#every batch will come every 4 days or every week

[bloop-im-a-frog-now]

If The Gods Were Kind — cave pt.1

Hello! Welcome to the first part of this massive fic I have been writing for the past 3 months. This was part of the @lifefanworkexch and I had a ton of fun writing this! The prompt (given by the lovely Jupiter, my secret soulmate) was Desert duo Hurt/Comfort in Third Life, following canon closely. This first batch focuses on me playing with Minecraft world-building and adding some headcanons about the life series, since I’m following canon. I just can’t help myself, following the content creators’ videos.

Enjoy!

Master Post

—    —  

Content warnings: graphic description of animal death and dissecting process, gore, graphic description of violence, description of tending injury done badly and blood.

If the stars were aligned, maybe he wouldn’t be in this mess. If the universe had any pity for him (which he was certain it did for making him live this long), he would be sitting, looking at the sunset—looking at him. If the gods above wanted kindness, he shouldn’t remember what happened, shouldn’t remember a yearning that will never be fulfilled. A hole in his chest, forever empty, and an underlined anger, bubbling closer to the surface every day. Then, and only then, did the gods deserve his kindness.

He woke up in a clearing, full of colorful flowers. Some red, some yellow, but most were purple. He couldn’t name them all, even if he tried. He couldn’t remember how he got in this clearing. He couldn’t remember why he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and where all these scars in many shapes and forms came from. Actually, his mind was drawing on a blank when he tried to dig deep in his memories. The only certain thing he knew was his name.

Well, not really, but he did find a sort of communicator with a name engraved in the back.

GoodTimesWithScar.

He figured his name was Scar, if the engraved name indicated anything. The communicator itself was quite bland, a metallic shine to it. There was a keyboard, but he didn’t look at it for very long. The letters seemed to change shape every time he looked at it, and the back of his eyes ached. While the device wasn’t a box, it wasn’t thin either. He wondered how it fitted perfectly in his pockets.

The screen was black, making him search for a power button. How did he know he needed to find a power button was beyond him, but he needed to find one. He looked back at the keyboard and saw a button with a circle and a line cutting across half way. He pressed it. The screen became white, then gray.

There were two things written on the screen. “Punch a tree” and “You have no contacts”. First off, it took him an embarrassing amount of time to read those two things (not to mention the slight ache behind his eyes spreading to his temples), and second, he did not understand them. Punching a tree? Was that even possible? Scar looked around him, searching for trees, and saw some up on a hill. Might as well try.

As he climbed the hill, he was often losing his balance, almost falling every time. He kept looking at his hips, thinking maybe he was wearing something heavy, as his hips felt like they weren’t able to move to their complete capability, held back, but he was only wearing a belt with brown cargo pants. He had to take breaks, mostly to not fall over. When he arrived at the top, a wave of fatigue submerged him, and a sharp but short ache pierced his lower back. Scar stretched his back, hoping it would dim down, and was only left half satisfied. He slightly frowned, wondering what was up with his body.

He brought his focus back to the tree in front of him. He rolled his shoulders, glad he didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary (though, how would he know what was normal and what was not), and started punching the brown tree’s bark. He felt incredibly stupid when punching the trunk, but after a couple of punches, a part of it disappeared.

Scar yelped when the wood vanished. Where did it go? He ignored how heavy his shoulders felt, and walked frantically around the tree to find the wood he’d been punching.

“C’mon, c’mon, where are you?” he singsonged, desperately looking, even tearing grass. Maybe it shrunk. Maybe it was still stuck on the tree.

Scar got up from his crouched position with great difficulty. He had to sit down on his butt, and try again to hoist himself up with the help of the trunk. He looked inside the hole he punched and couldn’t see any wood hanging around. He groaned.

He took his communicator out of his pocket. He really didn’t want to touch the thing often, but he had no choice. He opened it and saw that the first message on his communicator changed. Scar took a deep breath and closed his eyes, bracing himself to read. This first message read: “Punch a tree: Achieved”. Scar’s eyebrows shot up. Did he get the wood? Where would he find the wood he supposedly got?

His communicator buzzed, drawing his attention back to the text. While the letters were still jumbled, he recognized certain shapes of certain letters and was able to get “Taking Inventory”. Inventory? As in, having a secret pocket dimension on his person? How would he find that? He patted himself, hoping it would activate something, but he got nothing except a dull ache in his calves, heavy and trembling.

He looked around. He couldn’t rest, he needed to understand what was going on. Or, at least, have a basic understanding of how this world worked, not that he had any previous knowledge of its rules.

Then, something clicked. He instinctively searched in his inventory for the piece of wood he just punched. Scar sighed, relieved he wasn’t as hopeless as he thought he’d be. He put the wood in his hand, feeling the rough structure of the bark. He wondered if he could do anything with this. Why did his communicator feel it was necessary to indicate to him he needed to do that? He looked at the tree with a hole. What other treasures did this tree hide?

He continued his punching, even punching the leafs to find some sticks, saplings and rarely, some apples. Scar looked back to the clearing. He went deeper into the forest than he originally thought. He should probably head back, who knows what this world would be beyond it. His eyes squinted when he saw a flash of blue, deeper than the color of the sky.

He went back to the clearing, wanting to know what this flash of blue was. He tried to step down, but immediately lost his balance. He grunted, a dull ache on his butt blossomed. He had to figure out how to go down the valley, into the clearing without losing some of his gait and feeling like his legs were gonna give out. Scar sat on the hill and started slowly sledding down. It wasn’t the most comfortable, but it was better than falling and rolling without any control.

When his butt reached a flat surface, he used the hill to hoist himself on his feet. He limped his way to the flash of blue, who has grown more prominent and frequent. His eyes fell on a little pond close to it, but he turned his attention back in front of him. It was a transparent wall, oscillations of blue and white moved in tandem. He could see the other side of the wall, a whole landscape before him. He was stuck inside a world. Whatever put him here didn’t want him to go very far.

He huffed and decided to check his inventory out of curiosity and boredom. In it, he saw crafting recipes. This might be useful, he could craft something to protect himself or even something to sleep on. His legs were wobbly underneath him, and he noticed a cliffside, filled with coal and different types of stone. He could maybe settle close to it before he went to explore the world. He circled the pond and sat close to the cliff, his back to the rock. He shimmed into a more comfortable sitting position and looked at the crafting recipes.

As Scar tried to craft something to protect himself, his communicator buzzed in his pocket. He stopped his crafting—which was growing less fruitful than he hoped it’d be—and looked at the screen. A key word he could decipher was “crafting table”, and the feeling of foolishness came crawling back, realizing what he needed to do. He went back to his crafting, this time making planks with the wood he collected. It was easier to manipulate planks than the trunk of a tree. With the planks, he used some of it to make the crafting table.

Scar placed it right beside him and swiveled to face the cliff. One of the recipes he looked at said he needed charcoal for torches. He figured torches were important, especially to see in the dark. He stood up, using the grip of the rock to help him, and feeling a soreness in his shoulders. After rolling them back, he made the necessary tools to survive, with the help of the crafting table and crafting recipes: a sword, an ax, and a pickaxe. He mined the coal and some stone. Could he use the stone to make better tools?

He heard an oink behind him. He turned around swiftly, and inhaled sharply. It was only a family of pigs. He sighed of relief and glanced at his stone ax, then back at the pigs. He slowly approached them, ready to swing. His calves spasmed and made him wince, forcing him to stop and wait for it to pass before swinging his ax to the animals.

“Aaaaand, gotcha,” he said as his ax cut one of the pigs’ heads off. The other two squealed and ran away from him. “Oh no, you won’t you little—” he chased them and raised his ax to chop one of their heads, “—rapscallion.”

One of them managed to escape while the other’s head was rolling on the grass, almost landing in the little pond. As he bent down to grab the head, Scar saw a mop of brown hair reflected in the water. He fell to his knees when he couldn’t stay in his crouched position, and decided to look at his reflection as he waited for the ache and the soreness that took over his lower body to pass.

He carded his short brown hair with his hand, fluorescent green eyes darting around his face. His hand went down to brush the jagged scar that ran from his temple to his jaw and traced the one on his nose to his cheekbone, surprised he didn’t feel any pinching sensation while he was talking to himself. His skin was sun-kissed, his arms were quite muscular, he had broad shoulders and quite a large form. Not to mention the beginnings of well-toned abs. He wondered what he did in his other life to end up in a shape like this.

When he could get up, Scar took the bodies of the two beheaded pigs to the cliffside, and placed them on the ground close to the crafting table. He sat down and poked at the dead animals.

How could he make them edible? He snacked on the apples he found, feeling energized every time he ate one, even making his lower body feel weightless. He poked the skin of one of the dead pigs, wondering how he could make them edible while munching his apple. He wanted the meat of the pigs, so he had to find a way to have access to said meat.

  He took his stone sword and cut the body of the pigs in half. His knees cracked when he crouched and almost fell, as if his hips could not hold him in this position. But nausea caught in his throat as coagulated blood ended up everywhere before he could focus on the instability of his hips.

His ankles were shaking, it was getting harder to keep his position, so he placed his knees on the ground, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath before continuing this awful process. He needed food, the apples weren’t going to last him long, and he’d need to find a shelter before the night came.

Scar took out the organs he could see. They were covered in blood, squishy in his hands. He swallowed the bile that threatened to come up. The pigs were quite big, he ate an apple in order to use the little energy he had to skin them and make them edible.

He turned the dead animals around while getting rid of the skin that protected them, placed the organs to the side, and got as much meat as he could from the bones.

He sat on his butt with a big sigh, taking a breather from the horrid smell and the vicious sight. It’s only when the sun had passed its zenith that he put the meat on the stone. His hands were bloody and his pants dirtied.

He groaned and tried to get up. Nothing moved except his arms, and even then, it was hard to get them to grasp the rocks on the cliff to help him stand up. The last apple he ate was probably a couple of hours ago, and no way he was gonna eat raw meat.

He tried a second time, his legs buckled underneath him, landing on his butt harshly. He needed to cook the chops he made. He looked at the recipes, chanting “c’mon” under his breath to find something that would help him cook the meat. His eyes landed on the word “Furnace”.

“A-ha! Furnace!” He grinned at his victory.

The description was exactly what he was looking for. He rolled his shoulders back to soothe the soreness and tenderness he felt, closed his eyes to dim the ache behind them, and brought his focus back on the recipe, mumbling the instructions to himself. He needed the stone he mined earlier and his crafting table.

Scar glanced at the crafting table beside him. It would be hard for him to use it while sitting down, but getting up wasn’t an option when he knew his legs would buckle underneath him and wouldn’t be able to hold his body weight. He tried getting on his knees to at least see what he was doing.

He used the cliff and the crafting bench to help him, and with great difficulty, managed to be on his knees. He crafted the furnace and placed it beside the crafting table, using its support to scooch around. He put the coal he mined earlier and the pork chops in the furnace, waiting for them to cook.

Scar observed his surroundings, finding something to occupy his hands. Maybe getting more stone wouldn’t hurt anyone. He took his stone pickaxe in one hand and tried to raise it above his head to break the stone. Before he could even do that, the pickaxe became heavy in his grip, making it almost impossible to raise it above his head. Like his arm couldn’t go further than a certain angle. He rolled his shoulders, massaged them a bit and tried again.

Fool him once, shame on him. Fool him twice, shame on him again, apparently, because his arms still couldn’t reach above his head in order to swing at full force against the stone.

He groaned, giving up, and crafted more tools with the stone he managed to mine. He sat down close to the warmth of the furnace. He looked at the sky and couldn’t see the sun anymore. He saw hues of orange and a cool blue submerging most of the sky. Night was coming soon and he didn’t even have a shelter. But first, he needed something to stabilize himself, to help him move around with minimum energy.

Scar searched in his inventory for anything and found a couple of sticks from the branches of the tree he punched. He took them in his hand, inspecting them. He used them to stand up and measured every one of them to see which one would be best for his height. The one he chose was just below his waist, but it’d do for now.

He inspected the stick, unconsciously sitting on the crafting table. He couldn’t wrap his hand around the stick, it was too short for that, he would need something on top of it to hold it properly. How could he attach two different pieces together? He checked his inventory and found some residual leafs, some long enough to wrap around.

He winced. It wouldn’t stay for long, but it was all he had, so until he could find a better way to attach them together, this would have to do. He placed a small stick on top of the longest stick he had, wrapping leafs around it to temporarily secure it. He used the wall and the stick to stand up, legs trembling slightly at the weight on them. He grunted, stabbed the stick to the ground, and tested his balance. Scar had to bend in order to use his walking stick correctly, but not to the extreme that it would bother his movements.

He wondered how he managed to hurt himself so badly. He dug and dug in his memories, but just couldn’t grasp the reason. Did he get stung by an insect that affected muscles' articulation? He hadn’t seen any insects so far, it wasn’t a likely possibility. Clearly, he had a life before appearing in this clearing. A life that still affected him and left him clueless about what was going on with his body.

A burning smell reached his nostrils, and he sniffed the air to identify it. It smelled strong and sweet, like something tender and juicy was being cooked.

“Oh my gosh,” he realized out loud, “the pork!”

He landed on his knees in front of the furnace (much to the detriment of his calves), and searched inside for the pork chops. He let out a “a-ha!” when he found them and took them out with his bare hands.

Big mistake.

“Ow!” he yelled, dropping the burning meat on the ground. He put his fingers in his mouth, salivating around them to cool down the burn.

Scar cursed at himself for not thinking clearly and took one of the last sticks in his inventory to bring the pork chops closer to him. He took the coal out of the furnace, stepping on it to minimize a fire risk. It was a beautiful clearing, it would be sad for all of it to burn down. He waited for his food to cool before eating it with his non-burnt hand, landing on his butt after finding it difficult to sit on his knees for too long.

A wave of energy engulfed him, relaxing the tension around his lower neck and relieving some ache in his hips and shoulders. He could start working on his shelter if he felt better. He put the other three pork chops he managed to make edible in his inventory and took his walking stick.

Much to his dismay, with his frantic movements, the two pieces that were barely holding together separated. He groaned, and put them back where they were, wrapping the long and lean leaf around them, tying a knot. He stood up, still using the furnace and the stick to help him.

When he found his balance (even when the small stick was threatening to fall off at any moment), the sky became darker. Night was coming, and he forgot to craft torches and still didn’t have a shelter. He mentally slapped himself and quickly made some as the world submerged in twilight.

Scar placed one torch when he heard a groan. He looked behind him and couldn’t believe his eyes. Was that a zombie? It was slowly approaching him. He froze, not knowing what to do. Then, something sharp pierced his shoulder. He grunted, shoulder pushed back, and used the torch to see who shot an arrow at him.

His eyes widened.

A skeleton was on top of the hill, readying its bow once again. The zombie was getting closer, and he needed to get out of here. He hastily grabbed his crafting bench and his furnace, put them in his inventory, and began mining a hole in the cliff. It’d have to do as a shelter for now.

Something grabbed him and ate a piece of his flesh, right on his injured shoulder. He screamed and elbowed the thing behind him with as much force as he could muster. The zombie backed away with a sharp groan. Scar took out his stone sword and plunged it in the monster’s stomach. Another arrow hit his bitten shoulder. Again.

His legs were shaking, his hands trembled, and he forgot how to breathe. He took out his sword from the monster, not looking at it to see if it was dead, and quickly dug himself in a hole. He closed it when he had enough space for his body, dodging the arrows the skeleton shot mercilessly at him. He tried to bring his breathing back to normal, but it took him much more time than he would’ve liked.

After composing himself, Scar placed a torch, mined a larger hole (with great difficulty), and looked at his shoulder. Blood trailed down his chest, and he regretted not getting water from the pond. He didn’t have anything to clean the wound. He looked down, questioning why he wasn’t wearing a shirt, and saw his ripped pants. It was the best thing he had for the job.

Scar sat down, his body stiffen with tension, feeling every bit of pain the injury inflicted on him as he tried to cut the bottom of his pants. With laborious efforts (it was a feat and a half to bring his legs up towards him), he managed to get a piece and cleaned the blood off of himself. The piece of clothing was immediately soaked the closer it got to the wound. He also needed to get the arrows out of his wounded shoulder.

It was a painful process. Cutting the bottom of his pants, trying his best to clean the wound, pulling the arrow out, screaming, using the cloth to hold the blood in. Repeat.

In the end, his body slumped against the harsh stone wall, exhausted, adrenaline drained. He let out a big exhale and ate a pork chop. His mind wandered. If there were zombies, that meant there was civilization somewhere. That meant having supplies to heal his wound. That meant getting better materials for his walking stick.

His eyes landed on an iron ore. Could he collect the iron and forge armor? He really needed protection after that encounter, and tools weren’t gonna protect him from flying arrows and zombie bites. He gasped.

“Will I turn into a zombie?” he asked out loud. How did he know you could turn into a zombie if they bit you was beyond him, but he knew it. Scar figured if he was gonna turn into a zombie, he would’ve felt the effects by now. Fortunately, he didn’t turn into a brain-eating monster after minutes of holding his breath.

He ate another pork chop and felt his energy regenerated. He could mine, find out what sort of ore there was deep down, below him. He stood up, using his stick and the stone to help him up. His legs trembled, and he felt exhausted, but he needed to get out of this place, needed to find a village.

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[imabeautifulbutterfly]

Can I suggest 4 and 47 with Howzer? Idk if you write for him but he’s a sweetheart I know. The last week everything has gone wrong….

Ohhhh sweetheart. You have no idea what you did to me. Let me tell you when I sat down and began writing... oh! It all came pouring out nearly 2000 words later, and I have a fic for you. I really hope you love it. I did.

Love oo,

The Lullaby

Warning: Death, loss (various kinds), angst, comfort, kissing, tears.

Italics - flashback

Main Master List   |  Star Wars Fic Roulette

Howzer looked at the beautiful paradise island he and the Bad Batch escaped to. Pabu. To think there was such a beautiful place in this horrible galaxy. Every time he thought he found something it had been ripped away from him. He couldn’t help but wonder if this would be any different.

He glanced down to the bracelet you weaved on his wrist. The only thing he had left of you. His fingers trailed over it again and again. He lost you on Ryloth when he stood up to the Empire. There were days when just remembering your smiling face, the way you’d call his name when you laid beside him, your soft kisses and caresses were the only thing that kept him going. 

Especially when he started to lose his squad. When his men started to be taken from him too, he clung to the image of you all the more. He stood on the precipice that overlooked the island, it was majestic, a spot you would’ve loved to come to, to let the wind and sea take away your disquieting thoughts. He closed his eyes and breathed in the salty sea air. If you were there, beside him, he could see himself getting used to this. He could get used to a life full of peace and quiet … but you weren’t here. 

His eyes focused back down at the intricately woven bracelet you gave him, smiling as he remembered that day.

“Howzer show me your wrist” you smiled at him acting all cute and coy, your smile reaching all the way to your eyes.

“Why? What are you going to do to it?” He narrowed his eyes as he fought back a chuckle.

“Don’t be difficult and just show me your wrist.” You demanded with that smile never failing while you looked at him. It was his smile, one you reserved only for him as you stated over and over again.

“Fine, but if you do anything weird, I’m going to give you the worst tickle attack ever.” He warned as he placed a kiss on your cheek.

“What weird, just hold it out” he did begrudgingly, giving you his wrist. He laughed when you pulled his wrist closer to you and turned your back so he couldn’t see what you were doing. It was a few seconds later, when you turned around smiling, “There. See. Not weird.”

He looked down at the threaded bracelet, it was the colour of his armour, the colour of your eyes, and the dark red colour of the sands of Ryloth. “It’s … it’s beautiful.”

“It’s you, me and Ryloth. The planet that brought us together,” you smiled leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips, “as long as you wear it, I’ll always be with you.”

A chuckle escaped his lips as he wrapped his arms around you, “Thank you. I love it, and you.” He pressed another kiss to your lips, “Thanks, cyar’ika, for making today a little less depressing.”

“Were you having a rough day?” You wrapped your arms around him tighter. 

“I was, but now that you’re here, and I have you…” he waved his wrist, “I’m better. You always chase the dark thoughts away.”

“I’ll make sure to always be here to chase the dark thoughts away.”

Howzer looked at his bracelet as a tear slid down his cheek, “… but you’re not here to chase the dark thoughts away.” He spoke out loud to the images of you in his mind.

Things since Ryloth had been difficult for you, you’d suffered a serious injury. In fact, you weren’t even sure how you made it off Ryloth and found yourself travelling with Phee. It took you a while to learn how to speak again, and even to remember the name Phee had generously given you. But she was patient with you, taking you with her each and every time. Repeating what needed to be repeated as often and as slowly as possible. Protecting you, when you needed to be protected. 

Even when you met the Bad Batch, she took her time introducing you to them. When had first met them they seemed somewhat familiar but it wasn’t quite right. They’re faces weren’t quite right, and you didn’t understand why.

You shrugged it off, not really worrying about it. Wrecker had been especially attentive towards you, even though you kept a friendly distance from him. Not that you found him unpleasant or unattractive, but your heart felt … occupied. It was a feeling that ... somehow you knew you were waiting for someone. Who that was, only the Force would know. 

As months dragged by, and bits of your old memory came back, you had found yourself being pulled time and time again to the colour, teal blue, it struck a chord with you. Deep inside, it reminded you of something. Every time you saw it, you had to have it. Blankets, scarves, sweaters, even underwear. It was a colour that made you feel comforted, that it was somehow a part of you. 

You heard from Phee more clones had joined the island, looking for a safe haven. You learned a few weeks after the Bad Batch arrived what clones were and why so many of them had the same face. Well at least a variation of the same face. You brushed off Phee’s comment, going on your usual walk when you hadn’t had a good night’s sleep, you wrapped the teal blue shawl around you, revelling in its comfort and safety. Not that it was particularly cold that day, but it had been a bad day for you, so you needed that extra warmth. 

The images and nightmares from the past week were overwhelming. The doctor had mentioned, it was all part of the healing process, as memories of your past continued to seep into your present, it could be overwhelming. Yet, as more images became clear, the more you didn’t want to remember. Not if it meant seeing people die, feeling a fear in your heart that you had lost someone. Someone dear. 

You feared for the day you saw the image of losing the one that had somehow captured your heart, you didn’t want to remember seeing that person being taken from you. However, that might be. 

You shook your head, climbing to the highest point of the island, it was the only way to calm your mind as you looked out over the whole island. Your footsteps faltered as you saw another person in your spot. You heard him talking to himself, you knew the sound of sorrow and pain, you heard it enough in your dreams. You shifted wanting to give this man privacy, only for your foot to hit a rock alerting him to your presence. 

Howzer turned quickly, as years of combat trained him, he wiped the tears from his face, and looked at you. His eyes welled up with tears once again, his jaw dropped open as the blood rushed from his face. 

“Cyar’ika?”

“I’m sorry?” You offered, not understanding the word that came out of his mouth. “I’m sorry for disturbing you. I didn’t realize anyone was here.” You tried to placate the man who looked like he’d seen a ghost. 

“It can’t be… cyare, is that … really you?” He stepped forward, wondering if you were an apparition, the way your hair billowed in the wind, the way you clung to the shawl wrapped around your shoulders, the same colour as his armour. You couldn’t be real. There was no way you could be real. He saw you … he saw you sprawled on the floor of Ryloth’s red sand, he saw the blood seeping out of your head. He remembered hearing the blaster shot and seeing you drop… it wasn’t possible. 

“I … I don’t know who you think I am… but that’s not me … I’m not siare,” you tried your best to copy the pronunciation and failing, “or whatever.”

“No. It is you…” he stepped forward smiling. “Don’t you remember me?” The look on your face hadn’t moved; it was one of confusion and loss. 

“I’m sorry, I …”

“Howzer. My name. I’m Captain Howzer. We … we worked together on Ryloth.” He walked closer, not wanting to scare you, taking small steps like he would with a terrified animal. Your mouth opened and closed a number of times as you tried to answer. He tried to rack his brain on something that would help jog your memory, he held up his wrist and showed the bracelet, “This. Do you remember this? You made this for me. I told you that ‘you made my day a little less depressing’.” He pleaded doing his best to try to hold back, he wanted to shake you, to wake you up, to hold you in his arms. He thought he’d lost you and … yet, you were here. You were alive.

“I … I made that?” You looked at the intricately woven bracelet. “Okay,” you huffed out a laugh, “now I know you’re lying. I’m not that talented.”

“Oh but you are cyare, you’re talented, beautiful, intelligent, brave, caring. You’re so much … you’re everything. You have to know there’s no one I could love like I love you. I …” he held back from saying more as he watched your eyes widen at his declaration, “Sorry. I’m sorry. I know this is overwhelming, but … you … we. We were something special.” He swallowed softly.

You shook your head and turned away, “I’m sorry for your loss but you’re mistaken…”

“The colour!”

He cut you off, not wanting you to leave, he needed you to stay.

“What?” You turned back to him. 

“The colour of your shawl, the colour of your bag, the wrap around your wrist, that teal blue colour. It means more to you than you can understand, right? You look at that colour and you feel at home, at peace. Complete.”

“How…” You narrowed your eyes at him, “How could you know that?”

“Because you told me, that’s … the colour of my armour ...” He looked down at the one he was wearing, “not this one, obviously. But the one I had back on Ryloth. The one you helped me maintain and paint. You always said this colour, the teal blue, was home for you because it reminded you of me.”

He took a step forward as a tear slid down your cheek, he took it as a sign that he was getting through. “You would have nightmares at times, and the only thing that ever calmed you down was when I held you in my arms, and sang to you. I would sing the lullaby your mother used to sing to you as a child. You taught me that on our first date…”

You shook your head, “I don’t…” your voice trailed off as Howzer started singing, his voice soft and strong, reaching into your soul. A familiarity and a comfort settling deep within you as you listened to him sing. Each word, each syllable brought back another memory. You saw the image of the two of you laughing, joking as you laid in bed. Him tickling you as you teased him. The way he held you close, when you lost another good soldier. Each note carried another memory, another reminder of the past you had lost. 

Tears streamed down your face, as Howzer kept moving closer, his voice never failing as he gently reached his hand to cup your cheek and tenderly wiping the tears away. A gesture he’d done a million times before, he slowly and softly wrapped his arms around you as he kept singing. Your own arms wrapping around him, as you held him close. You closed your eyes and let the tears come.

“Howzer …” you said his name, not one with doubt, but with recognition. With remembering. With longing. 

He tightened his arms around you, and kissed your temple, “Yes, cyar’ika. I’m here. I found you.” You both stood on the highest peak of Pabu, holding each other as your past finally found you again.

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[purpleyoonn]

Doughnuts and Shell Casings

one shot series // part 1 of ?

summary: you finally gather the courage to leave your routine and do something different. your expectations are blown out of the water as you meet your soulmates in a less-than-expected way. 

genre: soulmate au, bts au, mafia au, poly au, 

pairing: mafia bts x innocent reader

warnings: robberies/break-ins, attempted kidnapping, murder, reader witnesses a murder, bruises, mafia bangtan, weapon use, very touchy bangtan, blood, 

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp​ @yourleftsock​ @skyys-universe​ @cryingpages​ @strxwbloody​  @drissteele​ @dustyinkpages​ @iamkookiesforyou​ @crushedblackroses​ @fluffy-canada-pancakes​ @blaaiissee​  @iiitsmaria​  @carolinexkpop​  @azazel-nyx​ @strawberry-moonpies​ @g-h-o-s-t-b-a-b-i​ @knjkitten​ @kleirielk​ @foreverweareyoung7​ @lachimolala22019​ @namuficxs​ @94z-93​ @kimgmzmc​ @thenaverse​ @dahliasbouqet​ @black-rose-29​ @tinyoonsblog​ @take-u-2-an0ther-w0r1d​ @stellauniverse​ @stupendouscookiehumanmug​ @tinyoonsblog​ @veronawrites​ @tatyhend​

masterlist // one-shot masterlist

-----------------------------------------------

Mornings were always the best for you. You loved getting things done and then having the rest of the day to relax or do whatever your heart desired. It was probably one of the reasons you loved working at a café, that and the free coffee and pastries.

Doughnut was the name of the café, named after the owner’s famous doughnuts she handmakes every morning before opening. Nayeon and Jihyo owned the café and were also some of your closest friends. You had gone to school with them, and the rest of their soulgroup.

There were nine people total within their soulgroup, and you were happy that they were able to complete their soulgroup so early in life. Most people don’t find their soulmates until their twenties, others were lucky enough to grow up with theirs.

Unfortunately for you, you had yet to meet any of the people whose name’s live on your wrist. There were seven names, and you had yet to even hear of them in your twenty-five years. It had you losing hope, but you had faith that you would meet them soon.

“Good morning, Kitty!” Nayeon yelled out to you as soon as you walked in through the back door. She had been calling you that since you were six, since the day you walked into first grade with your favorite stuffed animal: a black cat plushie.

“Good morning, Bunnie!” You yelled back, seeing her working on getting the fresh batch of pastries and sweets out on the shelf. It was your turn to bake the cookies, hence why you were at the café at 4:30 in the morning.

You set out to make coffees first, two for you for Nayeon and one for Sana who would be coming in at five. Once you handed Nayeon her coffee, and after hearing her mumble her thanks, you set out to get the cookie dough you had let freeze over night for easier handling. You spent all day yesterday working on making cookie dough. You made chocolate chip, peanut butter, and sugar cookie dough.

Your sugar cookies were a huge selling point, besides the doughnuts. You spent hours before opening individualizing each cookie, making different characters and designs. You loved seeing the faces of the little kids who come into the shop and pick out one of your cookies. It was a fun hobby for you and you loved the payoff of the business you receive from them.

Once you had a couple batches in the oven to bake and the time set, you moved back to the front to help Sana, who had just arrived, clean and set up the café. It was a smaller café, only around eight or nine small tables and twice as many chairs, but it was your friend groups pride and joy. All ten of you worked there, varying shifts and times.

You, Nayeon, and Jihyo worked the most shifts, as this was your baby. The others all had their own things going on, but never failed to take on one or two shifts a week at the café. It led to many fun times, and lots of happy memories that littered the walls in the form of polaroids.

“Okay my friends, we open in thirty minutes. Let’s have another good day and make even more friends!” Nayeon shouted out, getting your attention as she stood with her hands in the air.

When it was time to open, you already had a couple of customers waiting outside, two of your regulars who had been coming in every morning since you opened three years ago. You actually already had their order ready for them at the counter, two hot chocolates with caramel and two of Nayeon’s chocolate glazed doughnuts.

“Thanks again, deary.” The wife, Mrs. Chang, smiled up at you as you rang in their total. Mr. and Mrs. Chang were two of the sweetest people you had ever met.

“It’s no problem Mrs. Chang. You know we love seeing you both every morning.” You smile back at her, meaning every word. You loved seeing your regulars and learning how their day has been.

“Have you heard about the robberies going on?” Mr. Chang speaks up, a hint of worry in his tone as he looks to the side and out the window. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you take in his words.

“No, Mr. Chang. We haven’t heard anything.” You hand him the change as he motions for his wife to grab their usual table.

“There has been a couple robberies over the past week, most of them taking place downtown in the shopping district but we still worry about you all.” He places a hand on top of your own that rest on the counter.

“Thank you for that, Mr. Chang. I will talk to Nayeon and Jihyo and see if we can’t figure out some more safety measures.” You try to smile reassuringly at the older gentleman, not quite sure what you could do, but it seems to work as he smiles back and nods his head.

“Good. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to our favorite girls.” He grabs his hot chocolate and goes to sit down.

His words had you kind of worried, wondering if at some point the robberies would make their way to where you were located. You hoped that the college district was far enough away that you were safe. You looked over to the measly double lock that the front door had and moved to turn to Sana.

“We need to figure out our budget and see what kind of safety measures we can add to the building.” Sana quirks her head at you, questioning your statement. You lead her to the back where Nayeon was and explain to them what Mr. Chang said.

They were also a little worried, Nayeon telling you both she would talk to Jihyo and look at the budget to see what you all could do. That was all you could really do for the moment without looking at the numbers so with that you all went back to work.

It was a normal day, the flow ebbing off around eleven but returning around one when classes let out for the science building at the local university. That meant rush hour for your café as the crowds of students came for caffeine refuels or sweets to tide them over.

This meant that it was time for Dahyun, Momo and Jeongyeon’s shift. They would be taking over for you and Sana as it was Nayeon’s day to run the shop. You both were going to meet Chaeyoung for lunch as she had a free period before her next class.

“Bye Bunnie! By Hyunie! By Yeongie! By Momo!” You and Sana both shouted out in unison, your normal departure ritual, each earning bye’s in return as the door closed behind you.

The two of you walked the couple blocks it would take to get to the restaurant.

“You know, you should get out more, like take up a yoga or painting class or something.” Sana was nonchalant as she suggested. The soulgroup had been trying to get you out of your hole for years. They thought you spent too much time in the shop or at home.

“You don’t need to worry about me. Getting out isn’t really my…thing.” You shrugged in response. It was true, you were completely content with just relaxing at home or being at the café. You weren’t the person to party or drink. It just wasn’t something you enjoyed.

“It’s just, the more places you go to, or things you do, the more likely it is you’ll meet your soulmates.” She explains with a saddened tone. They all hated watching you retreat into your shell. They knew that you thought it was too late for you to meet your soulmates and noticed how you stared at your soulmark when you thought no one was looking.

They just wanted you to be happy.

“That’s why I’m doing what I’m comfortable with. I’m going with you and Chaeyoungie to lunch and we’ll be there to hang out.” You appreciate their love and friendship, but you aren’t comfortable with putting yourself out there, even if it is to find your soulmates.

“And I’m happy you are going!” Sana squeals as she wraps her arms around your shoulders. “You never go to lunch with us!” She wasn’t wrong. It had been a long time since you had gone to lunch with one of your friends. You usually brought lunch with you and ate it in the back or went home to eat.

Within another five minutes you had made it to the restaurant, seeing Chaeyoung wave at you from her window seat. It seemed she made it early to grab you guys a table.

You smiled wide as you saw your younger friend. You both shared the same birthday; you only being born a year before. You bonded quickly over that, dubbing yourself the ‘birthday twins” after meeting.

“Youngie!!”

“Y/n-ie!” You both run to her, almost crashing into each other as you wrap your arms around your friend. You hadn’t seen her for a week, you both being busy with work and school.

When you let go, Sana was already at the table looking at the menu. Chaeyoung drags you over and has you sit next to her as she goes to hand you a menu as well.

“Okay so I already got our drinks. They should be coming soon.” Chaeyoung broke the silence from you looking at the menu. You hadn’t been to this restaurant before, but you know the girls frequented it a lot.

“So, what have you been up to Youngie?” You turn to her and ask.

“I’ve been finishing up my sculpture! It is almost done and I think I only need one or two more sessions before I can start glazing it.” Chaeyoung is in the middle of getting her art degree and is taking a ceramics class for the first time.

She was nervous when she first started, so you were happy to see her getting excited about it now that a couple months have passed. She was also in a photography course, which you knew she was even more excited for.

“What is your sculpture going to be?” You ask as your drinks arrive.

“She won’t tell us. She says it’s supposed to be a surprise.” Sana states, narrowing her eyes at her younger mate, a teasing glint in her voice. Chaeyoung begins to blush at her mate’s tone, rolling her eyes dramatically to deflect.

“Because it is. I wouldn’t have to keep it a secret if someone didn’t break my last sculpture on accident.” Chaeyoung accuses, looking directly at Sana as she spoke.

“Hey! It wasn’t my fault that Jihyo accidentally knocked into the vase!”

“Yes it was! If you weren’t trying to bite her shoulder then she wouldn’t have fallen into my vase!” You looked back and forth between the two, excitedly watching the drama unfold as the two continued on.

However, despite the growing entertainment, your stomach was rumbling with hunger and you needed to get food into your system or you were going to cry. You look around for your waiter only to notice something sticking out the back of a man’s jacket. It was black and shiny and had your nerves standing on end.

You looked up to see if you could recognize the man only for him to already be looking at you, a smirk resting on his lips as he winks at you. Your eyes widen as he moves to place his finger on his lips, a “be quiet” gesture.

You quickly turn to Sana and Chaeyoung who were still arguing over whose fault the broken vase was.

“We need to leave. Now.” Your quiet voice and urgent tone as their own figures freezing, turning to look at you to see you visibly shaken.

“What’s going on Y/n?” Sana asks you, leaning in closer to you over the table. You open your mouth to respond only for a scream of terror to cut you off.

You move to yank your friends under the table with you, hearing the words “freeze” and “get down” yelled all throughout the restaurant. Once you know that your friends are okay, huddled together under the table, you risk your courage and move slowly to peer out from under your cover.

There were three men standing up, guns in hand and aimed at who appears to be the owner of the restaurant. You can hear your ears ringing as you watch the scene play out in front of you.

“We told you. Boss gave you three weeks to give him the money back you owe him.” The one in front spoke, his voice slightly pitchy but nonetheless attractive as he spoke up, tone cold as he cocks his gun at the trembling man.

“I—I’m sorry Sirs! I’ll get you the money. I swear!” The man cries out, only for a gun shot to ring out.

One of the employees was trying to crawl past the men, passed you and to the door. You couldn’t look away as the man tried to crawl to you, hand grabbing onto your forearm where your marks were.

“help plea…” Another shot rang out as the man fell to the ground. You gasped, moving your hand to cover your mouth as you looked to your other, blood now smeared across your soulmarks as his hand continued to clutch onto you.

You could feel the tears falling down your cheeks as you look at the man, the life gone from his eyes as they now stare, unblinkingly at you. You could vaguely hear Chaeyoung and Sana calling your name, can feel the tugging on your shit stop once the footsteps start.

One of the men was now kneeling down in front of you, yanking the man’s arm off of you and grabbing you to stand up. He had a grin on his face, barely concealed by his lips moving.

“Poor baby. Let’s just clean that up.” He pulls you in the direction of the other men, both wearing their own smiles as they watch their partner drag you.

He pulls you and makes you stand in front of the owner, still crying as the guns aimed at him never faulted. He steadies you upright, hands on your shoulders as he make you face the owner.

“Can our sweetheart here clean up in the back? She’s got a little something on her arm.” Both you and the owner glance down at your arm, the reminder of red making more tears pool in your eyes. The man looks at you with a worried look, “sorry” written all over his features as he points to the back.

“Speak up!” One of the men behind you speaks, tone sharp as the owner jumps in his boots.

“You can go through there. The sink is to the right.”  He cries out, fists clenched to his sides as the man walks you forward past the counter where the man was standing. You can see his hand moving out, only for it to snap back to his side.

“Don’t touch her!” The same man shouts, a slight growl to his tone this time, like he was speaking through anger.

The one in the middle, the main leader it seemed, still hasn’t spoken. He just stares hard at the owner, almost begging him to move and give him the chance to shoot. It was unnerving as you had a full view of his face as you tried to scrub the blood off your forearm.

The man who grabbed you still stood behind you, flush against your back with his hands on your shoulders. You had no clue what he was doing or looking at, but you had to bite your lip to hold back your sobs.

“Do you need some help there, baby?” His voice was right next to your ear, causing you to flinch a little. The man just chuckled before reaching for your arm. You knew you couldn’t say no, couldn’t deny him when they had guns aimed at everyone.

You let him move you around so he could face you. While he was scrubbing at your mark, you took the time to study his appearance. He wore a long black coat that seemed designer from how nice the material looked. He was wearing jeans and some nice boots. His face though, was otherworldly.

He was beautiful. Ethereal even. His features were sharp, as if sculpted by the gods. He had a mole on his nose and if you looked closely enough, you could see one under his eye. He seemed to be smiling as he cleaned your arm, paying closer attention to one of the names on your mark, rubbing it with his thumb.

Once the blood was cleaned up, he held your hand in his and stood back up. You watched him nod to his partners who then got busy. Within seconds the owner was shot, and two of the employees who were there were in similar states, screams of terror and panic sounding from the eating area.

The man holding your hand had moved you passed the owner, making you step over him instead of moving around. You noticed Chaeyoung and Sana watching you with tear marks stained to their faces. You wanted to move to them, reassure them you were okay, but you didn’t know if that was true.

“Hello darling. Sorry about the mess.” The man who shot the owner was now smiling down at you, his smirk turning to a smile as he moves his hand to cup your cheek.

Jimin almost coos at you as he watches you shake. You didn’t even realize who they were. You were probably too focused on your fear to feel the tingles running up your spine at their hands touching you.

You can’t even speak you were petrified. Jimin knew you wouldn’t be like that for much longer, not when they brought you back. But it had to wait for now. There were too many witnesses and Namjoon would kill him if they harmed you in any way.

“Don’t worry, everything will be okay.” He squeezed your cheek in his grip before reluctantly pulling away.

“Are these your friends?” Your heart skipped as he gestured to Sana and Chaeyoung who were frozen, watching the scene in front of them. You nodded your head only for the tallest man to chuckle.

“Use your words, darling.” You couldn’t tell if the shiver you felt was from fear or something entirely different but nodded again.

“Yes sir. They are my friends.” You managed to whisper after trying to clear your throat.

“Good girl.” The leader spoke in your ear before turning back to your friends, motioning for them to stand up. They both slowly stood up, limbs locked from fear as they clung to each other.

“Now, why don’t you make sure our darling here gets home safe. We don’t want any more blood on her hands.” The men laugh at the joke, but the humor doesn’t reach you nor does it reach any other person in the building. You can still see one or two more customers hiding behind tables, watching everything unfold.

You don’t know why you were singled out, nor why the men smiled at you the way they did, but you figured they were just sick, finding everything funny as if they didn’t just shoot four people dead.

Jimin let everyone go free, knowing they couldn’t identify them even if they tried. No one would believe them anyways. They had the cameras shut down over an hour before they even arrived, Yoongi doing his job and more as he is probably already uncovering everything about you.

The three of them watch you walk out, shaking as you cling to your friends.

“She’ll be clinging to us soon enough.” Jungkook wraps an arm around Jimin’s waist, knowing exactly what his older mate was thinking. Taehyung nods his head in agreement.

“She had her eyes practically glued to me the entire time I was holding her. She even started to relax in my hold, not that she noticed.” Jimin quirked his eyebrow, smiling as he opened the door to the car.

“Such a sweet little thing. I know Jin is going to love her.” They all laugh, knowing just how much Jin is going to love their innocent soulmate.

“Probably won’t let her leave. He’ll keep her with him the first couple months maybe, spoil her rotten.” Jungkook quips back, a knowing glint to his eyes as he remembers his own first couple of months with his soul group.

“Oh, like you weren’t sucking his dick two months in!” Taehyung exclaimed, his head hitting the passenger side window as Jimin takes a sharp turn. Jungkook just shrugs his shoulders.

“Yeah, so. What’s your point?” Rolling his eyes, Jimin just reaches for his phone, hitting the first speed dial.

“Hey baby, we’ve found her.”

-*-*-

“Someone get her blanket for her!” You were pushed onto your sofa as Jihyo yelled out, motioning for your favorite blanket. It was a light blue, worn down from use but still felt as soft as the day you got it. You had brought it with you through three different moves and almost losing it to your grandmother’s dog a couple years back.

It was your comfort item and if there was ever a time where you needed it, it would be now.

Chaeyoung managed to text the group chat a SOS message, letting them know what happened. And while they were all worried for everyone, Sana made sure to let them know exactly what happened when you got to your apartment and everyone was waiting for you.

“Here you go, Bunnie.” Nayeon handed you your blanket before taking her seat next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and almost bringing you into her lap. They were all scared and worried for you.

“Why you? Out of everyone in the restaurant? Why you?” Jeongyeon asked the most obvious question, something the others didn’t really want to think about.

“It was weird. Once the man started crawling to her, I noticed the robbers get really angry, like visibly shaking before one of them shot the man.” Chaeyoung spoke up from her place on Mina’s lap. Her voice quiet as she goes through her memory of the events.

“And then one of them walked up to her, pulled her up and helped her clean her arm of the uh, of the blood.” Sana choked out, adding onto what Chaeyoung was saying.

“Did they say anything to you Y/n?” Momo asked, leaning on her knees as she moves so she can look directly at you.

“They just…kept trying to take care of me, calling me pet names and asking if I was okay.” You were unsure of everything that happened. You felt like your brain was making things up, trying to twist the events so you weren’t traumatized. You almost felt like you were lying to yourself.

However, one thing stuck in your head, no matter how many times you tried to forget about it.

“When the man helped me clean my arm, he kept rubbing at my soulmark.” Your words stump the others, shock moving through your friends as you stare at the pillow on your lap. No one knew what to say or think.

“He was probably just shocked by the number of names on your mark. You know it’s not really common to have a huge soulgroup like we do.” Nayeon reassured you. She knew exactly where your mind was going.

You were wondering if these men were your soulmates. No one besides regulars at work have ever been that caring and nice upon meeting you, especially when they were robbing the establishment where you were eating.

“Yeah, let’s not worry about it. They probably just saw an opportunity to make someone uncomfortable and took it.” Dahyun agreed with Nayeon, but her reassurance was light, as if she wasn’t really sure she believed her own words.

“How about this, let’s just order some pizza and watch movies. A girls night, like when we were younger. It’ll get your mind off of everything.” Tzuyu’s quiet voice spoke up in the silence, watching all of her unnies stew in their worry. She knew there was nothing they could do for now, so they needed a distraction.

“That’s sounds great baby! I’ll order our usual.” Jihyo gets up from her spot and moves to grab her phone while Dahyun and Jeongyeon crawl form their positions on your floor to your bookshelf, all of your movies lined up on the black piece of furniture.

Part 2

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for giving away my sisters fish?

This is a dumb and very long story (i could probably shorten it somehow but I don't know how) and I know the title makes me look bad.

Ok so, one evening my mom and my little sister(let's call her Jess) brought home a container of four fish that mum said she saw a guy selling on the road for about 2 dollars (I'm not american so I just calculated and it comes out to around 2 dollars)

This was during the end of year break when Jess was home (usually we all go to boarding school) None of us had ever had pet fish before and we didn't know what kind of fish they were, they looked different from each other and their size difference was pretty big too(the largest was about the size of three nail clippers stacked on top of each other and the smallest was about the size of 1/2 of a car key). So we weren't sure of the species of any and bought the most nondescript pack of fish food we could find, they ate it so we thought things were ok.

About 1 month into the break though (the end of year break where I am is 2 months), 1 of the fish died for reasons we still don't know (we changed the water every 3 days) and two weeks later a second one just disappeared, it wasn't in the bowl, and no one knew what happened. So by the time school started there were 2 fish left (Jess was sad but we also have dogs so she wasn't too sad)

All of us go to different boarding schools but ive been going to a day-school this past year because I'm scheduled for a surgery, so when everyone went back it was just me with the fish.

My elder sister (let's call her Kat) came home from university for a while and she thought the fish were cool so she asked my mom if she could tell her where she got them so she could get some for her dorm. My mom told her she just got them from some guy on the road who didn't have a stall and probably wouldn't be there if she drove to the place she found him. So she went back to uni without any fish

Flash forward, 4 weeks into the term, my mom comes to get me from school and she says was passing the area she saw the guy and he was there with another container of fish this time with about 10 fish also of various muddy and sandy colours, about length of the diameter of a soda-bottle cap (my mom said they also cost her about 2 dollars). I said we could split the fish in half, keep 6 and give Kat 6 for her dorm.

So I'm sitting in the car, holding the container of fish my laps and my mom suddenly stops the car because a person walking on the sidewalks falls into the trenches on the sides of the road. The person is ok but the car stops so suddenly and I'm not holding the container securely so it falls from my laps.

The container has a lid so the car is ok but the guy added some small rocks and a fake plant to the container so they kind of bury the some of fish and 6 of them die. I look on like an idiot while mom tries to settle the rocks but another fish is buried when the rocks are settled.

By the time we get home and transfer all the living fish into the bowl we already have, we have 5 fish in total. We move them to a new, slightly bigger bowl and feed them but by the next morning when I'm going to school i see 3 fish left.

When I get home, I tell my mom that maybe we aren't ready for fish and we should give them to Kat whose dorm may be less of a safety hazard (during the end of year break we used to play with the fish a lot, trying to touch their tails etc so we're definitely the reason the first batch died anyway. We're also 8 kids and there are kids older and younger than me so it would be hard to stop EVERYONE from being rough with the fish). I also had exams coming up and I was starting to put of changing the water and cleaning bowl until i saw algae growing on sides.

Kat has a roommate who thinks the fish are cool too so incase one of them forgets maintaining the fish the other can do it. (I also kind of secretly hoped the all fish would just die a week or two into being with them so it wouldn't bother them anymore I feel bad about it)

Anyway, 3 weeks later when Kat came home she took the fish with her. It's around the middle of the first term so it was Visitation Day at Jess's school yesterday (I think the name is self explanatory) and the first thing she asked about was the fish. I didn't know what to say so I told her the truth and she was so SAD!!(I mean obviously she'd be sad but visitation day is supposed to be a good day) because we named the fish and everything(the first batch, not the second) . I tried to tell her how Kat and her roommate were nice and would give the new fish good name but she said that was dumb I knew that was dumb and I wish had just lied about the whole thing and asked my mom to buy new fish but I feel like Jess would know so said nothing else

My mom kind of cheered her up by saying that during the holidays they could go get a good tank and actual goldfish from a better place but she was mad at me because I suggested that the fish be given to Kat and I feel like she's right because it would be stupid to ask Kat to bring the fish wish her the next time she came home.

All my other siblings not just Jess also got attached to the fish so I'll just be breaking the news to everyone for the next three weeks (because all schools where I am schedule visitation day in the same month) and just generally ruining the mood.

What are these acronyms?

[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 4

Summary: The Senator has spent the last couple weeks locked inside, but now wants nothing more than to go outside. The others need to find a way to get her outside without being spotted or recognized.

Warning: mention of the shooter, vial of blood is alluded to, characters have slight anxiety, mutual pining, suggestive talk, weaponry mentioned (not used)

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 5.4k

Series Masterlist

The day following the attack was spent talking to The Coruscant Security Force. They had come to the apartment to investigate the destruction, opening a brand new case file against the shooter. While some officers were snapping photographs of the scene, the other ones were questioning the people who witnessed the attack.

In the meantime, Crosshair made sure to keep a close eye out the window with his sniper in hand. His eyes scanned the city skyline thoroughly. By the couches, Senator Rayna and Hunter gave their statements to an officer. The man took notes on a pad of paper.

"And where you able to get a good look at the shooter? Maybe what they were wearing," the officer suggested.

"No, we didn't get a good look. It was quite dark out and we went in the best position to look at them," Hunter explained. Even with his heightened senses, Hunter wasn't able to get a great look before he fired his shot.

Just then, Tech came to approach the small group. He held his data pad in one hand and a small vial of blood in the other. He passed the vial to the officer.

"This might be of some assistance to you," Tech told the officer. "It was found on the rooftop where the shooter was located. That is their blood."

The officer went to open his mouth to question how he managed to get a sample of the shooter's blood, but the technical clone beat him to talking by saying:

"You should be able to run a DNA diagnosis test to pinpoint who it is exactly. Then you can release a warrant for his arrest," Tech explained to the officer as if he didn't know how to do his job. He typed away at his data pad.

The senator was forced to stuff her lips into her mouth in hopes of stifling a small laugh. She glanced up at the sergeant who gave her a shrug and a look that said: "That's Tech for you."

"R-Right. We'll get right on that and get back to you once the results are in," the officer stammered over his words. "We should have this place cleaned up in a few days. I presume you have a place to stay?"

"She does," Hunter interjected before Y/n could speak for herself. He left it at that, not wishing to disclose where the senator was staying just in case unwanted ears were listening.

The officer gave a firm nod of the head, showing them appreciation for their willingness to answer their questions. "Thank you for your time."

Over the next couple weeks, Senator Rayna was fully immersed in her work back at the office. Her schedule consisted of attending meetings, writing her speech, and sitting in on what was happening at the senate. All the while, the Bad Batch escorted her to every function. They kept a close eye on her while being fully aware of the dangers that could accompany them.

It had been many weeks since the attack at the high-rise, which was now the longest amount of time between attacks. Something was not right. His suspicious grew with each passing day. That only made him want to take extra precautions when accompanying the senator out.

"I don't like it," Hunter grumbled more to himself. He paced back and forth across the office.

The senator spared him a quick glance before returning her attention to the papers in front of her. "Stop pacing," Senator Rayna spoke from behind her paper.

"It's been weeks and nothing. We haven't heard a thing from this guy," Hunter complained. He raised his hand to gesture out the window.

"Well, I am most certainly thankful for that. You're not the one who's a target here," Senator Rayna stated. He slumped down into a chair facing her desk. He fidgeted with his fingers nervously; his eyes darting around the room.

"He's gonna strike. I just know it," Hunter claimed.

"Hunter," Y/n spoke softly. "I think you're a little paranoid."

"And you're not?" Hunter inquired, glancing at her.

"Not anymore," Y/n confessed with a soft smile on her face. He stared directly at her with a hint of intrigue in his eyes.

"Why?"

"Because I have you," Y/n explained. She felt herself getting lost in those dark brown eyes of his. She quickly snapped out of it and redirected her gaze away from him. She cleared her throat awkwardly. "A-And your brothers looking out for me," Y/n added.

The senator pretended to go back to her work, but she was secretly thinking about the sergeant in front of her. She tried so hard to push those thoughts away, knowing that it wasn't right to be pining after and crushing over her sergeant who was assigned to protect her. It wasn't like he could reciprocate the feelings; he was a clone after all and they were programmed to not meddle in those matters.

Despite the looks, Hunter wasn't void of all emotions. In fact, as of recently, Hunter discovered that he was shifting towards having a more domesticated heart. His thoughts wandered back to his friend named Cut who was a deserter clone settled on Saleucami. He had gone so far as to marry a Twi'lek named Suu and have two children together.

The difference between Hunter and Cut were their priorities in life. While Cut found purpose in providing for his family, Hunter was still a soldier for the Republic and served in the war. Now, Hunter envied the life Cut made for himself and wished that someday after the war, he'd be able to seek the same kind of life for himself.

However, despite this optimist approach that the war would end, there was still a matter at hand. Once the war ended, Hunter may be free to chose a life for himself, but Y/n would not be. She'd still be a senator, sitting through meetings and making grand speeches. She herself would be working hard to make the galaxy a better place. That was something that Hunter would never be able to pull her away from. It was her purpose.

Which was why, for the past few months, Hunter tried to distance himself from the senator emotionally. He still needed to be in close proximity to her in order to keep her safe, but he simply wouldn't allow himself to become too attached. One day, they'd have to go their separate ways and that would be the end of it.

This was a tricky task for him. His head screamed to stop, but his heart pleaded to try. Once the senator returned to her apartment after it was fully restored, Hunter found it incredibly difficult to stay away from his bed aboard the Marauder. His once undisturbed bed now smelled so strongly of lavender that it drove his senses wild.

More often than not, Hunter came to discover how she was constantly invading his senses. Whether the senator wore a particularly flattering dress or gingerly touched his arm, it drove him wild. He tried wearing his helmet more, igniting the feature that blocked out those senses for his own sake.

But right now, sitting in her company, Hunter wasn't wearing his helmet. He stared at her longingly, admiring the way a few baby hairs fell around her face. He also seemed to catch the soft pink tone on her cheeks, but she quickly shielded her face from him behind a piece of paper. The gentle flutter of her heartbeat did not go unnoticed either.

Just then, the door to the office slid open to reveal the other four members of the squad. They had just come back from grabbing lunch in the cafeteria downstairs. They figured, given the quietness over the past couple weeks, that they could afford sneaking down for quick bite to eat. But that had been an hour ago.

"Took you long enough," Hunter huffed. He crossed his arms over his chest, seemingly unamused by their prolonged absence.

"That's because Wrecker kept going back for more food," Echo scoffed.

"It never ends," Wrecker exclaimed with a bright smile on his face. He came around the side of the chair. "They let you take as much food as you want. I haven't been this full in a long time."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Y/n smiled at him.

"So," Wrecker clasped his hands together rather loudly. "What's on the docket for today?"

"Nothing," Tech and Y/n replied simultaneously.

"Her schedule is empty," Tech spoke. His nose was buried deep into his data pad.

"No meetings? No speeches?" Wrecker questioned. He seemed rather confused as he felt there was almost always something the senator had to do. But it was only two hours past noon.

"Not really," Y/n shrugged her shoulders. "I initially planned to spend the whole day finishing writing my speech, but now, I'd like to do something else."

"What did you have in mind?" Hunter inquired curiously.

When the senator saw all eyes on her, she felt her nerves go uneasy. She twiddled with the pen in her hands, thinking about what she was about to say. She didn't know if it was such a good idea after all.

"I-I'd like to go out," Y/n confessed timidly.

The room remained silent for a moment. The senator glanced between each of the clones in attempts to read their expressions and predict who was going to speak up first. Sure enough, the sarge was the first one to speak for his brothers. He cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Out?" Hunter clarified.

"Your speech is in two days," Tech pointed out.

"Shouldn't you prioritize that?" Echo questioned.

"I haven't been able to properly go outside for weeks," Y/n ignored them. She threw her hands up in defeat, resting against the back of her chair. "The most fresh air I get is going between here and my place."

"Do you really think it's a good idea to go out in public? With everything going on?" Echo chimed in.

"Not to mention the fact that you have easily one of the most recognizable faces on Coruscant," Tech pointed out.

"I'd wear a disguise," Y/n replied.

"Really? A disguise," Hunter held back a laugh.

"Believe it or not: I do own civvy clothes," Y/n reassured them.

"I'd pay to see that," Wrecker laughed. He rather forcefully nudged Crosshair who was standing right beside him, but he just shook his head in annoyance.

Trying to ignore his brother's comment, Hunter found himself leaning forward in the seat. He came up with a hypothetical situation. "Say we do go out, what would you even want to do?" Hunter asked her.

"Anything," Y/n sighed. "Just get me out of this office."

For a moment, Hunter contemplated the choice to leave. He averted his gaze to ponder some more. He found feel his brothers gazing at him expectingly, which made him realize just how much they too wanted to get out. The risk was almost too high given that she had a massive target painted on her back.

Sensing how he was leaning more towards a negative response, the senator quickly rose to her feet and rounded the side of her desk. She knelt down on the floor right beside his chair. She placed a hand on his forearm which drew his attention towards it. Her eyes were pleading, begging for a little freedom.

"Twenty credits says he caves," Crosshair said discreetly to his twin standing right beside him.

Before Tech was able to accept the challenge, Wrecker spoke up quietly. "You're on."

To which Tech rolled his eyes. He went back to his data pad.

"Please sarge," Y/n urged. Her other hand went up to trace his fingers gently, coaxing him to watch her intently. She drew small shapes on his palm. Her eyes flickered up to him. "Just for a little while?"

Finally, Hunter began to withdraw his hand away from her in a slow manner. He flexed his hand once or twice to get rid of the feeling of her fingers having just graced him. He refused to look at her.

"Fine," Hunter sighed heavily.

A bright smile grew across her lips. She thought about throwing her arms around him for an embrace, but she figured that she may be overstepping if she did so. Instead, Y/n stood to her feet from her spot. She could barely contain her excitement.

In the background, Wrecker and Tech went to place their twenty credits into Crosshair's expecting hand. Both of them looking rather solemn, but the third was rather pleased with his new change. He pocketed the credits into a pouch.

Before Y/n was able to turn away, Hunter reached out to grab her wrist. The excitement was quickly disappeared from her face. Now she wondered if he'd changed his mind. She went to look down at him, fearful of what he was about to say.

Under his fingers, Hunter felt her pulse growing faster on her wrist and he could hear the thumping of her heart. He wasn't sure if it was anxiety or excitement coming from her. But he spoke to her to get his point across.

"But if we are doing this, you are gonna do things my way," Hunter's sulky voice ordered. His eyes flickered up to meet hers in a stern glare. "You got that?"

"Yes sir," Y/n gulped.

Upon hearing this, Hunter instinctively tightened his grip on her wrist without realizing it. It drew a small gasp out of her lips which only spurred him on more. Now satisfied with her answer, Hunter began to release his grip on her. He gestured to the side as if to encourage her to keep moving.

As the senator walked away, Hunter redirected his line of attention to his band of brothers standing on the sidelines. He had already come up with a plan to execute this outing.

"Go back to the Marauder," Hunter spoke to the muscles of the group. "We are going to need the old crate."

A few minutes later, Wrecker had returned to the office carrying a massive crate in his hands. He brought it to the center of the room and dropped it on the floor, which resulted in a loud thump. Opening the lid of the crate, Tech began digging through the various items within it. He was searching for something in particular.

Without glancing up, Tech grabbed something black and handed it to Hunter. He strode across the room towards the senator, offering the odd black material to her. She furrowed her eyebrows upon further inspection.

"What is this?" Y/n inquired. She gingerly took hold of the material.

"We call them blacks," Hunter stated.

"And what am I supposed to do with it?"

"Take off your clothes," Hunter explained. Her eyes snapped up to his face, showing the evident look of surprise in her eyes. He finished what he was saying: "And put these on."

Silently, Senator Rayna nodded her head understandingly. She went towards the restroom on the other side of the room, stepping inside and closing the door behind her for privacy.

With Hunter's eyes still locked on the door, Crosshair approached his side. His eyes followed the line of his brother's. He adjusted the toothpick in the corner of his mouth.

"Didn't take you for the flirting type," Crosshair noted. His voice sounded like it was poison in the brother's ear; like it was laced with ill intent.

"I'm not," Hunter spoke firmly without taking his eyes off the door. "Just telling her what to do."

"You're a horrible liar," Crosshair scoffed with a shake of the head. He proceeded to turn away from him and return to his other brothers side by the crate.

Just a moment later, the door creaked open ever so slightly, but it successfully drew the attention of all the clones. They looked up to watch the young senator emerge from the private space. Their eyebrows shot up in slight surprise once she finally stepped into their view.

The blacks were designed to fit any body shape, which meant that the material naturally looked small before one put it on. It was truly a "one size fits all" type of clothing. And boy, did it show.

It fit her body like a black glove. The black material hugged her figure so tightly that it showed every single curve of her body. While to some, it may look incredibly uncomfortable, it was actually one of the softest materials available in the galaxy. It was lightweight, versatile, and rather cheap. Every soldier for the Republic wore blacks under their armor.

Breaking the silence, Wrecker let out a wolf whistle which only brought a swift nudge in the side from Echo. She avoided their gazes expertly, keeping her eyes on the ground. She shuffled across the small stretch, bringing her arms to cross against her chest.

"I-It feels odd wearing just this," Y/n said honestly.

"You'll get used to it," Hunter reassured her, feeling a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Found it!" Tech exclaimed from behind them. The rest of them redirected their attention towards him.

Finally, Tech retrieved a single piece of black armor from the crate. It was a clone chest piece. He held it up for further examination. However, Senator Rayna only furrowed her eyebrows in slight confusion once again. She had no idea what he was doing with a piece of armor.

"This will do nicely," Tech stated with a nod. He rounded the side of the crate to offer the chest piece to the senator.

But she initially didn't take it from him, which meant he'd need to explain his motives to her.

"I have taken the liberty of riffling through our old armor crate. Given your physique, I have selected one of Echo's old chest pieces." Tech pushed the chest plate into her hands.

"You want to me put this on?" Y/n questioned.

"That's the plan," Hunter interjected.

"So I look like a clone?"

"So you have protection," Hunter corrected. He raised a single finger to emphasis his words. "Along with a disguise."

"I won't fit in this," Y/n exclaimed. She tried holding up the chest plate to look at it closer, but it was incredibly heavy.

"Which is why I provided you with Echo's piece. He's the smallest," Tech stated as a matter of factly.

"Hey," Echo chimed in, taking offense.

Before the senator was able to protest, Hunter had already taken the chest plate out of her hands and was fitting it over her head. She slipped her arms through the holes on the side. He moved the piece of armor around until it was comfortable resting on her chest.

In the meantime, Tech and Echo began to bring the other pieces over for assembly. They handed each piece to the sergeant who knew exactly where they went on the body. The senator was beginning to feel the armor's weight as the pauldrons were attached to her shoulders.

"It feels quite heavy," Y/n realized.

"That is because it is katarn-class armor, which is much more stronger and more resilient than your typical plastoid clone armor. It will weight approximately 45 pounds once put together," Tech explained as he fitted a spare piece to her side.

"Is this really necessary?" Y/n wondered. She raised her arms upwards as the belt was attached across her waist.

"Provided that this may save your life by deflecting a blaster shot, then yes, I would say it's necessary." Tech shrugged.

"Hunter," Echo redirected. He quickly tossed him another piece from the crate, which he caught without looking.

While distracted by Tech's rambling, she didn't even notice the hands that grabbed her hips and directed her body to turn. She shuffled on her feet until she was fully facing the sergeant. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, getting on his knees in front of her.

For some unknown reason, Y/n felt something ignite within the pit of her stomach at the sight of him on his knees in front of her. She felt his fingers encircle around her ankle, silently encouraging her to lift it up. He fitted the thigh gauntlet through her foot, sliding it up the long length of her leg.

His fingers brushed against the inside of her thigh, which pulled the smallest gasp out of her. The sergeant couldn't contain the sly smirk from tugging at the corners of his lips. He felt her eyes burning into the top of his head, documenting his every move. He secured the piece as tightly as possible before glancing up at her.

She could have sworn she saw his eyes darken.

"Don't give me that look," Y/n begged quietly. She tore her gaze away from the sergeant's captivating eyes in hopes of hiding her blush. She tried to balance on one foot.

"What look?" Hunter teased.

"You know what I am talking about," Y/n insisted with a playful roll of the eyes. He chuckled deeply to himself.

Now moving, Tech shifted in his stance beside her which resulted in her loosing her balance slightly. She stumbled to the side, but she placed her hand on the sergeant's shoulder for better balance. Her hand was desperately close to his neck; so much close that she felt the strands of hair tickling her fingers.

For the time being, Hunter needed to push those feelings down once again. He fought the desire to feel her fingers threaded through his hair and tugging at his locks. He felt a slight flutter in the pit of his stomach, feeling the blood flow shifting south.

A heavy lump in his throat was forming as one of her fingers delicately brushed against the side of his neck where his pulse would be.

Through distractions, Hunter focused on finishing the task at hand. He secured one of the knee pads before moving onto fitting the boot onto her foot. After this, he began working on the other leg, helping her get into each respectable piece until she started to look like a clone trooper.

Upon completion, Hunter began to rise to his feet. He let out a small groan when he felt his knees popping, but he ignored the aching pain. He stood at his full height, towering over her. He held up the final piece into view.

"I'm not wearing that," Y/n stated with the most unamused look on her face.

"It's a codpiece," Hunter explained.

"I know what it is. I am not putting it on," Y/n said with a shake of the head.

"You won't pass as a clone if you're not wearing it," Hunter argued. This wasn’t convincing enough for her. "It would look even weirder if you weren't wearing it."

"He's right," Tech's unwanted opinion came out of nowhere.

"Fine," Y/n grumbled in slight defeat. She stopped him before he could go down on his knees again. She took the codpiece out of his grasp. "But I'll put it on myself."

"As you wish," Hunter gave up easily with hands raised in defense.

Fitting the final piece, Y/n put her hands out to show off her new black clone armor She looked at each of the clones for their thoughts about how she appeared. She most certainly could pass for a clone with the exception of the missing helmet.

"Woah! You look just like us," Wrecker exclaimed with a broad smile on his face.

"That's kinda the point," Crosshair mumbled beside him.

"Not without this," Echo jumped in. He tossed a spare helmet over to her, which she caught awkwardly. She surveyed the helmet, staring down where the eyepiece was.

"Who's helmet is this? Another one of Echo's pieces?" Y/n wondered.

"It's actually one of my old ones," Hunter confessed. He scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh," Y/n nodded. She now saw the resemblance between his old and new helmet. "I see."

Stepping forward, Hunter took the helmet out of her hands. He turned the helmet around and raised it above her head. He lowered it onto her until her face disappeared behind it. He kept his hands on the sides.

"This okay?" Hunter asked.

"Yeah," Y/n's voice came through the modulator. He slowly removed his hands from the helmet, but her gaze remained on him. "Thanks," Y/n spoke softly.

Putting distance between them, Hunter went back to his brothers' side. He rifled through the craft one final time, looking for an old holster for a blaster. He pulled out a regular black one before handing it over to Tech.

"This is the final piece," Tech explained to her. He fitted the belt around her waist so that the holster fell over the side of her thigh.

"A holster?" Y/n questioned.

"For your blaster," Tech said while briefly glancing up at her.

"I don't carry a blaster," Y/n informed him.

"It's just for today. It's all for looks. You won't have to use it," Hunter chimed in. His arms were crossed over his chest.

Next, Tech took one of his own spare blasters out of his backpack. He handed the weapon to her for which she held for a second. She examined the weapon carefully, rotating it. She slid it right into the holster at her side, bringing the disguise to completion.

Upon leaving the main building, the Bad Batch began walking down the street and blended into the crowd of citizens. They made sure to keep their eyes open, realizing that an unexpected attack could occur at any given time. Not only was the senator a target, there was also a high chance that the other members that become recognizable targets for the unknown shooter.

Walking through the crowd, Y/n quickly came to realize how little passing people were looking at them. They still got the occasional glances from some, but that was obviously because of their unique clone features.

The senator and sergeant were currently walking a few steps ahead of the small squad. They picked up their own conversation.

"It's weird being unrecognizable to people in public," Y/n whispered to the sergeant striding beside her. She remembered what she was wearing though.

"Clones are everywhere," Hunter explained to her. "We all look the same so people don't need to look twice at something they've already seen."

"Well, not all of you look the same." Though she was wearing a helmet, he was able to hear the smile in her voice.

"Which is often a downside," Hunter stated. "Because then, people look."

"I'm sorry," Y/n spoke with true sincerity in her tone.

"We didn't ask to be made," Hunter replied. "But our differences...we see them as a bit of a perk. Even though they make us outcasts."

The small group had just managed to round the corner of the street, heading in one direction. The others didn't seem the least bit interested in the conversation. Instead, they focused their attention on their surroundings for added precaution.

"What's it like to have heightened senses? I imagine a place as busy as Coruscant is hard to endure," Y/n took note.

"I've...grown accustomed to it," Hunter hinted. It wasn't just Coruscant that he had grown attuned to.

"I'm sure you'll be glad once it's behind you," Y/n breathed a long sigh.

For a moment, Hunter contemplated her choice of words carefully. While she had redirected her attention back towards the sidewalk in front of her, he found himself staring at her profile.

"Have you ever thought about it?" Hunter inquired.

She glanced up at him. "About what?"

"Leaving this place?" He gestured to the grand skyscrapers.

"Well, this is my home. I was born here and I grew up here. I rarely leave unless for business matters." She seemed to shrug her shoulders. "It's a bit like Kamino for you."

The sergeant remained silent.

"Kamino is your home, is it not?" Y/n pressed. She now peered up at him with curious eyes.

"That's where they made us, trained us." Hunter agreed. His voice grew solemn as he spoke truthfully. "But it's not much like a real home. We spend more time on our ship than we do back there."

"If you did settle down--after the war, where would you go?" Y/n shifted the direction of the conversation in attempts of making it more lighthearted. She waited for his answer patiently.

"Never really thought about it," Hunter shrugged. "Never imagined a life outside the war."

"I'm sure it'll end soon," Senator Rayna often spoke with optimism. "For me, if I were to leave the planet, I'd want to go somewhere quiet."

Hunter released a small chuckle at this. "Coruscant too busy for you?"

"Always moving," Y/n insisted upon it. She watched her foot be placed in front of the other. The two of them grew silent for a moment. That was until she spoke up again: "Maybe there'd be a beach."

"You want to live on a beach?" Hunter wondered.

"I've never been to the beach," Senator Rayna corrected him. She spoke with such a dreamy voice as if she was envisioning it now. "I'd just like to relax in the silence and listen to the waves crashing."

"That does sound nice," the sergeant agreed with a small nod of the head.

"You think it's silly."

"I think it's good to have dreams," Hunter altered.

In that exact moment, Hunter felt her arm brush against his own, which made him realize how close they were walking together. They both lowered their gazes to the ground. They seemed to enjoy the silence between them because it wasn't awkward at all.

Unbeknownst to them, the others had been watching their exchange with curious eyes. However, they weren't really able to hear the conversation clearly. They only heard the senator laughing a few times at something he'd said. All this to say that they looked at one another with the same look on their faces. A face that read: "There is something going on between them."

"I'll take you to the beach one day," Hunter offered quietly.

Her head snapped up to look directly at him. "You would?"

The sergeant nodded his head silently in agreement. He promised her: "Just the two of us."

"I'd like that," Y/n confessed sheepishly.

As the two of them walked alongside each other, their shoulders would occasionally brush together. Barely any words were further exchanged between the two, which resulted in a tender silence falling over them. They each felt this giddy bubbly feeling in the pits of their stomachs.

Ever so gently, Hunter felt the back of his hand graze against hers. This happened a handful of other times as they toured the streets of the city. He tried to see her reaction when it happened through the corner of his eye, but she never pulled away from him.

After a while, Hunter gathered the smallest amount of courage to tease the back of her hand with his pinky finger. He was testing the waters, half expecting it to go rather poorly for him. But he once again found that she remained silent and didn't withdraw from him.

Slowly, Hunter curled that single finger to hook around her own. He held it as gently as possible in fear of breaking it. He waited with a sharp breath held in his chest. But she never pulled away.

Feeling contact only ignited a burning flame in the pit of her stomach, resulting in the heat rising to her face. Her heart began to flutter like a hummingbird's wings and her smile only grew wider under her helmet. She wanted nothing more than to link the rest of their fingers together until they were properly holding hands, but she knew she wouldn't be able to.

For now, Y/n would have to be content with this. And she truly was.

By the time evening had come, Senator Rayna was safely back at her own place. She worked on the finishing touches of her speech, changing a few things to her liking. A sound knock came from her bedroom door and she invited them in without thought.

Naturally, Echo had pushed the door open in a silent manner. He was the only one on duty for tonight, which meant he was stationed at her door for the next couple hours. He held a small pile of papers with his good hand.

"These came for you," Echo explained. He stole a quick glance at the paper on the top.

"Bring 'em over," Y/n encouraged with a wave of her hand. He strode across the room, setting the stack of papers down on the desk beside her speech.

"I'll leave you to it," Echo dismissed himself. He knew that she was close to finishing her speech and would prefer to work alone. He walked back to the entrance of her room, shutting the door behind him. His hand lingered on the handle as he tried to process what he had seen on the top of the pile.

Now alone in the room, Y/n's eyes had shifted to the small stack on her right side. The paper on the top of the pile had red ink that indicated where it came from and it's utmost importance. It was an application form which came from the Coruscant Guard.

The Coruscant Guard had sent this to inform her of available troopers in their rank. This was something that they were unable to offer her a couple weeks ago when she really needed the escort. Now, things had changed.

The only thing she'd need to do was fill out the application for a new escort. The Coruscant Guard would take the time to process her application, eventually sending a new set of guards to accompany her like they had beforehand.

An issue arose with this. If the senator were to receive new guards, that meant her current escort would be transferred. They'd return to the front lines, heading back to the war. She contemplated her next step.

At first, Senator Rayna thought about the small squad that had grown on her the past couple weeks. She figured that they'd probably prefer to return to the war effort. They were much too gifted to be stuck escorting her around the city. Their skills had so much value, guaranteeing success in the war. They'd want her to fill out the application. They could go back to all the action; that's what they liked.

For some unknown reason, Senator Rayna's mindset began to shift into a more selfish one. She told herself how she'd never felt more safe than when this squad was beside her, remembering how the last two guards had been killed protecting her. And she thoroughly enjoyed their company...one more than the rest.

Taking the application in her hands, Y/n made a final decision. She tossed the piece of paper into the drawer of her desk. Without this, the Coruscant Guard wouldn't send a new escort to her aid and the Bad Batch would remain with her in the meantime. This is what she wanted.

CHAPTER FIVE HERE

Taglist:

@justhavingsomefun1 @totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl @mrcaptainrex @whore-of-many-hot-men @graciexmarvel @qweenrogerina @arcsimper5 @queenofspades6 @cadihyo @jediknightjana @elthoughtzos @lokigirlszendaya

This felt like a longer chapter but I did take out one scene where Hunter helps her take off the armor (lot of sexual tension there). Let me know if I should still post the now deleted scene!

[raineandsky]

The Villain's Housekeeper

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)

tw death mention

The courtesy the villain has decided to show the hero has been incredibly weird. A relief, of course, but weird.

They avoid the hero most days now. The time they used to spend watching the hero break their back for them is now spent as far away from the hero as humanly possible. The hero kind of understands, though—since their damning little slip up in the bedroom last week, the villain’s demanded they stop doing the chores until their arm is better. There isn’t much to watch anymore.

And when the villain disappears out the front door for the night, it’s always with the same instruction now: “get a decent night’s sleep, don’t lie on your arm, and for the love of god don’t make it worse.”

No chores to be done in their absence. No rules. Just… rest. Get better. It’s a breath of fresh air.

Anyway, the lack of random work to do gives them more time to snoop. Okay, so it’s not no rules, but one very easily breakable rule. A rule they couldn’t care less about breaking—snapping clean in half, if they can. The agency taught them how to pry and leave no trace. This is the easiest, most rewarding part of their stay here. It's more of a routine than anything now, trekking through their notes.

The villain’s office is a mess, to put it lightly. It makes it just that little bit harder to restore when they’re done, but it doesn’t matter too much—they get information. A list of missing villains, heroes on hit lists, plans. Plans to infiltrate and extort and seduce and kill. God, everything the agency’s ever wanted is in here. The hero commits it all to memory, and by the time the villain gets home they’re already asleep on the sofa downstairs.

The villain always comes back in the early hours of the morning, and today is no different. The only difference is that the front door batters against the opposite wall and the villain staggers rather loudly into the kitchen.

The hero is up in an instant, sleep torn from them abruptly. They trail after the villain, glancing instinctively to the floor for blood, but the tile is clean. The villain sinks into a kitchen chair like it’s the last thing they’re ever going to do.

“[Villain]...?” the hero says into the silence. The villain barely responds, their gaze burning into the table as they lean their face against their palms, their elbows propped up on the table.

“We’re dying,” the villain says flatly. “We’re dropping like flies, and [Supervillain] is still trying to send us all to our deaths to save herself.”

It’s not hard to feign surprise; this wasn’t mentioned in any of the paperwork the hero’s seen. They pull a chair out and settle opposite them. “What do you mean?”

“What do I—” The villain’s tone is scathing for a moment, but they bite back the end of their sentence with a sigh. “Heroes are killing us. I’ve found more than one person face-down in some back alley. People I know—allies. Friends.”

The hero’s throat closes up for a long, long moment. “I– I’m sorry,” they say testily, but they come out as more of a choke. The villain doesn’t seem to hear them anyway.

“Every so often [Supervillain] sends a new batch of villains into the thick of it, to try and take down some of the heroes wiping us out. Those who do survive are few and far between, usually screwed up beyond repair. And [Supervillain]— she’s—”

The villain sucks in a shuddery breath. The hero waits patiently.

“[Supervillain]’s chosen her next round of sacrifices,” the villain says with a breath of a humourless laugh, and a knot twists in the hero’s stomach. The villain fixes them with an empty stare, and the hero shoves down the urge to glance away. “I’m one of them. I’m— I’m being sent to die.”

Perfect, some part of the hero’s mind murmurs. A safe haven, all to yourself.

But despite everything, the villain’s been kind to them. Even though they humiliated them and forced their hand, the hero’s not in the claws of the superhero yet because of them. And they’re going to die. The villain’s going to leave one day, and they won’t come back. The hero’s brain almost can’t wrap around it.

“She— I’ll be setting off… for good next Thursday.” The villain’s face morphs into hopelessness.

It’s Tuesday now. Nine days.

The villain clears their throat, though it doesn’t seem to dislodge the anxious rasp residing there. “I, uh— I’m sorry,” they say unexpectedly. “For being a villain, for making you dance for my entertainment to stay alive, for— god, for everything. I’m sorry, [Hero].”

The hero can only blink at them for a moment. Sorry? “That’s, uh… it’s okay,” the hero says dumbly after a moment.

“No, it’s not. The least I can do is fix what I can before I… y’know.” The villain’s eyes lock onto the hero’s so intensely that they can’t find it in themself to look away this time. “I’m so sorry.”

You saved my life. You let me stay here. You let me hide from your enemy. You let me hide from mine. You ignored the benefits of turning me out for what? Companionship? Necessity? Something else entirely?

The hero can’t say that to their nemesis. The villain already sounds insane saying all this. They don’t need to feed into the absurdity of the evening. So they simply force a smile, of sorts, onto their face, and say, “I forgive you.”

(next part)

[cursedcupcakemaster]

This is a small series I made for nothing but enjoyment

Notes:I don't own twisted wonderland or it's characters this is just my interpretation of how they'd be they belong to Yana Toboso and Disney

Reader is gender neutral, some of these are kind of short

Type;vanilla strawberry cupcakes

How Heartslabyul helps their partner after a bad day

Riddle:

Riddle isn't really a stranger to bad days

When he heard you were having a bad day he decided maybe you needed some cheering up

A little teatime and maybe a cuddle session with the hedgehogs would do the trick

Riddle smiled to himself as he had everything ready for you asking Trey to tell you to meet him in the rose gardens for teatime

When you get there you weren't expecting what you found, your favorite snacks and tea waiting for you with Riddle smiling his face a bright red for once not from anger

He told you how he knew how it felt to be overworked and so tired from everything so he wanted to give you what he knew was a well deserved break

After tea you both went to the hedgehogs for snuggles with Riddle making note to maybe have things like this every week with you

Trey:

This man has seen his share of nuttiness throughout each day of every year but he knows one can only take so much

He knows just the thing to make you smile again, a nice batch of sweets

Trey always remembers your favorite desserts

When you come back from class and are clearly exhausted, the smell of fresh baked treats hits your nose

Trey will invite you to sit and talk about what happened that week that made you so down

He'll remind you that while things look bad now they'll get better and he'll be there for you so for now just have a cookie

Ace:

Ace knows bullshit when he sees it so he knows when you say you're fine despite the tired look in your eyes and your shoulders slumping, he knows you are far from it

He knows it won't be easy to get you to tell him but that doesn't mean he won't try to figure it out

Ace kinda figured out your day had to be horrible if you lost your homework, got pushed a few times, and almost got set on fire in alchemy

He decided maybe something simple would cheer you up

You weren't exactly expecting to find him in your room when your day was finally over much less him with a deck of cards

Ace had decided to perform a few magic tricks for you with the cards and within a little bit he had you smiling, card tricks were good for smiles after all

Deuce:

When this sweet boy noticed how unhappy you were he knew something had to be up

Deuce kinda followed you around for a bit and he figured out you were having a rough week because of a lot of things tests included

Deuce knew you needed to take your mind off of things at least for a little bit and it hit him

He decided to take you for a ride on his blastcycle

Deuce waited until after class before asking you to follow him

He led you to the beach where his cycle was helping you on and telling you to hold on tight

You two rode off for a while until the sun started to set

You hugged him thanking him for helping you and Deuce knew he had to go for rides with you more often

Cater:

He knows right away when you're frowning something had to have been bad, real bad

Cater is good at reading expressions so even if you weren't he'd know you needed a break from the crazy that school nonsense brought

Cater decided maybe his boo*you* needed a day at your favorite skate park

He'd text you to grab your board to meet him there

He knows this would at least make you take your mind off the hard stuff so you could smile again

Cater loves seeing your face when you skate because you look happy and free something he adores about you so he knows you'll probably need 3 or 4 skate sessions in the week he's happy to obilge you

[kingshovelbug]

Hello! I hope this is not a weird question, but how do you deal with ADHD and buying/having vegetables? Because I swear every single batch I bought goes moldy because I keep forgetting about it! >^<

dont worry its not! i really really struggled to eat fresh food for awhile because i would forget about it. and then feel awful because i was wasting money. it actually took until recently for me to find a system that works for me to beef up my veggie consumption lol

so i would say the biggest things that helped are where they are in the fridge, what vegetables i buy, loosely planning out meals and knowing how to throw shit together sea fairing cook style

1) my vegetables arent in the crisper drawer where theyre “supposed to be” they are in plain sight on the first shelf and i look at them anytime i open the fridge. tbh im not sure that crisper drawers do what they say that they do since theres like a whole veggie section on this shelf and they keep fine lol. sort of in line with this is that i keep the produce in the bags they come in so that i can also read the word of what the vegetable actually is and see it visual of it

2) it might be limiting depending on what vegetables you like but i only buy regularly buy veggies that last. my usual stock are different varieties of peppers, onions, cabbage, potatoes (im counting as a vegetable), and carrots. leafy greens and soft veggies like mushrooms, squash, and cucumbers go bad really fast especially if you cut into them

3) you dont need to do it every day or even every week but if im craving something specific that does go bad quickly then ill do a loose meal plan for that week to make sure that i use it up. so say im craving spinach and mushrooms. after i get back from the store ill write on the fridge a list of things i need to make to use them up like a spinach feta omelette, wilted spinach as a side for something and mushroom stir fry

4) this takes a little bit of practice but even if you do everything right stuff can still go bad. but if you have recipes that work for almost everything vegetable then as stuff looks like it could be turning you can cook it before it actually gets gross. like roasting vegetables in the oven with olive oil, salt and pepper as a side to some protein. or a quick stir fry. those are easy oh shit this needs made now meals

theres also frozen or canned veggies but i dont like the texture of those. i know some people do though so thats worth a try!

[familyvideostevie]

𝕟𝕠 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕒𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘: 𝕟𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕞𝕓𝕖𝕣

a farmer's market steve harrington x reader au

part 1 [7.2k] | part 2 [8.3k] | part 3 [13.3k] | part 4 [4.7k] | au masterlist

Every day you wake up and wonder if today is the day you'll cry. It hurts to look at the blank walls of your bedroom and the small pile of things on your dresser you were going to put up: the drive-in ticket, a polaroid Jonathan took of you at the New-Bee's stall, a candle label from your first batch. Does it even matter now?

But the tears don't come. So you decide to push on the bruise in your chest, the ache that has returned full force but worse. It's in the shape of Steve.

You think about the first time you saw him, how you wanted him to touch you so badly even though he made you so mad. You think about him in the rainstorm, wet and willing to help you, you think about him under you at the drive-in, hands eager and rough. You think about him on top of you in his bed, gentle and tender as he panted your name. 

And you've ruined it all. You've ruined whatever was between you, that glowing, beautiful thing, and you've hurt him in the process. Which is the thing you can't forgive yourself for. 

You're eating breakfast in the farmhouse kitchen the morning of the first November market. Bob knows you're not coming -- you told him you weren't feeling great and he totally understands. You've worked hard the last few months and he knows it. He also knows that something is wrong, that Halloween changed something. That the phone call with Steve was about much more than just you getting home safely.

"Hey, kiddo," he says, packing his lunch before he leaves for the market. "Have you thought about what you want to do after the last market next week?" It's hard to believe that there really is only one more week in the season. The leaves are almost all gone and you can smell winter in the air. 

You swirl your spoon in your oatmeal and don't look at him. "I'm not sure yet," you sigh. A call home last week hadn't helped, though it did convince you that the last thing you want is to move back in with your parents. "Mom says it's up to me."

"Well," he says, dragging out the word. "You're welcome to stay here and keep working on the farm. We've got lots of things to make for the holidays. Or you can get a job in town!" You don't realize that you never thought Bob would want you to stay until the words leave his mouth. But how silly of you to think that he'd be anything but kind to you, even if you're not contributing to his business. "Point is," he continues, "you can stay here as long as you want."

For a long second your heart considers it. Staying in Hawkins, making it your home. Regardless of your current circumstances. 

Which you need to figure out. Regardless of how you feel and how Steve feels, you owe him an apology at the very least. 

But you're not feeling very brave yet, so you call Sara's Farm while the market is going on, hoping no one will be there and you can just leave a message. 

The dial tone only rings once before a sweet voice answers. "Sara's Farm, this is Jane, how can I help you?"

"Hi, El," you say. She gasps your name in delight, then says it once more in a tone you like much less. Did Steve tell anyone what you did? That you left him?

"Why aren't you at the market?" she asks. "Are you okay?" Her automatic concern washes away your own. 

"Don't worry about me," you say. 

"I do! Steve said you got sick on Halloween and had to go home. Are you still sick?" She doesn't totally believe you, you can tell. A lump rises in your throat. He's kept your business between you both. It makes your heart do something funny in your chest.

"I feel better," you lie. "Can you tell Steve that I called? That I want to talk to him?"

El pauses before she answers. "Do you think you're gonna figure it out? Whatever happened?" Smart girl, you think.

"I hope so," you tell her. She says your name again, this time sounding like a scold.

"Good, because you both are much more fun when you're happy together." That, more than anything in the last few days makes tears prick in your eyes. 

And maybe that's why you burst into tears when someone knocks on the farmhouse door and you see that it's Robin. You can barely speak when she spills into the kitchen, cheeks rosy despite her hat, gloves, and at least four layers. 

"So you are alive!" she says, and then realizes you're basically sobbing. "Oh, god. Wait, let me just --" She toes off her shoes and drops her gloves and outermost jacket on the ground before she opens her arms. "Okay. Do you want a hug?" You step into her embrace before she's finished asking. Her hands rub up and down your back in a slightly awkward way that's all Robin. 

"Sorry," you hiccup. "This is embarrassing. I don't know why I'm crying." That much is true. There are so many things you're feeling that you don't know which ones you're upset about at this moment. 

"I'm not good with crying girls," she says as you both sway side to side in your hug. "Crying anyone, really. I just never know what to say! But I do know that you have nothing to be sorry about. You can cry all you want. It's great for your skin! Well, I don't actually know that but Nancy told me once. And, well, you know Nancy. If she says it it's probably true, right?" You huff, throat thick but eyes starting to dry. You wiggle out of her arms and turn to wipe your face. 

"Do you want something to drink?" you ask her. "How was the market?" Ever adaptable to a change of subject, Robin sits at the kitchen table as you fill a glass of water without waiting for her answer. 

"It was...boring without you," she says slowly. "Strange, too. Bob told people you didn't feel great so I thought I'd come check on you."

You hum and sniff a little. You must look like a wreck from crying. "I, uh..." You can't look at her. 

"I know something happened." She sighs. "Steve didn't tell me what but I figure you guys had a fight or something? And look, he's my best friend but you're both my friends and I don't want to get in the middle of it but I do care that you're both miserable."

You turn around and she's looking at you with such kindness, such warmth, that you have to swallow another round of tears. "We didn't fight," you tell her. "The opposite, really. But I messed it up and hurt him because I'm scared."

"Kinda looks like you hurt yourself, too," she says, not unkindly. "Is it something...you want to fix?"

"I don't know if I can." You scrub at your swollen eyes with cold hands. "But even if he can't forgive me I need to explain myself and apologize. And then..." you trail off. 

"And then?" she asks. "I know you have a lot going on so I wasn't going to ask but there's only one market left and...do you know if you're gonna stay here? In Hawkins?"

You don't answer right away and Robin squirms in her seat but lets to think about it. Because a not small part of you wants to tell her that yes, you'll stay. You want to. You love it here. But things are a mess right now and it doesn't feel fair to make the choice before you've talked to Steve. 

"I don't know," you finally say. 'I don't know how staying would work. It might be better just to leave. Easier." The words taste wrong in your mouth but you can't take them back.

Robin's chair scrapes on the hardwood as she gets up and walks around the table to stand in front of you. "One thing at a time, then, right? And you'll tell me when you decide?" You grab her hand. 

"Of course, I will. I just have to talk to Steve first."

___

It takes you three days to work up the courage to call Sara's again. Hopper picks up. 

"Sara's," he says gruffly.

"Uh, hi, it's --" He sighs before you can finish your sentence. 

"Harrington!" he yells, though it's muffled as if he covered the receiver with his hand. Your stomach flips. "What do you mean who is it? Who else calls around here looking for you?" You can't hear Steve, and then Hopper's back on the line.

"I don't think I want to know why he won't talk to you," he says. This time, your stomach feels like a lead weight.

"That's fine," you rush out. "Can you give him a message for me? Uh, Hopper, sir?"

"Jesus Christ," he says. "I guess I don't have a choice. He looks like a kicked puppy."

"Tell him to meet me at the lake tonight, if he can? Where we had the bonfire? 8 pm?" You try to keep the pleading out of your voice but you must fail because Hopper's next words are almost kind.

"Sure, kid. I'll tell him." The phone clicks and you hear the dial tone. 

You don't really expect him to show up. It's freezing, cold enough that you're sitting in the cab of the truck with the heat on while you wait in the dark. The remains of your bonfire from weeks ago sit in the fire pit, the ash and charred logs illuminated by your headlights. Why did you think this was a good idea? Steve has no reason to hear you out. He has every right to never speak you to again, no matter how awful that would be. 

But then you hear it -- the rumble of a truck, headlights bright on the shore next to yours. Before the lights in the cab go out you can see Steve take a deep breath. He opens the door and walks quickly through the cold, his breath puffing in front of him, to your passenger door. You have to force yourself to keep your own inhales even at the sight of him. Your entire body feels like it's aching as he climbs in next to you. He feels miles away.

"Hey," he says. He clears his throat and doesn't look at you for longer than a quick glance up and down. "Are you okay? You weren't at the market on Saturday."

"I'm fine," you say, the lie now familiar in your mouth. "Are you okay?" You don't know what possesses you to ask. He looks fine, if a little cold. Same warm eyes, if a bit wary, messy hair pushed into his hat haphazardly. He looks pretty as always.

"Honestly?" You nod, though he's not looking at you. "Not really."

"Steve--" you start, but he interrupts you.

"I wasn't going to come," he says, then shakes his head. "No, sorry, that's not true. I've been jumping every time the phone rings for almost a week, hoping it's you. But I can't bring myself to answer it. I've been desperate to see you again but I also can't look at you because it makes me sad."

"Sad?" you whisper.

"Because I don't understand what happened. And I want to fix it, but I also want to be mad at you. And I can't figure out how to do either."

He doesn't say anything else and you take a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Steve," you say. You've said the words out loud to yourself hundreds of times by now and they taste funny in your mouth. Like missed opportunity. Like your own mistakes.

"Can I ask why?" he says, finally turning to look at you head-on. "Why you left?"

"I--yeah. Yeah, of course. I want to explain myself. I owe you that." How do you do this without telling him you love him? Without sounding like you're trying to manipulate him into forgiving you? Because that's the last thing you want to do. "I hope I don't need to tell you that it's nothing you did," you say. "It's all me. And I know that sounds like it's not you, it's me but that's the truth. It's me. I-- I freaked out. I freaked out because you have changed my entire life, Steve. You've turned it upside down and made me love a place I didn't feel right in at first and you-- you are good and kind and everything wonderful about this town." You've kept your eyes on your hands clenched tight in your lap but you look up at him then. His gaze is steady, brows furrowed. "And I...god, Steve. I don't want this to sound like I'm guilting you or anything because it's only been a few months but that night I realized that I'm falling in love with you and it's scaring the shit out of me."

You're looking at him as you say it, so you see that he doesn't react even a little bit. It makes your chest tighten, but you push that down. It's not about if he loves you or not. It's about apologizing. 

"I understand how that's scary," he says carefully. His own hands are shoved in his pockets. You wonder if he's clenched them into fists. "I just don't know why you'd leave instead of telling me how you were feeling."

"I wish I could take that back." 

He looks away again. "Do you regret everything else, too? Having sex? Everything before?"

"God, no," you breathe out. "No, Steve. I don't regret any of that." You want to touch him but you know you shouldn't. It wouldn't help anything.

"Do you get why you leaving like that hurt?" he asks. "Why the last thing I expected to come back to was an empty bed?" You chew on your lip as he keeps talking. "Because I thought we had figured that out. The whole...not talking to each other bullshit. Dealing with our emotions unfairly, being too hasty and hurtful. You helped me learn how to do that and I tried for you."

There's nothing to say. Other than the truth. "I know, and I'm sorry," you tell him. "I freaked out and I hurt you and that was the last thing I wanted to do. And I understand if you can't forgive me--"

"I didn't say that," he interrupts, tone a hair from desperate. The first real emotion you've heard from him other than frustration. "I just need some space, I think. Okay?" He lifts his hand in the air and it seems to hover in the space between you before he brushes his knuckles against your cheek. You inhale raggedly. 

"Okay," you say. He smiles but it's sad and climbs out of your truck and back into his, driving into the night with a little wave.

You sit in silence for a few seconds before hot tears trickle down your cheeks. But this time, they're of relief. Because he doesn't hate you. Because he might forgive you, someday. Your chest aches but just for a moment, you let yourself feel all of it: the overwhelming sensation of being in love with Steve. It washes over you and all you want is for him to be happy.

Maybe when you tell him you're going to stay in Hawkins he'll even be glad about it. He cares about you, no one can deny that. And maybe, maybe he can love you.

___

After you talk with Steve you allow yourself to lean into preparing for the last market. You barely leave the farm because you make as many candles and soaps as you can. You wander into the farmhouse after finishing your latest batch of candles -- Steve's candles, as you call them in your head -- to find a fairly large size wicker basket on the counter. 

"What's this?" you ask Bob. He's tying string onto honey jars. 

"I was hoping you could tell me," he smiles. The basket contains an odd collection of stuff, all from local businesses. A small bouquet from Byers Flowers, a bag of mushrooms from Rick's, some jam from Sara's. A tiny pumpkin with a face drawn on it and even one of your own candles. 

"Lucas Sinclair and Will Byers biked that over and dropped it off. Said it was for you." He points to the card you'd missed before that's nestled behind. the flowers. 

We hope this humble offering helps convince you to stay in Hawkins! 

It's written in a steady hand you know to be Will's and signed by every kid individually: Will, Dustin, Max, Lucas, Mike, and El.

"Wow," you whisper. "I guess the rumor mill has started."

"I've heard that you might be leaving," Bob says. "Not sure where that came from." Robin, you think. Your darling friend might have gotten ahead of herself. "We don't have to talk about it, but have you thought any more about what you want to do?"

You don't hesitate, eyes on the card in your hand. "I want to stay."

__

The final market is the busiest Saturday you've seen, even though it's practically freezing. The November chill worms its way under your three layers, hat, and gloves. You should have worn two pairs of pants. There is laughter and your candles fly off the stand. There's a stand of hot cider somewhere that smells delightful.

And the weirdest thing keeps happening. People keep stopping you to say that they don't want you to leave town, and then when you tell them you aren't going to, they're so relieved. You've had the same conversation with so many customers that you've lost count. It really is a small town, you think. Your small town.

"Hey!" Eddie bounds over to your stall as the market is about to end, curls shoved into a black beanie with a pom-pom on top. He looks to be wearing at least three flannels under his leather jacket. "I heard you're leaving?" He looks pretty down about it, too. "I'd have brought you some mushrooms but I know you don't like them."

"Where did everyone get this idea that I'm leaving?" you huff. "I only told Robin that was still trying to decide--" Eddie scrunches up his nose and grimaces. "Did she tell you I was leaving?"

"Welllll..." he drags out. "She might have hinted that she thought you were going to and I think the story got out somehow." Then he brightens. "So you're not leaving?"

You smile, allowing the happiness of your choice to fill you for just a second. "I'm sticking around," you tell him. He whoops far too loudly.

"Thank Christ," he says. "Otherwise we'd have to deal with a sad Harrington forever." You look at your feet. "Oh, come on," he says. "You haven't made up yet?"

"How do you know about that?" you mumble, eyes still on the ground.

"Sweetheart," Eddie says. "Anyone can tell just by looking at Steve that he's down as hell. And he won't tell anyone why." 

"I--" You want to ask him more, ask him what he's talked to Steve about, ask him if he's seen Steve today since you haven't, but before you can Robin runs over. 

"You're staying?" she pants. "I heard it from Vickie who heard it from Brenda who heard it from her mom who heard it from you. I thought you were going! I told people you were going!" The memory of you crying in her arms flashes in your mind. Maybe it's not so outrageous that she got the impression you wanted to leave Hawkins.

"Well, here I am," you say. "If you'll have me."

"Fuck yeah we'll have you," Robin cries, grabbing your hands over the stall counter. A few people shoot her dirty looks for her language but she doesn't notice.  "Oh my god, we're going to have so much fun. You have to come visit me at school, and we'll do Friendsgiving, and New Year's Eve, and --"

She prattles on about all the things you're going to do, and you can't fight your smile. But there's a lingering barb in your chest because you still have to tell Steve. Have to see if he's forgiven you if he ever will. If he's okay with you sticking around, regardless. 

You want to ask Robin about him but you don't. He'll come to you if he wants to since he's the one who wants space and you want to respect that. But it would be nice to see him here, at the place where you met. The place where it all started. 

So after your friends wander away with a bounce in their steps, you soak in the last moments of your last market for this year. Vendors wave at you on their way out and you pack up as slowly as you can, stretching out the task as long as possible. And to see if Steve will come say hi after all. He must have hid in the Sara's tent all morning.

You're careful with the candles, eyes on the fading line on your palm. The giddiness of that day in the rain with Steve is a fond memory, even if it makes the ache more profound. His smile, his laugh, his gentle hands. Hands you hope to hold again. The crates are all done and you take a deep breath and tell yourself you have to bring them to the truck when you feel a prickle on the back of your neck. You look up and --

There he is. He looks frazzled, no hat or gloves despite the cold, cheeks and nose pink, and hair a riot. He walks towards you with determined steps, stopping a few feet away. 

"Hi," you breathe. "Hey, Steve," you say again, louder. It's like you willed him to come over here. 

"Uh, hi," he says, dragging one hand through his hair and shoving the other into the pocket of his jacket. "Sorry I didn't come over earlier. It's been really busy today and -- well." He sucks on his teeth and looks at the sky. "Listen, I heard some stuff today and I don't know what's true and I know I asked for space but I had to come ask you because --" He takes a breath. It's unlike him to ramble like this, you think. It's endearing. "Are you staying in Hawkins or are you leaving?" he asks. 

You blink. "Oh," you say. The rumors must have gotten to him and Robin hasn't set him right yet. "Yeah, that. Uh, well, first I just want to say I'm sorry again and I hope that the space is good for you." You clear your throat, swallowing the lump. "I want to fix things between us, whatever that looks like, but only if you want to. And I don't want to rush you, but --"

Steve takes a step towards you and your voice stops working for a second, long enough for him to start talking again. "Sorry, but before you go on and tell me you're leaving I just...please don't let it be because of me." He takes a hand from his pocket like he wants to reach for you but balls it into a fist instead. "If you want to leave I don't want to stop you because you have to do what's right for you and I know I asked for space but I don't think I want that and I should have just told you before." He takes a deep breath.

"Told me what, Steve?" you ask so softly you don't know if he hears you. He runs his hands through his hair again. He takes another step forward, so close that the tips of your shoes almost touch. His eyes are warm and bright when they meet yours.

"I'm in love with you. I love you. I don't know if you meant it by the lake and that's okay but I mean it now. It's soon and it's scary and I don't know what to do about it or where it'll take us but I just have to tell you so you know because...you can't leave without at least knowing that I do. You can't leave thinking I won't forgive you." He laughs a little to himself and takes half a step back. "And we need to work on our communication, especially if you leave, but I just want you whatever way I can have you--"

"Steve," you croak. It feels like your heart is going to beat out of your chest. He loves you.

He blinks a few times, shoving his hands back into his pockets. "Oh, sorry," he says. "Keep going with what you were saying."

Your thoughts are gibberish inside your head. All you can think is how badly you want to hold this boy in front of you. "Steve," you say again. He looks more worried this time, but before he can say anything you throw yourself at him, arms around his neck and chin hooked over his shoulder. He's quick to pull his hands out of his coat to wrap his arms around you and you feel his cold nose on the skin of your neck. 

"I'm staying," you say into his shoulder. "I'm not leaving."

He pulls away just enough to see you, noses almost touching. "Did I hear that right? You're staying?"

"Yeah," you nod. "I want to stay. I love this town and the people in it and it's home now. And I, uh, want to figure us out. If you want to." You are embarrassed to feel your lashes grow wet. Steve brings his hands between you and blows on them before he gently frames your face. 

"Did you think I'd not want to?" His thumbs stroke your cheeks. "I can say that whole speech again."

"No," you say, leaning into his palms. "I did think maybe you'd tell me not to stay. When we were at the lake. So I didn't bring it up." His face does something funny before he touches his forehead to yours. 

"I will never tell you to go because I want you here, wherever here is. I just want you with me." You want to pull him into your chest, to show him how your heart has his name on it.

"I still don't know what I want, Steve," you whisper. "I want to stay here but I don't know how long that'll last. I'm not sure of anything but I'm sure about you. I'm sure that I love you."

"We can figure it out," he says, mouth curling into a smile. His eyes shine bright at your words. You both know that you have a lot of work to do -- learning how to communicate better, how to love each other right, how to deal with your own wounds and insecurities and feelings. There is growing to do. But you can do it together. 

"Okay," you nod. Your noses brush. Maybe it is that easy. Just deciding what you want and seeing it in front of you and taking it. Calling it yours, holding it close. All of the hard stuff has led to this and maybe it was all worth it to get to this point -- the fighting and the misunderstandings and all of the kisses and the ache in your chest that you now know is just love. It's love with all its aches and pains and it's worth it.

"Can we kiss now, please?" he asks you. His breath is hot on your skin, visible in the space between you. 

"Yes, please."

The press of his lips to yours is delicate, soft. It's loving. His thumbs stroke your face lazily and you grab his forearms gently, feeling the strength and the warmth of him through his layers. All Steve, you think. All yours. It's like he's thinking the same thing because his mouth curls into a smile against yours and you're not so much kissing as grinning against each other but it's exactly what you want. It's Steve. It's home.

THE END.

tags: @cheerupbarry @srrybutno @97soroka @sunlitide @gloryofroses19 @carpediem1219 @themarvelousbee @sunshinehollandd @katsukis1wife @imherefortea @spideyboipete @lonelywidow @actual-mom-steve-harrington @steveharringtonscarkeys @pennyllanne @ducky-is-dead-inside @ih3artcry1ng @escape-in-time-x @sea040561 @manyfandomsfanvergent @blandyton @liberhoe @annaisweird @mrs-dr-reid @toomanyacorns @darlingoctober @selfdeprecatingnerd @dullsocietyy @keep-drivng @shireentapestry @mintfrostflower @freezaz123 @dahliamae @localbnbg @palmtreesx3 @eddiethesexy

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[laureliciousdefinition]

Babe wake up laurelicious has returned with more modern au headcanons 🥱 thank u to everyone who loves on these posts and adds their own silly things to it!!! Y’all make me very happy and I’m glad we can share this goofy universe!!

Previous sillies:

1 2 3 4 5 6

See yall unda da cut 😼😼😼

-little miss Unnamed Marston Daughter has absolutely been blasting Olivia Rodrigo’s new album around the house

Everyone complains but John finds himself quietly murmuring “seeing u tonight… it’s a bad idea right??” While he’s brushing his teeth

Abigail tries to be supportive and plays it while she drives the kids to school, now she and Jack know all the words to Vampire and listen to it once they’ve already dropped UMD off

-both Marston children always dress as something weird for Halloween

John and Abigail stay up late making the costumes for their weirdo children bc they love them :)

On a similar note when John and Arthur were kids they were little matching power rangers and if you bring it up to Dutch he WILL cry over it bc he loves his babies

-the entire Marston family takes Halloween way too seriously to be completely honest

Abigail and John are the cool family in the neighborhood with the really good candy

Dutch and Hosea have now graduated to the old person level of giving out full sized bars but the window of opportunity before they turn in for the night is SMALL so all the kids in their neighborhood sprint to their house first

Charles and Arthur give out tootsie rolls and milk duds. That’s it.

-the following are songs John cried to as a teenager:

Fall for You by Secondhand Serenade

Miserable at Best by Mayday Parade

Scars by Papa Roach

Disenchanted by MCR

-John and Javier were absolutely bffs in middle/high school, they kissed once at a party then never spoke of it again

Javier is now the cool childless uncle that they all see once a year and brings the kids cool gifts

-when Arthur was a teenager he got caught sneaking back into the house after curfew, he was grounded for a month

John was the asshole little sibling who was super excited that his brother was in trouble

-Arthur wears slippers, Charles wears fuzzy socks. I’m right

-Charles uses nice shampoo/conditioner and Arthur is always hovering around on wash days:)

-Arthur has broken every single toe like. 5 times at least.

-Charles and Arthur love corny ass reality TV

They started watching the bachelor to make fun of it, but now they tune in every single week and have their favorites

Tell me Arthur wouldn’t love the masked singer. He goes nuts every single time (“Charles!!!!!! They opened it up and it was KERMIT!?! That’s too good!”)

-Because Isaac doesn’t live with them full time these two go absolutely bananas when he comes to stay with them, Charles is scrubbing down the house while Arthur clears out the grocery store of all his favorite snacks :)

Before he visits Arthur is texting Eliza like “what drama should I know?? Any new friends? A girlfriend? A boyfriend?!?” Just so he’s up to date

-Arthur loves Raisin Bran/Corn Nuts/other old man cereals

-we’ve touched on this before but Charles’ mom absolutely adores Arthur and when she comes over she’s basically shoving Charles out of the way like “my baby darling Arthur how are you!!!🥰”

-Isaac plays baseball and Charles and Arthur are full on sport dads in the best way possible

They bring snacks for the team, they’re sitting in those little fold up chairs, they’re cheering louder than everyone else in the stands, etc.

Arthur ‘sentimental ass’ Morgan keeps a little box of all the memorabilia from baseball throughout the years :)

This was a particularly silly batch, methinks. As always if anyone wants me to add other characters into this universe lmk😼 alsooooo I have started writing little oneshots/drabbles/etc expanding this if anyone would be interested in reading them!! No promises on when they’d be done but I think it would be a good time hehe

[sunshinereddie]

college au where richie tries out this new coffee shop near his campus, he orders his regular drink, and…. he’s not gonna lie, it’s pretty bad. the coffee is weak but also somehow still has a strong burnt taste to it, he only asked for 1 sugar but somehow it’s still way too sweet, just overall…. not great. it’s a solid 4/10 coffee, it’s drinkable, but definitely not worth the $6 he paid for it.

but………. the barista who took his order in the cafe was really, really cute. so cute, in fact, that richie couldn’t stop thinking about him for the rest of the day.

so richie decides to give the coffee shop another chance, thinking that maybe they just brewed a bad batch of coffee and it was a one-off thing, or maybe the person who made his drink was new and so that’s why it tasted bad. he’s giving them the benefit of the doubt, and so a few days later he goes back to the coffee shop, gets his drink again, and sees the cute barista again (and this time learns that his name is eddie).

except… the coffee is still bad. no, actually, richie thinks that this time it’s worse.

normally richie would have taken that as his sign to stop giving this place his money… if it weren’t for eddie, who richie has definitely started to develop a little crush on and who richie cannot get out of his mind.

so, as forgiving and kind as he is, he decides to give the coffee shop one last chance, and he has made up his mind that if he gets another bad coffee then he’s done for sure… until he walks into the cafe and eddie recognizes him and recites richie’s order before richie can even say it. at richie’s surprise, eddie smiles and explains that since richie’s kind of a regular now, he thought he should memorize his order, and when eddie looks so proud of himself for getting richie’s order right… how the hell is he supposed to stop coming to the coffee shop now???!!

so from that day on, three days a week, richie goes to the coffee shop and wastes $6 on a latte that he has to practically force himself to drink…….. but on the plus side, at least he gets to flirt with eddie every time. and eddie brings him a free pastry when richie sits in the cafe to study for a few hours. and sometimes eddie will sit with richie and chat on his break.

richie hates wasting almost $20 a week on shitty coffee….. but he thinks that it was all worth it when eddie hands him his coffee one time with a phone number written on the side of the cup.

[ladykailitha]

If I Rescue You, Will You Rescue Me, Too? Part 13

Hello!

I didn’t have time to work on the Shovel Talks AU today so I thought I’d give the part of the concert series that I’ve been sitting on for a couple of days.

And I have more of this done, too, so that’ll be fun.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

*

They arrived at the hospital and were almost immediately brought back. Dr Hathaway looked over Eddie’s wounds, changed the dressing and took his vitals.

“Everything looks good, Mr Munson,” Dr Hathaway said. “You are free to go home. I will have a nurse come in in a few minutes to go over care for the next couple of weeks. And then be sure to make an appointment with me at the receptionist’s desk before you go. I want to see you in two weeks to remove the stitches.”

Eddie nodded.

Steve gave his shoulder a squeeze. “I’m just going to radio everyone the news, and I’ll be right back.”

Eddie smiled and nodded again.

When Steve came back, the nurse was going over his outpatient care. He helped Eddie to his feet and stood by as Eddie made his appointment.

They drove in comfortable silence, a smile on both their faces.

When Steve turned into Loch Nora instead of driving out to Wayne’s new house, Eddie frowned.

“Are we going to your place, then?” he asked.

Steve’s soft smile turned into a grin. “You’ll see.”

When they turned onto Steve’s street, Eddie could hear something like... cheering?

“What is that?” Eddie asked, but like Steve had all weekend, Steve had remained silent.

A head of them on Steve’s lawn, Eddie could make out signs and balloons.

“Steve...” he whined.

“Yes, babe?”

Eddie buried his head in hands. “You’re going to kill me. That what this is. You have decided that Vecna couldn’t do it, so you are going to finish the job by killing me in the cruelest way possible. KINDNESS.”

Steve laughed. “Just wait.”

Eddie tilted his head back and rolled his eyes. “You can’t keep doing this to me, man. I haven’t had so much outpouring of love my entire life. Like sure, I had friends, and my Uncle Wayne. But camaraderie and quiet affection are nothing like the sheer amount of love you have shown me over and over again this weekend.”

Steve stopped the car for a moment and turned to face him. “If this is too much, I can call it off. I can take you home and we can have a nice quiet afternoon and we can do this some other day.”

Eddie took a deep breath. And then another. He buried his face into his hands as he struggled to get his breathing under control.

“I mean it, Eddie,” Steve said, rubbing circles into his back. “I will turn this car around and we will go somewhere quiet and safe.”

Eddie let out a long shuddering sigh. “No. I think I’m okay now. I want to see our friends too.”

“If it gets too much, just go up to my bedroom and I’ll make your excuses, okay?”

Eddie nodded.

Steve pulled into his driveway and paused before opening the door. “Just one more thing. We don’t have to tell them about the change in our relationship today, tomorrow or ever, if you want. I leave that entirely up to you.”

Eddie gulped. “But it’s about you, too. Why are you leaving it up to me?”

“Because if it was up to me,” Steve murmured, “I would put it on every billboard, marque, and in every newspaper in town.”

Eddie’s eyes went wide. “You would?”

“But I’m new to this whole gay relationship thing,” Steve continued. “I vaguely have an idea what could happen if I did that. But no real experience. I’m guess you do.”

Eddie bit his lip, but nodded.

“And that’s why you’re in charge of who knows and when,” Steve said. “I know Wayne already knows, and Robin would be fine with it because she helped me with this weekend. So other than her and maybe Nancy, no one knows that the real plan for the weekend was to woo except those three. So if you want to wait about telling everyone else. Or in small batches, that’s fine, too. I want you to feel comfortable about us being together.”

Eddie took his hand. “Me too, sweetheart.”

Steve gave it a squeeze and then opened the door. Eddie scrambled to get out the car.

“They aren’t going to jump out and scare me, are they?” Eddie asked, sheepishly.

“If they do, you’ll have to help me hide all the bodies,” Steve said with a wink. “Because I’d murder them.”

Eddie laughed and followed Steve into the house. There wasn’t anyone in the foyer so that helped Eddie relax a little.

“You see that room at the top of the stairs?” Steve asked. Eddie nodded. “That’s my bedroom. If it gets too much, head straight there. Okay?”

Eddie nodded again. Steve wrapped him up in a big hug and Eddie clung to him for a moment.

Eddie took a step back. “Okay, I think I’m ready now.”

Steve nodded and opened a door on the side. It led to a large room with lots of large couches and a TV with huge sound system.

There were also a shit ton of people there too. His Uncle Wayne, his friends from Corroded Coffin. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas, Erica, too. Max was still in the hospital, but it was still nice to see the other kids there. Robin and Nancy were there too. But there were a couple of new faces he didn’t recognize. Two boys and a girl.

Eddie vaguely recognized the shorter of the two boys, having gone to school with Jonathan Byers. Which meant that the other boy must be his brother Will. You would have had to have been living under a rock to not know who he was. But the kid had certainly shot up like a sprout, though. Holy hell, Eddie was almost sure the kid was taller than he was.

Which left Supergirl. The one they had hoped would kill Vecna and had. Steve may have hauled his ass out of hell, but there wouldn’t have been anything left to save if she hadn’t have gotten to Max in time.

There were welcome home signs for both Eddie and Steve. Steve blushed.

“Come on, guys,” Steve muttered, “I’ve been out for a week.”

“Yes,” El said, glowering. “And it was a miscarriage of justice that Eddie got a welcome home party and you didn’t.” She glared at Nancy and Robin in particular, who looked away bashfully.

Eddie blinked at her and decided. Yup. He liked her. She was his new favorite.

Will nudged her with elbow and whispered something in her ear. She smiled sweetly at them which actually might be worse than the glaring.

But it broke the dam and suddenly everyone was coming up and welcoming them home.

Eddie grinned over Dustin’s head at Steve who was getting just as many hugs as he was.

Steve blushed harder and Eddie cackled.

The two of them were ushered over to sofa to sit down as they were brought food and drink. There was laughter and good times.

About half way through, Robin came over to sit by Steve while Eddie was engaged in conversation with about a campaign he wanted to start now that he was out.

She bumped his shoulder. “She was right you know. El, I mean.”

Steve looked over at El as she chatted excitedly with Dustin about his latest experiments.

“Yeah, she was.”

Robin looked down at her hands. “You were only in the hospital for like a day, but you were still hurt and needed to be celebrated too.”

Steve covered her hands with his. “Sometimes I think I’m like glass to them.” He jutted his chin out to the rest of the room. “Completely see through and only thought about when I’m useful.”

She wrapped one of her hands on top of his, their hands completely intertwined. “I know it can feel that way sometimes, but none of these people would be here without you.”

“It is my house,” Steve deadpanned.

Robin bumped his shoulder again. “Not like that, Dingus!”

He chuckled.

“They love you,” she whispered.

Steve nodded, fighting back tears.

Eddie leaned over just then and whispered, “That thing you offered me? That’s good for you too, sweetheart.”

Robin looked at them quizzically. “What does that mean?”

“It means, fair Birdie,” Eddie said with a grin. “That if either one of us is feeling overwhelmed, we can take a breather and the other one will cover for us.��

Robin tilted her head. “Count me in, too. In case both of you need a break at the same time.” She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Both boys blushed.

Dustin came over and pulled Steve to his feet, dragging him away from Eddie and Robin so that they could chat with El.

“You should meet Jonathan’s friend, Argyle,” El said in lieu of greeting. “He’s nice. He helped us get across country and he didn’t have to. But he didn’t feel like it was appropriate to crash a party for people he hasn’t met.”

Steve rubbed her head. “Is that a bid for a pool party, Supergirl?”

“Please don’t touch my head,” she whispered.

Steve pulled her in for a hug. “It’s because they shaved it again, huh?” She nodded. “Then I won’t do it until it’s grown back some, okay?”

“Thank you for respecting my boundaries,” El said.

He kissed the top of her head. “Anytime, Supergirl.”

She giggled. “And of course it’s a bid for a pool party. When it gets warmer.” She shivered. “There wasn’t much to like about California, but it being warm all the time was nice.”

“I’m sure it was,” Steve said. “And when Max wakes up, you can tell her all about it.”

“I did tell her over the phone,” El said with a frown.

“Sure,” Steve agreed. “But I’m sure she’d love to hear it again all the same.”

El cocked her head. “I’m not sure I understand, but Hop and Joyce has both said the same thing, so I will do so.”

Will pulled Eddie and Steve aside when most of the crowd had thinned out and gone home. It was El, Will, Jonathan, Robin, and Wayne that were left besides Steve and Eddie.

“I didn’t want to give you these in front of everyone,” he began. “Mike would have flipped his shit.”

Eddie and Steve looked at each in confusion.

“Give us what?” Eddie asked.

He handed one rolled canvass to Eddie and the other to Steve. “I was talking to everyone and they were saying how amazing and awesome you guys were in helping take down Vecna, so I painted these.”

Steve unrolled his first. There was Steve, but a more badass barbarian version of himself in leather armor ripping a demobat in half.

“Wow, Will,” he murmured. “This is awesome!”

Eddie looked over his shoulder and whistled long and low. “That’s about what it looked like to be honest. Only this idiot was barefoot.”

Will turned to Steve in shock. “Barefoot?”

Steve blushed. “I had been swimming like seconds before that, so yeah. No shoes.”

Will shook his head. “You never cease to amaze me.”

Eddie unfurled his. There was Eddie as a medieval bard on top of a mountain, playing guitar. He put his hand over his mouth to stop them from quivering. “Oh.”

Steve looked over at it. “I don’t quite understand what he’s supposed to be.” He blushed from embarrassment expecting Will and Eddie to dogpile him the way Mike and Dustin did.

“He’s a bard,” Will explained. “They’re like warrior musicians. Most of them sing, but instruments are a big part of what makes a bard.”

Eddie smiled. “And big part of what a bard does is called bardic inspiration. It gives everyone able to hear their song, boosts to their stats.”

Steve nodded. “That’s definitely Eddie.”

Eddie blushed, shoving his hair in his face.

Will cocked his head to the side. “Wait...are you two...like together?”

Eddie and Steve shared a slightly panicked glance.

Will smiled. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” He looked down at the floor. “I mean not all the rumors about me are wrong, so...”

Steve and Eddie frowned for a moment trying to remember all the bullshit that had been thrown around by bullies.

Eddie hit on it first. “You’re gay!” he whisper yelled.

Steve’s jaw dropped. “That makes sense. I’m bisexual myself. But yeah. Your secret is safe with us, too.”

Will blushed.

“We aren’t the only ones either,” Steve said with a wink. “Let’s just a birdie told me there is a lesbian in our Party too.”

Will mouthed the word birdie a couple of times before his eyes went wide. “Oh!”

Eddie and Steve cackled.

“Hey Robs!” Steve called out. “Can you come here for a moment?”

Robin broke off from talking to El and wandered over. “What’s up, Dingus?”

“Will was just saying how hard it was to find other queers in Hawkins,” Steve explained.

Robin snorted. “Dude, you landed among three of the biggest queers in the whole state.”

Will’s smile lit up his whole face. “Duly noted.”

“Hey, Will,” Jonathan said. “I’m ready to leave. Are you?”

“I’ll be there in a minute!” he said and then gave all three of them a hug. He hesitated a moment and then joined El and Jonathan. They all said goodbye.

That left Wayne, who was leaning against the door frame and Robin.

“You staying the night, Ed?” Wayne asked. “Or are you coming home with me?”

Eddie looked back at Steve, nervously.

“You haven’t been able to spend much time with your Uncle, Eds,” Steve murmured. “It’s okay if that’s what you want to do.”

Eddie’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Steve smiled softly. “It’s a date.” He winked and Eddie blushed.

He pulled Eddie in close for a gentle kiss. “I love you, sunshine.”

“Love you too, sweetheart,” Eddie whispered back.

Eddie and Wayne were almost to the door when they heard Robin squeal.

“You better tell me everything!”

***

Part 14  Part 15 Part 16 Part 17  Part 18  Part 19  Part 20    

Tag List: @anaibis @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @chaoticlovingdreamer @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666  @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @whalesharksart @nburkhardt @snapshotmaestro @shrimply-a-menace @theotalksalot @child-of-cthulhu @bookbinderbitch @cr0w-culture @punctualhowell @obliosworld @eddiemunsonswife @sharingisntkaren @dididisrespectyourbridgegoatman @lillemilly

[523rdrebel]

Chapter 2

Summary: AU/Canon Divergent - Set after the rescue of Crosshair, Omega, and Tech from Mount Tantis. The Batch settles down on Pabu and are, for the moment, able to hide from the Empire. Crosshair, with much grumbling, is convinced to see one of the local doctors to monitor his recovery. Unfortunately for Crosshair, Dr. Isabella Ramót is a ray of sunshine and a breath of fresh air - and totally capable of handling his harsh, rough demeanor.

Trigger Warning: Depiction of Grief, Allusion to PTSD/Trauma.

Rating: SFW, Mature themes

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5, Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 2:

Over the past couple of weeks, Crosshair had been doing his exercises, mostly, and he managed to get himself to eat something periodically throughout the day. Though often it was much less than his meal plan called for, and despite the pang of hunger in his gut, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. He deserved the pain. Tech and Wrecker were the first to come check on him, about a week into his treatment, Wrecker tried invite him fishing which Crosshair declined with an eyeroll and then Tech simply shrugged and begin talking about one subject or another, filling the silence and temporarily quieting Crosshair’s cluttered and labored mind. The next time Tech visited he brought a small tinkering project to work on, to keep his hands busy, until he noticed things that needed repair - a loudly dripping pipe, a creaky door, a sparking keypad. The next week it was Hunter and Omega who came by bringing his favorite citrus candies and showing off how Omega’s aim and control with her bow has improved. Crosshair tried to hide his wince at first but after a while, he found himself unable to care even as he noticed the pain and guilt on their faces. He stared for hours at the footlocker he kept to the side and his mind whispered, You’re not worthy. Too broken. Too weak. 

He met with Doctor Ramót a few times and despite how little he managed to eat, she was pleased with his overall progress. She’d tried to offer alternatives, to which Crosshair only sneered. Ultimately she’d acquiesced, “Eating something is better than nothing.” Every day the memories pressed closer and closer to the surface and every day Crosshair’s effort to push them down, back into their cage, weakened. A cloud hung over him and his mind grew increasingly foggy until he ended his day curled up and alone, squeezing his eyes shut to keep the demons at bay.

Crosshair startled awake drenched in sweat, his head pounding and his body aching from his attempts to push his body to improve over the last couple of weeks. He sits up breath coming in short gasps and his hands grip the sheets to stabilize himself. Pathetic. He sighs and runs a hand run over his head, new hair growth rough on his palm. The feeling helped to ground him slightly. Through the force of sheer willpower, he lifted himself off his bed and limped to the ‘fresher, flinching slightly at his gaunt reflection in the mirror. He growled and forced himself into the shower. The water was scorching but the stinging was like a comfort to him, numbing his skin in a way he couldn’t seem to achieve in his mind.

After he’s dressed, he feels his energy sapping- his knees begin to buckle and he growls in defiance, forcing himself to stay upright.

His next checkup with Dr. Ramót is coming up and he knows that she had planned to review his progress and update his treatment plan, but some unseen force, some dark shadow keeps him in place. His chest is heavy, and his thoughts race, angry voices and flashes of memory torment his mind.

“Execute Order 66”

“Good soldiers follow orders.”

 His lodging feels oppressive and his chest heaves in gasping breaths, Crosshair’s feet lead him with panicked, desperate steps out into the blinding light of the Pabu streets. His vision is blurred but the crushing weight of memories push him onward.

“You sure that Padawan died when he fell?”

“Sure I'm sure. Why?”

“Well, usually when someone falls you look down, not across.”

“Well, some of us don't like to watch.”

The ghosts of his past echo around him, he gasps for breath fighting for control of his mind, his body shaking with the effort. Anger. Guilt. Shame. Fear. Each emotion a sharp stabbing, a deep wound. If you could see the wounds, he’d be bleeding out, covered in the wounds of his creation, pressure of expectation, the dangers of oppression and broken loyalties.

“What are you waiting for? Give the order.”

“We finish the mission.”

“You know why they put me in charge?”

“Because I’m willing to do what needs to be done.”

When he finally stops and collapses to his knees, he’s sweating from exertion. Gasping for breath but only able to achieve shallow halting gulps. He looks out over the cliff towards the ocean view of Pabu, looking but not seeing. 

  “You should see the new armory.”

“He actually cried.”

“Hey, we both did.”

“Disobeying orders again over a kid? Bad play, Hunter.”

“YOU WEREN’T LOYAL TO ME!”

“How long were you on that platform before our cruiser picked you up?”

“32 rotations.”

“Help him!”

"Certainly not."                                    

“You could have saved him!”

 Crosshair’s mind has fought back against him, the isolation, the lack of desire to eat, feeling useless, weak, unworthy. He can’t even lift his rifle. His identity, his purpose, the very reason Crosshair was made, and he isn’t even strong enough to hold it. He is a pain, a burden. Hunter, Wrecker, Tech, or Echo and sometimes Omega, stop by from time to time to get him to join them or simply just to sit with him so he’s not always alone. He can’t take their pity. His stomach churns at the thought but even more at the thought that he wants them, he needs them still. So instead, he shuts them out, and some days he can’t take the inside of his lodging anymore, sometimes he can’t take being alone with his thoughts anymore, but he can’t bother someone else– He doesn’t deserve it.

He tries to focus on the grass, the wind blowing, the sound of water or people living life. He tries to forget being strapped to a table for months and months, being alone on a platform at sea for 32 rotations, fighting against his own mind, struggling to recognize which thoughts are his own, and which belong to the one who saw fit to create him. Sometimes he’s a cadet again, angry at the world for being forced into a role and told to fit in or be tossed out. Decommissioned. It sounded so…cold. Mechanical. And why shouldn’t it–that is what he was, a machine, a weapon, an object, bought and sold, used and thrown out. That is what he was. 

Why am I still here? 

What use am I?

I don’t belong here. 

When does it end?

“Isabella is fine.”

“Oh! Bells is so much better than Izzy!”

“I will do whatever I want with my time…”

----

Isabella had been kept incredibly busy for the past couple of days with a large influx of new patients. A large group of refugees, both clone and nat born, were deposited on Pabu and many needed medical attention. While they had to be careful with when, how, and how often they accepted refugees, Pabu was a willing haven to those who wished to escape the clutches of the increasingly oppressive Empire.

Isabella recruited her friend and occasional assistant, Desi Amaka, to help manage her clinic. They checked over every refugee- men, women, and children, human and non-human, until finally, it was late into the evening they finished their work.

Desi was laying back, black hair splayed out wildly on the medical bed she had just cleared, and let out an exhausted chuckle.

"Izzy?" she rolled her head to the side, looking at Izzy’s form, folded over her cluttered desk, "Next time you want help… I expect payment."

With a faux shock, Isabella lifted her head from her desk and placed the back of her hand on her forehead, "What, the pastries weren't enough this time? I got your favorites!"

"Those were delicious– but next time I want a castle! Or a pleasure cruiser! Or–" She devolved into a fit of delirious giggles.

"How about a bottle of Corellian Brandy instead?"

Desi’s brown eyes sparkle and she holds up a lazy thumbs up, "Deal." She smirks, "Who knew I could be so easily bought."

"I did."

"Don't tell my husband…" Desi murmurs, holding a hand to the side of her mouth.

"Your secret's safe with me." She smiled conspiratorially.

"Hey- We haven't seen your Mr. Grumpy today…"

Isabella’s eyebrows knit together and she lets out a long sigh, "I know, but he's not exactly one for crowds and we have been busy today."

"You could go check on him." Desi’s eyebrows waggle dramatically.

"I did say I wasn't afraid to pester and annoy him…"

"I can't believe you really said that to him! He looks like he'd strangle you just for breathing wrong!"

"Oh, come on, he's not that bad!" Desi fixes her with a flat stare. "He’s really not! He's just… guarded. And hurt. I can understand that."

"Sometimes I wonder how you never seem to run out of compassion."

“Oh, I’ve got a limit… You remember Chezz?”

“Ugh! Chezz– I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so mad! I’m pretty sure you broke his nose.”

“Mess with Desi, you get the fist. I gave him plenty of warning. He just thought I was too soft to do it… jokes on him.”

There is a loud noise from the door as Hunter bursts in, face scrunched in desperate concern.

"Hunter? Is everything alright? Is somebody hurt- is Omega okay?" She quickly hops from her place at the desk holding her hands out to calm him.

His face softens a little, "Omega's fine, Izzy. Don't worry, Echo and Wrecker are keeping an eye on her for the moment."

"What is it?" Her stomach lurches in concern.

Hunter runs a hand through his long hair, a nervous tick she’d noticed, "It's Crosshair. I went to check on him this morning… he's usually pretty solitary and we try to let him have some space. But I- we hadn’t seen him in a while– His door was open and he wasn't there. I asked around and found out he's been sitting out on the Southside Cliff since yesterday evening. He hasn't moved." 

She curses under her breath. Her face stiffens, shifting into a mask of stone, "Show me."

He nods, "I tried to talk to him but he just ignored me. Didn't even growl at me…" and leads her out along the streets of Pabu, up towards the Southside Cliff.

As they crest the top of the grassy hill, Isabella's heart sank to see Crosshair’s tall form hunched on his knees just shy of the edge of the cliff. She motions for Hunter and Desi to stay back and approaches slowly, afraid to startle him. "Crosshair." She calls softly, a gentle caress in the breeze.

He does not react.

Isabella takes a deep breath, releasing it through her nose, to steady herself as a soldier before a battle. She decides to be bold. She takes a few confident strides then sits next to him, sitting crisscross and looking out at the large, seemingly endless ocean.

He does not react to her closeness, so she waits, sitting with him in silence. It is a game of chess, of moving forward, pulling back, reaching and waiting. And now is the time for waiting.

She leans her head back, some of her hair falling loose from her bun to flow lightly with the wind, and closes her eyes. After some time, she hears Crosshair’s posture shift on the grass beside her. Still she waits, keeping her eyes closed and soaking in the sun as it lowers on the horizon.

“Why are you here?” His voice is rough, grating, and dry. It sounds painful.

Isabella dares to open her eyes and is surprised to find Crosshair looking at her, his eyes searching her face for something, but what she could only guess.

“Hunter was worried. So he came to find me.”

He snorts and tries to hide the wince from the pain in his throat. “Couldn’t get me himself so he had to find you?” He sneers down his pointed nose at her, eyes flashing with a complicated mix of anger, hurt, and fear.

She shakes her head, “Hunter did come to you. He said you ignored him, wouldn’t respond. He wasn’t even sure you knew he was there.” By the nearly imperceptible widening of his eyes, Isabella suspected that much was true.

“Well, you’re here. I’m fine. And you can leave.” He snarled and spit, but still did not pull away from her.

“Actually, it’s quite nice out here. I think I’ll stay.”

“Ugh! Why won’t you people just leave me the fuck alone!” He growled, but his voice cracked from so long without use, to his ire and mortification, and softened the edge of his words.

“Maybe we’re just hoping that one day you’ll be happy that we didn’t.” Her voice was soft but genuine.

Crosshair looked at her now, flinching as if he’d been struck. Confusion flashes in his eyes followed quickly by anger, “And maybe that’s too much of a risk.”

“I guess I’m a gambler then.” She tilts her head toward him slightly and winks, ‘Higher the risk, higher the reward.”

He rolls his eyes, “You’ve always got the answer, then, is that it?”

Isabella shakes her head, more hair falling loose from her messy bun, “No. I’ve just learned that pain, anger, fear– they’re a part of life that we can’t always escape…  but we can learn how to drown them out. We can learn to face the pain, anger, and fear and suddenly, it doesn’t seem to look so strong or so big.”

He snorts, face twisting in disgust, “Maybe that works for you, Bells. But that’s not for me.”

She regards him with a kind, gentle smile, “Well… not yet, I suppose. But it could be.”

He growls, but doesn’t respond, a startling warmth chasing away some of the fog in his brain. Her presence clears the noise, if only temporarily, and Crosshair begins to wonder what she has that breaks through his defenses so easily. Perhaps he can be convinced to take a risk - to hope.

Taglist: @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @secondaryrealm @arctrooper69 @blueink-bluesoul @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @dystopicjumpsuit @idontgetanysleep @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @yubnubhub

I really hope this came out the way I was envisioning it... *nervous*

[photogirl894]

Hello! I was wondering I could request 4, 8, 23 and 24 with Crosshair x fem!reader? like Crosshair and the reader have crushes on eachother and reader knows her feelings but Crosshair doesn't and he's just so new to physical affection and he's like "what is this? Am I sick?"

Hey there, friend! Aw man, that's such a cute concept and I love it! I hope you like this one!

"Lovesick"

4. A hug after not seeing someone for a long time

8. Brushing hands by accident

23. A hug that some might consider as "too long"

24. Confusing a handshake for a fist bump

Pairing: Crosshair x fem reader

***

Crosshair wasn't certain when he suddenly found himself attracted to you...and it was making him question things about himself.

Had it started when you had first met the Bad Batch after being assigned to them as their medic? When Hunter made him be polite and offer a handshake in greeting and instead, you'd given him a fist bump to try and catch him off guard? That first day, the squad learned pretty quickly that you were a quirky, bubbly, optimistic woman; a kind of person they were certainly not used to. Though, the others had seemed to warm up to you pretty quickly. It was still taking Crosshair a little bit to get used to you, though.

Or had it started when you both had reached for a bacta patch in the med bay one day when you were attending to him and your hands had accidentally brushed together? He swore there had been a light electric shock sent through him upon feeling your skin in such a gentle way. It felt smooth and pleasant to the touch, though he would never say that out loud.

However, recently, you had been temporarily reassigned to another Clone squad who had lost their medic and needed a substitute medic until they were given a new one. You'd been gone for a few weeks now and Clone Force 99 was starting to miss you. Even Crosshair found he was missing you...and it was messing with his head something fierce.

There was just something about you that made it so he couldn't get you off his mind. Was he going soft? No, that wasn't possible. He was a soldier, there was no way he could go soft, especially not over a woman. Perhaps there was something wrong with him. Maybe he was sick or something. That was the only way to explain why you were the only thing he could think about and focus on.

One day, he snuck Tech's datapad away from his brother and snuck out into the cockpit of the Marauder. He tried using it to scan his temperature and bodily functions to see if he was sick in some way. Though, every time he looked, things looked normal. That couldn't be right.

"Worthless thing," he muttered, smacking the side of it with his hand.

"What are you doing?" he then heard Tech's voice ask and when he turned, he saw both Tech and Echo standing just a few feet away.

"Your datapad is broken," Crosshair replied.

"That is impossible. I calibrated it myself," Tech stated. "Perhaps it is user error."

Crosshair just sneered at him before tossing the datapad back to him.

"Why were you scanning yourself?" inquired Echo.

"I thought I was sick or something, but it doesn't matter," said Crosshair, folding his arms across his chest.

"It has to do with (Y/N), doesn't it?"

Crosshair's head whipped around so quickly, he almost gave himself whiplash, his eyes flashing with irritated shock.

"It wasn't that hard to figure out. You've been different; more distracted since she left," Echo clarified. Then a slight grin crossed his face. "You're not sick, Crosshair...you're just lovesick."

"Stow it, I am not," Crosshair shot back.

"Then perhaps it will please you to know that she sent word that she will be returning to us and will meet us when we arrive on Coruscant," Tech then said.

Despite his best efforts, Crosshair couldn't fully hide the delight in his eyes upon hearing you'd be coming back and both Echo and Tech exchanged knowing glances.

Before long, they reached Coruscant and saw you were already on the landing platform waiting for them. You ran to each member of the Bad Batch and gave each of them a quick hug, exclaiming "I'm so glad to see you guys again!" as you did so.

When you reached Crosshair, he tried to refuse and resist your advance, but you weren't going to let the grumpy Clone off that easy. You wrapped your arms around his slender waist and hugged him the tightest, having admittedly missed him the most in your time away. Crosshair stood there awkwardly with his arms out, wondering what he should even do. He expected the hug to be quick like it had been with the others, but you weren't letting go yet. He had to do something instead of standing there like an idiot. Gradually, his arms came down and barely touched your shoulders as if touching you was going to harm him. However, as he looked down on you, he felt his entire body beginning to warm up at your embrace; a warmth that felt different than anything else he'd experienced before. All of a sudden, his arms enfolded you into him and he hugged you back just as closely.

Your absence had seemingly left a hole inside him he hadn't realized had been there until this moment. Your presence in his life, even if you were a bit too enthusiastic at times for his liking, was something he found he needed and never wanted to lose. He supposed he was more used to you than he initially thought. Your hug was lasting longer than he expected, but deep down, he never wanted it to end, feeling as though he could hold you for forever. You were too precious to him...and he was glad to finally understand why he'd been feeling so off in recent weeks.

"Don't ever leave me for that long again, do you hear me?" he whispered into your ear, only realizing too late he had said "me" instead of "us".

You chuckled, a sound that was music to his ears. "I won't leave you, Crosshair, I promise," you said quietly back. Your arms tightened around him. "I missed you most of all."

"I--I missed you, too," he said.

Crosshair supposed Echo had been right: he was lovesick...and you were his only cure.

Physical Affection prompts

More Crosshair fics

Bad Batch Writing Requests

[bullet-prooflove]

Hi can you do #53 "I heard he spent last night with her." from your Wednesday Radio Show Prompt List #16 with Mike Duarte, please. Thank you.

Companion piece to Call Waiting

Ties into the Hallmark universe:

Hallmark (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe watches you fall in love with another man.

Be With Me (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe tells you how he feels.

Placeholder (feat: Mike Duarte) - Mike fears he’s a placeholder.

Think About It (feat: Mike Duarte) - Joe recalls what happened the night of Fin’s engagement party.

Positive - Mike finds out about what happened between you and Joe.

Five Months - You and Mike catch up.

Baby Talk - Joe and you have a frank talk about co-parenting.

Replacements - Joe and Mike discuss their issues.

"I heard he spent last night with her." Sean Devero, your handler tells Mike when he approaches him about the missed check ins. “More than a couple of nights, it’s probably why she hasn’t called. She can’t take the risk with him being there.”

“What’s he doing there?” Mike asks him as his elbows come to rest upon his desk.

“Probably auditioning her ability to make the product.” Devero tells him. “It takes eight hours to make a good batch, they need to get as much product on the market as possible because they’re into deep to the Niners.”

“Have you actually seen her though?” Mike asks the other man. “Have you actually laid eyes on her or any of the product?”

Devero clears his throat, his gaze lowering under the intensity of Mike’s.

“So, your UC hasn’t checked in and you haven’t actually seen her in what a week?” Mike pushes, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand up.

Devero’s jaw tenses as he meets Mike’s gaze.

“It’s been almost two weeks.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Mike erupts, raising to his feet, his palms slamming down on the desk. “She’s been missing for two weeks, and you haven’t raised a flag.”

“You know how it goes with undercover operations.” Devero argues, gesturing at Mike. “Sometimes you’ve got to give your UCs time to work. Look, I know the two of you have a thing…”

The look Mike gives him is enough to make even the hardened perp curl up into a ball and cry for his mother.

“She’s my partner. My life partner. She has a baby at home whose missing her mother. ” He spits at the other man. “I want to know every single thing about this operation, about her cover, about your target. We’re taking over this shitshow.”

“You can’t do that.” Devero snaps at him.

“Yes, I fucking can.” Mike retaliates, jabbing his finger at Devero. “And I swear to God if there is a one hair harmed on her head, you won’t ever see the light of day. I’ll make sure of it.”

@resonmalvo @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @wooshwastaken @hearthockey @justreblogginfics @rosaliedepp @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @whateversomethingbruh @burningpeachpuppy @legit9thlunaticwarrior @kiwiithecrazybird @spooky-pomegranate @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @plaidbooks @witches-unruly-heart @magic-multicolored-miracle @cycat4077 @deekaag @cixrosie @upsteadlogic @imaginecrushes @kiwiithecrazybird @anime-weeb-4-life @hey-dw @alwaysachorusgirl @nu1freakshow

[ejzah]

Can you write a fanfic set between the events of late season 4/early season 5 just before Sam finally accepts Deeks after all this time. Hetty witnesses a real hostile moment where she clearly sees Sam being unfair and critical of Deeks during an important mission despite the fact Deeks did his job to the absolute best and height of his abilites. Despite this, Sam still gives Deeks a hard time and so Hetty takes Sam aside and gives him a firm scolding of his unfair treatment.

A/N: As always when I write Hetty these days, I have mixed feelings. While Deeks is/was perfectly capable of defending himself, I think Hetty could have done more to intervene when he was mistreated.

***

Can You See What’s Right Before your Eyes?

“Did you guys finish the weapons audit?” Callen asked, going through the checklist Nell passed on from Hetty every month.

“Yup,” Deeks answered. “And as always, Kensi had the time of her life.”

“Once again, I only enjoy cleaning my own weapons,” she clarified, inclining. “And that’s mostly the knives.”

“Sexy,” he commented with a wink in Kensi’s direction.

“Moving on,” Callen prompted with a pointed clearing of his throat. He nodded to Sam across the room. “Did you review those files Nell gave you?”

“Yeah, another batch of rookies. Hetty’s having a couple come by next week,” Sam said, gesturing to two files on his desk. “The usual drill, they’ll shadow one of us for part of the day in the field to see what we do here and get a chance for some hands-on training. The job is open for any takers.”

“I’ll do it,” Deeks volunteered, gaining a raised eyebrow of surprise from Kensi.

“Oh, that’s very generous of you,” she commented. “You must want something.” Deeks rolled his eyes, knowing she was mostly joking.

“All of you already owe me favors I haven’t cashed in on.” He waved his index finger in a figure to encompass the bullpen and OPS. “No, you guys always complain about having to deal with rookie agents, and since I actually enjoy meeting new people—most of the time—why not? I know, it’ll be tough for you to be separated from me for so long.” He batted his eyelashes at Kensi, who scoffed, overplaying her disgust slightly.

“As if.”

Callen and Sam had watched their whole conversation play out without comment. Deeks turned to them, pretty much expecting the arrangement to be a done deal, but after another moment, Sam shook his head.

“No, I’m not comfortable with that,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Deeks asked, making an incredulous noise. When Sam didn’t crack a smile, he realized he was completely serious. “Why not?”

“You’re not an agent.”

“In all but name. I do the same exact job as all of you, turn in the same reports, risk my life practically every day. What is there to object about?”

Deeks had grown used to his tumultuous relationship with Sam, and had noticed an uptick in the pointed comments, insults, and slights directed his way recently. He’d put it down to the stress of everything going on with Sidorov and Michelle, so had excused it for the most part. None of them were at their best when concerned about a loved one.

This though, was unnecessary.

Sam shrugged dismissively in response to Deeks’ challenge, shaking his head. “You don’t have the same training, you didn’t take the same oath, don’t have the background we do.” He gestured between himself and Deeks now, like it was obvious. “You’re a cop, I’m an agent. We’re not the same.”

“Actually, I think you’ll find I’m an LAPD Liaison, with a rank of Detective,” Deeks corrected with false pleasantry.

“Deeks, we want these kids coming in to learn the proper protocol and have a good example of our work,” Sam said, and Kensi made a soft noise of shock.

“Sam,” she objected, looking vaguely horrified. Callen for his part, was determinedly staring at his computer. He never did like to get involved in these types of conflicts.

“No, it’s ok,” Deeks said, even though bitterness mixed with disbelief filled him. He pasted on a smile that he was sure came off more menacing than anything. “Sam has made his opinion perfectly clear.” He pushed back from his desk. “Have fun answering all those rookie questions, Sam. I know you love that part.”

***

“Mr. Hanna, would you mind coming over her for a moment?” Hetty called from her desk while everyone headed out for the day. As usual, it was voiced as a request, but was in reality a demand.

He walked over, offering a half-smile. “Callen agrees to handle the rookies. All the other monthly duties are up to date,” he reported, anticipating her question.

“That’s good to know,” she replied, waiting a beat, hands steepled, her eyes burrowing into him in a way that would never not be unnerving. She pursed her lips, speaking slowly. “However, that’s not why I asked you to stay behind.”

“Then what’s going on?”

“I overheard your discussion with Mr. Deeks this morning.”

“What conversation?” He’d had half a dozen “conversations” with Deeks, most of which made him what to smack the detective. He didn’t know why, but some days everything Deeks did seemed to annoy him.

“The one about the visiting rookie agents. I heard Deeks offer to work with them, quite generously, might I say,” she explained, pausing yet again. “I also heard your response to that offer.”

Sam smiled, knowing where this was going now. “And let me guess, Deeks complained about it.”

“Mr. Deeks said nothing to me. I believe you know he fights his own battles. No, this is about why you don’t think Deeks can handle the task and why you felt the need to undermine his abilities.”

“It’s Deeks, Hetty,” Sam said. “He’s unpredictable, unreliable, rebellious—”

“Regardless of his pedigree, Deeks is none of those things. To the contrary, he’s one of the very best operators this team has ever seen. Yes, he’s a maverick many times, but that is what makes him so useful to this team.”

Sam set his jaw, frustrated by what felt like an unearned scolding. Hetty stared back with an annoying wide-eyed expression.

“Certainly, you’ve benefitted from his out-of-the-box thinking yourself many times. And even if you can’t appreciate his methods, then you can’t deny Deeks would do anything to protect this team and those we defend.”

“I’m not apologizing to him,” Sam said.

“No, I don’t expect you to. I do, however, expect you to treat Deeks with the respect he has earned and deserves. Is that understood?”

“Yeah, I got it,” Sam confirmed, tapping his knuckle on Hetty’s desk.

“Good.” She nodded. “Have a good night, Sam.”

“Thanks.” He smiled back, tempering his annoyance at Hetty. At Deeks and his floppy hair and inability to conform.

***

A/N: Hope this is all right.

Thanks for the prompt!