asked. “I get the feeling you haven’t been happy about much lately.”

“Oh-” you stammered, his insight stunning you for a moment. “I don’t know if there’s any particular reason…”

“If you had to think of one, then,” Hunter suggested.

You blew out a thoughtful breath, trying to gather a year’s worth of abstract thoughts and quickly stifled smiles into a cohesive summary. “It’s… hm. It doesn’t feel… right, to laugh and joke when soldiers like you and your brothers are working so hard and so seriously to win battles. It seems- seems almost like ignoring their sacrifices. People are dying every moment, and being happy feels… frivolous, somehow?”

“You aren’t sacrificing people, if it makes you feel any better,” Hunter told you consolingly. “Just clones.”

You had stood from the table before you knew what had happened. Hunter stared up at you in surprise, a rare expression from a man whose senses allowed him to predict behaviors so well.

“I don’t think this meeting was a good idea,” you told him bluntly. “I’ll see you later.”

“Wait-” Hunter started, trying to rise from the table, but he was interrupted by the arrival of the serving droid. The droid, oblivious to things such as tense silences, began busily unloading its tray of food onto the table, its position trapping Hunter in his seat.

You watched in silence as the table was set to the precise specifications that the droid had been programmed to deliver. Hunter, avoiding your gaze, fiddled with his silverware, ruining the droid's perfect symmetry with only a touch.

When the droid had finished and rolled away, Hunter looked up at you, confusion and guilt mingling on his face. He gestured to your plate. "Please?"

You eased back into the seat after a moment of thought. Hunter couldn't know why you were upset if you didn't give him the benefit of an explanation.

To give yourself a moment of thought, you unfolded your napkin and spread it across your lap. When you were done, you made direct and unblinking eye contact with Hunter. "It hurts me when you talk about the troopers like their lives have less meaning. Like they deserve nothing more than death to achieve a goal."

"That's what we were told all our lives," Hunter countered carefully. "At least the regs were told they could die in sacrifice for the Republic. We were told that we deserved to die because we were different."

The disgust and self-loathing in Hunter's last word made you reach out and cover his hand with yours. You made no effort to influence him - you respected him far too much for that - but you tried to convey your sympathy with a touch.

"And now you know that isn't true in the slightest," you reminded him. "I can't change a moment of your past, but we can all impact our shared present to create the future we deserve."

Hunter's warm fingers flexed under yours as he flipped his hand over to weave your fingers together.

"That's why you're the Jedi we keep asking to be assigned to," he said with a fond smile. "You don't see us for what we can do for you, for the Republic. You just see us."

You raised your eyebrows at that, your heart feeling lighter than it had since the early days of the war. "As if the Bad Batch could be tied to a single Jedi…"

"For you?" Hunter pretended to think about it. "I think we could give it a try."

With a shared smile, the two of you turned your attention to the food you had ordered. Neither of you commented on your hands, still intertwined on the table between you.

---

A/N - I originally had a different ending in mind, but I liked this one too much to change it. I’ll leave it up to you to decide what happens when Hunter realizes that you’ve already paid for your food!

Thanks for the request, @dreamingofclones! I hope you enjoyed!

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars the bad batch #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #swtcw #tcw #tbb hunter #sergeant hunter #hunter #hunter x reader #clone force 99 #jedi reader #fic request

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atlafan · 4 years

Text

Part One - “Call me Jane.”

a/n: here’s part one of nanny!H, I’m very excited about this series. I’m not sure how many parts it’s going to be, so please don’t ask lmao. Once I know how many parts it’ll be, I’ll make a master post for it. I’m just too excited not at least share the first part because Harry is just too cute in this! Feedback and reblogs are super helpful, and keep me motivated, especially when it comes to writing series. (not proofread) You can support me here if you’re able!

Warnings: none...for now

Words: 4.1K

Pairing: Harry x OC (Jane Watson)

Master Post

Harry found himself in a real bind. He was twenty-six years old, had an early childhood education degree, and the daycare he worked at was going under. He had just been promoted a month prior too, how could things go wrong so quickly? Times like this he really hated that he stayed in the states. Childcare services weren’t nearly as fucked up back home. His dream was to save up enough money to open up his own pre-school at some point, but it was really tough.

There was this weird stigma that if adult men wanted to work with babies and toddlers then that made them a pedophile or something of the sort. That wasn’t the case with Harry. His minor in school was psychology because cognitive development intrigued him. He also loved babies and little ones. He loved watching them learn and discover.

Only now, he was without a job in an already struggling field. He and the other employees weren’t exactly given a big notice before they were told the business was going under. Harry mostly felt bad for the parents of the kids that had to find new child care centers. He knew he’d have to compete with his co-workers for any available jobs, and he knew they were bound to find places before him because they were women. It was their fault, and he knew it. He was experiencing a prejudice that they must face all the time.

He looked into Care.com, but none of the jobs on there seemed like long-term gigs, and he didn’t want to just be a glorified baby sitter. He figured if he could find a well paying nannying job, he could do that for a bit until finding a job at a new facility, or even set up his dream pre-school. During his search on Indeed, he saw a position for a live-in nanny – jackpot! Live-in meant long-term, and long-term meant lots of money. It also meant he could get rid of his apartment and not have to pay rent for a while. He clicked on the ad that was posted only a couple of weeks ago.

Live-in Nanny Needed for Help with Eight-Month-Old

Minimum requirements:

· Bachelor’s in either early childhood education or elementary education

· At least two years’ experience working babies/children

Three professional references required

Applicant is subject to thorough background check for the safety of the child and mother.

Other tasks as needed include:

· Cooking

· Light cleaning

· Grocery shopping/running other errands

If applicant is selected, they will be paid a flat rate of $1600 bi-weekly, will live in “in-law” section of the house, and a car will be provided for them. A resume, cover letter, and three professional references may be sent directly to [email protected]

After reading everything over, this seemed like Harry’s best bet. Some of it seemed a little too good to be true, but this was a risk he needed to take right now. He just hoped the position hadn’t already been filled. That night he spent some time updating his LinkedIn, making sure all of his privacy settings were up to date on all of his social media, and then wrote out a resume and cover letter. The last part was his least favorite because he knew a proper resume and cover letter had to be curated to the specific job, and it made things all the more tedious. By the time he was done, it was late. He didn’t want to seem unprofessional, so he waited to send the email until the next morning.

Subject: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good morning,

My name is Harry and I’m interested in the nannying advert you’ve posted on Indeed. For the last four years I’ve been working at P.B. & J.’s Child Care Center, and was recently promoted to team lead. Unfortunately, the business itself couldn’t remain afloat, and I was laid off.

Attached are my resume and cover letter. I’d be happy to provide the three references if I end up being considered for the position.

Thank you for your time and consideration,

Harry

Treat People With Kindness

He closes his laptop with a satisfied sigh after proofreading his email ten different times before he hit send. He takes a sip from his coffee, and sits back on his sofa. Now all he had to do was wait.

There was radio silence for two days. Harry was starting to think he would need to keep job hunting. He had bills to pay, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask his parents for help. They already looked down on his profession as it was. If he had his own car he’d become an uber driver or something, but he didn’t so he couldn’t. Then, by some stroke of luck, at 4:55PM on a Thursday, he gets an email from the address he had been hoping to see pop up.

Subject: Re: Nannying Advert on Indeed

To: [email protected]

From: [email protected]

Good evening Harry,

My name is Jane Watson, thank you so much for your application. My apologies it has taken me a couple of days to get back to you. I am usually more responsive, but things have been a little crazy at work as of late. Upon further review of your resume and over letter, I would like to offer you an interview this Saturday at noon, if you are available. I can be flexible if that day and time do not work for you.

If you are able to come, and are still interested in the position, I ask that you please bring your references with you. I will want to call them right away. I am sure you can understand me wanting to thoroughly look into you before letting you into my daughter’s life.

I look forward to hearing back from you soon.

All my best,

Jane

Harry responded to her right away, he didn’t care how eager he seemed. He told her Saturday at noon worked great, and that he would definitely have his references, and anything else he needed to provide. She emailed him back an hour or so later with her cell phone number and address. For the first time in a while, Harry felt like he could breathe again. He knew it wasn’t a done deal that he’d be getting the job, but he was being given a chance, and for that he was thankful.

He wanted to make a good first impression on Saturday, so he made sure to wash his hair in the shower, and use his good mousse so his hair would look more orderly. He shaved to give himself that clean and sleek look, this was not a day to appear scruffy. He knew he didn’t need to be overly dressed up, but he also knew that you’re supposed to dress for the job you want and not the job you have. He irons a pair of tan slacks and pairs it with a blue button up. Not to brag, but his bum looked great in these slacks, and it was giving him all the confidence in the world. He puts on a floral tie, just to show a bit of his personality, makes sure his nail polish isn’t chipped, and makes sure all of his rings are looking shiny. He takes an uber out to Jane’s house. It was in a gated community, which he was expecting since he looked up the house beforehand. He wondered what she or her husband did for work to live in a place like this. Or perhaps she inherited the home? Either way, he was excited.

He thanks the driver, and knocks on the door as he was instructed to do. A woman with silver hair that was up in a nice bun opens the door.

“Hello, you must be Mr. Styles.” She smiles.

“Yes, hello.” He smiles back.

“I’m MaryAnne, please come in.” She steps aside to let Harry in.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Watson is just pumping, but you can wait for her here in her office.” She leads Harry down a corridor where he meets a grand double door. MaryAnne opens them and shows him inside. “Make yourself comfortable, dear. Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, tea?”

“I’m all set, but thank you very much.”

The woman nods and leaves him in the room alone. He stays standing as he didn’t want to assume where he should be sitting. There was a gorgeous desk with two chairs on the other side, but there was also a small round table with four chairs around it in the corner. She clearly held a lot of meetings here, or so it would seem. To pass the time he looks over her bookshelves, scanning over what she might be into. She seemed to be into fiction, but he had never heard of any of the books on some of the shelves, or the author. She had several by the same person. Before he could look further, he heard the clacking of heels on the hardwood floors approaching him.

Everything stopped when she walked in. Jane had her hair up in a flowing ponytail, a white blouse covered her top half, he notices that the first few buttons were left undone, probably to help with her pumping, and she had a black pencil skirt on that just came to her knees. She was short, and a little voluptuous, not that Harry was checking her out.

“Hello, Mr. Styles, I’m sorry to keep you waiting.” He goes to stick his hand out for her to shake, but she walks around him and sits down at her desk. “Please, have a seat.”

He swallows and sits down.

“Y-you can just call me Harry if you like, Mrs. Watson.”

“I’m a Miss not a missus.” She says as she takes out a folder with a few sheets in it and a pen. “It says here you graduated Summa Cum Laude from Lesley University. That’s an incredible place to get a degree in education.”

“Thank you, I got a pretty decent scholarship, it was my reach school. I minored in psychology as well. I did my practicum hours at a daycare center that specialized in caring for children with disabilities. So, I’ve worked with all sorts of children. I prefer working with infants and toddlers, though.”

“And why is that?” She looks at him, clicking her pen, ready to take notes.

“Well, I just have more fun with them, to be honest. I like watching them discover new things. My favorite thing to do while working in the baby room at my last job was working with the babies on their tummy times. It was always rewarding to watch them get stronger. I feel like I just bond with them better.”

“I need to ask you some personal questions since this is a live-in position.”

“Of course.” Harry nods.

“Are you in any sort of relationship with anyone?”

“No, I’m single.”

“Have you ever been arrested, or do you have any sort of criminal history?”

“No.”

“I’m not one to judge, I think everyone deserves a second chance, I just have to ask these sort of things.” She says.

“I don’t have a criminal record, Miss Watson.”

“History of drug use?”

“I smoked a bit of weed when I was younger, but I don’t anymore. An edible once in a while, maybe, but never when I’m on the clock.”

“Just marijuana?”

“I’ve done shrooms a few times, but nothing other than that. Stupid kid stuff.”

“Again, not judging. I’d prefer you don’t have any drugs in the house, unless they’re for medical use. I know edibles can be prescribed by doctors for anxiety and whatnot.” Harry nods at that. “What about alcohol? You’re twenty-six, you must enjoy a drink after a long day.”

“A glass of red once in a while, sure.” He nods. “But I’m not really a heavy drinker, I never have been. I’d say if anything I’m a social drinker, but you watch me carefully at a party you’ll notice that I nurse the same drink.” He smirks.

“I’m the same way. A little bit of a buzz is fun, but anything more can be a bit scary. I actually cannot remember the last time I had a real drink.” She looks off in thought.

“Well, can’t you drink now that the baby’s here?”

“And have to succumb to a pump and dump?” She scoffs. “No way, that would be a total waste. It’s torture enough to sit there while a machine sucks the milk out of my-“ She stops herself. “Sorry.” She shakes her head. “Anyways, your resume was impressive, and you were quite articulate in your cover letter. You’re the only candidate I’ve invited for an interview.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” She nods. “I really wanted someone with experience, not someone fresh out of college looking for a place to live. You’d really be okay with living here?”

“Honestly, you’d be doing me a favor. My long-term goal is to either have a daycare or pre-school of my own someday. Not having to pay rent for a while would really help me save up for that.”

“That’s an incredible goal to have, Harry.” She smiles, impressed by his ambition. “What questions do you have for me?”

“I just want to clarify, your daughter is eight months?” Jane nods. “And what’s her name?”

“Lilly.” Jane smiles.

“That’s a beautiful name.” Harry smiles. “Why exactly do you need a live-in nanny?”

“I work a lot.” She sighs. “And I’m a single mom. I want her to always have someone here that she can depend on and feel comfortable with. Sometimes my work drags me out in the middle of the night, or I have to take a phone call at an odd hour. I just want someone else here in case I can’t be if something comes up.”

“So, her father’s not in the picture?”

“No.” Her features sour a bit. “He doesn’t even know she exists to be perfectly honest with you. I found out I was pregnant after we broke up, and I decided not to tell him about her. He was a deadbeat moocher, he would have been useless.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but thank you for telling me. May I ask, how old are you?”

“Twenty-nine, does that matter?”

“No! No, I was just more so curious. You seem pretty successful to be in a home like this. In the advert, you stated I’d be given a car as well, that’s not exactly cheap.”

“You’ll be given access to one of my cars.” She says. “I’m not giving you a car, make no mistake about that.” She smirks. “I’m an author, a successful one.” Harry tries to think if he’s ever heard of a Jane Watson before, but he’s coming up blank. “You’ve never heard of me because I have a pen name. If it’s all the same, I don’t really want to share it with you. Not yet, anyways.”

“Sure…wait…are you offering me the job?”

“Not quite. I’d like you to meet my daughter. I want to see how she interacts with you.”

“I’d love to meet Lilly.” He smiles.

“Great, before we do that, do you have more questions?”

“Yes, who’s MaryAnne? Is she, like, a maid or housekeeper?”

“No.” Jane laughs. “She’s my personal assistant. I usually answer the door myself, but pumping took a bit longer than usual.”

“When did you publish your first work?”

“When I was twenty.” She smiles. “I was still in school, and I decided just to self-publish. It took off, and a few companies reached out to me. I eventually got an agent, and the rest was history. I’m a fast writer, I’m able to churn out more projects than most people, and for whatever reason they keep becoming hits. One of the reasons I travel a lot is that a couple of my works are being turned into television shows, and working out those contracts is a lot. I want to be a part of the process to make sure the stories are told correctly.”

“That’s incredible!”

“it is.” She nods. “I never thought I’d be a television producer, but here I am. I don’t really want Lilly around all that, so there’s another reason for having a live-in nanny.”

“This may seem like a silly question, but will I have time off?”

“Oh my goodness, of course! The salary is negotiable as well. You’ll have weekends off, as well as all bank and national holidays. You’ll also earn vacation time and sick leave like at any other job. You’ll be given a benefits package as well, if you need health insurance.”

“You…you provide stuff like that?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“I’ve just never heard of a nannying job quite like this before.” He blinks. “It feels too good to be true.”

“I’m just a firm believer in compensating someone properly. I believe in investing in the people you have.”

“Right.” He swallows. He almost starting to feel like he was going to be her sugar baby or something, but he obviously knew that wasn’t the case. “You asked me about my dating life, what about yours?”

“I’m also single. Lilly is my top priority, and then comes my work. I’m completely fulfilled as is.” She stands from her desk. “Come, I’ll give you a tour of the house, and of the in-law space, and then you can meet Lilly.”

“Okay.” He stands up and follows her out of the office.

She shows him the living room, which felt more like a study. There was an entertainment room with a huge flat screen, deluxe loungers, a pool table, and bar. She shows him to the kitchen which was equally as extravagant. She brings him upstairs to show him all of the bedrooms.

“This is Lilly’s room.” Jane says proudly.

“it’s beautiful, I love the light purple.”

“So do I.” She says. “My room is down the hall, don’t think you need a tour of that.” She laughs and they head back downstairs. “Here’s the inside entrance to the in-law, but there’s also an exterior entrance you can use…or if you have guests over.” Harry’s in awe of the space. It was larger than his apartment. “It’s a one bedroom flat essentially. There’s a full bath en suite, and there’s a half bath over there. Open concept kitchen and living area. It’s fully furnished as well. Feel free to decorate it however you like. I just ask that this space stays yours. There’s really no reason for you to bring Lilly in here, you know?”

“Sure, yeah. This is amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s just hope Lilly like you.” Jane smirks, and they head back to the main part of the house, and into Lilly’s playroom. She was sitting with MaryAnne in a large rocking chair. “M, you can feel free to go back to your office if you like. Harry’s going to get acquainted with Lilly.”

“Of course.” MaryAnne stands up with the baby, and hands her over to Jane.

“She has an office here too?” Harry asks.

“Of course she does, and one of the guest rooms upstairs is hers to use when she needs it.” She kisses the top of her daughter’s head. “Lilly,” she coos, “I have someone I’d like you to meet.” She gestures for Harry to take her, and he happily does so.

“Hey, baby girl.” Harry coos. Bright hazel eyes look up at him in wonder. He lets her latch onto his index finger. “It’s so nice to meet you.” He looks at Jane. “She’s precious, Miss Watson.”

“Isn’t she?” Jane beams. “She’s really been enjoying her bouncy, and messing around with her blocks. I have some CD’s I like having her listen to as well. Oh! We did a paint with pudding night as a sensory play thing, it was a hoot.” She chuckles.

“Those are great, aren’t they? Very stimulating, and it teaches the child that sometimes messes are okay.” He looks down at Lilly and smiles. “May I sit with her in the rocking chair?”

“Please!” She gestures to it, and she sits down on the loveseat in the room. Harry sits down with Lilly, cradling her carefully. He adjusts her so she’s able to stand on his lap. She bounces herself and giggles. “Look at that!” Jane exclaims. “I love it when she does that.”

“She’s awfully sweet.” Harry smiles, and then he looks at Jane. “How much do you feed her?”

“I give her roughly twenty-four to thirty-two ounces a day. You’ll know how hungry she is or isn’t in the moment. I’ve started giving her pureed butternut squash, mashed bananas and strawberries, she’s got that puffed baby cereal as well. I’ve also started giving her ground chicken in really small doses just to get her some protein, but right now I’ve mostly been sticking to fruits and veggies. You must know a lot about what foods to give a baby?”

“I do.” He nods. “You’re still producing that much milk to give her daily?”

“I’ve almost been wishing I’d dry up. I get so sore somedays.” Jane sighs. “But I figure it’s good for her to have it while I can still make it. I’m not opposed to formular or anything…but I like bonding with her in that way. I got rid of her baby acne by rubbing my nipple on her skin, it was like magic.”

“It’s certainly a trick of the trade.” He smirks at her. “I remember learning that in one of my courses, and I was amazed. You all are super humans.”

Jane watches Harry play on the ground with Lilly for a bit. Harry was already so wonderful with her. Harry starts to smell something, and so does Jane.

“Think it’s time for a diaper change.” He chuckles and picks her up. “Would you like me to change her?”

“Yeah, I’d like to see you do it.”

He brings Lilly over to the changing table, and lays her down.

“I know you’re all warm and cozy, but I need to disrupt that for a moment.” He says to the baby girl who was babbling and blowing little spit bubbles, totally unbothered. Harry unsnaps her onesie, and lifts her legs to detach the diaper. His eyes widen at the type of diaper that’s on her. “You cloth diaper?” He looks at Jane.

“It’s better for the environment.” She shrugs. “There’s a trashcan for the…um, poop, and there’s another can for the diapers. I give her a regular diaper for bedtime just because it’s easier to change her in the middle of the night and in the morning, but daytime I use the cloth diapers.”

“Makes sense to me.” Harry disposes of everything, and grabs a few wipes to clean Lilly up. She took a powerful stinky.

“I blame it on the pureed peas.” Jane laughs.

“It doesn’t even phase me anymore, honestly.” Harry says as he gets a little baby powder on her. He grabs a spare cloth diaper, and gets it on her. He snaps her onesie back together and lifts her up. “There we go, good as new, darling girl.” Lilly blows some bubbles at Harry, and blows some back, making her giggle. Jane beams at the two of them.

“It’s about time for her afternoon nap. Would you like to put her down?”

“I’d love to.”

Harry carries Lilly upstairs with Jane. She flips on Lilly’s white noise machine, and makes sure her favorite blankies are in the crib. Harry sits down in the large chair in the corner of the room and starts to rock her gently, giving her soothing rubs. Jane watches as Lilly’s eyelids start to droop. She fights it at first, but Harry continues to soothe her until she’s out like a light. He carefully stands up and sets her down into her crib. The two back out of the room quietly, and make their way down the stairs.

“Let’s go back to my office.” Jane says, and Harry follows her there. Once they’re both seated, she starts speaking again. “Well, the job is yours if you want it.”

“Really?” Harry felt every worry from his life leave his body.

“Yes.” She chuckles. “You’ve really impressed me, and I think Lilly’s quite taken with you already. I’d love to have you as her nanny.” She takes out a few forms. “May I have your references? The background check will take about a week. How soon could you start after that?”

“Right away, honestly.” He hands her a sheet with his references.

“Here are the tax forms you’ll need to fill out, a form for direct deposit, and some information on your benefits. You can get everything back to me by the end of next week.”

“I can’t thank you enough for this opportunity, I’m so excited. I can’t wait to get started, Miss Watson.” He stands to shake her hand, and she stands as she takes it.

“Please, you can call me Jane.”

#love's divine #love's divine part one #call me jane #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles series #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x oc #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #nanny!Harry #nanny!H #nannerry

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simplysummers · 3 years

Text

Breaking down Hunter and Omega’s relationship: pt 4.

Hi everybody. My biggest apologies for the delay on this series over the past two weeks, I’ve had a lot of medical issues going on, alongside a big decision in my life I had to make before the end of September taking precedence. However, with a little more time on my hands and a new team of proof readers behind me, I’m hoping to be back on track soon enough! I hope you enjoy my analysis of ‘Cornered’, and please always feel free to reply/reblog/send an ask with your opinions and discussions! I love to hear and reply to them! 💛

(Pasted paragraphs: I would just like to add a disclaimer here. I am, in no way whatsoever, slating the other batchers for having differing relationships with Omega. I absolutely adore everything single one of the boys, and I think they all have wonderful and unique interrelations with her. Although I may point out these different approaches in comparison to Hunter’s, I am not stating these engages are wrong, just different is all!

I’m going to separate this into a little series- covering each episode in a separate post, which I’ll have tagged as the series progresses. Once I’ve tackled these two, as they’re my favourites, I’m going to move on to each individual Batcher and perhaps a few other dynamics such and Hunter and Crosshair, or Wrecker and Omega! Let me know what you guys would like to see!)

(Thank you to this weeks proof-reader: @very-depressing-waffel 💛)

Cornered: S1/E4

Although minimal, I absolutely love the small interaction between these two in the opening scene of this episode. While it would make sense for Hunter to take the chair, as he is navigating co-ordinates, instead he allows Omega to sit down and rest, the pure affection between them is particularly radiant in these moments. I’d also like to note that it is Hunter’s order to originally send them to Idaflor, where we can only assume he is heeding Cut’s previous advice given on the subject of ‘disappearing to start a new life’. By connotation, this essentially means Hunter was extremely ready to settle down with his brothers and both raise and protect his newly found little one. However this clearly becomes an evident concern of Hunter’s as Omega begins to whine, claiming she desperately wants to explore the galaxy instead of hiding away on an uninhabited planet. Although appreciating her enthusiasm, he insists they cannot risk it, not right now, showing he has all further plans to take her to see the universe whenever it may be safe to do so. Her safety has become his priority.

Also, another little mimic on Omega’s part is mentioned after Tech’s evaluates their situation- “Well, Pantora it is.” “Pantora it is :)”. This angel, she steals my heart.

Moving on slightly to the arrival of Pantora, Hunter’s civvies and Omega carrying his backpack for him, which is as big as her little torso might I add, makes the world spin. Notice too how her eyes never leave him for a moment, it’s a typical child trait when wanting to catch an adult’s attention for good behaviour. After Wrecker mentions the implications of sightseeing, which ultimately peaks Omega’s interest, Hunter is quick to diffuse the situation by insisting this is only a quick supply run. I strongly believe this is because although he intends to take Omega into the city with him, most likely recognising her desperation to explore, his main intention is to keep her safe and protected, I personally spy a compromise here. Finally, regarding this little interaction, when inviting Omega to join them, he calls her ‘Mega, ‘MEGA!!! Hunter is the first member of the batch to nickname her affectionately, and her little excited cheer in response says it all!

When strolling through the busy marketplace, I noticed that alongside drinking up all sights she can set her eyes on, Omega continues to perform the aforementioned ‘smile at parent because I am both well behaved and very excited’ technique, breaking away from her awestruck staring to give Hunter a cute grin, which he affectionately returns under the realisation that her purity and innocence has erupted through something as simple as a marketplace, another endearing trait his charge has displayed. I’d also like to shed light on the protective hand-on-shoulder movement Hunter uses after the squad of troopers pass by him, Omega, and Echo. His wary stare and protectiveness is an extreme diversion from his usual headstrong attitude, which we know is correlated to his need to protect his charge. (Hand-on-shoulder, AGAIN. Comforting Dad alert!!)

When offering to trade with the Gran merchant, I noticed that whenever Omega picked up a new item to inspect or show off to Echo, Hunter glances over his shoulder to observe her. I have reason to believe he might not only be watching her explore, but keeping an eye on her after the incident on Cut’s farm. I can practically see Suu’s words of advice ringing in his ears, and he wants to make sure she stays out of trouble. And after she does inevitably knock something over, although he scowls a little in her direction (as any parent would), Hunter swiftly turns his look of annoyance towards the Gran as he begins to scold Omega, once again showing his protectiveness in her regard, and in all honesty, he has every right to respond this way, we’ve already established this salesman is stubborn and conceited.

The entire plot of this episode is centred around Omega’s inevitable separation from Hunter and Echo as she ends up running off to chase a voorpak, who has stolen her new doll. We cannot fault Omega for her behaviour, it was a little juvenile at most, but we must take into account this would be her first time in such a situation, and she has never been taught otherwise. Hunter’s immediate faltering smile as he realises Omega is missing is honestly gut wrenching. He has just received 3,000 credits, a hefty sum for what they’re in need of, and now he’s lost his ward, and the pain and concern is fully mirrored through his halting eyes.

I’m moving ahead slightly to add a little character-action comparison! Now, this may just be me nitpicking, and I mean no hate to Fennec Shand (I actually ADORE her), but did anybody else notice the difference between her hold on Omega and how Hunter holds her? Fennec’s fingers lay beneath the nape of Omega’s neck, almost curling into her tunic’s collar, and so while it may seem protective, it actually holds very possessive and controlling connotations. Whereas when Hunter places a hand to Omega’s shoulder, his fingers are quite loose, and it only ever rests up her upper shoulder, allowing the girl freedom if she so much as wishes it. It’s extremely docile. Furthermore, I wanted to briefly comment on Hunter’s tenderness when retrieving Omega’s new doll, most likely using it to track her recent movement. His hold is very gentle, considering he is now clinging to the last piece of Omega he has contact with, and a noticeable shred of panic holds his upper body rigid for good measure. It’s very nicely animated.

Coming ahead swiftly to the brief ‘positive’ interaction between Omega and Fennec, I haven’t seen this mentioned before but I personally see the discussion concerning the need for protection when travelling the galaxy as a small nod to Omega’s newly found connection to the boys, and Hunter specifically. Omega insists it’s a good thing she has her ‘friends’. Noticeably, she is still very hesitant to label them as her brothers, as she most likely feels excluded to an extent (bearing in mind the boys were raised together with the exclusion of Echo, no matter her previous ties to them, Omega was always going to feel isolated to some extent), but not enough to deny she has an attachment to them, and vice versa. Hunter has already shown on multiple occasions (Kamino, Saleucami, the moon from episode 3) that he would do whatever it takes to protect her, but it’s nice to see Omega’s perspective on the newly found emotions too.

Finally, Hunter is able to catch up to both Omega and Fennec, and the sudden change in his demeanour and her aura of innocence is extremely present here. Hunter drops the worrisome parental act fairly quickly, and it’s replaced with the familiar soldier we all know and recognise, he needs to exhibit such strengths to assert the extent he is willing to go to protect Omega. Equally, upon realising Fennec doesn’t quite have her best interest at heart, Omega wastes no time jumping (recklessly) into action to save both herself and Hunter anymore trouble. Of course, being a weightless little girl, she isn’t able to do much, and Hunter ends up in a physical altercation with Shand, where he actually ends up taking his eyes off the assassin to address Omega directly, insisting she run. This not only shows just how much he cares about her, but how desperate he was to ensure her safety by putting himself at risk by not only getting into a fight, but exposing a vulnerability by taking his eyes off of her. (Her worried little face as she flees too, poor girl 😔)

(This point doesn’t have much to do with the relationship between these two, so feel free to skip over it if you want, but I did want to briefly comment on Omega’s timid exterior as she runs to Wrecker in the maintenance tunnels. It truly helps to perceive her genuine age and immaturity, the way she cowers into his neck and sits in his arms especially.)

After Tech informs Hunter of Omega’s current predicament involving the maintenance tower, it’s easily noticeable that when questioning Tech’s information, his voice mirrors the exact tone and edge it held when berating both the former and Echo after their ship was impounded in Saleucami. To me, this shows a clear connotation between the dire situations, and how quickly Hunter has taken to his new role in Omega’s life, and his job as her primary carer. Not to mention, she is literally hanging mid-traffic lane, and in desperate need of assistance. Alongside this, we see previously in this episode that not only was Hunter worried about attracting unwanted attention, after receiving such a thing and accidentally allowing Omega to hang in the balance (pun unintended), he actually steals somebody’s hoverbike in an attempt to rescue the little one, seeming to not care he is attracting even more unwanted attention. There is no hesitation on his end.

The look of absolutely HORROR that crosses this man’s face as Omega drops from the tower and just about hits the hovertruck below. We haven’t seen a look like that cross Hunter’s features since Crosshair’s ‘betrayal’, another indication to his immense worry for the newest member of his family. Equally, this is mirrored by Omega’s wide eyed, petrified stare as she momentarily watches Fennec shoot straight for Hunter’s bike, realising both she and the closest thing she has to a parent are still in serious peril. We need to take into account that this little girl has never experienced something this grim before, and the internal panic is evident for both herself, and Hunter especially.

This brings us down to the “HUNTER!!” comment from Omega as she dangles from the hovertruck. I personally believe her first initial thoughts were not to warn Hunter of the oncoming Shand, but instead a desperation to cry out for help from her guardian. This escalated as she notices Fennec approaching, and her eyes even widen as she calls out for Hunter to watch out, giving further evidence that her first thoughts might not have correlated to her eventual dialogue. It’s also important to note that despite her incredibly tragic situation, Omega is still much more worried about Hunter’s predicament than her own.

(Slightly unimportant, but I love the way Hunter leans in to take Omega in his arm before Shand knocks him out of the way. It’s very parental.)

I never noticed this before, but as Hunter catches Omega’s hand and hauls her onto the bike, he actually scans her over briefly to check for any injuries, before insisting she hold on tight. Notice how his voice isn’t scolding or harsh, he’s very calm despite the dire situation, doing his best to remain neutral for Omega’s sake, especially considering the day she’s had. It’s also important to note that this is further improvement from the situation on Saleucami, another example of their ever-growing relationship.

The WAVE of relief that rolls from Hunter’s entire demeanour as he places the backpack down in the Marauder cockpit, knowing he can finally rest now that Omega is safe, while simultaneously anticipating the flurry of issues about to storm their already hectic lives with a bounty hunter after the kid. His eyes are exhausted, his shoulders are only slightly slacked to insinuate his rough exterior, and yet he still does his absolute best to comfort Omega as she begins to get upset over the prior events and the unknown future.

And, finally, a small action but important nonetheless. I noticed that Omega’s eyes quiver slightly as she begins to get upset, and in her final moments on screen, they direct towards Hunter. This may seem unimportant, but it provides further evidence to the notion that she seeks him out for protection specifically. She’s upset and frightened, so she looks to him because he protects her. It is set up as if she’s about to toss herself into his arms, because she needs him right now.

I hope you liked my analysis of Hunter and Omega’s relationship in episode four of The Bad Batch! Of course, I’d love to discuss these two with anybody who might be interested, so please feel free to drop me an ask or a DM, and if you’re captivated enough I’d totally recommend looking out for my future posts on the topic!

As always, much love to our ‘Megs and Hunter, thank you for reading! 💛

Part One: Aftermath

Part Two: Cut and Run

Part Three: Replacements

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hongism · 4 years

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mists of celeste ➻ 36

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 17.2k ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, chapter specific warnings: talks of torture, psychological torture, mentions injuries/infections, mentions of past abuse ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

⇐ previous | next ⇒ | masterlist

✧✧✧ act five ➻ part three

“I need to talk to Jisung. I… I have some questions about my past.”

“I’ll go with you then,” Yeosang offers without missing a beat, and he steps into your space. “That Spectre can’t be trusted enough to be alone with you. It’s bad enough that he’s being left alone right now.”

“Just yesterday you were talking about how much you hate me,” you scoff, turning away from the door to stare him in the eye. “Now you’re wanting to protect my every movement?” A huff of air passes through the man’s lips. For a moment, he refuses to look at you, and you think he’s going to choose to ignore you rather than respond to the question.

“Having Wooyoung speak to me through you put things in perspective a bit,” he admits. He drags his tongue over the front of his teeth, then shifts to face you without resistance this time. “If there is even the slightest chance that your death could negatively affect Wooyoung, I have to make sure that doesn’t happen. Don’t worry, I still hate you. I can’t stand you one bit, and I wish that I had a damn guarantee that you getting hurt wouldn’t risk Wooyoung’s safety because I could care less about looking after you on top of all this mess. Besides Wooyoung — he asked me to look after you, and my feelings about you are meaningless compared to what he wants.”

You haven’t had much of an opportunity to think about all the ways in which you and Wooyoung could be connected. While there is no guarantee that harm to you would harm him physically too, Yeosang does have a point. Just the chance is enough to be wary about. The same could be true the other way around in turn — anything they do to Wooyoung could potentially hurt you too, but there is no possible way of confirming that at this point in time. All you can do is wonder whether you will be able to see him and the others when you sleep next, should you even be able to sleep because it doesn’t sound tempting at all after what you just had to go through.

Your dragging hesitance must bother Yeosang to some degree because he huffs out another sigh and steps around you to lead the way out the door. You shift to follow him, stepping forward into the corridor only to run face-first into the Elitist’s back in less than a second. One peek around the curve of his shoulder tells you why he’s stopped so suddenly, and it’s none other than Jongho who stands before the two of you in the hall.

“Oh good, perfect timing. We need everyone to the medbay immediately,” Jongho says with a short nod, looking past Yeosang to give you a glance as well.

“Did something happen?” You ask in response.

“Hongjoong woke up, and he asked to see everyone.”

“He woke up? Why? No, no — how is he up?” Yeosang is the one to begin rambling, and he doesn’t stop there. “There were no signs of changes in his condition. I thought Yunho said it could be another several days before he woke up?”

“I don’t know either honestly.” Jongho brings a hand up to drag his fingers through his hair, pushing the locks off his forehead for a moment before they fall flat against his face again. “I came straight away the second Hongjoong gave the order. I don’t even know what the situation is quite yet.”

“Your conversation will have to wait then,” Yeosang murmurs. The two of you exchange a small nod, although you can’t say you’re too upset about having to postpone the conversation with Jisung.

“Conversation?” Yeosang steps around Jongho as the Berserker asks the question, and you are left to regard each other with confusion while Yeosang starts a path down the corridor.

“I was going to talk with Jisung about some things,” you explain, ducking your head to avoid the look Jongho gives you. It’s not one that causes any discomfort — moreso there is too much sympathy in that expression he wears, too much underlying pity that makes the pit in your gut deepen further. “Later. It’s fine, nothing pressing.”

Jongho reaches a hand out and takes hold of your elbow. The touch is delicate, probably one meant to offer some sort of comfort and nothing more, and that’s exactly what it does. Moments later, you are walking after Yeosang with a much lighter feeling swelling in your chest that you can’t pinpoint or explain.

When the three of you reach the medbay at last, Yunho stands outside the doors, hands close to his chest as he wrings them together without cease.

“Why aren’t you inside with Seonghwa?” Jongho asks upon seeing the healer.

“Hongjoong asked — he asked for a minute alone with Seonghwa.” Yunho blinks furiously as he speaks, and the motion of his hasty blinks is nearly dizzying in its frequency. “Under normal circumstances, Seonghwa would be the one to inform Hongjoong of the situation but… but Seonghwa still refused to speak even after seeing Hongjoong awake. He — what the fuck happened to the two of you during the night?”

You know the question is directed at you, but it still catches you unaware nonetheless. You can do nothing but stare back at him with wide eyes as the words process along with Yunho’s shaken-up disposition.

“I’m not sure,” you mutter. Yunho purses his lips, and a small exasperated sigh slips through, enough to show his annoyance with your answer, but Jongho steps in front of you before the healer can say anything. “I recall having a nightmare of my own but Seonghwa wasn’t there with me — I, no, that’s not — I mean he wasn’t—”

“Seonghwa had a nightmare,” Yeosang interjects, saving you from the moment of panic and from further fumbling with your words. “I managed to coax a bit out of him while you and Jongho were talking with Y/N. He had a dream that he was choking which is why he stopped breathing, and because he was so deep in the nightmare, he couldn’t wake up when Y/N tried to get him up the first time. You ended up startling him out of the nightmare and back into consciousness.” It could be a complete lie on Yeosang’s part, but it is logical and adds up in your mind to make some amount of sense. It saves your ass for certain, and that’s all you could ask for given your awkward and helpless fumbling. Yunho, however, doesn’t seem pleased with the response based on the way he shakes his head.

“That doesn’t add up,” he mutters, arms coming to fold over his chest. “Whatever he was dreaming about had to have been more traumatic than that since he had no other symptoms that lined up with other causes of shock. Trauma is the only logical option given what state he was in. Shock… it’s not just a quick jolt, it’s a critical condition brought on by a sudden drop in blood flow through the body. So trauma, heatstroke, blood loss, allergic reactions, infections, poisoning, burns, those sorts of things. His organs were not getting enough blood or oxygen, but just physically I could not see any sort of physical causes proving that. I can run some poison checks, but that truly wouldn’t make any amount of sense.”

“Even if it was something merely traumatic, what makes you think that he would ever want to talk about it with someone who always seems to want to pick him apart for every decision he’s made in life?” Yeosang levels Yunho with a glare so intense that you can almost feel the spike of tension in the air between them. “He was unresponsive with you for a reason no doubt. Maybe you shouldn’t have criticized him so much for decisions that didn’t involve you.”

“He involved me the second he started complaining about the arrangement betwe—”

“That’s enough,” Jongho cuts in, and he lifts a hand to rest atop Yunho’s arm. “Let’s not get heated right now. I can confirm that the emotional aura coming off Seonghwa’s body was something far beyond even a moderate level of trauma. Just being with Hongjoong in there is already helping some, but it will likely take some time for him to recover.”

“This is the worst possible timing,” Yunho sighs. “With tensions already high and everything… right when we need Hongjoong and Seonghwa the most, things like this have to happen?”

“Hongjoong is up now though, so that won’t be as much of an issue any longer.” Yeosang has a valid point with that one. Although without Seonghwa… you don’t want to have to think about how things would be without Seonghwa in all honesty, and it’s hard enough to even conjure up the smallest of thoughts about it. “Has anyone had eyes on Han?” Jongho is the first to deny it.

“I still feel his aura in the spare room we gave him. He didn’t budge at all during the night prior to the incident happening so I don’t think he’s behind that either.” Jongho’s words are enough to bring an unsteady silence to the four of you. There is nothing that can be said really, and you understand that better than anyone. How could you even try to explain the things you saw in your dream? You aren’t sure what you thought you would say to Jisung either; that was moreso a spur-of-the-moment decision made in a panic, and it’s probably for the better that you don’t go see him now.

“I hate this,” Yunho mutters after the silence grows unbearable. “It’s too quiet without the others here.”

“We should enact a plan soon, especially with Hongjoong up,” Yeosang says back. “Seonghwa won’t want to take a break or any recovery time, so things should be business as usual from now on. Can’t we hurry this along a bit? I doubt anyone is going back to bed soon, so talking with Hongjoong now would be best, no? Discussing plans so we can catch up to the transport ship the others are on?”

“Just a moment, yeah.” Yunho dips into the medbay. When the door slides open, you catch a glimpse of what’s inside, for better or worse. Seonghwa resides on one of the beds, the one closest to the door actually, and Hongjoong is as well, body draped over Seonghwa’s like an extension of the man, It’s not anything inappropriate, nor does it seem to be in the way the smaller captain straddles his hips and clings to his lieutenant like his life depends on it.

Looking at them like this — something close, intimate, calm, peaceful almost — you nearly feel as though you shouldn’t be present. It’s a crawling sensation that spreads to your stomach and chest, eyes trailing over the places where one man meets the other, and if not for looking so intently at the scene before you, you would miss the hefty tear tracks over Seonghwa’s cheeks. One of Hongjoong’s hands curls through Seonghwa’s hair as the other wraps tightly around one of the lieutenant’s.

Hongjoong pulls his hand down from the other man’s head, brushing over the tear-stricken skin of his cheek. He is clearly looking down at the man but Seonghwa doesn’t look back. Instead, he keeps his eyes shut tight with a few tears spilling out the corners. And in the back of your mind, you barely process how much you hate seeing Seonghwa in such a state, broken and crying without relent, and you hate how you seem to be just fine in comparison to him. The two of you were in the same place, suffering the same fate of being put through nightmares, and yet you came out of it because Wooyoung saved you. Did Seonghwa have anyone there to save him?

It is pointless to think of that now, but it’s all that is on your mind as you watch Hongjoong’s lips move with haste, muttering words that must be meant to comfort under his breath. You are too far away to hear it all clearly, although a few words slip in here and there.

“You’re okay… here… we’re here… together, okay? It wasn’t real… trust… I’m here.”

Yunho clears his throat when Hongjoong still doesn’t pull his attention away from Seonghwa, but even that announcement doesn’t cause the captain to budge even a little bit. Instead, he continues his hushed whispers for a few more moments then lifts the hand that is still tangled with Seonghwa’s in a pausing motion.

“We’ll talk more about it later, yeah?” He murmurs a bit louder as he pulls back to glance over in Yunho’s direction. His gaze slips past the healer’s should to find you in an instant, and you duck your chin in a panic, eyes finding the floor. It’s the feeling of being caught doing something you shouldn’t or watching something you shouldn’t be watching, and seeing Hongjoong atop Seonghwa in such a way is the cause of that. Perhaps he expects you to be jealous and scowl at him, and perhaps that is exactly what you are supposed to feel, but frankly… it doesn’t make you envious in the slightest. You moreso feel content at the sight of them holding each other so closely, like Seonghwa is finally at peace with Hongjoong in his grasp and awake. Hongjoong is finally up, can finally comfort him, and Seonghwa can finally rest easier. Why would you ever want to take that away from him?

The sight of them so closely linked, however, brings up a fleeting memory from your foray in the Dreamscape.

“To think that at the time, my worst nightmare was merely existing.”

“And now?”

“Not being able to save Hongjoong from himself.”

Albeit briefly, you wonder if that might be what Seonghwa saw once the two of you were separated. Even moreso than that though, the more pressing worry on your mind is just how deep Hongjoong’s demons run for Seonghwa to be so concerned that it has become his worst nightmare. You don’t have any more time to think about it as Hongjoong slips off of Seonghwa’s body and props himself on the edge of the bed. Seonghwa moves to sit up as well only to have Hongjoong’s hand slap down on his chest and shove him back to the bed with little effort. They don’t exchange any words, but they don’t need to either with the way one corner of Hongjoong’s lips quirks up in a half-smile as he blinks down at his lieutenant. Perhaps Vladimir had a point in the backhanded comment he made in the arena — when you see the way Hongjoong gazes at Seonghwa, it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen or experienced before, like Seonghwa could do no wrong in the captain’s eyes, and like he’s the most precious creature in existence. Hongjoong slips his hand down to the inside of Seonghwa’s thigh, resting his fingers against the fabric of his pants just above the knee. It’s nothing… lewd or suggestive, nor does Seonghwa seem to take it as such, moreso a touch of comfort and nothing more.

“Well, are you all going to get in here or not?” Hongjoong leans to look past Yunho’s shoulder, regarding the rest of you with a stare that is enough to cause you to step inside. Yeosang does the same and comes in behind you, but Jongho doesn’t budge even an inch. Instead, he stays in the corridor with arms crossed over his chest and eyes darting down the hall every so often like he’s expecting Jisung to come bursting out at any second. Hongjoong waits but you have a growing suspicion that he’s not waiting for Jongho to come in necessarily. “I asked for the whole crew, Yunho. Where are the others?”

Does he not… did no one tell him of the situation?

Yunho inhales sharply but doesn’t manage to do anything more than that, teeth sinking into his lower lip. Yeosang, however, doesn’t let any silence drape over the room in the aftermath of Hongjoong’s question. He takes the initiative and steps forward with an expression so flat and even that you nearly believe nothing is wrong in the slightest.

“During the mission at the arena, Mingi, San, and Wooyoung were all taken captive and are currently missing in action. Vladimir was used as an instrument to get the ball rolling, but someone else is behind the incident. The three are aboard a transport vessel that is on its way to Dorado, where Mingi will be sent to a recreational facility to reprogram him back into the Brute of Kebos. San and Wooyoung were not the initial targets, so their fates and what will happen to them are currently unknown. We — we have someone aboard who is acting as a mole for us and gaining information from Vladimir, Han Jisung. He’s also eavesdropped on several meetings to get information about the transport vessel and the plans.

“Oh, I know that part,” Hongjoong hisses through gritted teeth. A flash of panic crosses Yeosang’s gaze for a split second, and the two of you seem to instinctively share in that panic by looking towards each other.

“H-How?” Yunho stammers.

“Why do you think I’m even up in the first place? A certain Han Jisung came in here and woke me up.” Seonghwa sits up without hesitation and latches a hand around Hongjoong’s shoulder. The captain doesn’t even have time to react before both Yeosang and Yunho are suddenly stepping closer to the bed and into his personal space as well. Your first instinct, on the other hand, is to twist at the waist and look towards where Jongho stands in the hallway.

“Did you sense anything? I thought you said he was in his room this whole time.”

“I… No, I truly didn’t sense anything. It must have been during the commotion in Seonghwa’s room. That—” the Berserker cuts himself short there, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he finishes the thought “—that was the only time I didn’t think to check for his heat signature. By the time I was certain the crisis was averted, Jisung must have gotten back to his room.”

Hongjoong shrugs Seonghwa’s touch off as best he can before pushes the man back to the bed with another gentle touch.

“Don’t worry. He didn’t lay a finger on me.” Even though the words are clearly directed at Seonghwa, they hold weight over Yeosang and Yunho as well, bringing both men a few steps back from the bed. “Han Jisung is the one you should worry about.”

And as much as you despise it and wish your brain did not catapult in that direction, you cannot stop the twinge of panic that surges through your veins. It must be strong enough to pique Seonghwa’s interest because however hard you try to conceal the emotion on your face, you cannot keep the Siren from sending a worried glance your way. You don’t wish to care for Jisung still, you wish you could just bury that part of yourself and focus on something else instead — something like Hyunwoo, who deserves more than what you gave him, but your mind clings to Jisung like a parasite. You aren’t sure it will ever let up.

“I left him with several pretty threats that were enough to deter him from doing anything foolish. But he in turn informed me of the situation from his perspective. I merely wanted to hear from you all to make certain he was telling the truth. So thank you, Yeosang, for sharing the information better than this Jisung character did. Although, he did tell me what they intend to do with Wooyoung and San. Wooyoung is set to be sold to the House of Lilies in the Upper Echelon of the capital, Lynder.”

“What the hell is the House of Lilies?” The name itself leaves little to the imagination, but you can’t exactly blame Yeosang for needing the verbal confirmation. This time it isn’t Hongjoong who answers, though, and for what seems to be the first time since waking up, Seonghwa opens his mouth to speak.

“It’s… a whorehouse for the top class of Lynder, typically only used by the military and head councilmen of the city.”

“It’s a fucking what?”

If they’re putting Wooyoung in a place like that, then you don’t want to imagine where they would put San.

“San. Wh-what about San? Do they plan to do the same to him or—”

“No, they have different plans for him,” Hongjoong interjects, cutting your thought into a silent breath of relief. “He’s slated to be put through regression therapy and built into the perfect assassin. After that, he’ll go into the military in the Upper Echelon of the capital. He and Mingi will be put in the same facility for their treatments, but Wooyoung’s deal is supposedly more immediate.”

“Regression therapy? That’s the worse possible treatment San could ever receive!” You don’t really need to hear the panic in Yunho’s tone right now; it only makes the gravity of the situation weigh heavier on your shoulders. If you could sink through the floor and disappear from existence entirely, that would be preferred, but alas, no matter how much you wish for it, you’re stuck in place. “That could undo every ounce of progress he’s made over the years! All that — everything, Hongjoong.”

Hongjoong’s tongue flicks out for a second, stabbing the corner of his lips harshly before retreating back into his mouth. He presses his lips into a thin line after that and refuses to respond to Yunho’s words.

Regression therapy. You’d heard of it during your stint with the military, a thing that was merely used as a threat for rowdy and unruly recruits who refused to do as asked. Only a threat because of how awfully traumatic it could be and how inhumane the public thought such a treatment to be. But the point was not to be humane then.

“They’d… use regression therapy to undo all that progress for a reason,” you murmur. The heat of five stares hits your body, and it’s almost overwhelming for a moment but you push forward to finish the thought. “Breaking him down into the husk he used to be is only part of the process. Once he’s put in the military, they’ll just wipe him of it either way, but to seem like they’re doing it consensually, they have to get him to go in there by choice. That’s how things worked on Eros. They threatened to bring back memories from before the wipe if you stepped too far out of line. They’ll break him, turn him into what he used to be, make him as deprived and desperate for even an ounce of freedom, then offer to take it all away.”

You don’t realize how hard you are gripping the inside of your right elbow until the pressure stings, but the moment you release your arm, that temporary grip on reality slips away and you fall into a vague flashback.

“Things will be okay, Y/N, I promise. It’s gonna be okay.”

Hyunwoo is the one to speak to you. Your attempts to reach out and grab him are futile as you quickly find that you are strapped to a cool metal chair that practically burns your skin. Hyunwoo reaches down, lips twisting into a soft pained smile, and he takes one of your hands in his own.

“It’ll only hurt a little bit. We won’t take much, just enough for them not to be able to track it back to you. If you don’t know then they won’t be able to pin the blame on you, and you’ll be safe. So we’ll only take what we need to, okay?”

“I-I don’t know who ‘they’ is.”

“You won’t need to know after this. Jisung is prepping the serum now.”

“I — Hyunwoo, I didn’t even get to say goodbye!”

“I’m sorry. This was the only way I could save you all. Maybe one day you will get to see each other again, and you can tell him the truth. And he can tell you the truth.”

“What fucking truth? You can’t do this now of all times, Hyunwoo! It isn’t the time to be cryptic and mysterious!”

“You’ll understand one day, Y/N. I promise.”

You pull yourself out of the flashback there, mostly because you’re so startled and confused as to why that memory slipped in. You were certain that you shared that conversation with Hyunwoo just before he walked to his death, not strapped to a chair with him saying such startling things.

“You’re right,” Hongjoong mutters, tugging you back to reality so harshly that you flinch. “Once they get on Dorado and conduct Wooyoung’s deal, they’ll separate Mingi and San. Probably place them in separate rooms: San to an isolation chamber, a large one no doubt. Mingi will most likely be placed in a much smaller one that will resemble the underbelly of the arena he grew up in.” Hongjoong pauses his thoughts there and shakes his head. “Han Jisung seems to know far too much about these plans and exactly what is going on. Why isn’t he tied to a chair in the brig right now?” Seonghwa opens his mouth to reply only to have Hongjoong wave his hand and dismiss the question entirely. “That isn’t important right now. What’s important is that we must keep any and all information found from henceforth away from Han Jisung. No plans, no musings, nothing whatsoever. That all stays between us as we cannot trust Jisung no matter what. I would rather keep a gun stuck to the back of that man’s head at all times than risk failure at this. Emergency rescue and recovery mission. We’ll talk further over the details soon. It’s best to get more rest now though.”

“I’d like to run some sleep tests anyways,” Yunho chimes in, and he turns to you before you have a chance to duck out of it. “Both you and Seonghwa. Don’t think I’d let you get out of it. Please just let me run a few tests, if anything only to make sure you’re okay.”

“Fine,” you mutter. Yunho doesn’t wait for you to follow him as he leads the way to another bed further down in the medbay. Sleep is the last thing on your mind right now, but you don’t have much of a choice as the healer sits you down and starts pulling wires and electrodes out. Hongjoong continues to talk to Yeosang a bit more, no doubt to decide on what to do moving forward.

“I’ll be hooking you up to a telemetry machine. It’s just to monitor your heart and see if there are any irregular happenings during the night. I’ll use it mostly to make sure it’s all beating properly and such while you’re asleep, but I’ll also place some sensors on and around your scalp, temples, chest, and legs, along with a small clip on your finger to monitor the oxygen in your blood. I’ll be here the whole night monitoring you both if any issues arise, yeah?”

“Okay.” You don’t make any efforts to hide the slight exasperation in your tone, and Yunho has the decency to at least pick up on that as he connects more of those sensors to your skin.

“I’m… I’m really sorry, you know. It’s — I know I have a lot to be sorry for and this one shitty apology won’t do much, but I am genuinely sorry,” he murmurs quiet enough for just the two of you to hear. “For all the ways in which I have been immature and hurtful. I did not act as a responsible or good doctor shoulder, but also from a deeper standpoint, I didn’t act as a friend should either, so I’m sorry for that as well. I want to do better and fix those mistakes but I don’t know how to right now. With all the stress we are under right now, I don’t want to risk making things worse by any means but... I can promise that I’ll try to do better.”

“I’m not petty like that,” you huff in reply. “Just you admitting that you did wrong and want to do better is enough for me. Just trying is enough. Maybe… try not to be a defensive asshole next time?” You dare to look up at the tall man’s face to gauge his reaction and are pleasantly surprised to be greeted with a smile.

“My goal is to avoid doing that again, yeah,” he laughs. His grin falls within a second, however, and he next brushes a hand over your hair with a small frown painting his thin lips. “You really gave us a scare. Hearing you call us for help only to go in and find you unconscious on the floor? We thought Jisung had gone in there and attacked you both. It was something out of a horror novel.”

You turn away as heat rises on your cheeks, and the only thing you can do to cover your embarrassment is cough awkwardly.

“I-I must have been so stressed and tired that I passed out right after.” That isn’t wholly a lie seeing as that’s what happened to Wooyoung according to Yeosang. Still, that begs a more pressing concern of what exactly happened on Wooyoung’s side of things for him to leave so suddenly. Perhaps the only good thing that could come out of this sleep test Yunho wants so desperately is the possibility of checking on Wooyoung and the others.

“You’re all set up now. You shouldn’t notice a thing unless we run into any issues, but again, I’ll be here to monitor throughout the night, and I’ll write up the scans in the morning.” Yunho pulls back with a smile.

“Thank you,” you mutter, settling back onto the creaky bed without further ado, but you know that sleep won’t come any time soon. So instead, you resort to watching Yunho make his way over to Seonghwa’s bed and repeat the same process he just did with you on the lieutenant. Yeosang dipped out of the medbay at some point apparently because he no longer stands before Hongjoong at the foot of the bed, and Jongho must have gone with him because the doors are now snapped shut. Hongjoong has his fingers curled tight around Seonghwa’s again, and once again that sense of distant longing seems to fall over the captain. He remains silent as he watches Yunho attach pads and wires to Seonghwa’s body. The feeling that next creeps over you isn’t one of jealousy or envy.

Your mind conjures up the image of San sitting at the foot of your bed like Hongjoong does with Seonghwa. San reaching a hand out to take hold of yours as he blinks down at you with concern. San brushing your hair out of your face and murmuring soft encouragements to you. Cat-like eyes and a dimpled grin gleaming above you like a whisper of hope.

It’s a painful reminder of reality: how San isn’t here and can’t be either. It’s a painful reminder that causes the corners of your eyes to sting against your will, emotions welling up so strongly in your chest that you double over to alleviate some of the pain there.

When you dare to look back at the bed, Yunho has walked around the side of the cot to stand before Hongjoong. Hongjoong’s free hand moves up to rest on the dip of Yunho’s hip, falling down to the top of his thigh for a fraction of a second then finding purchase on the mattress once more. Yunho pulls a stool forward and seats himself before the captain.

“I need to do a few more routine checkups on you too, just to make sure you’re okay since you didn’t rest as long as your body wanted. Eyes okay?”

“I can see you just fine if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Any pain in your ears? Ringing? The vibrations from the bomb will have shaken you up quite a bit.”

“No ringing, no pain.”

Yunho lifts a hand and rests it against Hongjoong’s forehead, pushing the blue strands up to lay his hand flat there.

“No fever either, that’s good. How does your throat feel? Your body should have purged the majority of the dust and smoke you inhaled by now, but I’m worried your throat might still be scratched up from it.”

“A little sore but nothing unbearable,” Hongjoong hums. He tilts his head from side to side as Yunho continues to worry over him but other than that, he seems entirely unbothered by the healer’s fretting.

“Ribs hurting at all? And your right hip?”

“Ribs feel okay, hip hurts like a bitch.”

“Yeah because you aren’t supposed to be moving around with a fracture of that degree.”

“I moved less than six feet.”

“You’ll move six feet under if you aren’t careful.”

“Because of the injury or because you’ll put me there for not listening to you?”

“I’m gonna write off that attitude as the concussion talking because I know you aren’t dumb enough to argue with me on this.”

“Head is fine too.”

“Then let me call Jongho back to help you get to your room. You can’t be walking that far on your own and—”

“I need to talk with Seonghwa a bit more first,” Hongjoong interjects, head falling in Seonghwa’s direction. Yunho cuts off with a small ‘o’, and his gaze flits over to where you’re reclining against the pillows of the bed. Hongjoong seems to pick up on that without prompting though. “She can stay in here, it’s fine. I doubt it’ll take longer than a half-hour, if you don’t mind waiting outside that long?”

Yunho pushes back on his stool, slipping away from the bedside. If not for looking so intently at the man, you would have missed the way his hands curl into tight fists against his thighs, but he doesn’t voice whatever is on his mind.

“Right, don’t take too long though; I know you’ve been resting a while but your body still needs to recover before you try to do anything drastic, and knowing you, that’s exactly what you plan to do as soon as you can. Y/N, Seonghwa — you two get some rest soon. I’ll be back to monitor in a bit.”

You don’t wait to watch Yunho leave the room because it doesn’t feel needed, but at the same time, you are trying your best to avoid any eye contact with Seonghwa or Hongjoong as not to intrude on whatever conversation they intend to have. You hear the soft click of the door and its scraping metal as it slides open, then a repeat of the same sound when Yunho steps out. The silence that falls over the room is so thick it could choke you. Hongjoong shifts on the bed again and scoots closer to Seonghwa’s head, a series of creaks following the movements. You crack an eye open to peek over at the pair. Hongjoong doesn’t lie down beside Seonghwa or anything, just sits there with a hand still wrapped around the other’s, and other than that neither move or speak. It’s only after the silence drags on for several minutes that Hongjoong decides he’s had enough and speaks once more.

“Do you want to talk more about it?”

“We should talk about the plan more first. If Jin is truly behind this, then we need something more… just something more.”

“He’s not. It can’t possibly be him behind this because he would have targeted you rather than going after Y/N. I don’t think he has anything to do with this, nor do I think he would stoop to kidnapping to get what he wants.”

“We are down three crewmembers and have an untrustworthy rat aboard,” Seonghwa hisses without missing a beat. “Jin could very well have eyes and ears on us and know how weak we are right now. You might be able to excuse him, but I know for a fact that kidnapping is not the lowest he would stoop to get what he wants. And I will not jeopardize your goals by being captured by him.”

Hongjoong extends his free hand to cup Seonghwa’s cheek, brushing over the smooth expanse of skin there with the pad of his thumb.

“I don’t believe that would ever happen. He would sooner have to kill me than capture you.”

“I’m… yeah, sorry, I’m simply worried. We’re headed to Dorado after all. Lynder of all places on that godforsaken planet too.”

“Why are you worried, hm? We shouldn’t be going anywhere near the Lower Echelon.” Seonghwa responds with a sharp shake of his head.

“Mother moved up to the Upper Echelon, remember? Three years back?”

“Are you calling me forgetful then?”

“You’ve always been forgetful, and you know it. You wouldn’t need me around if you could remember things.” That comment earns Seonghwa a smack to the shoulder, but you hear the huff of a laugh fall from Hongjoong’s lips before the lieutenant continues speaking. “The risking of seeing Mother is so high.”

“Are you… still afraid of her?” The question is hesitant in the same way that one would walk around a wild boar, like Hongjoong is afraid to set Seonghwa off in some way with the small question. “Hwa, you’re trembling. Is it too cold in here? I can get you an extra blanket if you—”

“No, no, shush, I’m not cold. I’m n-not afraid of her, I… I don’t want to be afraid of her, but in all those fucking nightmares, all I could see was red. I wanted blood, I wanted to kill, I wanted my hands around her throat so I could strangle her. And in all those dreams, that little voice won.” Seonghwa pauses and lifts a hand to touch Hongjoong’s cheek now, reflecting the other man’s actions from earlier. “I fear seeing the crew fall apart and not being able to save you from yourself more than anything else. Yet in those dreams, it was me who unmade each of them and ruined you. I’m… afraid of going to Dorado and not being able to hold back. I’m scared of killing Mother in a fit of rage and letting the Lieutenant of Death take over. I’m so afraid of hurting anyone on the crew, and I’m so fearful that I’ll bring ruin to you. I don’t think I’ll be able to forgive myself if that happens.”

Hongjoong’s hand comes down hard on Seonghwa's chin, gripping the skin and bone between lithe fingers, and he forces the man to look him in the eye.

“I won't let that happen. There is no way in hell I would ever let that happen. Even if I have to pry you off your own mother, I will make absolutely sure that that voice doesn't win, that those people who make up those rumors and disdain you so much don't win. I won't let you do anything you regret, Seonghwa.”

“Ha, as though you can promise such a thing,” Seonghwa mutters through a bitter laugh.

“I know. I can't promise much of anything, but I can give you my word and hope. That's enough for now. If all I have to offer you is one more day of hope, then I will continue to give you that for all eternity.”

The shorter man leans over the space between their bodies and presses his lips to Seonghwa's forehead, parting the hair that lies flat there to touch his skin.

“Don’t you ever regret letting me join the crew?”

“When it comes to you, I don’t think the word regret exists.”

It’s spoken with such a raw conviction that you feel your own throat closing up around itself. As your gaze falls over Seonghwa, you can clearly see the way the words affect him, from the way his lips part in wonder as he stares up at the man above him like he hung every star in his universe in the sky. Words fail him, but that doesn’t bother Hongjoong one bit as the captain tries to leave him with one more soft-spoken comment.

“Get some rest.”

He moves to get up and pull away from the bed, but Seonghwa's grip on his hand pulls him right back.

“Please don't go. I... I have both of you here with me for once. Please don't deprive me of this right now. Not when I've gone this long without you.”

“Whatever you wish, Hwa.” Hongjoong doesn’t fight back as Seonghwa tugs him down to his side, resting his head against his lieutenant’s chest once their bodies are pressed close. You don’t know if they’ve fallen asleep — the lights are still on in the medbay so it would be hard to fall asleep anyways — but you rest in the quiet with clouded and foggy thoughts. Twisting to the side, you turn to face the wall rather than look at that vulnerable scene any longer than you have to. You wish that could be the end of it, that the dismal conversations ended there with the two of them going to sleep, but Seonghwa’s tone rising up again in the silence disrupts that hope too.

“How much longer do we have to keep doing this? I get more and more tired with each day that passes.” Hongjoong hums a bit, and his next words come out rather slurred.

“I’m tired too. We’ll rest soon.”

“Aren’t we too young to be feeling this old?” There’s some humor to those words, but what Seonghwa says next eradicates that levity in an instant. “Jongho offered to take it away for me. Jongho, our youngest. He shouldn’t even have to think about taking our burdens.”

“That’s not the world we live in,” Hongjoong sighs. “That’s not a luxury we can afford. There is no normalcy. We don’t have and never will have any sort of normal family.”

“Family? Is that what this is now? The one you talked of wanting to find?”

“Yes… of course, this crew is our family without a doubt. One day when this is all said and done, we can settle down somewhere.”

“But?”

“But can we ever really be happy and content with settling down? I’ve been flying around space since I was born and as long as I can remember. Suddenly not doing that would be odd, wouldn’t it?”

Seonghwa laughs a clear and ringing sound, then seems to catch how loud the noise is and quiets himself to a softer chuckle.

“Then you can fly around space for all eternity if that’s what makes you happy.”

The bed creaks under someone’s movement, and you can only assume that it’s Hongjoong simply because he’s the next one to speak.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Keep doing what?” Seonghwa echoes softly.

“Every time we have this conversation and every time we talk of the future, you talk about it as though you won’t be there for it. Like you won’t see that future with me.”

“Stop saying foolish things, Hongjoong. We should be sleeping.”

“Seonghwa.” This time, Hongjoong’s tone is different. It’s something you’ve never heard from the man: a fragile sound that is on the verge of breaking and one that holds unspoken warning to it.

“Sleep, Hongjoong.”

“Seonghwa.”

That’s your breaking point. It’s too much for you to handle, the tone of their conversation has taken a drastic turn and you don’t want to hear anything else out of either of them simply out of fear. Even though you aren’t tired, you squeeze your eyes shut and internally beg for Wooyoung to let you in tonight.

…

As it turns out, you get your wish. You come to in Wooyoung’s body with a jolt and a gasp, although that sound goes unnoticed because Wooyoung yet again has full control over his body while you are left to sit back and watch through his eyes. The cell you wake up to is starkly different than the last; it’s much larger and brighter, fluorescent lights hanging on the ceiling, but that isn’t what draws your attention. No, the wall that consists only of thick metal bars and rings with the crackles of electricity garners all your attention first simply because of how loud the noise is but also because Wooyoung’s eyes seem to instinctively flit over the bars before turning further left. They are, thankfully, no longer chained to the floor like dogs and now seem to only have wrist and ankle shackles. It’s a significant step up from their last prison, and when Wooyoung finally pushes himself to his feet, you catch sight of Mingi resting on a small cot.

Wooyoung steps over to the Berserker without hesitation, hand dipping into a small bucket that’s full of icy water, and he pulls a rag from the liquid, wringing it a few times before laying the cloth atop Mingi’s head.

“How are you feeling?” Wooyoung asks. Mingi murmurs something in response, but it’s largely unintelligible, and Wooyoung must not pick up on it either because he strains his neck to get closer to the man. “Hm?”

“A b-bit better.”

“That’s g—”

A sharp rattle interrupts Wooyoung’s train of thought, and he jerks to look over at the shock wall. The door at the center swings open without warning, two men stepping through with someone hanging rather limply between their arms. If your heart could plummet right now, it truly would, because you would recognize that patch of white hair anywhere. The two men — guards from the looks of it — shove San into the cell, not caring to be mindful of the sides of the bars before pushing him against them without warning. San’s shoulder knocks roughly into the edge of the fencing as he comes through, and a bolt of shock sears through his body with surprising haste. The force brings him to his knees. Wooyoung lurches forward, darting out to grab hold of his shoulders and keep him somewhat upright.

“Be fucking careful! Are you paid to be idiots?” He shouts as he pulls San closer to his body. The stockier of the two guards sneers back at him.

“You’re next, slave. Watch yourself.”

Wooyoung responds by hurling a glob of spit at the guard’s feet, eyes narrowed to slits.

“You can take me once I’ve seen to my crewmates.” That comment earns him a sharp smack to the side of his head. San curls his fingers tight around Wooyoung’s side.

“Don’t make a scene about it, I’m fine,” he murmurs under his breath. He is far from fine, that much is obvious, because he can’t keep his body upright and his cheek keeps slumping down against Wooyoung’s shoulder no matter how much he tries to keep it up. The stout guard steps closer, arm poised to deliver another blow to Wooyoung, but he’s caught by his taller friend, who grabs him by the wrist before he can do anything else.

“They all need to make it to Dorado relatively unharmed or prices will down and we’ll get less of the cut from Boss.” That’s enough to pull the man away from Wooyoung, and he retreats back to the outside of the cell with his partner.

“You have ten minutes. Five if you make any other snippy remarks.”

Wooyoung exhales a small sigh of relief when the door slams back shut. He helps tug San to his feet and guides him to the bed beside Mingi’s. You’re grateful that Wooyoung won’t take his gaze off him because it gives you a chance to fully examine his current state.

The bruising on his face has gone down quite a bit, and just from that alone, you would say he almost looks okay. Still, his body reeks of exhaustion, and he clutches the shoulder that knocked into the shock wall even as Wooyoung eases him down to the cot. His dark circles are so deep that they almost seem to hollow his face, and you have an instinct to comb your fingers through his hair if you could because it’s a mess and so unkempt that you can barely see the white patch in the front. Wooyoung keeps pushing him down until San lies flat on the bed, and he doesn’t hesitate to peel San’s shirt up to his midsection. It exposes the awful bruising underneath, a colorful array of blues and purples that are ugly to look at.

“They’re gonna snap your ribs in two if they aren’t careful,” Wooyoung grumbles, tracing over the outline of the bruise with his index finger. “It’s already damaged enough.” San chokes out a laugh that has to hurt.

“That’s only the half of it. They could be doing a lot worse. At the very least, they don’t know shit about torturing people. I’ve been through worse and... and seen a lot worse in the past.” San’s hand darts down to the dip of his hip, where there’s a thin scar just by the bone. You recognize it in an instant — the place where Cara stabbed him back on Echidna and left him nearly dead. “They’ll have to work a lot harder to get anything out of me. They don’t like how quiet I am.”

“That doesn’t mean they really should work harder. You won’t survive that much. Did you manage to get anything out of them this time?”

San shakes his head at first then grips the front of Wooyoung’s shirt and pulls him closer.

“They were fumbling a little when I asked what the plans are. Mean one — shorty — he tried to shut me up but the other started asking questions too. Said he was just as confused and didn’t know what the boss plans to do with the two of us. They know exactly what would happen with Mingi but had way too many doubts when it came to us. They had to have wanted someone else. Maybe Scourge since he was in the arena with Mingi?” Hearing San call Hongjoong by that name sounds so foreign and stilted, but you know it’s just a way to protect as much of their identities as possible. Wooyoung draws his lips together.

“That doesn’t sound right. They would have had a clear path to both Mingi and Captain in the arena. Why wouldn’t they grab him then? When… when they take me, I’ll try to get more out of them. Clean — if you can, please clean Mingi’s wound again. The infection is almost fully fleshed out and his fever will break soon, but without anything to sew it up, he can easily get a worse infection if we aren’t careful.”

“Should it be gone within the next two days?”

“That’s up to his body and how it reacts to the rest of this process. Why?”

“I heard them say that we’ll be landing on Dorado in three days,” San mutters. He glances over at Mingi’s reclining body, teeth sinking into his lower lip. “If he’s well enough within two, then maybe we can work out a breakout plan.” Wooyoung glances between the Spectre and Mingi without reacting for a few moments then gives a small nod.

“We’ll talk about it more later. I’ll try to get more information in the meantime.” Wooyoung moves to step away from the bed, but San keeps him in place, fingers curling around the hem of Wooyoung’s shirt.

“Just — please at least cooperate a little bit. You don’t have to tell them shit, but don’t put yourself in danger simply out of pride.”

“I won’t.”

That is what Wooyoung says, at least, but his next action is surely one out of either sheer stupidity or an obscene amount of pride. He steps over to the shock wall and raises a clenched fist to the metal. Without a drop of hesitation and without flinching in the slightest, he raps his knuckles against the metal as though it’s nothing. You would think it’s nothing too if not for the waves of electricity that cascade through his body and in turn, yours. If it were you, you would pull back thanks to the shock, but Wooyoung doesn’t and only wraps his hand around the bars.

“You gonna come get me or not?”

“Fucking brat,” the shorter guard mutters, but he does exactly what Wooyoung wants and approaches the fencing to let him out.

“Try harder on the fences,” Wooyoung remarks, daring to drag his tongue over the front of his bottom row of teeth — a show of smugness that drives the guard mad.

“It’s not meant to incapacitate you, simply to keep little brats like you in check.”

“That was meant to keep me in check? Come on, that little shock didn’t even make me flinch in the slightest.” That comment isn’t what gets Wooyoung smacked upside the head; rather, it’s the huff of laughter that falls from his lips right after that causes the first guard to elbow him in the back of the head.

“Get walking, fucker.”

“When you gonna let me see the big boss?” Wooyoung grumbles as the pair sandwiches him between their bodies.

“He’s not around to have any meetings, especially not with the like of you. Busy with work of his own right now. But maybe one day you’ll mess up enough to get a meeting with the lieutenant thought.”

“What? This disordered bunch of scoundrels has a lieutenant?” Yet again that draws the ire of the stockier guard, and the man slams the butt of his gun into Wooyoung’s stomach. The impact is enough to cause Wooyoung to hunch over, bound hands grabbing the other guard’s thigh for support. The force careens both into the wall on accident, but Wooyoung doesn’t stop there. He fumbles around until his hand slips into the man’s pocket. Cool plastic greets him, something flat and rectangular, and Wooyoung latches onto both that and something else that feels vaguely like metal before pulling his hand out the pocket.

“Stay up, you rat,” the taller hisses. When he knocks his shoulder into Wooyoung’s, Wooyoung lets his hand fall near his own pocket, pushing both items he just lifted into the fabric. You can’t be sure that he knows what he’s just taken or that he has any sort of plan for if he gets caught with the stolen items. He doesn’t let anything slip through his expression though and simply rights himself when the shorter of the pair nudges him forward, continuing to follow them through the narrow corridor. The longer you walk, the more the interior and layout of the ship become familiar to you — from the dark grey walls to the solid doors with no peepholes. Your growing suspicions come to a grinding halt of realization when Wooyoung is shoved into a dark room that has one yellow-tinted light hanging from the ceiling. It sits directly above a reclining chair, and that’s a sight you would recognize anywhere. From the straps on the side down to the flat metal headrest — they must be aboard a military ship, or at least a former one given the pirate crew running it currently. But that chair and this room resemble the one you had your memories wiped in with an uncanny certainty.

Wooyoung doesn’t have a chance to resist before the two guards are shoving him further in and pushing him down onto the chair. Rough leather straps wrap tight around his torso and legs, then two more for each ankle and wrist once the first ones are secured. That, however, is all the men do for the time being. It seems to shock Wooyoung as much as it shocks you because he shifts to watch them as they walk over to the side of the room and lean up against the wall.

“Aren’t you going to do anything else?”

“Be patient.”

Wooyoung squints. His wrists twist a bit in the restraints, testing the tautness of the material, and when it doesn’t give any budge, he jerks harder against them. Two clear and mocking laughs resound in response. Someone comes up on Wooyoung’s left, one of the guards moving without warning to lean over Wooyoung’s body.

“We’ll do a few tester questions just to see how willing you are to talk, how about that? So… who do you work for?”

“Go fuck yourself, how about that?”

“Oh come on, you’re a slave, aren’t you? Why be loyal to a cruel master? Can’t you answer one simple question?” The guard reaches down to toy with the collar around Wooyoung’s neck. In an instant, every muscle in his body seizes up, and Wooyoung goes so far as to stop breathing entirely with the barely brush of contact. The pirate doesn’t stop there, though, and he slips a finger under the metal collar to touch the skin underneath. Pressure invades your head, like someone is grabbing your skull between their hands and squeezing with an obscene amount of force. Wooyoung thrashes and tries to jerk away from the contact, but the guard just loops his finger under the metal and maintains that same level of contact. Your head — or Wooyoung’s rather — begins to tingle and throb, ears ringing loudly with white noise as something else creeps up on you.

Please!

If you had any ounce of control over Wooyoung’s body, you would jerk your head to find the source of the sound, but as it continues, you realize that it’s not real. Not something that is truly resonating around you in the room right now. The voice is too young, too child-like, just a wailing noise that repeats over and over again without cease. A constant prayer of ‘please’ that fades into the background when the guard above Wooyoung speaks again.

“Now who do you work for?”

Please.

“Why the fuck do you want to know?” Wooyoung grits out. “I have nothing to gain from speaking to you about anything.”

Please, please, please.

Finally, the hand slips away, and Wooyoung gasps for breath like he’s never had air in his lungs before. His head lolls to the side almost the same way a ragdoll’s would as a sharp slap echoes. Pain sears over your skin, resonating through Wooyoung’s body to burn you too.

“This is why you’re going to the whorehouse. They can shut you up permanently with other things.”

“That kind of threat won’t work on me,” Wooyoung manages to murmur. His eyes roll back in his head as he slumps back into the metal headrest, chest still heaving to bring in air. “I’m not gonna tell you anything. If your boss w-wants info so badly… he can come take it himself. What’s the point of this anyway? Bring me to a room and ask me pointless questions? You already said you aren’t allowed to hurt the ‘goods’ too badly. And if I’m slated to go to a whorehouse — messing any physical features up would lower your cut dramatically. But the boss probably doesn’t pay you to be smart, huh?”

Red flashes through your vision then a fist careens into Wooyoung’s nose so hard that you’re certain it’s cracked in two. Warmth trickles down his nostrils and trickles into his mouth, leaving the taste of blood on the back of your tongue. The second man in the room pulls forward. He grabs his partner by the arm and tugs him away from Wooyoung as best he can before taking up the same position over Wooyoung’s reclining form.

“Listen here, slave, I really don’t want to be cruel to you, but there are ways to make you talk, ways that won’t… damage the goods as you say and will instead mess up that pretty little head of yours, so let’s just cooperate while you can, yeah?”

A sneer tears through Wooyoung’s lips, but he doesn’t fight back any longer, letting his head drop back to the headrest without complaint.

“You know who I work for already so I don’t need to tell you shit.”

The shorter of the two guards takes another step towards the chair.

“That may be the case, yes, but we aren’t after your captain. We need information on someone else… someone who was seen with you in the streets outside the arena. Someone you seemed to be close to based on the way you were protecting her, and someone who looked an awful lot like the Ghost of Eros.”

You can feel the way Wooyoung’s eyes widen. The same shock that courses through his veins rushes through your own as well. His tongue darts out to moisten his lower lip, dragging over the dry and cracking skin until it stings. He tries his best to hide that shock, but it’s too late, and the guards have already seen the flashes of recognition across Wooyoung’s features.

“So you know Miss Y/N then?”

“Yeah, we’re closer than you might think…” Wooyoung mutters, glancing off to the side and avoiding their prodding stares as best he can.

“Where is she?”

“Hell if I know.” Wooyoung tries his best to shrug with the words, but the restraints around his arms and torso keep him firmly planted to the cold metal chair. “In case you don’t remember, you kinda kidnapped me while I was unconscious and couldn’t see shit. Amazing that you managed to grab my sorry ass yet missed your precious little Ghost entirely, huh?”

That pulls the second guard forward, and he steps into Wooyoung’s space with a sneer of his own that is so vicious it causes Wooyoung to flinch away.

“We weren’t the dipshits in charge of collecting the packages. The ones who were hit a snag.”

Wooyoung manages to roll his eyes even as the guard presses closer.

“There’s nothing I can do to help you then. Your people crushed my earpiece so I don’t even have a way to contact her.” A finger comes down to tap against Wooyoung’s temple. It’s almost gentle in the way it brushes over his skin, but each tap comes harder than the last and you aren’t too foolish to ignore the threat in the touches.

“You will cooperate though, and you will answer our questions. Otherwise, we’ll have no choice but to crack that pretty little head open and take what we need instead. Unless you’d like to arrive at the whorehouse as a husk? That would make your job easier wouldn’t it?” A cruel grin twists over the man’s lips, one that you can’t bear to look at but you don’t have much of a choice because Wooyoung decides to stare him down with equal ferocity. “Now, when did Miss Y/N join your crew?”

“Who knows?” Wooyoung shrugs within his constraints. “I’ve never been good at keeping track of time.”

“Then what did she do before joining the crew?”

“Never shared any details about her life before meeting us.”

The pirate lifts his hand, and you’re almost certain that he is going to hit Wooyoung again but instead, he presses one index finger back to Wooyoung’s temple.

“You know… the other one was a lot more intense about these questions. Thrashing, angry, fuming at every mention of her name, so upset that we would even dare to ask about the little ghost. Why is that? Are they close?”

Wooyoung arches a brow. It takes a moment for you to realize that this man is talking about San of all people, but when you do, a wave of guilt hits you square in the chest. The thought of San being strapped to a chair like this and probed for answers about you and your past — having to experience it through Wooyoung and knowing that this is all because they captured Wooyoung and San in your place… it’s brutal enough as it is. More than that, it brings you back to that conversation you shared with San in the aftermath of your shared torture — the one where you sat opposite each other on his bed and admitted how afraid both of you were. How you were afraid to ever see San in that position again, and yet somehow… somehow not seeing it is worse. Somehow knowing that he is being put through this sort of hell and you are powerless to do anything to stop it is far worse than lying across from him on a sandy floor in an old warehouse with a crazed Berserker over you.

“Am I supposed to know the intimate details of relationships now? Why does your boss even need to know something of that nature?”

“Quit asking fucking questions.” It’s the more violent of the two guards who says that, and he steps forward to slam his elbow into Wooyoung’s stomach. “Do you wanna know what we did with your friend? Put him on this very chair and told him all the pretty ways we could fuck up that head of his if he didn’t cooperate. People like him… they have a lot of baggage. They carry weights on their shoulders that last a lifetime, and if you know how to manipulate it, then you can get whatever you want from them. And you—”

The man pushes a hand up the expanse of Wooyoung’s chest until he reaches the band of metal around his neck. Two fingers slip under the collar. Wooyoung presses his lips together so tight that they tremble under the force, yet that’s still not enough to keep a whimper from slipping out. It’s a mirror image of the Wooyoung you met upon waking up in the medbay for the first time, a mirror image of the terrified boy who plunged an anesthesia shot into your neck, the one you were certain was weak and fragile. You hadn’t thought of Wooyoung like that since back then, never imagined him to be weak after Yeosang mentioned how much he’s gone through and after witnessing his drive to protect the people around him. But now?

Now it’s just Wooyoung. There is no one in his immediate vicinity to protect, nor is there anyone here to protect him as you are stuck being a helpless bystander with no power or control over his body.

“You’re just like him, aren’t you? Burden after burden on your shoulders. Pretty little traumas to keep you awake at night. That… tough guy act where you pretend to be better than your crewmates — don’t you know how easy it is to see through that? You know your own worth, and that worth amounts to being nothing more than a filthy slave who will soon sell his body to others to get a bite of food at night. Can’t you see yourself doing that for the rest of your life? Why else would a broken collar stay around your neck?”

Broken?

Wooyoung has grown dreadfully quiet, and that tells you that the pirate hit the nail on the head with too much ease. Yet now that you think about it, the collar around Wooyoung’s neck is most definitely a shock collar, but you have never once seen it glowing with electricity or power in the slightest, which can only mean that Wooyoung truly is walking around with a dead shock collar at all times. That reality is haunting on its own, but that coupled with the continuous and monotonous cries in the background that beg ‘please’ over and over only make matters worse.

“We’re getting nowhere with this one. The last one was much more responsive when it came to these questions. We should just bring him back in and leave this one to rot in the cell with the Berserker.”

“O-Okay… yeah… let’s try that.”

Wooyoung doesn’t make some great escape when they pull the restraints loose, and for the first time since waking up in his body, you gain the sense that he is genuinely tired of fighting back against their advances. He lets his body fall slack in their grasp, allowing himself to be pulled from the chair and dragged by the elbows between their bodies. Albeit faint and dying, you swear up and down that you can still hear that faint child-like voice ringing in your ears.

“You really do suck at torture.” A bit of crimson liquid slips out the corner of Wooyoung’s lips as he speaks, leftover residue that dripped from his nose, and he spits it to the floor without a care in the world.

“The goal isn’t to torture. If we could harm you physically, we certainly would.”

Wooyoung doesn’t speak further than that and again you think it’s because he doesn’t have the energy in his body to do so. He settles for glancing around the ship extensively as the two guards drag him back to the cell. That is somewhat odd to you at first seeing as he’s had plenty of opportunities to look around the ship from the inside of his cell, but realization sinks in when Wooyoung nods his head towards an exit door on the way to the cell.

Oh… are you trying to help me? That becomes increasingly apparent when he scans each wall and corner like his life depends on it, and you do your best to commit every inch of the room to memory. If this is something of a military ship, you should be able to figure out a basic layout with Yeosang’s help if he remembers anything too. Wooyoung hums to himself as they reach the electrified gate to the cell, but he doesn’t do anything other than that until the taller guard shoves him to the floor of the cell. San darts forward, nearly tripping over his feet in his rush to get to Wooyoung’s side.

“God, what did they do to you? I told you to be fucking careful!” He hisses under his breath. Wooyoung quirks one corner of his lips up and flashes a quick wink in San’s direction.

“Hold onto this for the time being,” he mutters back, digging the small rectangular card and piece of metal from earlier out of his pocket. Wooyoung only extends the piece of metal, something small and indiscernible practically, but Wooyoung must find some value in it to pass it to San rather than the card, which is clearly a keycard. San takes the item without complaint but his brows are still tightly knit together in concern. “I need more information from the guards. I almost got ‘em.”

“You’ll get yourself killed.”

“Only a little beat up. Pain… pain is nothing to me, not this kind at least. I’ve felt enough to grow rather used to it after all this time, so don’t worry about me getting hurt. It’s all just my little show so they don’t go harder than I want them to. Just — take the time to care for Mingi’s wound while you can. I’ll be back soon.”

Wooyoung hoists himself up to his feet and presses the keycard between his teeth. He and San maintain eye contact until Wooyoung turns completely around to face the closing door of the cell.

“Can’t even focus long enough to keep track of your belongings, huh? Cheap guards for the big boss?”

There’s a clatter then the slam of the cell door resounds, and both pirates rush in to tackle Wooyoung to the floor. The shorter of the two reaches him first, knocking into Wooyoung so hard and fast that it feels like your brain is rattling against the confines of your skull. San pushes forward as well and intercepts the second guard with his arm.

“Stand down, San, stand down!” Wooyoung shouts, stopping the Spectre at just the last second before he punches the guard in the throat. “It’s okay, just let them take me. It’s okay. They can’t hurt me.”

“We may not be able to, but the Reaper is gonna make you fucking pay for such foolish actions.”

“The Reaper, huh? Is that the infamous big boss?” A hand curls through Wooyoung’s hair. With a sharp tug that nearly pulls the strands right off his scalp, he’s brought up to his knees.

“Yes, it is. You’ve quickly proved that you’re too much of a disobedient brat to be sent to the House of Lilies. Maybe we should send you through some rehabilitation too with your little friends, yeah? We’ll take good care of you until the Reaper comes back to the ship though.”

Wooyoung collects a bit of spit on his tongue then slings it at the guard’s face, a bit of crimson mixing in with the saliva.

“We’re counting on it.”

Right then you feel Wooyoung directly contacting you in his consciousness, a small push and pull on the edges of your mind, and he drops his chin to his chest so quickly that you think he’s passed out on the spot. It’s enough to deter the guards and their focus on him for now, and he cracks an eye open to stare at the floor as they drag him down the hall yet again.

“Y/N…” he whispers under his breath. “Y/N, take that info back to Yeosang. Give him that name too. The Reaper.”

You want more information than that, but Wooyoung’s consciousness knocks hard against yours, and the vision before you fades to black, cutting any hopes of getting more from him drastically short.

All that you’re left with is fogged thoughts and that name shining clearly at the forefront of your mind: The Reaper.

…

Han Jisung.

Never did you think you would see him again, and that still hasn’t sunk into your bones yet. The feeling deep in your gut currently is hard to explain. You aren’t sure you could ever make sense of it, but seeing that man, Han Jisung, a person you relied on so heavily for so long standing over by the observation window on the bridge of The Horizon feels like it should be something of a fever dream. Alas, it’s not, it’s all very real and very tangible, and you don’t realize how long you’ve been glaring holes into the back of Jisung’s head until Yeosang clears his throat from beside you.

The two of you sit near the comms station, and you’ve made a home for yourself sitting atop the desk as Yeosang sits at the chair before it. He has his bound journal set out on the desk, pen in hand as he scribbles over the pages. Jongho is not far away himself: he stands closer to the captain’s seat, and none other than Hongjoong himself sits in that place, back steering the ship as he usually does. Seonghwa is nowhere in sight — still down in the medbay with Yunho for further observation since his condition was much more critical than yours. All you can hear is the faint rumble of the ship’s power systems and air passing through the air filters. The silencing should be deafening, but it gives you more than enough time to process your thoughts while you can.

That blessed silence is interrupted within seconds as Yeosang’s chair scrapes hard against the metal floor and he scoots closer to where you’re perched. You follow his movements, twisting at the waist to lean over the empty space between you and offer some semblance of privacy for the ensuing conversation.

“So, according to what you saw last night, I drew up a basic sketch of what I think the ship’s layout looks like,” Yeosang mutters, exposing the pages of his journal to you. “Two exit doors in the room with the cell. They took Woo to a small room that had a single reclining chair and medical equipment. Potentially a former military ship, although from the sounds of it, it must be a rather old one. Since they’re headed to Dorado, I would assume it’s a Doradian ship that they jacked.” Yeosang pauses to scribble a few more unintelligible words on the paper, writing twisting and curling in a way you’ve never seen before. “We still don’t know why they want you… but San said they’re at least three days out to Dorado. With the speed Hongjoong is flying at, we won’t catch up for another four days though. Most of the flight will be pushing through the celestial barrier between Aurum and Geofflan, but we can’t burn extra fuel without having to tap into emergency reserves.”

“So then what? The exchange is supposed to happen soon after they land so there’s no way we’ll be able to catch up and break them loose before then,” you reason. Yeosang manages a small nod, avoiding the stare you send his way as he continues to scribble in his journal.

“We at least know the main location will be the capital, Lynder. And we know that Wooyoung is slated to go to the House of Lilies — if this Reaper figure doesn’t change his mind, that is — but Mingi and San will be sent to separate rehabilitation facilities.”

“That’s bad for the rest of us then. Once they’re separated, we have a higher risk of failure.”

Yeosang presses his lips into a thin line and hums softly. “But once they’re out of this Reaper’s hands, they won’t be his responsibility anymore. Mingi will, since they plan to transport him back to Kebos once he’s ready, but Woo and San are being sold independently. We should aim to take them back after the deals go through. That way the Reaper can’t cause issues because he will already have his money. A whorehouse won’t mind losing someone unless they pay a great deal for them… I don’t know how Dorado operates in terms of military regulations and such. Or even how important the military is to them. We’ll have to be quick to get San back, won’t we?”

You give a quick shake of your head.

“They plan on putting him through that regression therapy first so we will have time before they try to wipe him.”

“If, and only if he’s strong enough to withstand that torture.”

You ball your fists tight around the leather of your pants.

“He’ll be strong enough.”

“There’s no way of knowing what they’ll do to him once it’s time for that regression therapy, and we won’t be able to do anything for him if he caves early.”

“Then we should prioritize him and get to him first,” you argue, forcing your tone to stay as low as possible. “Either we have faith that he will hold out as long as possible or he’s the first one we rescue.”

“And how confident are you that he can handle that level of torture? I saw many recruits be sent to those wiping chambers in my time as a prince. None of them lasted longer than fourteen hours on the table. Either due to a weak constitution or the sheer level of trauma they were forced to go through. Knowing his past and what traumas they could awaken, how confident can you be that he will last longer than that? I don’t want one slimy fucking mongrel to lay a hand on Woo in that whorehouse, and he will be easiest to recover so we need to prioritize him if that’s the easiest option. If San reaches a point where he wants the serum, then what? We have another Mingi dilemma on our hands?”

That question stops you in your tracks. You hadn’t dared to think that far ahead simply out of fear that it could be a reality. It does take you back to the one and only time you and San spoke about the issue the serum posed though, for better or worse.

“If our positions were switched, would you be okay with it?”

“I can’t pretend to know what that experience was like for you or how deeply it affected you. If I were the one who had used it before, and I was aware of it like you, I know that I would be selfish at the end of the day. I have mentioned it before but I wish to cling to you for as long as I can. And though it’s — though it goes against my morals, I would not want you to take the serum because I can’t bear the thought of you forgetting who I am and how I feel about you. I know that sounds a bit bold, especially given your relations with Seonghwa, but… I would say the same to any member of the crew — save for Yeosang perhaps. You all are special and valuable to me in unique ways, and the thought of any of you losing any memory we share is too much for me.��

“Would you expect the same of me in return?”

“I would only ask that which I would ask any of the crew. To do what is right by your own standards and not by anyone else’s. We’ve all been slaves to other people’s whims and desires for too long. I would never wish to put anyone through that again, and even something as simple as pushing my opinion onto you would be unfair.”

And here you sit now coming to the gross realization that you cannot be okay with the thought of San forgetting who you are. You cannot live in a universe where he loses every ounce of work he’s put in over the years, the relationships he’s built with the crew, the things he has had to survive — you cannot bear the thought of it becoming meaningless and futile in the face of simply forgetting it. Because now, as you struggle on your own with these hazed memories that have no true place in your mind, you know that you could never wish that on anyone. Not knowing your past is a horrid fate, but losing all the pieces you’ve put together is a fate worse than death.

“There’s no way in hell I am ever going to let them give San that serum, even if it’s what he wants.”

Yeosang huffs air through his teeth but doesn’t comment further than that, and you take it as a sign that the conversation is concluded for now. When you lift your head again, movement from near the observation window catches your eye, and none other than Jisung himself stares over at you with eyes wide and searching. Like not a thing has changed in the past few years, and like those broken memories that plagued your dreams were nonexistent altogether.

Whatever comes over you is compelling enough to pull you off the desk. Yeosang follows your movements with his eyes, lips parting to ask what you’re doing, but you stop him by dropping a hand to his shoulder.

“There’s something I can’t wait on anymore,” you murmur. That is all the explanation you give before forcing your feet to move towards Jisung. A soft laugh echoes through the bridge as you draw closer to him, and Jisung greets you with nothing more than that and a rounded smile at first.

“Took you long enough to come speak to me like this. All those years of knowing each other for what?”

“For you to tell me the truth now.”

“Hm?”

“Hyunwoo told me before he went off to die that one day you would tell me the truth. So what is it?”

A frown paints Jisung’s lips.

“What are you talking about? Hyunwoo never said anything of the sort.”

“I distinctly remember it, as well as being strapped to a chair with Hyunwoo over me saying that they would only take a little bit. And I’ve been having odd dreams of memories that I have no recollection of. So just what the fuck happened to me before leaving the military and killing the king? Right now I don’t have anyone alive who can tell me that except for you, Jisung.”

Jisung folds his arms over his chest, eyes turning to narrow slits as he glares forward at you. Then, he slowly extends his right arm and poises to place the back of his hand to your forehead.

“Watch it.” You don’t need to turn to know whose voice that is, and you half-expect to turn and find Jongho at your side in the blink of an eye. However, when you glance back over your shoulder, Jongho is still beside Hongjoong’s chair, and the captain’s hand is placed ever so delicately in front of his chest that it hardly blocks the Berserker from moving. It’s moreso the gesture that keeps Jongho in check, and no matter how unhappy he seems with the order, he follows it without complaint.

“I have no intention of hurting her at all! Come now, would you take me for a fool? You should all know better seeing as the bargain I made in helping you was for her safety.”

“She might have made that bargain with you, but you made no such deal with me,” Hongjoong states without batting an eye. “And I will not allow you to force her to leave my crew, even if you have come to an agreement.”

“She made the agreement knowing full well what it would entail and because it’s what she wanted,” Jisung counters. His arm falls back to his side without touching you in the slightest.

“I didn’t,” you refute immediately. “I am only doing this for the crew, not because I actually want to be near you.” An almost feral noise tears through Jisung’s lips, and you flinch back just to put some distance between your bodies.

“After all the things I’ve done for you, all the sacrifices I’ve made, the risks I took to even make certain that you would make it out of that cell alive—”

Your body reacts before your head can catch up. Next thing you know, you have two fists curled tight around Jisung’s collar and are slamming him up against the observation window with a strength that surprises you as much as it surprises Jisung. Hongjoong must retract his hold on Jongho because suddenly the Berserker is at your side now, hand pressing hard on your shoulder. You knock his grip away without so much as looking at him; there is too much adrenaline running through your body right now, too much heat in your blood and fire in your bones, and nothing is going to stop you from taking out years of bottled-up frustrations on Jisung now.

“You have absolutely no right to dare to say such a thing. You don’t get to talk about sacrifice! The only person who took risks for me was Hyunwoo. The one who died In my place is the only one who gets to talk like that and claim that he’s made sacrifices. I buried you in my past the minute I was forced to dig an empty grave alone. You let me alone on that god-forsaken planet to bury an empty grave without so much as looking back! No matter how hard you try to justify it, there is nothing that will ever convince me that it was the right or fair decision to make! Anything you ever did for me — whether I remember them or not — it all pales in comparison to what Hyunwoo sacrificed.”

“Only people who die for you can sacrifice things? What of the people I killed for you? The innocent people I killed to keep your reputation untarnished? How much blood is on your hands, Y/N? You look at me like I am a monster but I am what you made me! Whether you like it or not, the truth of the matter is that Hyunwoo agreed to my terms. Hyunwoo is just as much at fault for what we did to you as I am. And what we did was necessarily because I guarantee if you remembered all the things you did, you would rather kill yourself than keep on living the way you are now.”

Your momentary shock is enough for Jongho to pull you off Jisung. He wedges himself between you and the Spectre, folding his arms over your hips to guide you further away from the man.

“It’s okay, Y/N. Stand down,” he murmurs. “You need to pick your battles, and this is not one for you to fight right now.” Again you feel that pull of warmth coming from him, like someone is trying to pull something from your chest, but it retracts almost instantaneously. Jongho falters. His eyes squeeze shut harshly, face contorting with something that almost looks like pain in your eyes, but that lasts less than a second before he’s recovered again. It’s not enough to stop the onslaught of emotions coursing through your veins.

“And what exactly is it that you and Hyunwoo did to me? Because I sure as hell don’t remember or understand anything! How long do you plan to lie to my face?”

“I can’t tell you,” Jisung says. There is a sudden drop to his tone, one that hits harder than it should. “As selfish as it may be, that is the one secret I will never disclose, and Hyunwoo would be a fool to ever believe that I would tell you what it is. If he wanted it exposed so desperately, then he can do it himself.”

You see red. It all feels like a blur yet simultaneously like the universe is moving in slow motion around you. You are hyperaware of the way you push Jongho out of the way to get back to Jisung, fist clenching so hard that your knuckles go white just before you sock the man in the jaw. The noise that resounds is disgusting and brutal, a sick crack that echoes in your ears like a battle cry.

“You don’t fucking get to talk about Hyunwoo as though he’s alive,” you growl, curling your fingers through Jisung’s hair and yanking his head back hard enough to make his neck pop. “You dipped off-planet without even seeing the execution through, without even waiting for blood to spill, so you have no right.” Jisung’s tongue darts out and wets the corners of his lips. “You have no right1” You repeat as though it will do any good. “You killed innocent people as though it was nothing! Was that all Hyunwoo was to you too? Just another bump in the road on your path to power?”

You swing for his face once more, but this time Jisung reacts before you can hit him. He pushes your hand to the side, expression relatively neutral compared to your own rage-filled one.

“I bet you couldn’t wait to see Hyunwoo die because that would mean the leader was out of the way and you could finally have that power you wanted! People would finally listen to you? Is that what you wanted? How could you do that to us, Jisung? We were a team, a family, you were all I had. How could you kill people in my name? Innocent people, who did nothing wrong killed for saying something trivial about me? How could you let innocent people be taken in my place? Wooyoung and San did nothing wrong! They don’t have that blood on their hands, they don’t carry the weight of that guilt on their shoulders, they aren’t bad people, Han Jisung! How could you? Why would you let that happen? Why would you put them in a place to be hurt and sold in my place? Who gave you the right to make that decision? You’re not some god!”

Jisung doesn’t move a muscle throughout your tirade, his face doesn’t budge nor does his disposition — it’s almost like yelling at a statue in an eerie and unsettling way. Then he speaks again, and this time it is with a haunting flatness to his tone.

“When have you ever known me to be cruel?”

“I-I thought the answer to that was never bu-but now I don’t know if I can trust that.”

Jisung blinks.

You inhale.

Then something hits your stomach so hard that you double over in pain, blind-sighted by the speed at which Jisung moves, and Jongho doesn’t have time to react either. Jisung doesn’t stop there though; no, he returns the favor and grips your hair close to the scalp to yank you back up to be eye level with him.

“I am merely… a cruel person, Y/N. I have always been cruel. And when it comes to protecting people I care about, there are no morals. There are no grey areas. There are no lines that I am not willing to cross. The universe has made me evil by taking everything from me, but I’ll be damned if I don’t get to have at least one thing I care about. And that one thing is you.”

Silence ensues. You don’t dare speak again; you aren’t sure you could even form words if you wanted to. Out the corner of your eye, you see a flash of metal and the barrel of a gun.

“If you so much as move a muscle, I will shoot you down with no hesitation.” You never saw the man move but that cold tone can only belong to Hongjoong. That suspicion is confirmed when Jisung releases his hold on your hair, letting you pull back and stand up straight once more. Hongjoong doesn’t lower his weapon even as Jisung raises his hands in surrender. “You call yourself cruel. Well, I am evil. Cruel, harsh, cold-hearted, and full of nothing but malice. So you can fucking bet that I won’t let you take her against her will. And if you even for a breath of a moment think otherwise, then I will put a bullet between your eyes and send you off to meet your maker.”

Jisung’s nose twitches as he sneers back at the captain.

“That’s not a risk you would ever take.”

“Ha, then you know fairly little about me, Han Jisung. I could sit here for hours and tell stories about the blood I’ve spilled, the blood my lieutenant has spilled, the things we have done as the most notorious and bloodthirsty pirates in the universe, or I could tell you of my own individual accomplishments. But if you truly think that I won’t do everything in my power to stop you from taking her?”

Hongjoong’s arm shifts and the barrel of the gun finds a new home, a new target.

On you.

Between your eyes.

Hongjoong cocks the hammer back. The click seems ten times louder than it is in reality. Jongho pulls closer to you, eyeing Hongjoong with a wary gaze.

“I can be evil if that is what you want me to be,” Hongjoong whispers, arching a brow at Jisung. “Such a thing would be easy for a man like me. But it comes with a price, and it’s one that you should weigh heavily. Take her against her will, and I’ll make sure the only thing you take is a corpse.”

“Good move, Captain,” Jisung replies. “I do so enjoy playing such mind games with someone who is actually of my caliber and on my level like this. Now, the move is mine to make, no?”

“You would treat her life as something as mundane and childish as a game of chess?”

Jisung clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Mind yourself, Captain. All I have to do is give the command, and my dogs will bite.” Hongjoong lets Jisung step around him and make for the edge of the bridge before lowering his pistol and returning it back to its holster.

“Han Jisung.”

Hongjoong’s words stop the man in his tracks, and your eyes find his in the brief moment of hesitation before he turns to look directly at the captain. Hongjoong doesn’t look back, at least not face to face because he merely glances over at Jisung through the reflection of the observation window. It’s an almost haunting sight, one that sends a chill down your spine and makes you stand up a bit straighter as you watch them level each other with glares full of contempt and malice.

“Hungry dogs are never loyal. They’ll eat with anybody who has food. And yours are ravenous.”

“The same could be said for yours, Scourge. Many wonder how much bending that Berserker can take before he breaks. Others say that the slave will turn tail and run the moment the doors of the whorehouse open. My money, on the other hand, is on the Spectre.”

If either man hears the audible gasp of panic that slips between your lips, they opt not to comment on it. Jisung’s lips twist a bit, curving into an ugly smile that makes you sick to your stomach.

“You’d be nothing more than a fool to believe that any of my dogs are not fed well under my care.”

“Is that what happened during your mutiny? Which dog were you, Kim Hongjoong? From the stories I’ve heard, you were starved to the bone.”

Hongjoong shows an admirable sense of restraint in that moment; he barely lets any emotion slip through his features or stance even though you are certain that he is just as shocked as you are.

“The weakest links are always the first to go. The ones with the most to lose, and thus… the Spectre will break first. Because whether you acknowledge it or not, I have something he is desperate to see again.” Jisung shifts to face you. His eyes glint under the fluorescent lights of the bridge. “What happens when you throw a hungry dog a bone?” It’s nothing more than a rhetorical question, one meant to scare you, and that it does because your heart clenches painfully in your chest and squeezes around itself until you can barely stand up straight. “He swallows it whole.”

You watch Jisung leave without daring to speak one more word to him. Hongjoong doesn’t move away from the observation window quite yet, and even as you look over his reflection in the window, you cannot for the life of you gauge what emotions are running through his body.

“Would you truly have shot me?” You ask before you can stop yourself. The adrenaline of having a gun pointed at your head with such little care for your life is not something foreign but to have Hongjoong be the person to do so… you want to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his tone was far too resolute for that. But then, he shakes his head in denial.

“Never. I made a promise to keep you safe, and I made similar promises to the rest of the crew that no matter what, I would always do whatever is in my power to keep you all safe. To keep our crew safe. I am not about to let Han Jisung take that from my crew.” Hongjoong folds his hands behind his back. His boots scrape against the floor as he spins on his heel and heads back to the captain’s seat.

“What… what did Jisung mean by his ‘dogs’ if he works under Vladimir?” Jongho is the one to pose the question, and it brings Yeosang away from the comms station to listen in on the conversation better. Hongjoong tilts his head from side to side, letting a quiet hum ring through the room before speaking again.

“Did you truly believe that when Jisung told you that? I thought I taught you all to think more critically than that. After all, who in the universe could want you badly enough to kidnap and work with deadly pirates?” Hongjoong looks you dead in the eye as he asks the question. You scoff to deflect the panic it sends through your system.

“With a bounty like mine, it’s enough for anyone to resort to violence of some sort.”

“Word gets around quickly, and people hear things fast in our little world. Pirates are good at transmitting information swiftly. Which means that everyone already knows you are now employed by the Black Scourge’s crew. So I’ll ask again: who could possibly want you badly enough to cross me of all people?”

There is only one answer to that question, and that answer just walked off the bridge not too long ago. You can’t bring yourself to admit it with your words, although you don’t need to because Hongjoong simply continues speaking without missing a beat.

“Jisung made no mistakes. There were no missteps. When we were in the arena, there was never any intention of kidnapping you. There was no hesitation on his part, he knew what he was doing, he knew how to play into your hands. He made a deal with Vladimir — allow his own crew to get into the arena so that he could take two of my crew, then he would kidnap Mingi for Vladimir as payment. Because Jisung knew there was an easier way to get you since he knew what kind of person you are from time in the military together. He knew that if he took your teammates, you would not hesitate to sacrifice yourself for their safety. And thus, he made his offer: an exchange of you for your crewmate’s recovery. In reality, he was the one who took them intentionally in the first place.”

A smile twists at the man’s lips, one that is almost unsettling and disturbing, and you find yourself shifting your weight from foot to foot as you look down at him.

“I played right into his hands then,” you murmur, glancing away to grant yourself some semblance of peace.

“That may be the case, yes… however, once something is mine, I don’t particularly like letting go of it. If there’s one thing I have in common with such a person, it’s that. I am undeniably selfish, Y/N. And now that you’re here with me, I don’t intend to let anyone take you from my hands. If he wants you so desperately, then he will have to go through hell to get you, and giving people hell is my specialty.”

“Is that the same reason you pointed a gun at my head?”

“Every man has his price. I find threats to be quite effective in securing bargains and deals. Before I placed that gun to your head, he didn’t imagine I could be so cruel. And now… I’ve only confirmed every suspicion that has been eating at my mind since I woke up.”

“And those suspicions would be what?” You dare to ask, leveling the man seated before you with a stare that he regards out the corner of his eye.

“Han Jisung is nothing but a hungry dog, and I intend to make him bite.”

✧✧✧ a/n: haha? 17.2k WHO?! gotta admit this is my fave chapter i’ve ever written the ending hits im v proud of her ! what did i say i said she would be a long one but even i didn’t expect this i cannot lie well as i said i am dropping and yeeting (to sleep) but i’ll be here to watch my chaos unfold a bit first ;3 as ALWAYS let me know what you think, give me the juicy deets, the theories, the screaming, the ‘caly how could you’, and all that jazz it’s SO good to be posting a mists chapter yall have no idea how happy it makes me to do this again fogijdfiogaj, she’s heavily unedited tho so im sorry in advance for grammatical issues

taglist: @faeriewoobin @sugarrimajins @atinyinwonderland @sparklychangbin @jeong-uwu @jeonartemis @anothershorthuman @xxbluestrifexx @haotheheckk @noonawriter @lostscenarios @nlost21 @mirror-juliet @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @felixity @rawrrainn @hewwo-from-the-other-side @icekdy @fuckjoong

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myrandomfandomramblings · 3 years

Text

The Beach - a The Rookie/Chenford Fanfic

“7-Adam-11, show us responding,” Jackson said over the radio as Lucy leaned back against her headrest defeatedly.

“I didn’t think I’d ever say this but I really don’t want to go to the beach.” “Like ever again,” she added even as she took the first turn towards their destination.

LA was 4 days into a record heat wave and over that time Lucy had learnt a few important things 1) Unsurprisingly, extreme heat causes everyone to flock to the ocean. 2) It also makes people extremely irritable. 3) Lots of irritable people packed together in large groups leads to chaos and 4) wool uniforms are not ideal attire for patrolling beaches in temperatures around 100.

So after 4 days she was over it. She had spent Monday with Jackson getting sworn at, honked at and nearly run over as they directed traffic at the busiest beaches in the city. She spent Tuesday with Tim breaking up beach brawls, confiscating contributing alcohol and watching bikini clad woman flirt with Tim. At least 8 different woman had asked him to rub sunscreen on them or suggested he take off his shirt to cool down. She had rolled her eyes so much she had given herself a headache. Although it may have been the sun. Yesterday, her and Nolan and responded to a report of a missing child who was feared drowned or kidnapped but turned out had followed the music of an ice cream truck four blocks and was found, about 30 minutes after the officers arrived, happily eating a fudgiscle. However, they were kept at the beach for the remainder of their shift by various citizens with complaints ranging from seagulls, wasps and possible sharks to thieves, streakers and possible melanoma.

Now her and Jackson were headed back to a beach where the adjacent shrubbery was currently being consumed by a blazing bush fire, which was in all likelihood human caused and spreading fast. Therefore all hands were on deck as the LAPD worked with the LAFD to keep civilians safe, extinguish the fire and investigate its cause.

The rest of her shift passed in a blur as they interviewed witnesses, cordoned off the area, issued evacuation orders, ensured those who needed it got medical attention, joined a production line passing large buckets of water from the ocean to where the fire was burning and debriefed with their team which included Nolan and Tim, and Lopez and Harper. Luckily in the end, the fire was successfully extinguished, those living nearby were safe and happily back in their homes and the perpetrator, a cigarette butt flicker, was caught. But not until nearly 11pm by which time the entire team was exhausted, scorching and covered in soot and ash. With their job done the team of 6 headed away from the scene back along the beach to where they had parked their shops. They were right on the sand where they left them to create a barrier preventing people from wandering toward the fire and the beach around them was abandoned. Likely due to a combination of the late hour, the fire itself and the fact that the stretch of beach they were on was only accessible by walking about a mile from one of the main beaches on either side or by scrambling down the steep cliff behind them.

“Anybody want a cold one,” Nolan asked when they reached the vehicles, “well a hot one I guess” he amended as he pulled out a six pack he had confiscated earlier in the day from the trunk of his shop. Everybody made a face at the offer of hot beer but since the only light around came from the shops headlights shining in the opposite direction Nolan didn’t see them.

“Screw it, I’ll take one,” Angela said.

“Wesley and Patrice took the baby to meet the extended Evers clan so I have nowhere to be and now that I’m no longer breastfeeding I can have whatever I want. Even if that’s gross beer that’s been sitting in a hot car all day,” she explained.

“If we dig a hole near the water line it will fill with cold seawater and we can make a makeshift beer fridge,” Jackson suggested but Angela had already opened her can and was sipping away.

“I’ll help dig the hole,” Nyla offered. “I’d rather hangout here then go back to the station to do paperwork and Lila’s with her dad so I also have no where I have to be.”

“I’ll call Grey and tell him we’re clocking out and will do the paperwork in the morning,” Tim offered.

“Your staying?” Lucy asked a little too excitedly, “what about Kojo?” she quickly added.

“Tamara called several hours ago and offered to give him dinner, take him for a walk and put him to bed.”“She saw the fire on the news and rightly assumed we’d have our hands full,” he finished.

30 minutes later they all sat in the sand around their makeshift beer fridge. Shoes, socks and button up shirts discarded and pants pulled up to their knees. 3 flashlights were in the middle of the group, pointing skyward, their handles buried in the sand. They laughed as they went around and told stories.

“How is it still this hot?” Lucy asked a while later. It was after midnight and the temperature had yet to even consider dropping below 90.

She pulled her white t-shirt away from her skin fanning, herself.

“I’m going swimming,” she declared ready to stand up.

“Your going swimming? Right Now? In that?” Tim asked gesturing to her cotton tee and woolen pants.

Lucy shook her head. “I was just going to go in my underwear but now that I think about it I don’t really want to have to drive back to the station in soaking wet underwear.”

Tim nodded as if this is what he expected but Lucy didn’t see him and continued.

“I guess I’ll just skinny dip,” she concluded.

Tim managed to both spit out and choke on the sip of beer he had just taken.

Everybody else’s faces were turned towards Tim and wearing amused expressions but they were saved his annoyance due to the limited light and the fact that his attention was still fully on Lucy.

“What?” She asked Tim, “It’s not a big deal. It’s dark. Plus everybody here has already seen me naked.”

“Well except you,” she added, which earned another spit take from Tim.

Lucy rolled her eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. She loved seeing Tim flustered, especially when it was her doing.

“What?” He finally managed to ask in a strained voice after a few harsh coughs to clear his throat.

“Everybody here’s seen Lucy naked but you,” Lopez offered, “although that was bound to change sometime soon,” she added.

Lucy and Tim both turned to look at her wide eyed. Nolan and Nyla were both hiding smirks and Jackson wore an expression of mainly panic as he spoke.

“She’s drunk. She has no idea what she’s saying,” Jackson offered before turning to look daggers at Angela and whisper something in her ear.

Lucy thought she heard the words bet, interference and disqualified but she couldn’t be sure.

When he finished Angela addressed them again. “Sorry, apparently my tolerance took a nose dive since pre-pregnancy. I didn’t mean anything by that I got you mixed up with Smitty and what’s her face,” she finished waving her hand disparagingly.

“Hmm,” Lucy said clearly not buying her lame excuse but Tim still had his mind on other things.

“Why has everybody else here seen you naked?” he asked, his tone almost suspicious.

Lucy laughed. “Are you jealous?”

He fixed her with his best TO look. “No.”

Lucy suppressed the urge to roll her eyes yet again and answered.

“Communal showers at work,” she began gesturing to Nyla and Angela. “Best friends and roommates” she added pointing to Jackson. “Life gets crazy. Sometimes closing doors or throwing on clothes just isn’t a priority,” she explained seeing Tim’s confused expression. “Also we had to help each other into and out of the bath after we were injured.” She didn’t have to specify her kidnapping or the beating Jackson took to take down Doug Stanton. This group knew. “It’s kind of ironic that when everything hurts all you want is a warm bath but when everything hurts it’s nearly impossible to get yourself into and out of a bathtub,” she finishes. “Oh and Nolan and I used to date.” She says it as almost an afterthought, super casual. But all the former TOs still look at her with shock.

“You and Nolan?” Nyla asks with a laugh. “Really?” “No offense,” she adds addressing Nolan.

“Ah, none taken?” Nolan replies, clearly confused by her reaction.

“When?” Lopez asks looking between the two P2s.

“For a couple months while we were in the academy. We called it off shortly after we started at Mid-Wilshire,” Nolan supplied.

“Wow, I just can’t picture it,” Angela continued shaking her head.

“Why would you want to picture it?” Tim spat. Then seemed to catch himself and schooled his scowl back into a blank expression.

“Why’d you call it off, anyway?” Angela asked. Half actually curious. Half just trying to do her friend a solid and take the attention off him.

“Bishop warned me that dating a fellow cop would brand me and could ruin my career,” Lucy answered and thought she saw Tim flinch. It was impossible to tell for sure with just the flashlights, nevertheless she added, “Somethings matter more-“ she was staring right at Tim now “-are worth the gossip, the assumptions, the risk.” As she said it she saw his expression change but she couldn’t read it. “But our relationship wasn’t one of those things. We’re better as friends, anyway,” she finished addressing the whole group but looking at Nolan specifically for confirmation.

“Agreed,” Nolan nodded holding up his beer.

“To friends,” Jackson said clicking his to Nolan’s.

“To friends,” everybody joined in clinking their cans together.

“So who’s coming skinny dipping with me?” Lucy asked as she started to make her way back to the vehicles where she could leave her clothes in a place where they’d stay sand free.

“I will,” said Angela, “pregnancy and caring for a baby really makes modesty go out the window. The two beers I’ve had don’t hurt either.” She began to follow Lucy to the cars.

“I’m in,” Jackson offered, “with you two practically glowing in the dark nobody will even notice me.” He teased as he got up to join them, earning a playful shove from Lucy.

“Nobody’s here to see anything anyway.” She retorted.

“Go ahead. I might join you later.” Nolan said and Nyla and Tim nodded in agreement.

10 minutes later. Lucy, Angela and Jackson’s clothes were inside Jackson and Lucy’s shop and they were out in the ocean. It dropped off quickly so they weren’t that far away from the beach even though the water came to just below Lucy’s shoulders. After four days of blazing heat and the fire on top today, the cool water felt like heaven to her. She dipped and dove through the water, relishing the cool and wiped at her face and hands to remove the soot that had coated them earlier. Beside her Angela was trying to show Jackson what her son does when they put him in the water. This led to reminiscing about childhood summers spent at the beach or in backyard and community pools. And before they knew it they were playing old games from those days. John and Nyla had joined them by this time. Claiming some combination of escaping the heat, joining the fun and more beer as the motivation. They were currently having breath holding contests.

“I win!” Jackson exclaimed as he came up for air to find everyone else already up.

“You cheated,” Lucy argued, “I saw you come up while I was still under. I had my eyes open.”

“I did not. Plus it’s pitch black under there you couldn’t possibly have seen anything.”

“Did Jackson come up?” Lucy yelled at Tim who was still sitting on the shore.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t watching,” he replied casually with a slight shrug.

“Yes you were,” Angela argued, “you haven’t taken your eyes off Lucy since she got in here,” then realizing what she said she quickly ducked back under the water.

Everybody still above the surface froze.

Then after a beat. “So did he come up or not. I need to know if I won,” Nyla asked, all business.

“He floated to the surface but didn’t lift his head up. He won,” Tim offered defeatedly.

“Told you!” Jackson bragged.

“Rematch. 3,2,1 go,” shouted Nyla as everybody ducked back under the water. Lucy a split second behind everybody else as her attention was still on Tim.

She came up about 30 seconds later just as a wave was passing by her and managed to swallow a good serving of water. She coughed and sputtered but before she knew it Jackson and Nolan were beside her and she was assuring them she was Ok just needed a bit of time to catch her breath. As she swam towards the shore to rest in the shallows she noticed Tim was just sitting back down and his pants were wet to just above the knee. But she didn’t let herself focus on it.

She swam to just in front of where he sat laying on her stomach on the ocean floor, head just above the water.

“You OK?” He asked shifting his eyes to her for the first time since she swam up.

“Ya fine, just swallowed a little water,” she assured him.

“Looks like you guys are having fun out there,” he nodded indicating the group still farther out.

“Ya the water feels amazing. You can’t honestly tell me that you aren’t hot.” She had meant it literally. He was sitting in above 90 degree weather with wool pants on. But then she realized he had taken off his white shirt and his muscled chest and stomach were currently on full display and the word took on an entirely different meaning. She was thankful for the darkness as it hid her blush but even that couldn’t hide the fact that she was definitely staring.

“The ladies on the beach the other day will be so disappointed they’re missing this,” she teased gesturing to his bare upper half, hoping to give a probable explanation for the staring.

He gave a short laugh. “Not as disappointed as the meat bags who were wolf whistling at you will be that they’re missing that.” As he gestured at her he finally let himself actually take her in. Her hair was still up in its low work bun leaving her entire back exposed. The upper half of which was completely taken up by a tattoo, he had never seen before, although the light was too limited for him to make out the design. The rest of her body was hidden in shadows except her face which was now free of soot and make-up making her look young and vulnerable. Freckles brought out by the last few days of blazing sun were speckled across the bridge of her nose. Her mouth was twisted in thought and her eyes sparkled in the light of the flashlights. She really was beautiful.

While those thoughts flew through Tim’s mind Lucy was thinking about his comment about the wolf whistlers. That had happened at the very start of their shift and lasted no more than two seconds. Lucy wasn’t even sure they had been whistling at her and she had completely forgotten about it until Tim brought it up just now. Funny that he would remember.

They were both pulled out of their thoughts by a sudden commotion further out in the water:

“DID YOU NOT THERE IS NO PIE!”

“DO NOT THERE IS NO DIE!”

“DO OR DO NOT THERE IS NO TRY!”

Were being yelled over each other.

“What are they doing?” Tim asked looking at the group out in the water.

They were in a circle. Jackson had just given Nolan a high five then they were under again.

“I think they are playing the guess what I said under the water game,” Lucy chuckled.

Tim was about to reply but he was cut off by “How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood” being shouted in unison followed by bickering about who said it first.

“I’m going back out to join them. You going to come?” Lucy asked turning her attention from the group back to Tim.

“I don’t need to be a part of that.”

“Come on Tim. You’re hot and dirty.” She still meant it literally. Really. He was covered in soot. Stupid double entendres.

He raised is eyebrows.

“Just get in the water,” Lucy said splashing water at him to vent her frustration with how flustered she was getting.

He wiped the water from his face and a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth. “Fine.”

Lucy beamed back at him as he stood up and walked back to the shop to discard his remaining clothes then turned her attention back to her friends.

“It’s not Angeles Direct, you’ve already guessed that three times,” Nyla was saying to Jackson

“That’s what it sounds like,” he argued “and it’s definitely closer to that than ‘embroidery period.’”

“That was my first guess. I heard wrong,” Nyla shot back.

“Oh ya cuz ‘and was dressed’ and ‘indoors divest’ were so much closer.”

Any further argument was cut-off by Nolan. “I’ve got it: Angela’s the best,” he said confidently.

“Yes and yes,” Angela confirmed.

“Your turn Nyla.”

There was a brief silence as they all went back under the water followed by a flurry of screamed “this is stupid.”

“Happy now?” Came a quieter voice beside her and Lucy nearly jumped out of the water. She had been so wrapped up watching her friends she hadn’t even noticed that Tim had made his way back down the beach and was now sitting beside her in the water.

She smiled and nodded. “Aren’t you?”

He gave a non-committal shrug. “We’ll see after I get roped into whatever’s going on out there,” he offered but there was no bite to it. He was even smiling, although mostly with his eyes, as he looked at their friends.

“Well let’s go find out,” Lucy replied as she led the way into the deeper water.

As they approached the group they watched them go up and down and listened to their guesses.

“And further than game”

“Comforters at game”

“Temperatures endgame”

“Stanford is endgame”

“Checkers is a game.” “At least that’s a real sentence”

“Bradford has game?” “That can’t be right he most definitely doesn’t”

Then just as Tim and Lucy joined the group “Chenford is endgame!” Shouted by Angela who upon realizing Tim and Lucy had joined them turned to Jackson.

“This ones not on me it was your sentence.”

Jackson stood stunned for a second looking desperately between Tim, Lucy and Angela then swiftly closed his eyes and yelled “MARCO.”

There was a brief silence then Nolan yelled “POLO” and everyone was swimming away from Jackson at top speed. Everyone except Tim who was giving Lucy a look that said. “See what you got me into? I told you so.”

But she was busy swimming off with the others, grateful for the distraction. So he rolled his eyes and joined the game. The water did feel amazing although he wasn’t about to admit that to her.

Calls of MARCO POLO and laughter filled the air as everybody took their turn being it: Jackson tagged Nolan who tagged Lucy who tagged Nyla who tagged Jackson who tagged Tim who tagged Nolan who tagged Angela who tagged Jackson who tagged Tim who tagged Lucy. Well he meant to tag Lucy. He reached his arm out and jumped towards her “POLO” but she was closer than he thought and instead of the tips of his finger tagging her shoulder he jumped right into her. He hit her hard and she responded to being knocked off her feet and down into the water instinctively by reaching for the nearest thing to prevent drowning, which happened to be him. So when he opened his eyes her arms were around his neck and her legs around his hips and her face was only about an inch from his own as she coughed up water for the second time that day.

“Are you ok?” He asked moving a piece of hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear.

She nodded but continued to cough as he absentmindedly stroked her back.

“You caught me by surprise,” she breathed “I didn’t know we were playing full contact Marco Polo.”

He let out a relieved laugh, “I’m sorry.”

“A real Tim Bradford apology I never thought I’d see it in person,” Lucy teased earning an eye roll from Tim. This close Lucy could see all the different shades of blue in his eyes even in the dark.

“It was an accident.”

“So it wasn’t some sort of Tim Test to see how I would handle a fight in the water?”

“No. You got your last Tim test a year ago when you stopped being my rookie.”

“I can’t believe it’s been a year already,” she said. “Then again we’ve been through enough for an entire career,” she added as her hand reflexively moved from his neck where it was playing with his hair to the tattoo on her her ribs.

That’s when it dawned on her just how close her and Tim were, pressed together without a shred of clothing between them. She had felt so comfortable and content she hadn’t realized the gravity of the situation and what it could lead to. She was about to put some space between them when his hand covered hers over the tattoo marking her supposed day of death. The day he saved her from being buried alive. Although he would say it marked the first day of the rest of her life. The day she saved herself.

And the desire to move away died in an instant.

“I kept it,” she said quietly, “because of what you said.” “Because it’s a reminder that I’m a survivor. And that my team will always have my back.”

Tim was looking at her with an expression more open than she’d ever seen. “I have one of those,” he replied softly lifting her hand up and moving it to rest on his lower left abdomen. She was confused at first but as she felt the skin beneath her finger tips she realized it was scarred. The scar from when he was shot on her second day and she pulled him out of the line of gunfire.

She smiled and looked directly into his eyes.

“It’s a good thing we have each other in our lives,”

“Sure is,”

She was just about to lean in and close the distance between them when a voice interrupted.

“Hey you two. Keep it PG or get a room. This is a family outing.” It was Nyla.

Lucy laughed as she untangled her self from Tim and in that moment she realized two things. 1) this was most definitely her family and 2) she would very happily come back to the beach. Maybe next time she’d just bring Tim, maybe even as her boyfriend.

#the rookie #chenford #lucy chen #tim bradford #nyla harper #angela lopez #jackson west #john nolan

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