#i used console commands to bring him back though

[chibinasuu]

Promises | Law x Reader

Summary: Law breaks the news to the Heart Pirates that he's going on a solo mission to Punk Hazard. Tags: sfw, angst-to-fluff, mutual pining, confession, first kiss, slight spoiler for punk hazard/dressrosa/zou, GN but written with F!reader in mind, no use of y/n

The dining hall of the Polar Tang was so silent you could hear a pin drop. 

Every member of the Heart Pirates was frozen in place. No one had the nerve to breathe a single word against the Captain’s orders, despite the strong urge to protest visible in their clenched jaws and fists.  

“Sail on to Zou without me.”

The Captain’s final sentence rang again and again in your head. The directive was straightforward and indisputable, but you just couldn’t wrap your mind around what he was asking his crew to do. 

You felt a pressure slowly building in your chest, a lump forming in your throat. An avalanche of emotions washed over you in quick succession, and you recoiled when you realized that the strongest was a feeling of betrayal.

Was he seriously telling his crew to leave him behind? Did he not trust you all? What good was a crew without its captain and a captain without its crew?

The more rational part of your brain eventually took over and you let yourself fall into a reluctant acceptance. Your Captain was a determined man. Once he had put his mind on something, there was nothing anyone could say that could change his decision. 

Law must have had his reasons for sending you all away to Zou while he confronted Caesar Clown by himself. You had your suspicions of said reasons, and you were screaming on the inside, begging him to not do this alone – to actually allow himself to depend on his crew for once. But, you kept your mouth shut, just like everyone else. 

You and Law had gotten close over the years since you joined the Heart Pirates, way back when it was a small band of six. Aside from his three childhood friends, you knew him more than anyone else on this submarine.

However, before all that, he was your Captain first, and you have always held a deep respect for his authority. The only thing you could do right now, as his crew member, was to follow his orders. As a friend, though, you could feel your heart clenching with immense worry for him. 

Law’s expression was stern and unyielding. He was holding his hat in his hands, leaving his eyes bare as he stared down his crew, daring them to voice an objection to his command. 

A sniffle broke the silence, and you looked to your right to find Bepo quivering as he tried to hold back his tears. You rubbed your palm softly against his back to console him, despite your being in emotional turmoil yourself.

You knew Law had probably told Bepo about the plan beforehand, seeing as he was one of the Captain’s closest confidants, and also the fact that his birthplace was supposedly the Polar Tang’s next destination. 

Penguin was the first to speak up. He took a deep breath and clapped his hands once to get the crew’s attention, “Alright, folks, you heard the Captain. We’re not far from Punk Hazard – should be arriving by dawn tomorrow. We’ll drop off the Captain there, then we’ll immediately set course for Zou.”

“Is that all, Captain?" Shachi stood up, the screech of his metal chair scraping the floor piercing the air, "I have some chores I need to get to.”

Law’s gaze softened in gratitude at his best friends’ effort to diffuse the tense atmosphere, “Yes, you’re all dismissed.”

A weak chorus of “Aye, aye, Sir” echoed throughout the hall as the Heart Pirates dispersed, clearing the tables and bringing their empty dishes to the kitchen sink. The crew had barely finished dinner when Law dropped the bomb with his announcement, but now, nobody could even recall what was on the menu anymore. 

You headed toward the sink. It was your turn to do the dishes tonight, and as much as you didn’t want to do it, a duty was still a duty. You unzipped your boiler suit halfway, took out your arms, and tied together the long sleeves on your waist, leaving your upper body in just a loose, white tank top. Then, you got to work.  

One by one, the Heart Pirates filed out of the room, until only one other person remained. 

Your Captain sat on the main table with his head clutched in his hands, still weighed down by the burden of telling his crew about his plan. Most of all, Law felt guilty for his selfishness. For ordering you all to leave him, when he knew that was the last thing his crew wanted. The Heart Pirates’ unconditional loyalty to him always left him abashed, but he also admired it. He truly couldn’t ask for a better crew, for better friends, for a better family... and now he was sending you all away. 

However, he also knew that he couldn’t in his right conscience involve his crew in his ridiculous ploy. This was not some random trouble the crew was used to while sailing through the Grand Line. This time, Law himself was going to purposefully stir the pot, inciting conflict that would have a warlord and an emperor going after his head. 

No, he couldn’t let all of you get caught in this mess. 

After a while, his eyes found you, watching your back silently as you worked. You didn’t acknowledge his presence, instead choosing to focus on your chore. Dishes after dirty dishes, your hands worked on autopilot while your mind was going a million miles per hour, trying to figure out what to say to your Captain.

The sound of running water died as you turned off the tap, plunging the room into an even more excruciating silence. You were drying your hands on the towel hanging above the sink when you heard Law softly call out your name. 

You paused but refused to turn around, afraid that your face would betray all of the emotions you kept bottled inside. 

The tap, tap, tap of his shoes against the metal floor of the submarine felt more deafening than a cannon fire, growing louder and louder as he approached you. 

He was close, too close. You shuddered when his breath tickled the back of your neck as he called your name again. 

When you stayed silent, he asked, “Are you upset? That I didn’t tell you first about the plan?”

You couldn’t contain the slight shakiness in your voice as you replied, “I trust you know what you’re doing, Captain.”

“That’s not what I asked you.”

His voice sounded so vulnerable that it broke you.

Your lips started trembling as tears pricked your eyes. You blinked them back stubbornly, not wanting Law to know how troubled you actually were about him leaving – how worried you were that he was going off alone into what seemed to be an evil scientist’s secret lair. 

Law’s hands came to rest on the sink on either side of you, caging you in. He placed his forehead gently upon your shoulder. You noticed that his hat was still absent, abandoned somewhere on the dining table. 

One of his hands hesitantly moved to your hip, his thumb slowly drawing circles on your clothed skin.

You couldn’t help feeling like a line was starting to be crossed here.

That thin, delicate line between friends and something more that you and Law had always tiptoed around.

“Law–“ You started to breathe out, but he cut you off. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you first. I wanted to. You know–“

It was your turn to cut him off as you shook your head, “You had no obligation to tell me first, Law. I’m one of your crew members, same as everybody else here. It was only right I found out when they did.” 

“I told Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi a few days ago.”

You rolled your eyes even though he can’t see it, “They’re different and you know it. I know how special they are to you.”

Law took his other hand away from the sink. His slender fingers ghosted over your waist tentatively, before he fully committed to wrapping both of his arms tightly around your middle. 

His uncharacteristically bold display of affection surprised you, leaving you breathless and your heart racing erratically. 

You and Law have had your fair share of casual hugs, but he had never held you so close like this before. 

He was holding you as if he never wanted to let go – as if you were the last life vest in a sinking boat. 

He shifted his head slightly, burying his face in your neck, and your face heated up at the feeling of his lips grazing your skin as he mumbled something unintelligible. 

“Come again?”

“I said,” He grasped your hips and turned you around to face him. Your breath hitched at the sudden closeness between your faces, and his eyes met yours as he confessed, “You’re special to me too. More than you know.”

His forehead creased as he calculated his next words. 

”You’re more than just my crew member,” he paused before adding softly, the words nearly inaudible, “And… more than a friend.”

Your heart was threatening to jump out of your chest at his honesty. Until now, you refused to even entertain the possibility of your Captain returning your long-hidden feelings, not wanting to ruin the pleasant dynamics that you two already had. But with this… was it okay for you to finally hope for more? To want more?

“You want to know why I didn’t tell you about the plan?” Law continued, “I knew that even a slight look of disapproval from you would have me throwing the whole idea out the window. And I really can’t do that right now, not when the opportunity is right there. Not when I’m this close to my goal. I can't miss this chance.” 

He drew a breath resolutely, “You understand I have to go through with this, right? For Cora-san.”

There it was, you thought. You had figured that was why he wanted to do this by himself.

After years of sailing together, you had come to know bits and pieces about Law’s past – about Flevance and his family, about his white lead disease, and how he cured himself with the Op-Op Fruit. 

But he never told you how he got his Devil Fruit. Not until the night of his 26th birthday. 

You had found him alone on the deck of the Polar Tang, sitting under the sky full of stars with a barely sipped bottle of rum clutched in his hand.

“I’m now as old as he’d ever be.”

He had collapsed into your arms and told you all about Corazon then, the bottle of alcohol passed back and forth between you. 

That was the first and only time that you ever saw him cry. 

How could you possibly stop him from avenging the man he owed his life to?  

“Law, I’m not opposed to your plan.”

He let out a pleased sigh as you reached up and threaded your fingers in his hair. You chuckled softly, “From what little you told us, I could already tell it’s quite a brilliant one.”

The corner of his lips turned up in a smirk at your praise, but you continued, “I just wished there was a way for you to include us in it too. We’re your crew. Your family. You don’t have to do this alone.”

He shook his head, “This is my mess. I can’t drag you all into this.”

“That’s what families do, Law.” You said with a small smile, “They drag themselves into each other’s messes all the time.”

You didn’t give him a chance to argue as you put a finger to his lips, “But, if you think this is the best way, then I trust you.”

His eyes shone with gratitude at your support, your understanding, and most importantly, the trust you had in him. 

He cupped your face in his hands and touched his lips gently to your forehead, “Thank you.”

The gesture somehow felt too much like a goodbye, and you didn’t like that. At all. 

Before he could pull away, you gripped the front of his sweatshirt, “Promise me you’ll come back to us.”

Law hesitated. 

And that was how you knew how little he considered his own safety in this grand scheme of his. He wasn’t even sure he could give his word that he’d safely return. 

“Law.” You said urgently, “Promise me.”

His heart fell when he saw your beautiful face painted with distress.

“The Heart Pirates need their Captain. We can’t lose you.” The tremble in your voice worsened with each word, “I can’t lose you.”

Law was a smart man, and the implication behind your emphasis was not lost on him. His hand found yours as he vowed, “I don’t know what will happen on that mission, but I promise I’ll do everything in my power to get back to you.”

You let out a sigh of relief. You knew that once he put his mind to something, he’d damn well do anything to fulfill it.

“Can you promise me something too, then?”

You looked up at Law curiously, but nodded nonetheless. 

“Wait for me.” He said firmly, before continuing in a slightly lower voice, “Promise me you’ll be there for me. When this is all over.”

You knew that taking down Doflamingo would take a toll on him, even likely break him, physically and mentally. But, you’d be there for him – to help him pick up the pieces and rebuild them into something stronger – if that was what he wanted. Of course, you would. 

“I promise.” Your thumb caress his cheek tenderly, “I’ll wait for you at Zou.”

“Good,” Law said, and with that, he moved his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you to him. 

You gasped when his lips crashed into yours. 

His lips were warm, and soft – softer than you could ever imagine. 

In his kiss, Law poured out all of his unsaid feelings, of his desperation and yearning, of his regrets for not doing this sooner. 

Your arms circled his neck, tugging him in as close as possible. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hoping your lips would also tell him what your words couldn't. 

It was the need for oxygen that finally broke you apart. 

The intense gaze in which Law looked upon you was too much for your heart to handle, so you buried your face into his chest instead. You could feel the strong, quick thumps of his heartbeat, and it satisfied you to know that the kiss affected him as much as it did you.

“You’re not fair,” You mumbled into his sweatshirt, “Doing that the night before you leave.”

“Sorry,” Law chuckled as he held you tight against him, “I couldn’t help myself.”

You stayed in each other’s embrace in the empty dining hall, under the harsh fluorescent lights. The temperature inside the submarine was low, as always, but you didn’t feel cold at all, wrapped in your Captain’s arms. 

“Stay with me tonight.”

You could only nod and follow along as he led you by the hand into his quarters. 

You both knew he needed to rest – he needed all the energy he could get to begin his mission at dawn – but the adrenaline from your earlier moment and the anxiety for what was coming kept sleep away from the both of you.

Law ended up giving you a detailed review of his plans as you both lay on his bed, outlining every single step of his mission from the beginning to the desired end. You felt yourself growing more and more confident of his chances the more you listened to his cunning and meticulously crafted ploy. 

The room was plunged into silence when Law finished recounting his plans. The seconds ticked by, becoming minutes, then hours. But however long time passed with your arms around each other, it still wasn’t enough for you. 

At one point, he reluctantly disentangled himself from you and reached into the bag he had packed for his mission. He took out a pristine sheet of paper, ripped a small piece from it, and gave it to you. 

You watched as the Vivre Card on your palm inched slowly in his direction.

“I want you to have it,” Law said as he closed your fist over the paper, “As long as it stays whole, you’ll know that I’m alright.”

You flung your arms around his neck, “I swear if so much as a wisp of smoke comes out of this piece of paper, I will find you and kill you myself.”

Law only chuckled as he held you once more. He was just about to say something when the jarring sound of a knock interrupted him.

You and Law jumped apart as Penguin’s voice came from behind the metal door, “Captain, we’re in range of Punk Hazard.” 

“I’ll be right out.” Law replied, his voice steady despite trying to hold back a laugh as he saw the panic in your face. 

You buried your burning face in your hands as Law finally let himself laugh once Penguin’s footsteps were out of earshot. 

When you were sure that Penguin was gone, you told Law, “I should probably get back to the bunks before anyone else wakes up.” 

Law didn’t want you to go just yet, but he nodded anyway. He peeked out the hallway, giving you the all-clear when he saw that it was empty. 

Before you stepped out of the room, you couldn’t resist stealing one more peck from his lips, leaving him stunned and red-faced. 

“I’ll see you in a bit, Captain.”

After you freshened up – thankfully without anyone inquiring where you were last night – you joined your crewmates on deck to see Law off. 

Punk Hazard’s half-ice, half-fire terrain was a menacing sight, and instantly, the worry you felt for Law came rushing back in. You forced yourself to calm down. You had faith in him, and after all, he promised he’d come back to you. 

Despite the crew's frustration when Law announced his plan yesterday, they were all smiles now, preferring to send their Captain off with high spirits and support rather than reproach. Your navigator’s eyes were still glassy with tears, but you could tell he was also trying to put on a brave face for his Captain. 

“Bepo!” Law clapped the mink’s shoulder, “Lead them safely to Zou for me, yeah?”

Bepo clung to him, rubbing his face all over Law’s and shedding white fur all over the front of his clothes, “Of course, Captain! I’ll make you proud!”

Law turned to his two other best friends, “You two are in charge. Don’t burn down my submarine.”

Penguin and Shachi mock-saluted him, the redhead grinning mischievously, “You can count on us. No promises that I wouldn’t take over the Captain's quarters in your absence, though!”

Law rolled his eyes at the joke, then turned to address the whole crew, his lips drawn in a thin smile. 

“Safe travels.” He said, as if your journey was even half as dangerous as his, “I’ll see you all at Zou.”

“Aye, aye, Sir!”

The formality broke away as the Heart Pirates smothered Law with hugs, pats on the back, and sloppy smooches on his cheeks. 

Law never seemed to show it, and he would rather die than admit it, but you knew he secretly enjoyed the attention from his overly affectionate crew. 

Once they all had their fill with the farewells, he turned to you at last. In full view of everyone, he pulled you into a tight embrace. 

Some eyebrows were definitely raised when he held you just a bit longer than what was deemed appropriate for a merely friendly hug.

“Promise me you’ll be careful.” You whispered into his ear. 

You had lost count of how many promises had been exchanged between the two of you since last night, but he simply nodded, “I promise.” 

He subtly pressed his lips to your temple – just a touch, not enough to be noticeable by the rest of the crew. With a last squeeze, he released you and walked toward the railing. 

“Room.” 

The Heart Pirates cheered their good lucks and farewells once more as a massive blue dome surrounded the Tang, extending all the way to the edge of the island.

His eyes locked onto yours with determination, silently reassuring you that he’ll remember your promises. You gave him a small smile and a nod of encouragement. 

Law put his hand out in front of him and uttered, “Shambles!”

And then he was gone. 

In his place was a small frozen pebble that he had exchanged positions with.

You picked it up and rolled it around between your fingers, feeling the ice slowly melt as it met your warm hand. Your other hand reached into the pocket of your boiler suit, ensuring the piece of paper was still safely in your possession. You hung on to it as if it were Law’s lifeline, which it might as well be if you thought about it.  

The Heart Pirates went inside, preparing for the imminent sailing to Zou. No one said a word when you stayed behind on the deck, watching Punk Hazard getting smaller and smaller in the distance until it disappeared from the horizon.

The pebble eventually lost all of its coldness, and you pocketed it alongside the Vivre Card.

“Oi, the course is set." Penguin’s voice pulled you out of your trance, "We’re ready to submerge.”

He and Shachi positioned themselves on either side of you, throwing their arms around your shoulders. 

Penguin cleared his throat and grinned cheekily, “A little heads-up: the whole submarine is abuzz with the newest hot goss. Apparently, someone didn’t return to the bunks last night after dish duties.”

“That long-ass embrace you shared with the Captain before he left isn't helping your case either,” Shachi added unhelpfully. 

You groaned, mortified that the crew had likely put two and two together and suspected where you had spent the night.

“But seriously, though, what the hell was that?” Penguin bumped his shoulder to yours, “Did something happen between you two?” 

Shachi laughed, “What, did he finally grow some balls and admit his feelings to you?” 

Your silence and averted gaze were enough of an answer for them. 

The two gawked at your bashful reaction, not actually expecting Shachi’s guess to be spot on. They both knew about your and the Captain’s feelings for each other, and were even at the point where they thought of interfering, but it seemed like the two of you didn’t need their meddling after all. 

You grimaced as you noticed them eyeing each other with matching shit-eating grins.

This was going to be a long, long journey to Zou. 

a/n: I've been working on this fic for so long, it's quite unreal that I'm finally letting it see the light of day. If you've read my fics before then you'd know I mostly just write fluff, so writing this was kinda an experiment for me. I do want to get better at writing angst, though, so please please please let me know what you think in the comments or tags! I really hope you enjoyed this fic <3

update: i wasn’t sure at first if i wanted to write a part 2 with the zou reunion, but it’s officially in the works now! it’s gonna take a while for me to finish, but please let me know if you want to be tagged once it’s up!

↳ masterlist

[vingtetunmars]

Unlisted

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Summary: After the encounter with another bounty hunter, Din finally confronted the truth he’d been avoiding—he didn’t want to turn her in.

Part 1 / Part 3

Tags: Enemies to Lovers-ish?, smut(18+) in later part, Grogu plays matchmaker, set after season 3, slow burn, pre-relationship, protective Din Djarin, they're a family they just don't know it yet, star wars content that may or may not be canon. No mentions of Y/N.

A/N: Here's the next part! If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3k

masterlist

The cockpit was still bathed in the cool, flickering light of hyperspace.

Mando pressed a few quiet commands into the Crest’s comms panel. No official channels. No traceable frequency. Just a backdoor Teva had given him for "off the record" updates — the kind that didn’t go through New Republic ears.

The transmission crackled. Then it connected.

Teva’s voice came through, low and a bit groggy. “Mandalorian?”

“It’s me.”

“Didn’t expect to hear from you until drop-off. Something wrong with the ship?”

“No.”

A pause. “The target?”

Another pause. “She’s on board.”

“Well, that’s good news. I was worried she’d out-tech even you. What’s going on?”

Mando hesitated. His gloved thumb hovered over the edge of the console, then curled into a fist.

“You didn’t say why they wanted her.”

Teva exhaled. “That’s because I don’t know. I pulled the job from a high-priority channel. No crime list. No warrants logged in the central system, not even under her name — just a location ping, a bounty order, and a warning that she’s dangerous.”

“She is,” Mando said. “But not in the way they think.”

“She tell you something?”

Mando didn’t answer.

“Look,” Teva continued, his voice more serious now, “I trust your instincts. Always have. But if she’s lying, she’s doing a damn good job of it. And if she’s not…” he trailed off. “Then she’s neck-deep in something the higher-ups don’t want traced.”

Silence again, save for the hum of the ship.

“Are you asking me if you should let her go?”

“No,” Mando said, too quickly. Then, quieter: “Not yet.”

Teva didn’t press. “You’ve got time before drop. Figure out what you believe. But Mando—if it’s something big, something real—don’t bring it to me. Not through official channels.”

“You think they’d silence you too?”

“I think you already know the answer.”

The line went quiet. Then a soft click — transmission ended.

Mando leaned back in the pilot’s chair.

Still alone.

Still no closer to a choice.

And somewhere beneath him, in the hold, the woman who was supposed to be his prisoner slept beside the child who trusted her.

He didn’t like what that meant.

He didn’t like that he hadn’t already made up his mind.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You weren’t sure how long it had been. Days, maybe.

The hold of the Razor Crest didn’t have windows. The only clue time passed at all was when the lighting dimmed at night, or when Grogu curled up beside your boots and snored in his odd little way.

You’d expected to be handed over by now. Processed. Frozen, maybe. You’d braced yourself for it.

But the ship kept going.

Not to a New Republic outpost. Not to Adelphi. Not to anything that looked like official business.

Just… somewhere else.

You watched from the hold — from the edge of the ladder, wrists still free, though your cuffs hung within reach of Mando’s belt whenever he passed — as he picked up two side bounties on backwater planets.

One was a merc with a drinking problem and a broken leg. The other was a petty thief who ran the moment Mando stepped into the bar.

Both jobs were easy. Too easy for someone like him. Barely worth the time.

And both felt like delays.

You didn’t ask. Not out loud. Just kept your hood up and your mouth shut, feeding Grogu bits of dried fruit when Mando wasn’t looking.

He didn’t say much to you, either. When he did speak, it was usually short.

“Sit.”

“Don’t touch that.”

“Watch your hands.”

But sometimes he’d say, “Eat this,” and slide you a ration pack across the floor.

You wondered if he was waiting for something. A signal. A clearer order. Or maybe…

Maybe he was doubting it. All of it.

Your eyes would flick to the cockpit ladder sometimes, when he was up there too long. Just listening. Wondering if he was calling someone. Asking what to do about you.

The kid liked you. You knew that.

Mando didn’t.

But he didn’t hate you either.

And that was something.

You reached down to scratch Grogu behind the ear as he dozed beside you. He chirped, rolled closer, his tiny clawed hand gripping the hem of your cloak.

You smiled faintly, but it didn’t last.

Because you didn’t know how long this would last. Or what happened when he finally decided to stop stalling.

You were still cargo. Just not delivered yet.

Days eventually got more blurry.

You weren’t sure when it started to feel normal.

Maybe it was the second week. Or maybe the third. Time blurred in space, especially when the same three walls wrapped around your life.

But routine settled in.

Every morning, you’d wake to Grogu climbing on your chest, chirping expectantly. You’d groan, he’d giggle, and Mando would grunt from nearby. “He likes breakfast early.”

You started sharing meals.

Not face to face — you knew better. He always faced the wall, and you learned to knock first, wait, sit opposite. Backs turned, knees close. No questions asked. You never tried to catch a glimpse. And that, somehow, made him trust you more.

He cleaned weapons. You organized the medkits. He piloted. You repaired a frayed wiring cluster that made the engine whine. He didn’t thank you for that. But he didn’t undo it, either.

He taught Grogu how to catch and hold little tracking fobs.

You taught Grogu how to take apart a commlink and put it back together — with only minor explosions.

Every so often, the Mandalorian would say something. A few words. Then more.

What started as instructions — “Don’t touch that,” or “Stay in the ship” — turned into, “That planet’s outer rim. Mining colony. Bad ground for soft landings.”

Then later: “I used to work with someone from there. She could shoot the wings off a Mynock.”

You started asking him questions. Not probing ones. Not yet. Just little things.

“What’s in that cabinet?”

“Rations and an old holoprojector.”

“Does Grogu always snore like that?”

“Ever since I found him.”

He never said no when you asked to help.

He let you fly the Crest once. Only briefly. He stood behind you the whole time, arms crossed — but he let you.

Sometimes you’d both be working in silence, Grogu between you on the floor, stacking small power cells like blocks, when something would pass between you. A glance. A comment. A chuckle neither of you meant to let slip.

You even started knocking before entering the cockpit — just in case he’d removed his helmet. He never told you to. He never thanked you either.

But one time, when you passed him his reassembled pulse rifle, he said, “You’re good with your hands.”

You blinked. “Thanks.”

That was the first time he complimented you. It was also the first time you saw his shoulders relax.

It wasn’t friendship. Not quite.

But it was something.

And Grogu?

He thrived.

He’d nap curled in your lap. He’d sit between you both during hyperspace jumps, arms outstretched like he was flying. He’d fuss if you ever got too far from Mando or vice versa, like keeping the two of you near made him feel balanced.

You weren’t sure when the walls started to lower.

But somewhere along the line, you stopped feeling like a bounty.

And started feeling like a crew.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

The market smelled like dust and old fruit.

You weren’t far from the Crest, just gathering supplies while the Mandalorian bartered for fuel lines. Grogu sat in your sling—one you’d made from an old cargo strap—and peeked out with wide eyes, curious and content.

Until he tensed.

You felt it too. That pull in your chest. The same one from weeks ago, the one you’d felt right before you knew you were being hunted.

You turned just in time to see the Twi’lek push through the crowd, blaster already halfway up, and a beeping fob clenched in her other hand.

You moved.

A warning shout left your mouth just as she fired.

The bolt missed you by inches, striking a stall and sending fruit flying. The crowd scattered in panic. You dropped behind a crate, shielding Grogu with your body as best you could.

A second bolt whizzed past. You popped up long enough to aim your compact shock device—one of your last good gadgets—and fired.

It hit her shoulder. She stumbled, cursed, but didn’t drop her blaster.

Before you could recharge it, a Twi’lek closed the distance. She was fast.

Too fast.

She slammed into you, sending you sprawling. You twisted at the last second to take the fall on your side, sparing Grogu, but pain lanced through your arm. You skidded across the dirt, shielding the kid with your cloak.

She raised her weapon again.

But this time—

He was there.

The Mandalorian struck her mid-step, knocking her back with the full force of his armored body. Her blaster clattered away. She drew a knife—Mando caught her wrist, twisted, shoved her against the stall wall.

They exchanged blows, fast and brutal.

She fought dirty, claws and kicks.

He fought like a wall.

You didn’t stay down. Your hand fumbled for the compact dart launcher in your boot. It wasn’t much—but when she broke free long enough to try and run, you shot her in the leg.

The tranquilizer worked slow, but enough. She staggered, snarled, then crumpled to the ground.

Silence returned to the market—except for your ragged breathing and Grogu’s tiny, worried whine.

You rolled over, clutching your arm. “I’m fine,” you muttered.

Mando was already there, kneeling beside you. “You’re bleeding, mesh'la.”

“It’s not—serious,” you lied, wincing as you tried to sit up.

Grogu whined again and curled against your side.

You exhaled shakily and muttered, “Well, that was bound to happen.”

Mando looked at you. You looked back.

No helmet. No expression. But still—you felt it.

The shift. The concern.

The anger that she found you. And the fear that someone else might.

He didn’t say anything. Not yet. But something had changed.

You weren’t just a bounty anymore.

The Razor Crest doors sealed behind them with a hiss.

You sat on the edge of the cot in the hold, arm newly bandaged, blood still dried on your sleeve. Grogu nestled in your lap, sound asleep now, his little chest rising and falling like nothing had happened.

But you were still shaking.

And Mando was pacing.

Silently.

Deliberately.

Like a storm waiting to break.

“Why don’t you just turn me in?”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them. Quiet. Raw.

He didn’t answer. Just pulled out a field kit and started patching you up with quick, practiced hands. His touch wasn’t gentle, but it was careful.

You stared at his visor, jaw clenched. “You’ve had chances. We’ve landed on systems with New Republic outposts. You took side jobs. You stalled.”

Still nothing.

“You think I haven’t noticed?” you snapped, louder now. “I’m not stupid.”

He took a step closer. “You were almost killed today.”

“No kidding.”

“Because of me.”

You scoffed, shifting Grogu gently off your lap and onto the cot beside you. “No. Because of me. I’m the bounty, remember? You knew what I was when you took the job. So what is this?” You motioned around the ship. “Some kind of long goodbye before the carbonite?”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “You think I’m doing this for fun?”

“I think you’re avoiding something.” You stood, wincing at the pain in your side. “And if you keep me here, keep protecting me—stalling—you’re putting him in danger.” You pointed toward Grogu, sleeping peacefully. “That hunter nearly shot us both. Next time, she might not miss.”

Silence stretched thick between you.

You breathed hard. He didn’t.

Then—

“…I know.”

His voice was low. Rougher than usual.

He looked at Grogu, then back at you.

“I know.”

You waited.

He didn’t offer more.

And for a moment, you hated that helmet — because you couldn’t see what was going on behind it. The lines in his brow. The twitch in his jaw. Whatever he might’ve been trying to hold in.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you said finally, softer. “I was surviving. You were doing a job. That’s how it should’ve ended.”

“But it didn’t.”

He said it so simply. Like it was fact.

You stared at him.

And in the silence that followed, Grogu stirred — and reached for both of you in his sleep, as if sensing the storm between the words.

In the cockpit, Mando sat alone, helmet tipped forward slightly, hands resting on the controls but not moving.

Outside, stars crawled past in long, streaking lines. Hyperspace—quiet and endless.

But inside, everything churned.

He replayed the fight. The blast. The blood on your sleeve. The way Grogu had whined, clinging to your chest. The way your voice had cracked when you said he was putting the kid in danger.

He’d made a choice the moment he saw you on that floor.

And now it was time to follow through.

With a tap to the comms, he patched into a secured channel.

Static crackled, then resolved into a voice.

“Teva here. Go ahead.”

“It’s me.”

“Got something for me?”

There was a pause.

“I’m not turning her in.”

Teva sighed, a long breath over the line. “I figured. You’ve had her this long—I assumed either you were dead or playing sabacc with your conscience.”

“I need a favor.”

“…That’s big talk for someone ignoring my pings.”

“She’s not a criminal. Not like they say.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’ve seen enough.”

Teva hesitated. “…You know this isn’t as simple as pushing a button.”

“I know.”

“I’ll need evidence. Documentation. Something to show that whatever she found—whatever she knows—justifies wiping her record.”

“I’ll get it.”

“You realize helping her makes you complicit. The New Republic won’t like it. Neither will the bounty guild.”

“I don’t care what they like.”

Another long pause.

“Alright. Send me what you have when you can. And Mando?”

“What.”

“I hope she’s worth the headache.”

The transmission clicked off.

Mando didn’t move right away. He sat there a while, visor tilted toward the dark.

Then he stood, steady and sure, and climbed down the ladder.

You were still sitting on the cot when the ladder creaked.

Grogu was curled up beside you, his head resting on your thigh, but his ears perked up first. Then your eyes followed.

Mando stepped down from the cockpit, slow, deliberate. You expected him to say nothing — to give you space like you’d both silently agreed to.

But instead, he walked over and stopped in front of you.

You glanced up at him, guarded. “Need something?”

“I have a contact,” he said.

You blinked. “What?”

“Captain Teva. New Republic. He’s... reliable.”

You stared, uncertain. “You mean the guy who gave you my bounty?”

“He didn’t know what you were charged with. Just that you were flagged.”

“And you think he can... help?”

“If we give him proof,” Mando said. “Whatever it is you found, whatever got you marked — if we can show it was real, show why they came after you—he can scrub your name. Wipe you clean from the system.”

You exhaled slowly, your fingers unconsciously brushing Grogu’s ear. “That’s a big if.”

“You still have it?”

You hesitated. Then, “Lothal.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“There’s an old Imperial outpost there. They painted over it, turned it into a New Republic data cache. I worked there—before. Everything’s backed up on their internal drives. If I can get in, I can find the files that prove what they buried.”

Mando nodded. “Then that’s where we’re going.”

You blinked again, surprised by how fast he agreed. “It’s not exactly a friendly place.”

He shrugged. “Neither am I.”

That almost made you smile.

Almost.

There was silence again. Not tense this time. Just weighty.

He shifted his helmet slightly. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“I’ve been stalling.”

You looked away, suddenly feeling too exposed. “I figured.”

“I wanted to be sure. Now I am.”

He took a small step forward, visor fixed on you. And just before turning away, he said it.

“Get some rest, Mesh’la. We leave in a few hours.”

You froze.

“…What did you just call me?”

He didn’t answer.

Just climbed the ladder back up to the cockpit without another word.

You stared after him, lips parting slightly.

Mesh’la.

You didn’t know the meaning.

But the way he said it — low and careful — sent heat curling through your chest.

──⭒─⭑─⭒────⭒─⭑─⭒──

You stood beside him in the cockpit, arms crossed tight over your chest, eyes trained on the terrain of Lothal growing larger in the viewport. The land was still familiar—flat stretches of wild grass, broken up by angular cliffs and windswept plateaus. Somewhere below, nestled against a ridge like a parasite, was the outpost you once worked in.

Mando kept one hand steady on the controls as he began the slow descent.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low through the vocoder.

You exhaled slowly. “Yeah. Just… weird being back.”

He glanced at you briefly, but didn’t push.

“I used to come in on shuttles just like this,” you said quietly. “Flew in twice a cycle. I wasn’t allowed near the command wing, but I had clearance to audit data paths. Numbers, shipping manifests, resource allocation, stuff they didn’t think twice about. I was just a name behind a datapad.”

A pause stretched between you.

“They liked me because I was good with numbers. Organized. Kept my head down. I thought if I just worked, kept quiet… they wouldn’t notice me.”, you said bitterly. “I did my job, looked the other way… until one day I didn’t.”

Mando adjusted the throttle, letting the ship level as it glided low across the canyons.

“I flagged a misrouted supply chain. It should’ve been food relief for recovering systems. Instead, it was being siphoned to private cargo bays. And that led me to encrypted payroll logs—Imperial names, still getting paid. Even had old clearance levels. That’s when they decided I knew too much.”

“And that’s when you ran.”

You nodded slowly. “I didn’t even get to pack a bag. They put a bounty on me, claimed I was a criminal.”

Mando said nothing, but his gloved hand tightened over the control yoke.

The ridge loomed ahead now. The “New Republic” outpost sat quiet under the shroud of night, its faux legitimacy painted over a corrupted frame. You couldn’t help but scoff under your breath.

“They always called this place a repurposed supply station. Funny. I remember the basement levels. Nothing but cold durasteel and locked doors. It was Imperial then. Still is.”

Mando didn’t look at you, but he said one thing, just before the Razor Crest touched down.

“We’ll bring it into the light.”

The outpost didn’t look like much from the outside. Built into a carved-out ridge in the Lothal highlands, it wore the face of New Republic logistics—blue emblems freshly painted, uniforms clean. But you knew better. Underneath the pretty paint and polished protocol was a rotting skeleton of Imperial command.

Mando landed the Razor Crest far enough to avoid radar, hiding the ship behind jagged rocks. The wind kicked up dry dust as you stepped down the ramp, the cool night stinging your cheeks. You adjusted your hood tighter.

“You’re sure this is the one?” Mando asked, voice low under the weight of his helmet.

“I used to audit these systems, Mando.” you replied. “That’s an old imperial data server. They tried to hide it behind New Republic hardware, but I recognize the encryption signature. And if I’m right, the file we need will be buried in its deep archive drive.”

He gave a short nod. “Then we go in quiet. No blasters unless we have to.”

You both descended into the canyon under cover of dark, Grogu safely left aboard the Crest. Reaching the perimeter fence, you knelt beside a relay box, flipping open a hatch. Mando stood over you like a shadow, watching.

“Give me a second…” you muttered, fingers dancing over the exposed wires, bypassing the power signal just long enough to force a glitch in the internal sensor. A short spark, then the light on the box blinked red.

“They’ll think it’s a weather error,” you said, then grinned over your shoulder. “We’re in.”

Inside, it was even more obvious. Steel walls, old vertical terminals, stormtrooper armory racks long emptied and repurposed. But the stench of authoritarian design was unmistakable. Mando took point, rifle up and scanning, while you trailed behind with a data spike and slicer module holstered at your hip.

You reached the server room, thick blast doors already halfway open. No guards inside.

“Too easy,” Mando muttered.

You didn’t disagree. It smelled like bait—but the file was here.

You slid into the console seat, pulling out the spike and jacking it into the port. The screen flickered with the old Imperial seal before it was overwritten by a New Republic command overlay.

“It’s here,” you whispered. “Buried, but not deleted.”

“Get it fast.”

Your fingers flew over the keys. Lines of corrupted data flashed by. Then—text logs. Holos. Payment trails. Ship manifests. Names. You decrypted as quickly as you could, organizing them into a file packet.

And then—

WHEEP WHEEP WHEEP.

The red alarm lights flared instantly. The console screamed.

“Kriff!” you hissed.

“I’ve got the door!” Mando snapped, stepping in front of you as boots pounded down the hall.

The first soldier turned the corner—New Republic uniform, but the weapon was an E-11 blaster rifle, not regulation issue. Mando fired first, slamming a pulse into the man’s chest and sending him tumbling back.

You yanked the data spike free. “Got the files!”

“Run!” Mando barked, grabbing your wrist.

The hallway burst into fire. You ducked behind Mando as three more troops rounded the far end, firing like they didn’t care who you were—New Republic, ex-Imp, civilian. Mando’s vambraces absorbed the first few shots while he returned fire, blasting one enemy down with clean, practiced precision.

“Back staircase!” you shouted. “This way!”

He followed you as you sprinted toward a maintenance corridor. A guard leapt out from a side door, and you elbowed him in the throat before blasting his leg. He hit the ground hard, and Mando finished him with a knee to the head.

More footsteps echoed. Too many.

“We’re not making it out through the front!” you said, panting as you shoved open a rusted side hatch.

“Hold on to me.”

“What?!”

“Now!”

You latched onto his torso just as he activated the jetpack. Pulling you both skyward, slamming against the rock wall, dust crumbling beneath your boots as blaster bolts whizzed by. You screamed through clenched teeth but held tight.

The ridge top loomed and Mando vaulted over, dragging you with him. He shoved you down behind a boulder.

“Stay here—”

“No way—!”

He darted out, using his jetpack to blast two pursuing guards off the cliff with a sweep of his rifle. You used the distraction to throw a flash detonator you swiped on the way out. It blinded the final pair of troops, long enough for Mando to finish them off.

Silence.

Both of you gasped for air.

You collapsed back against the rock, chest heaving, blood pounding in your ears. Mando turned toward you, limping slightly. You saw a burn across his side.

“You’re hit!”

“It’s nothing,” he grunted.

“Your version of ‘nothing’ always means ‘you’re bleeding under all that beskar.’”

“We got what we came for,” he said, ignoring the pain. “Let’s get back to the Crest.”

You didn’t argue this time. Not with the stolen data drive clutched in your fist—and the price you’d just paid to get it.

But you still glanced back once as you retreated. Toward the old outpost, the painted lies of the New Republic smoldering against the night sky.

Part 3

—comment if you want to be added to this fic taglist

taglist: @started-with-f-ends-with-uck @swissy23 @escapefromrealitylol @foxin5billion

[sourszt]

𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 | hate fucking + age gap

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 — billy butcher x fem!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 — nsfw, age gap, hate fucking, reader is in her 20s, butcher is like 40something, porn with plot, slight “daddy”/father-ish kink, slight power imbalance, bratty reader, butcher gets drunk, “kid” and “sweetheart” used, typical butcher language, top!reader, unusually soft ending

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 — ending was lowkey doodoobuns but idc, also i lowkey gave the reader a slightly genuine plot im considering it for an oc LMFAO anyways enjoy ! this man brings out the worst in me unfortunately.

“maybe i’d have been better off if you’d just fucked off and left me alone!”

your own words still rang in your head from earlier. the venom in them that were meant for the man you were desperately searching for had splashed back onto you, and it fucking hurt. especially because you didn’t even mean to say it.

butcher always brought out the worst in you. whenever the two of you argued, which was just a hair below constantly, he just never knew when to stop. he pushed and pushed until you lashed out so badly that it would leave him silent.

everybody told you it was because you were the youngest in the group. having joined the team that called themselves ‘the boys’ at twenty years old because of your unprecedented intelligence and strategy, you had become accustomed to their violent methods. well, every method except one.

billy butcher. the group’s uncrowned commander seemed to be your only downfall. initially you expected him to treat you like a child because of your age. but it was never about that. for the two years you stuck with them, he was constantly breathing down your neck waiting for you to screw up.

he denied the special attention he gave you, which often caused the explosive arguments between the two of you. frenchie and m.m. opted to stay out of the way, but usually consoled you after the fact while butcher would storm off for hours, sometimes days to pull himself together.

much like now. a few hours ago, the two of you were knee deep in a vicious screaming match because of a nearly botched mission. butcher was blaming your lack of foresight when it came to an unexpected issue (though it was quickly taken care of) and said that you just weren’t one of them. you bit back just as hard, telling him that he was a selfish asshole who you should have never trusted.

you tore him a new one, expecting twice the fury back. but instead a flash of hurt shone in butcher’s narrowed eyes and he took off without a word.

m.m., the one who was always quick to take your side, told you once you settled down that you should be the one to find him. drag him out of whatever bar he was holed up in. he granted you permission to humiliate the man if you needed to because he knew how butcher was. you deserved to stomp the shit out of that man if you ever got the chance.

so that was how you ended up in the lot of a bar, ushering a fairly buzzed butcher into the passenger seat of the van. he came out calmly, which surprised you. he muttered something about missing his bed at home.

so you shot a quick call to frenchie telling him that you would be taking butcher home but to wait up for you when you got back to the motel. then began the most uncomfortable drive of your life.

an apology was on the tip of your tongue but every time you stole a glance at the man, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. you suddenly remembered why you were angry before and refused to be the bigger person.

butcher was the same type of stubborn.

“how much have you had?” you broke the silence first, concern outweighing your frustration.

butcher didn’t respond, instead saying, “you know, i meant what i said earlier.”

you rolled your eyes and clutched the steering wheel to keep from swerving the both of you into oncoming traffic.

“some fuckin’ strategist you are. nearly had us all made like some right cunt.” he dragged his words out more than usual. he was intentionally trying to make you mad. he wanted to fight.

“what the fuck is wrong with you, butcher?” you snapped, the emotions from earlier flooding back to you. “all you’ve ever done for me was made me wonder if jumping off the top of vought tower would be better than being in the same goddamn room as you. old enough to be my fucking father yet you’re as immature as they come.”

butcher went quiet for a while, slowly looking over at you. “oh, is that it? does the little girl have daddy issues?”

you slammed on the brakes and put the van into park. you had arrived at butcher’s place. “we’re here.” you bit coldly.

butcher was well aware of your reasoning for going after the supes along with the rest of the boys. your parents were caught in the crossfire to a rather nefarious supe scandal when you were a child. you only uncovered the truth a few years back, the vigilante group and its original leader, mallory, becoming your saving graces and second family.

you helped the man up to his front door so that he didn’t fall. your job should have ended there and you should have gone back to the van but instead you followed butcher inside, much to his confusion.

“whaddaya want? i thought you said you’d be better if i’d just fucked right off.” butcher spoke with a taunting laugh as he tossed his keys onto his coffee table.

“you know,” you began, your fists tensing at your sides. you were about to start treading on paper thin ice, “i didn’t think it was because of my age, but i’m starting to think that’s it.” you said challengingly.

butcher peeled his long black coat off and shot you a strange sideways glance. “hell are you on about?” it took him a little too long to respond, even in his buzzed state.

you cocked your head. it seemed you hit the nail right on the head. if that weren’t the case, he would have immediately shut you down and struck up a new argument.

a dry laugh came from you. “what is it then? are you intimidated by how young i am? threatened?” you questioned. the daring tone in your voice as you stepped towards him made his eyes narrow.

“watch yourself.”

“there you go acting like my fucking father again. is that it? you like how young i am? you wanna be my daddy? you’re over twice my age and that gets you going, doesn’t it?”

“i’m warnin’ ya, kid.” his sharp tone cut clean through the rapidly building tension between you two and actually rendered you quiet. sure, butcher could be a right asshole but he never had snapped at you like this before.

he certainly never called you kid before, either.

it looked like you had him backed into a corner. you held his gaze, noticing how the alcohol in his system made him glance down at your lips a few too many times. you refused to be the one to prove him right so you stayed still.

you could smell the beer on his breath. he was pretty much unpredictable now. “how long, huh?” your voice cane out low and shaky. butcher looked up at you and tilted his head a little like he was daring you to keep going. “how long have you wanted to fuck me?”

butcher sneered down at you and you actually expected him to shove you away. but he didn’t. you were at a standstill. neither of you wanted to be the first to crumble under the tension, but it had to come to an end at some point.

after what felt like an eternity, butcher closed the gap. part of you thought that the hands that came to grab your jaw were meant to hit you and you tensed up when he suddenly kissed you. you made a grab for his wrists like you were going to defend yourself but once you realized his intention, you all but melted into him.

he overpowered you without question, his body pushing you back until your back hit the wall. you could taste the alcohol on his tongue.

his strong hands were all over you. running down your sides to grip your hips, then sliding back to squeeze your ass through your jeans. you moaned at the contact, your head tilting back to rest against the wall. he stole that opportunity to start making his way down the side of your neck. his rough beard tickled your skin and you squirmed under him, your fingers running through his hair to weakly tug at it.

“makes you tick, does it?” butcher’s gruff voice made your head spin. you could practically hear the smirk on his face when your hips subconsciously bucked against him. he knew all of that confidence you wore earlier was long gone.

it only lingered long enough for you to start undoing the buttons to his shirt, and he quickly understood the message. he hoisted you up into his arms, mumbling a curse under his breath when your legs hooked around his waist.

he was on you the second you hit his bed, enveloped in a messy kiss while you scrambled madly to get each other’s clothes off. something about the way he so swiftly helped you peel out of your pants and top made you that much more desperate to fuck him. his hands were so big and skilled, you found yourself staring at them with hunger in your eyes.

you rolled him over to straddle his lap, whining at the feeling of his bulge against your clothed cunt. only two thin layers of fabric stood between you. still, you rolled your hips slowly down onto him and got a sharp hiss from him. those same hands you craved came up to grab your hips.

“slow down, sweetheart,” butcher groaned. his eyes raked down your body. “fuckin’ fit little thing, ain’t ya? all sat nice ‘n pretty in daddy’s lap.”

a chill raked down your spine and part of you felt ashamed of how badly his words made your stomach flutter. it was probably the worst situation you could have ended up in. a twenty-two year old woman about to have sex with a man just over twice your age. the man who was supposed to be guiding you — teaching you in a dangerous field. the man who was supposed to know better than this.

you could care less about how wrong it was. the look in his eyes as you slid your bra off for him made up for it. his hands were rough as they played with your tits. it was clear that he was skilled, knowing exactly where to touch you that would have you pleading for more.

“stop fu—fucking around,” you snapped as threateningly as you could while butcher lazily stroked your clit through the front of your panties. his pace went tear-jerkingly rough for a moment and you sharply cried, “butcher!”

“have some fucken’ patience, love.” butcher taunted you, all while complying. he struggled to hide his own eagerness as he popped the stitches on the hip of your panties to get them off of you, ignoring your fiery complaints. “i’ll buy you new ones, quit yellin’.” he’d dismissed you absently.

in the meantime he hurried to free his cock, groaning the moment he started to run the leaking head through your slick folds. “look at ya. all worked up for me, ay?” the man teased, observing how red your face flushed. you were too tongue tied to argue with him, especially after he slid his thick cock into you without warning.

his hands locked around your hips, burying himself deep into you. you could feel him roll up against you, drawing a long whine from you. he offered you only a second to enjoy the fullness you felt before he dug his heels into the comforter and started to thrust up into you.

you grasped at his arms that were still at your sides for some leverage, your mind blanking. part of you was beyond irritated that you were letting butcher put you in such a position but every time the tip of his cock hit a visceral spot inside of you, you couldn’t bring yourself to think about it for too long. resisting against the viselike grip he had on your waist, you started shifting to match his slow thrusts.

“fuck, tight little cunt,” butcher hissed under his breath. the slight slip of his cocky demeanor gave you the upper hand now, so you started to set your own pace. butcher’s head fell back against the pillows as you started to bounce on his cock, bracing yourself on his chest. “that’s it, kid, keep goin’.”

you couldn’t help the moan that slipped at the nickname. it spurred you on. you ignored the burn in your thighs and worked yourself on his thick cock. tears pricked at your eyes, and you knew you wouldn’t last much longer.

of all of the times you’d had sex before, nothing compared to this. to him. he filled you to the fucking brim, hitting all of the right spots and then some, knowing exactly how to get you going. part of you knew you should be hating this; fucking the man you considered your mentor. the man over half your age.

but you didn’t care. all you cared about was getting yourself off, pushing and pushing yourself as that coil in your stomach continued to tighten. butcher helped steady you when your pace began to falter, his thick fingers grasping your plush hips.

“c’mon, i’ve gotcha.” butcher coaxed you along. it hit you like a truck, stealing all of the air from your lungs and sending several tears streaking down your face. you felt him lift you up in your dazed state, and then you felt his load hit your stomach.

for a moment, it was quiet. both of you recollecting yourselves. butcher reached up to tuck your hair behind your ears. he kept asking if you were okay, likely because of the tear stains. it was a side of butcher you had never seen before. so caring and considerate.

even after you had fallen onto your back, slightly curled into his side, neither of you spoke for a while. then he cleared his throat. “ya know, i never meant to be so hard on ya.” he reluctantly admitted. “i just hate to see ya get hurt. you’re… you’re a kid, you shouldn’t be so wrapped up with us — with me.”

you listened. nodded understandingly. “i know, but it’s not like i have a choice. that’s how it was at first. but now… i’ve come this far. i’m comfortable with you guys.” you stopped yourself from rambling and getting too emotional. “sometimes i tell myself that my parents would be happy that i found people who take such great care of me. granted, they’d have hated you at first,” the sly comment earned a scoff from butcher. you laughed.

“but if i had to redo it all, i wouldn’t change anything.”

ending was a lil too soft for someone like butcher but i had no idea how to finish it so yea !

[attibar]

"Yup, that's me. You're probably wondering how I ended up surrounded by a bunch of criminals."

It all started when I first went after the Toppat Clan. We heard that their former leader still lived and we learned his location. It took too many attempts but I finally captured the infamous Terrence Suave. Only to realize that any information he had was long outdated. Now any criminal of sound mind would escape as soon as possible and never come back. Apparently Suave only got half of that memo. It's either him getting "captured" again by ignorant soldiers that want to help me, or him sneaking back on base to be a nuisance. Since Terrence burned his relationship with the clan we weren't too worried about him sending them information on us. At least he makes good conversation.

And then there's Henry Stickmin. Now in his defense I did essentially blackmail him to steal evidence from the Toppat Clan, but it was for the greater good I swear. As luck would have it Henry appeared to have no problem lending a hand in future missions despite his criminal status. Yes, he never quit stealing. I've needed to have stacks of pardons on standby. At least Charles has been able to somewhat keep him in line on base. Though I really want to know where Henry gets all his tools; they just pop into existence.

When Charles brought back Henry for stopping the launch of the Toppat's space station I hadn't expected him to bring along a woman named Ellie Rose. I choked on my drink when he explained that Ellie and him escaped that damned Wall Complex. I didn't even know Henry was in there. Where was I? Right, Ellie does steal like Henry and Terrence but seems more interested in mercenary, or criminal-for-hire work. I can actually hire her to do missions and not worry about her stealing everything not nailed down, it's great! Compared to the last two she's not so bad. At least she keeps everyone else in line. I think she has decked over half of the base at this point.

I thought it would have ended there. Three criminals hanging around. But no, life is never that easy. Some of the Toppats escaped custody and regrouped. With their space launch failed, their finances almost dry, and many of them still locked up I suppose they needed someone to blame. And blame they did. They exiled their own leader and second in command, Reginald Copperbottom and Right Hand Man. I don't know what black magic they used to escape justice, but it has a sense of humor. I was visiting Terrence at his home and found a sobbing Reginald with Right trying to console him. To be honest I'm shocked that Terrence even let them in considering their history.

Now here I am with three former Toppats, a merc-for-hire, and a kleptomaniac with strange powers. I'm going to need to print out so many more pardons.

[awkward-tension-art]

Bacta and Bandages Chp.3 (Rex x Reader)

Chapter 2. Chapter 4.

First Mission

CW: Clone mistreatment, Medical procedures, needles, Death, destruction, mentions of an epidemic, nothing graphic, Reader is gender neutral, no use of (Y/N), reader is a doctor, if I miss a tag LMK!

Minors DNI also this is MINIMALLY PROOFREAD

You had a couple of weeks to establish yourself and settle with the 501st. It worked out well, because it allowed you to get to know the soldiers more.

Plus, no mission meant you had some free time to learn mando’a. It was basic at best, but you knew how to greet someone and find out where their pain is located, as well as other basic conversation.

It’s what you were doing at the moment. As you tidied up the medical bay, the robotic voice of a teaching droid came from the datapad on your desk. The holo was a program fit more for academy students, but you had to start somewhere.

“Ni cuy' a baar'ur,” You had managed to gear the learning towards medical language. Just to let you do your job better for the clones. Currently, the program was going over what to say when dealing with a patient.

“Very good. Where is your pain?”

“Vaii cuyir gar aaray?” You paused. The word for pain, aaray, always sounded off to you, “Vaii cuyir gar aaray?” Your words repeated.

You felt your damn soul leave your body when another voice interrupted.

“Ner kov'nyn bal ner haalas.” Rex was standing in the doorway, one hand on his hip, the other held his helmet. 

You didn’t know the exact sentence, and you had to think for a moment before looking up at him, “Head and…chest?”

He smirked and nodded, “That’s correct.” the captain stepped to your desk and looked at the holo-program that was still waiting for a response from you. “You’re learning Mando’a?”

“I thought it might help the troopers feel more comfortable,” You approached, tapping the tablet and pausing the holo-program, “I hope that's alright…” 

“It's more than alright, it's…it's a wonderful thought.” Rex had a genuine smile, “The men will appreciate it.” However, he cleared his throat, “However, General Skywalker needs you on the bridge.” 

Your heart raced, did something happen? Did you do something wrong?

“It’s about our next mission.” The captain explained, most likely catching your rising anxiety, “It's a relief mission, and your expertise with medical care is needed.” 

Oh! The breath you let out was one of relief, “Yes, of course…let's go to the bridge then.” 

The walk was quick. You’ve gotten used to the halls and paths of the venator now. Though, admittedly, you’ve gotten terribly lost a couple times. Once, you ended up in the reactor section and if you hadn’t found R2-D2, you’d have to embarrass yourself by asking a soldier to help guide you.

Once on the bridge, you saluted the general and commander in greeting, “You called for me, sir?”

Anakin Skywalker nodded, “We need your expertise, doctor,” He tapped a button on the console, bringing up a holomap of a planet with 4 moons, “The planet of Cherenity had a planet-wide epidemic and a series of natural disasters that caused total societal collapse. There were riots, famine, civil war and complete chaos.”

You frowned, but let him continue. 

“The Jedi have been called to try and help rebuild and offer relief. We need your help in dealing with the wounded and establishing medical care again.” He finished, standing up. He put his hands behind his back and looked at you, “What do you say?”

Ah. set up a medical center, help with supplies and maybe teach some procedures to the locals. 

You raised a hand to your chin, mentally working out the logistics, “One hospital for an entire planet will be overwhelmed. I’d like to have Kix with me to help deal with the injured.” Your eyes met Rex’s, “If that's alright with you, Captain.”

“He’s all yours.” He nodded. 

You smirked, and turned back to face General Skywalker, “When do we arrive?”

“We have an hour to prepare.” He informed everyone, “Thank you, Doctor. Get to work everyone. Dismissed.”

First mission…

You’d be a liar if you didn’t say you were nervous. Yes, you were a capable doctor. But…

Well, in soldier terms, you were no better than a shiny. A rookie.

You were in the hangar double checking the crates of supplies when Kix approached and saluted, “Doctor, I’ve been informed I will be aiding you in this mission.”

Your tone was calm and even, “You and I are going to help establish something of a medical care center for the survivors on Cherenity,” You looked over to him, “But, this will be my first mission, and I’m a doctor before I’m a soldier…I might follow your lead if the situation calls for it.”

He gave you an understanding smile, “I remember my first mission…It can be overwhelming but you’ll get used to it,” The medic melted into a friendly, approachable attitude, “Since it’s a relief mission, it should be easy. But if there's any danger I’ll show you what to do.” 

How kind. Very polite too.

“Thank you, Kix.” 

Before you loaded up, you checked your gear. Because of your rank and position, you didn’t wear the same heavy, clunky armor as the other soldiers. You were outfitted with movement and supplies in mind. Armor was minimal, only enough to protect your chest, calves and wrists. The uniform, made of protective yet light material, was red and white, indicating your medical personnel status.

In a perfect galaxy, this would mean no one would try to kill you. But…well, war crimes weren’t unheard of. Sometimes adversaries would specifically target medics.

With a calming breath, you stepped on the gunship with Kix and a few other soldiers and prepared yourself mentally. There were certain things you were worried about. With no sterile location, infection rates would be high. Plus, even if the disease that caused the epidemic had killed all of its hosts, it may still be present on the planet. 

And you had no idea how it was spread.

“Something wrong, Doctor?” A trooper next to you noticed. He was a ‘shiny’ judging by his pure white armor. 

“I don’t know yet,” you responded, “Do your helmets have protection against contaminants in the air? Like a virus perhaps?” Your question seemed to startle the poor shiny. 

It was a trooper with a painted flower on his chest that answered, “We have temporary protection. Though it only lasts long enough for us to get out of an area, not really stay in it. Maybe a couple minutes at most.”

You nodded, “We know nothing about this virus that contributed to the planet's collapse. If you, or any trooper feels unwell, come to me.”

Another soldier to your left, Steele, you believe his name is, let out a soft laugh, “Don’t worry about us, Doc. We’re not meant to be a priority.”

“I’ll prioritize whoever I want, thank you.” You responded, just as the gunship landed and the doors opened. 

You stepped off, taking in your surroundings. 

Devastation. The capital of Cherenity, Fushi, from what you could tell, used to be an active, beautiful city. But now, it was a shadow of its former self. The ruins and rubble looked like the buildings used to be made of marble and glass. Now, it was all…destroyed. broken, painted glass was everywhere. Craters littered the formerly stone streets. Smoke billowed at multiple locations in the distance. Occasionally, blaster shots echoed around the ruins, bouncing off the once beautiful walls. 

Your heart twisted.

This was war. You signed up expecting destruction, but not…this….

Kix put a hand on your shoulder, “Doctor?”

“I’m fine.” you shook your head, getting yourself together, “Just…didn’t expect this.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Steele responded, unloading a crate of supplies.

You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse. 

You made it to the center of the broken, desolate city. That’s where the Cherians had tried to maintain some semblance of civilization. Innocent people were living either in haphazard tents or the surely dangerously unstable remains of the buildings around.

As you and your group made your way forward, the Cherians pause what they were doing to watch you. 

They were humanoid, with skin tones that ranged from bright red to deep purple that were dotted with scales. All of them had horns of various shapes and sizes that poked out from hair of many different colors as well. Their eyes were all solid white, pupiless and glowing. Among them were some humans, twi’lek and other races as well. 

That didn’t strike you as odd. After all, a planet capital such as Fushi would have a lot of diversity.

You pressed your com at your wrist and raised it to your lips, “General, we’ve made it to where the survivors are camping.”

After a second, Anakin’s voice came through the other end, “Good, start unloading supplies. Ahsoka and I have been…held up.” 

As soon as the Jedi finished speaking, Rex’s voice came through the com, “All units, be advised, thieves and pirates are in the area and may target the supplies and the civilians.”

Fuck…

You swallowed and shared a look with Kix, you were about to speak before getting interrupted by an approaching Cherian. Her pure white hair trailed behind her and her horns gave height over the troopers. Her skin was a soft lavender and she had an aura of peace and calm. 

“Peace,” She greeted, “I am Zenial Ill’ty the Senator of Cherenity.”

Senator? Why isn’t she on Coruscant? Did she come home to try and help the devastation?

“Ma’am,” You nodded in greeting, “General Skywalker is on his way with more supplies, in the meanwhile, I’m his battalion's doctor and am here to help reestablish medical care.” 

Zenial gave you a smile and bowed, “Thank you, healer of the 501st. What is left of our city is open to you. Most of the injured are located at the north end of our camp.”

You bowed to her and motioned for the troopers carrying medical supplies to follow. Kix was beside you as your steps lead you beyond a half shattered green building. Behind it, was the injured and sick. 

There had to have been a few hundred at least. Walking among them were Cherians wearing the same medical symbol as you. However, it was clear they were overwhelmed and unable to help without proper equipment, medicine and housing. 

You steeled yourself. You were a doctor. You worked in a hospital on Coruscant’s lower levels, and that wiped away any naivety you had even before the war. You remained silent, eyes roaming the people and bodies. 

From visual confirmation, you guessed the few doctors had set up ‘zones’ by severity of wounds and illness. 

Good. It made your job easier. 

With a steading breath, you got to work. 

You prioritized those with the most severe wounds. Internal injuries, amputations, massive amounts of blood loss…Your focus was razor sharp as you tended to those you could. The supplies in your pack dwindled to nothing quickly, much to your frustration.

Perhaps it was your expectations. Or maybe it was how you worked in the hospital, but you burned through the supplies in your pack trying to save everyone. 

A twi’lek, with royal blue skin and yellow eyes wheezed and sputtered as you tried to fix his burnt and ripped heart. According to his young daughter, he was searching for food when thieves shot him. It was sheer will that he survived this long. 

You reached for more bacta, only to be stopped by Kix, “Doctor, there isn’t anything else you can do.”

My old mentor told me those words once. You remembered. It was the first patient you had ever lost. A drunken speeder accident. You’d never forget it as their heart stopped beating under your hands.

“But…he can be saved. I know he can.” Your eyes must’ve been wide and confused, “I’ve seen worse wounds.”

The medic next to you had an understanding look, “Maybe in a proper hospital. But on the field…we don’t have the luxury.”

You looked down at the twi’lek, taking in his severe wounds. 

Kix is right. 

You made sure his daughter held his hand as you injected him with painkillers. He drifted off to sleep and was dead within minutes. 

Move on. There are others. 

At some point as you tended to the wounded, General Skywalker and Commander Tano had arrived with food, water and some ‘society rebuilding’ technology. It was hours later when you had gotten done with the most severe patients and were able to get the Cherian healers together to start planning properly. You did your best to ignore how the General watched your moves. 

He was most likely testing you. Making sure you could handle this.

“You’ll need clean water,” You explained, looking over your datapad, “The biggest worry is infection. You can save a life but lose them later to the same wound if it's not kept clean.” Your steps weaved through the wounded patients. Some were already much better than when you arrived, and others were resting peacefully, finally having their pain managed.

“You’ll need to boil the water at the very least to sterilize it,” Your words didn’t falter even after passing by the General who was with Captain Rex, “Same for metal scalpels and other tools. Put them in boiling water to clean them at the very least.”

Kix, who had been walking beside you, handed you a holomap of the immediate area. Once you activated it, you began to plan the new medical center for the Cherians, “It would be best if you had the injured in the most stable building, here.” You pointed at one of the more stable, least destroyed glass and marble building on the map, “The cover will be imperative for those with more severe injuries and illnesses. I’ve had some of the troopers make sure the supports are-”

One of those following you spoke up, “Can we trust what an artificial human says?” 

That question screeched your mind to a halt. You blinked, dumbfounded at the bluntness from the individual in front of you. Your mind had to take a minute to process what you heard.

After getting your thoughts together, you responded, “The troopers are hardworking, reliable men. I trust what they say.”

The Cherian opened their mouth, “But-”

You couldn’t hold back the venom in your words as you cut them off, “Do I need to repeat myself or are we going to have a problem?” Your eyes bore into the individual, practically daring them to argue with you. 

“...No, Doctor.” 

“Good.” Immediately, your tone became calmer, “Now, let's continue.”

Unknown to you, Captain Rex saw your exchange, he couldn’t help the small smile on his lips as you walked away. 

Anakin elbowed his side, smirking at his captain.

[ruins-of-tragedy]

Done with RWBY's season three; episodes nine to twelve... I feel like James Bond's drink. Shaken not stirred.

Season 03, Episode 09: PvP

- Let the devastation begin.

- "The shining light will sink in darkness."

- Ozpin is a watching the fight about to unfold from his mechanical lair.

- Penny is being her sweet self. She considers it an honour to meet Pyrrha. 😭

- Pyrrha is so out of it. Am so scared.

- Ruby and Mercury. I get he must have had his reasons, but right now I don't like the guy. Ruby, run back!!!

- Fucking Ironwood.

- Ren and Nora cheering! Jaune is nervous. ✨

- Emerald. 😡

- I have noticed this before and perhaps forgot to mention it, but I love how Penny's blades have the on/off button at the hilt. It's cute! Very on theme.

- Pyrrha and her have begun fighting now. 😶‍🌫️

- Ruby turned into a missile that Mercury kicked away. Shite.

- He shot at her scroll. Some fucking "friends" they are.

- Penny is doing well. But for how long... 🥺

- Emerald is playing with Pyrrha's head. Good Gods. This is hurting me so much already.

- Mercury and Ruby at it still. YASSSSSSSS! Ruby is getting away.

- Penny's here to win it. Pyrrha's mind is being tampered with. AGHHHHHHHHH. A few blades have turned into too many.

- Penny was dismembered by her own strings. That blade of hers getting her dress piece was like a nail on the coffin. I am a little dead right now.

- They are actually showing the parts. Oh Gods. It's all machinary. People are horrified. Penny's pupils dilated. Fuck. Fuck

Fuck. Why did they have make it look almost real?

- Grimm monsters. Ruby sees Penny. She is crying. I think I am going numb.

- Mercury's happy about a job well done. I feel like punching a wall.

- The broadcast has been compromised. The queen chess pawn with a red background.

- WoWie. Even though I don't like Cinder, I must hand it to her. Great plan to bring down both Ironwood and Ozpin.

- A silver lining. ZWEI!!!! He is with Yang.

- Cinder is speaking. Ozpin is strangely calm and watching a ship come in behind him.

- Grimm have begun their invasion.

- "When the first shots are fired... Who do you think you can trust?" -Cinder. With the way our world is going, all this manipulation and the dialogue really came out here and attacked me...

- Jammed feeds. One of Junior's henchmen is also in the audience with popcorn. I don't know why that made me smile. But I needed it. Also, getting a weird sense of deja vu.

- Alarms are ringing. Threat level 9.

- "Please seek shelter in a calm and orderly manner." Cue to everyone screaming, crying, throwing up...

- Ironwood's gentle reminder to not panic has been interrupted by a Nevermore Grimm. Such good times.

- Kingdom's defences were breached? Ren seems to think so. He smort. I trust him. Does that explain the ships?

- Qrow and Glynda have come to Ozpin. He wants them to get to the city. They are reluctant but leave. Is Oz going to have a one on one showdown with someone soon?

- The Grimm of old are moving. The great migration. Trading in a concrete jungle for a high tech one.

- Whoever does the voice for Ozpin, when he talked to Ironwood asking him to use his army... Chills!!! Great job there!!!

- Holy hells. An entire unit of Atlas soldiers is down. Neo is in the house. She has two umbrellas?

- Ohhhhh. It's just Torchwick's stuff.

- Oh no no no no no. No. They are now commandeering a whole ship and bringing down the ones around... This is going just peachy, I say with clenched teeth.

- Fucking Adam and White Fang.

- Did they just give Grimm a ride in the ships??!?!??

- End credits. Penny's blueprints. The sketch for the flying machine looks incredible! Torchwick and his console of wreaking destruction. So much work has gone into scenes that only last less than a minute quite often. Hats off to the team!!!! Penny and her sketch with her weapons... I am sad. But since she is an Android, am sure she will be back!!!!! Will she remember everything though? I hope they kept backups. Nevermore Grimm sketches. I didn't realise they were inspired by Edgar Allan Poe's work! Was extremely confused about the Grimm of it all too initially. Thankfully the assumption of them being named after the Grimm brothers was right! The music playing right now reminds me of choirs and plays where they use sounds like this to mark a tragedy.

Season 03, Episode 10: Battle of Beacon

- Am not ready to be destroyed further. But that won't stop me now.

- "Victory for hate incarnate."

- Grimm are attacking. People are fighting. It's the cafeteria grounds for the arena.

- Blake and Weiss. Yang be running through the dorms of Beacon with Zwei. No matrons there to ban running through the halls? 😆

- Blake and her are checking up on one another!!! 💖

- Ruby ain't answering her scroll. Yang is obviously worried. Blake is trying to placate her.

- Cue running again.

- Weiss is sad over Penny. So be Blake. And moi.

- Yang just informed them of how the White Fang's releasing Grimm into the school. Blake is focusing on the detail. Should I be terrified?

- Yang has entered the fight. Left the call.

- Blake and Weiss are about to do their jobs. Thank Gods for locker launchers!!!

- Nevermore Grimm is still trying to get into the stadium. Ruby is shell shocked and right where we left her. They are just kids...

- Pyrrha. Staring at the wreckage of Penny. Good Gods. How long has she been doing that?

- Jaune is screaming himself hoarse asking her to move. I could actually feel the ensuing sore throat. Nice voice acting!!!

- He has left the stands and is now running towards Pyrrha. ❤️‍🔥

- Nevermore Grimm has entered the chat. And sent Penny's body parts, Pyrrha and Jaune flying.

- Incoming attack from the Grimm. Pyrrha, get away!!! Oh thank GODS.

- Ruby is now weilding one of Penny's swords. 👏🏻🥺✨

- Many many many locker launchers have brought down the Nevermore. Gotta love them!!!

- Good people are still around. That's why the world is still spinning. Gods I miss Penelope Park.

- Ohhh. Nevermore Grimm is alive still. Nice that the hunters are already on its back!

- Okie, I am loving how these folks are coordinating their moves!!! So GOOOOOOOOD!!!! 🤌🏻

- Nevermore Grimm really no more.

- Pyrrha is apologising about Penny. Awwwww. Ruby be right. It wasn't her fault.

- Jaune agrees. And is using his head. The person who took over the mic is the one responsible. I AM LOVING HIS GLOW UP.

- Also, him handing Pyrrha her weapons when she was the one to teach him how to wield his well.... The poetic evolution of it all. ✨🫶🏻🤩

- More Grimm are entering the arena. Griffons! Ooooooh!

- Crescent Rose is here! So are Professor Port and Doctor Oobleck. They are good. I love the doc.

- Velvet took a picture of Ruby being a leader!!!! Can I get a copy?!

- Why are they acting like Barty and Peter won't make it? They will, right?

- I hope the hunters leaving now will go help Weiss, Blake and Yang at the school.

- People are leaving in ships. Grimm are arriving in different ships.

- Ironwood's synthetic army isn't working too well. He shall now fight on his own!

- His grip is so strong it pierced the concrete beneath him?! War flashbacks... Jokes aside, he must be a good fighter at least.

- Oh my Gods. His entire battle was difficult for me to watch. Not because I dislike him, but it's just too reminiscent of stuff I have had to witness on TV ever since I could operate it. Very well animated at least!!!

- Young hunters meet Ironwood. He is explaining the current status of the situation. YAYYYYYY! They are now aware of what's going on.

- Holy shite. This guy is being all badass but I can only cringe for reasons that have nothing to do with him. Ugh. Hate when that happens.

- Bet what these young hunters and huntresses choose between saving their own arse and that of everyone else's...

- Torchwick is having a blast. Pun intended. 😆. The chesspiece is in the mainframe of the ship... Does that mean they can now control the synthetic army?

- Yup. Glynda and Qrow are with some of them. The tech has turned. Blake and Weiss are being shot at too.

- Holy SHITE. Ironwood has been compromised by his own army. Does he make it?

- Ruby is about to ride the skies with a locker launcher. I love her.

- She has landed on Roman's ship. I am a little worried.

- Weiss is fighting robots. Blake is battling the White Fang. I love how they are both going against pillars of their communities. The symbolism of it all... 🤌🏻

- They are parting ways? Why do the protagonists never stay together?! 🥺

- Adam and Blake have seen one another. I am SCARED. Blake looks to be as well. Also, did this guy just kill an Atlas soldier?! That was extremely unnecessary.

- Snippets of our favourite teenage hunters fighting Grimm. Only to pan to Cinder, Emerald and Mercury.

- They are shooting videos of the Atlas machinary helping the Grimm. Where is this nation's PR team?!?!!

- Are the Goliath Grimms arriving? Major earthquake alert.

- Cinder has left. Ozpin is keeping watch on the horrific goings-on from his office. And is getting ready...

- There's a dragon Grimm?!?!??!???? Who lays dark eggs for Grimm children. I have no words.

- Jaune and Pyrrha smiling at one another while getting ready to fight was so sweet!!!!! 💖

- Ozpin's here. Pyrrha is going to him. Jaune is going after her... Cinder is seeing this happen. Oh no.

- End credits. Dragon Grimm sketch. Such detail! Griffon Grimm. With a Ruby Rose size comparison! Beowulf Grimm sketch now. Ironwood and his weapon. I don't know why but I like all the characters' designs here so much!!!! The Atlas synthetic army. The music wants me to write an epic...

Season 03, Episode 11: Heroes and Monsters

- Things are about to get so much worse. As if they weren't already.

- "Misery and pain for all."

- Dragon Grimm has entered the chat.

- Griffon Grimms are descending as well. Ruby is fighting one!

- Slash and Neo's camera flash. Torchwick knows who be here.

- Adam and Blake. She looks so scared... This fucker is about to murder a student?!

- Oh thank Gods. Blake didn't let that happen.

- I want to kill Adam. What fucking betrayal did Blake commit. You fucking fucker.

- This ginormous son of a gun, the highest order of insult in my head, needs to learn what "my love" means. Then proceed to never use the words again and bury himself in the ground six feet under. While being alive. I think that would help.

- The young hunters are fighting the robotic army AND the Grimm. Where are the other professionals?!

- The kids are tired. Coco is allowing Velvet to use her weapon. Hmmm. Must be something good!

- Ooooooh! New song alert!!!! Weiss is confused. Coco wants her to keep watching...

- Oh my GODS. She is using a hologram of Crescent Rose and now Weiss' sword?!?!??

- Yang's gauntlets, check! Blake's weapon too... The hologram chameleon weapon. 🤯

- Ohhhh. That's why Velvet was taking pictures.

- Velvet was hit. Weiss cannot take any of it. What is she attempting?

- OH MY GODS!!!! WEISS DID IT!!!!! SUMMONED A KNIGHT WARRIOR OF LIGHT!!!!! WINTER WOULD BE SO PROUD!!!!!!! I know I am.

- Velvet is okie and snapped another picture.

- "You have got to be kidding me!" is right Sun. Will this never end?

- Ruby and Neo are fighting. Torchwick is here too... Two on one. I feel like joining this battle myself.

- Oh no. Ruby is losing. Might fall. Shite. I don't like this.

- THANK GODS. Neo is now gone with the wind. And so is her umbrella.

- I love Ruby. We have already covered this. I shall always bet on her.

- Roman was just eaten up by a Griffon Grimm. I am glad. His tirade was getting tiring. Ruby doesn't have Crescent Rose though. Fuck.

- And she didn't need it apparently!!!! 🎉✨

- Ruby is okie. And a badass.

- Ironwood is alive!!! No matter how cringe he be for me, am glad he lived.

- Ohhhhhh. He is half robot too. Would he qualify to be a cyborg?

- Ironwood really thought Qrow was about to unleash his weapon's full scythe potential on him... LoLLL!

- Grown-up decisions on further steps to help. Ironwood's ship has decided to crash land nearby. Small miracles!

- The machines are self-destructing! YAYYYYYY!

- Yang is here!!! Weiss is tired and in charge of looking for Ruby. Yang is going to Blake. 💖

- Ozpin, Pyrrha and Jaune are in the vault. Oh Gods. Jaune don't know what's happening or about to happen. He is still standing guard. 🥺

- Pyrrha's choice... Does she even have one now? Nope. She has entered the pod.

- Fucking Adam. Someone get this guy away from me. Whiny little baby.

- Did he just- Die. He needs to DIE.

- "I will make it my mission to destroy everything you love." -Adam. Enter Yang... Good golly. The timing. 🤌🏻

- OH MY GODS. OH MY GODS. OH MY FUCKING GOOOOOODS.

- Blake's eyes went wide. And Adam said, "...Starting with her."

- I am tearing up a little. There's so much going on. Some pretty bad shite. But this. THIS. Makes me happy. ✨

- Emotional whiplash is disorienting. Back to it.

- Oh no. It's begun. Amber's aura is being transferred to Pyrrha. Who is now in pain. Fuck.

- NOOOOOOO. Cinder just shot Amber. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

- Did Adam just STAB BLAKE?!?!????? YANG HAS SEEN THEM NOW.

- OH MY GODS. BLAKE STILL DOESN'T WANT YANG TO GET INVOLVED.

- I am dying.

- "(Yang screams with blinding rage)" -Subtitles. Super Saiyyan Yang!!!!!

- OH NO. THIS IS HOW IT HAPPENS?!??!???!!??????

- Yang has lost her arm.

- Amber has died. The lights have gone out.

- Listen. I know yellow is Yang's colour. And they don't necessarily want to show blood. Therefore, Yang's blood being gold is intentional in that way... HOWEVER, in Greek mythology the Gods have golden blood too. Ichor. So Yang is a Greek God now... Yes, I am delusional. Yes, I need a Percy Jackson RWBY AU to heal. Yes, my next stop will be AO3. Right after I finish with my tears.

- Cinder has the rest of the power. Some of it must have managed to go to Pyrrha though, I think. What's about to happen now?

- Jaune went to attack Cinder but she deflected him. Pyrrha is out of the tube and ready to fight. Ozpin wants them to get away and have Glynda, Qrow and Ironwood be sent to him.

- Yang is down. Adam wants to finish the job. Blake is between them now.

- "Why must you hurt me Blake?" THIS FUCKING FUCKED UP FUCKITY FUCKHEAD FUCKER. NOT EVERYTHING IS ABOUT YOU. I WILL FUCK YOU UP SO BAD YOU WON'T EVEN HAVE TIME TO SCREAM!!!!!!!!

- That was Blake's copycat. But he didn't know that. And he actually beheaded her... I NEED TO KILL THIS GUY. PLEASE.

- Blake has dragged Yang away. Adam should be put in front of me.

- Cinder and Ozpin... "She was right about you. Such arrogance." -Cinder. Who be 'she?'

- End credits. Torchwick sketches. You will not be missed. But the art is fantastic! Half-machine Ironwood. Huh. Cinder's last name is Fall. I didn't catch that before. Now Qrow sketches. Alongside his weapon! I love how thorough the folks behind the show are!!!! Velvet and her camera's turn. Is this the grayscale of the place where Adam, Blake and Yang's showdown happened?

Season 03, Episode 12: End of the Beginning

- What is happiness? I don't know her.

- Huh. I think this is RWBY's first half an hour long form episode. I am quaking in my non-existent boots.

- "When it falls..."

- Cinder has turned into fireworks? Katy Perry called it... 😆😭

- Ohhhh. It's her fight with Ozpin. The guy is actually holding his own! YAYYYYYY!!!

- Mandatory evacuation to a safe-zone in Vale. Atlas personnel will guide them.

- Zwei is here. ✨

- Finally. Ruby and Weiss have met up. This is going to hurt.

- Yang and Blake are down. Ren and Nora don't seem to be doing much better.

- Oh my Gods. Blake can't stop apologising. Fuck.

- Okie. Ruby's call to her sister broke me a little.

- Jaune and Pyrrha haven't gotten there yet?!

- Dragon Grimm is circling. White Fang are retreating. Ren and Nora are in no condition to do anything. Ruby is saying she will find Jaune and Pyrrha and bring them back... Oh no.

- Weiss is joining her. 🥹

- Zwei wishes them well!!! 💖. So does Sun, but gosh he be done. Samesies, my dude.

- Pyrrha and Jaune are coming out of the school! Jaune is about to call Glynda and is asking about what went down in the vault.

- Cinder is using fire as her jet packs. Shite. What happened to Ozpin?

- Pyrrha is about to stay back. FUCKKKKK. Jaune is trying to convince her otherwise... AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

- She kissed him. Are you fucking kidding me. I am so happy but so fucking done at the same time. She will die. WHY?!???

- Pyrrha locker launched Jaune away. Forever a badass. ❤️‍🔥. And now she is using her semblance to move up... Don't take her. Please. I am not ready.

- Jaune has called up Weiss. Their friendship is the best. 🫶🏻

- He is going hysterical. They keep saying they will save everyone... I can't.

- Much Grimm. Much banter between White Rose... Ruby saying "I have a plan." While Weiss replies with, "You always do." The excellence... 🤌🏻. Things are going to shite, but they are still at it. Good.

- Cinder wants to keep the Dragon Grimm as her pet? And it's working?

- Pyrrha has entered the chat. OH MY GODS. THIS FIGHT SCENE IS ONE FOR THE AGES.

- Dragon Grimm approaching. It likes the bad people? Cinder is in a headlock. Pyrrha's spear has now been broken. Big blast. Beacon's tower is in pieces but still standing.

- So is Pyrrha. She has her shield and semblance. Good Gods. More battle.

- IT'S THE FACT THAT PYRRHA CAUGHT CINDER OFF GUARD!!!! AGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

- Cinder threw away the polarity induced gears which were keeping her down... One hit Pyrrha and some red energy passed through her?

- Ruby and Weiss are handling the Grimm below. Now Ruby is walking on walls courtesy of Weiss. Oh no.

- Shield vs arrow. Arrow breaks but is put back together. Fuck glass.

- NO. Right in Achilles' heel?!?!????!?? Pyrrha has been hit.

- "Do you believe in destiny?" Stop. Please.

- Struck right in front of Ruby. CINDER FUCKING DISINTEGRATES HER?!?????????!!!??

- Only Pyrrha's headgear is left. I cannot.

- Ruby. She is just a kid. The fuck. This is too much. You can see it on her face.

- Ummm. What just happened. Ruby screamed. White wings sprouted from within her. Everything is consumed by it. Cinder was so confused she also faded away?

- Who flatlined? Qrow is there. He has got Ruby. It's all still white. Taiyang is Yang and Ruby's dad.

- CCT is down. No way to communicate with the world outside. Ozpin's still missing.

- White has given way to Ruby asleep in a room. Her father is dozing off in a chair near her.

- They are both awake now.

- Qrow got Ruby home. She is asking about Yang. I love these sisters.

- Yang is not okie? 🥺

- Things with Vale is under control. The "thing," dragon Grimm? Still alive. Ruby did a number on it apparently!!! But it's attracting Grimm to school.

- Ruby wants to know how she did a number on it. Things are too messed up. Qrow has arrived in all his drunk wisdom.

- Tai and Qrow don't get along too well? I guess this is just a particularly tenuous topic.

- Pyrrha's really gone. That confirmation hurts like a biatch.

- Ruby has silver eyes. It's important... Both Ruby and her mum were special in a way that's reminiscent of legends and stories.

- "...those with silver eyes are destined to lead the life of a warrior." Oh Gods.

- Everything has gone to shite. Every part of Ruby hurts. And all she can think about is how she can help. Holy hell. Martyr.

- Qrow telling Ruby about their enemies being in Haven... Was that intentional? I am terrified.

- Also, maybe this is too callous to think in such a way, but I have a theory that when Yang and Ruby went out in search of Yang's mum... Qrow was following them all along. Am pretty sure the entire thing was orchestrated. They were led there to see if Ruby will unleash her powers early, mayhaps.

- Yang has sunflowers in her room. She looks so different without her energetic emotions and smile. This is the worst.

- Weiss had to leave with her father?!

- Oh shite. Atlas is in extreme hot water and was framed well. Do they even have a PR team?

- Blake ran. Oh fuck. I can't even blame her though.

- "...And I don't care." -Yang. I think she is facing the exact opposite problem. But yeah. Everything is in smithereens.

- From fall to winter. That weather transition was nice.

- I just realised something. Ruby's room has two beds. Am pretty sure one is for Yang, what with the yellow pillows. But she is staying in another room. This is heartbreaking in a different way now.

- Jaune's here! And yup. Haven is the next stop.

- Awwwwwww!!!! Nora and Ren are going too. Team JNR without P looks almost uncanny. It's jarring. At least they have Ruby.

- Is this voiceover from the same lady from back in volume one? Commenting on hope and snuffing it out and dividing mankind? Is she talking to Ozpin?

- Grimm are congregating near Beacon. Glynda can only fix so much. She be tired. Blake's being a ninja. Alone. Weiss is with her father in a jet. Ruby bid goodbye to her mum's memorial plaque and is off with Team JNR. My autocorrect doesn't know Pyrrha has passed away. I didn't want to know either. 😭

- "This is the beginning of the end, Ozpin." So this is Salem. And she has him... Funny how the name of the episode is "End of the Beginning."

- She wants to watch Oz burn... Salem has pyromaniac tendencies then. Good to know.

- Qrow is keeping tabs on Ruby and co from afar. Of course he planted the idea. He has Ozpin's sword?

- QROW CAN TURN INTO A CROW?!?!??!??

- Huh. No end credits scene.

(You spoil me, you let Pyrrha down. So don't do it. Aashchi!)

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Dark Water”

Chapter Nineteen: A Trainer’s Regret

The Bad Batch x Reader

Rain hammered the transparisteel above the observation ring. Below, clone commandos sparred under the harsh glow of overhead lights. Their movements were efficient, lethal — a far cry from the wide-eyed cadets they’d once been.

Kal Skirata stood with his arms folded tightly across his chest, shoulders tense, eyes fixed downward.

“Hard to believe we’re doing this,” Walon Vau remarked beside him, tone dry. He held his helmet under one arm, perfectly composed in his signature black-and-gold armor. “You’re really bringing her back here?”

Kal’s jaw tensed. “She trained the Batch better than any of the Kaminoans did. You saw the results.”

“Sure. Until she vanished. After conspiring with Dooku, if you believe the official story.”

“I don’t.”

“Of course you don’t.” Vau looked back at the training floor. “Neither do my boys.”

⸻

Training Floor – Delta Squad

Delta Squad gathered in a quiet corner. Boss stood straight-backed, helmet under one arm, ever the professional. Scorch rocked on his heels beside him, unusually subdued. Sev stalked back and forth like a caged animal, eyes constantly scanning the room. Fixer tapped at his HUD, data scrolling across the display.

“So she’s coming back to Kamino,” Scorch muttered. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Didn’t see her leave either,” Fixer said coldly.

“She wasn’t our trainer,” Sev growled. “Not our concern.”

“She was Vau’s colleague,” Scorch said, quieter now. “She was kind to us. Kind to me.”

Boss finally spoke. “Orders are to stand by. If Command brings her in, we obey. Until then — no speculation.”

Scorch looked to the ceiling. “You think she still fights like she used to?”

“I think,” Fixer said, “that if she’s coming back after Kamino tried to execute her, we should be very, very careful.”

⸻

Clone Barracks 99

“She’s coming back?”

Hunter didn’t look up from where he sat on his bunk, cleaning his vibroblade. Crosshair leaned on the wall, arms crossed, toothpick twitching between his lips. Wrecker was seated cross-legged on the floor, painting his pauldron in careful red and black strokes. Tech stood at the console, reading the transmission aloud again.

“Confirmed by Kal Skirata himself,” Tech said. “She is due to arrive tomorrow. Jedi-escorted. No active charges from the Council.”

Crosshair scoffed. “No active charges from the Jedi. That doesn’t mean jack to the Kaminoans.”

Hunter set the blade aside. “It means she’s not running anymore.”

“She shouldn’t have run in the first place,” Tech muttered, though there was no bite to it.

“No,” Hunter said. “But it’s been nearly a year. People change.”

“Not her,” Wrecker said softly. “She’s still vode. Even if the rest of the galaxy says otherwise.”

⸻

Null Barracks – Kal Skirata’s Domain

The Nulls sprawled across their shared space, armor partially dismantled, weapons half-maintained.

“Kal’s losing his mind,” Ordo said flatly. “He’s bringing her back.”

“Good,” said Mereel, flipping a knife between his fingers. “I liked her.”

“She let us sit on the observation deck during Delta’s drills,” said Kom’rk. “Remember that?”

“She snuck us fried nuna legs during gear checks,” Jaing grinned. “Said nutrition was overrated.”

“She also went dark for months after Jango died and Kamino tried to arrest her,” Prudii said. “Let’s not pretend we weren’t abandoned.”

“She was betrayed,” Ordo said stiffly. “Like we all were. Maybe worse.”

Kal stepped into the barracks. “Nulls, listen up. Tomorrow [Y/N]’s back. You’ll behave. No tests. No provocations. You treat her like one of ours.”

“Even if she’s not?” Jaing asked, lounging.

Kal looked him in the eye. “She was the first trainer who treated you like you mattered. That hasn’t changed.”

⸻

Observation Room – Later That Night

Kal sat alone, drinking caf and staring down at the silent training ring. Vau entered without knocking, dropping a datachip onto the table.

“Lodging and security arrangements. I’ve vetted them myself.”

Kal nodded. “Thanks.”

“You really think she’ll stay?”

“I think she doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“And the Batch?”

Kal smiled faintly. “They already wear her colors.”

⸻

Kamino – Tipoca City Landing Platform

The endless storm had not changed. Neither had the sterile glow of Kamino’s platforms, nor the way the ocean below roared like it still remembered you falling into it.

The Republic transport touched down with barely a sound. The ramp hissed open. You stood at the top for a long moment, armored again — but stripped of insignia, colorless. Just another shadow returning home.

Beside you, Shaak Ti stepped forward with quiet grace, her presence calm as ever.

“Welcome back to Kamino,” she said softly. “The cadets are in need of you.”

You descended with her into the rain, flanked by clone security — not Delta Squad, though you knew they were nearby.

From above, behind the angled transparisteel of the cadet observation wing, Clone Force 99 watched.

Wrecker leaned against the glass like a child. His eyes lit up as soon as he saw you step out. “Hey! Hey!” he shouted, pressing both palms to the window. “Look! She’s here! She came back!”

Hunter held him back with a quiet, “Let her be.”

But Wrecker wasn’t listening. “HEY!”

You didn’t look up. Not once. Not when he called. Not when he shouted your name with hope cracking his voice.

You kept walking, following Shaak Ti, your expression unreadable.

Wrecker sank down slowly, back to the wall, heart pounding in the silence that followed.

“She didn’t even see me,” he said.

“She saw,” Crosshair muttered.

Hunter didn’t speak. He just watched, the faintest flicker of something unspoken in his eyes.

⸻

Shaak Ti’s Office -

Shaak Ti’s quarters were simple, surrounded by datapads and tactical charts. She stood with her hands folded as you entered, removing your helmet at her silent gesture.

“I hope the accommodations are adequate,” she said. “Kal insisted on your quarters being assigned near his and Vau’s for… practical reasons.”

You nodded once. “I’m not here for comfort.”

“No,” Shaak Ti agreed. “You’re here to work. And I believe I have just the assignment for you.”

She activated the holotable. It displayed a training arena. Five cadets moved across the pad — sloppy, uncoordinated, struggling.

“They call themselves Domino Squad,” she said. “But they have not earned the name.”

You frowned. “I’ve seen their records. They fail basic cohesion drills.”

“And every trainer has failed to reach them,” she replied. “Their current instructors — Bric and El-Les — have requested another perspective.”

Your expression darkened at Bric’s name, but you said nothing.

Shaak Ti continued, “Your history with… unorthodox squads is precisely why I requested you for this squad. You will not meet them until you have settled back in. But I suggest reviewing their files.”

You tapped the datapad. “I’ll do more than that. I’ll run their next training sim.”

Shaak Ti studied you for a long time. “You have not looked for your old squad.”

“They’re not my squad anymore.”

“Perhaps not,” she said softly. “But they looked for you.”

You didn’t reply.

⸻

Wrecker paced their shared space like a restless akk dog. “Why didn’t she look at me? I know she saw me!”

“Calm down,” Crosshair snapped. “You’re going to dent the floor.”

“I don’t want to calm down!”

Hunter sighed. “She’s back. That’s what matters. Let her breathe.”

“She always looked at us. Always.”

Tech pushed his goggles up. “She may be under strict observation. Jedi protocol. Or perhaps it was a strategic decision—”

“I don’t care what it was!” Wrecker shouted. “It hurt.”

Hunter stood. “We’ll see her again. But when we do, we don’t crowd her. We wait.”

“You gonna wait?” Crosshair said with a smirk. “Even when she walks right past you like you’re just another cadet?”

Hunter’s jaw clenched. “If she’s still the one who trained us, she’ll come to us when she’s ready.”

Wrecker sat down hard, arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t like waiting.”

⸻

Kamino – Training Arena Observation Deck

The training dome glowed cold and sterile under Kamino’s relentless artificial lights. Rain spattered against the wide transparisteel window that separated observers from the clone cadets below.

Clone Force 99 stood in a line, silent and watching.

“She’s different,” Tech said first, adjusting the zoom on his goggles as he observed the scene below.

“She’s pissed,” Crosshair corrected. “And meaner than I remember.”

“She’s always been sharp,” Hunter said. “But this is something else.”

They all turned as Domino Squad stumbled their way through a basic obstacle course. You didn’t yell. You didn’t need to. Your tone was cutting enough to slice through steel.

“Move!” you barked. “You look like defective droids after a memory wipe.”

One clone—Fives, the bold one—muttered something under his breath as he scaled the second wall.

You didn’t even blink. “What was that?”

“Just wondering if you usually open with verbal abuse or if that’s a special treat for us.”

You walked slowly toward him. “No, no. I like you. You’ve got a little bark in you. Cute.”

You stopped at the base of the obstacle and looked up. “But let me be clear — if I wanted to waste time listening to insecure little boys pretend they were soldiers, I’d just go talk to your original trainers again.”

Fives slipped and landed on his back with a grunt. You didn’t offer a hand.

“Maybe you should quit while you’re so incredibly behind,” you said, tone flat and dismissive. “I hear sanitation is still hiring.”

The other cadets shifted uncomfortably, but you had already turned and started pacing.

“You’re not strong. You’re not special. You’re not even coordinated.”

They bristled. Hevy took a step forward. “You’re not so great either. What’s your problem with us?”

You stopped in your tracks. The smile you gave him didn’t reach your eyes.

“Well, after a long day of saying wildly offensive and aggressive things, I like to unwind by thinking about how kind and beautiful I am.”

There was silence. Even the cadets weren’t sure how to respond.

“I’m not here to be your friend,” you said, stepping forward again. “You want to be soldiers? You earn it. You want to cry about your bruised egos? Go find Bric — he loves a good sob story.”

Above the Arena – Observation Deck

“See what I mean?” Tech said. “Blunt force sarcasm, heavy emotional suppression, avoidance behavior…”

“She’s cold,” Crosshair said simply.

Wrecker didn’t say anything.

“She’s angry,” Hunter muttered. “Not at them. At everything.”

Wrecker stepped up to the glass again, resting one hand on it.

“She’s still her,” he said. “I know she is.”

Hunter glanced at him, eyes softening. “You sure?”

“She was mean to us sometimes too,” Wrecker said, trying to smile. “’Member that time she made Crosshair do handstand burpees in full armor because he called her short?”

“I wasn’t wrong,” Crosshair said with a smirk.

“I’m telling you,” Wrecker said, more insistently now. “She’s still in there.”

Down below, you didn’t look up at them. Not directly. But just before the session ended, you turned your head the slightest bit toward the observation deck. You didn’t wave. You didn’t nod.

But you knew they were there.

And they knew you knew.

⸻

Later – Interior, Armory Hall

You removed your helmet slowly, the clunk of it on the locker shelf louder than it should’ve been.

Your face in the polished metal reflected someone you weren’t sure you recognized anymore.

You used to teach with your hands, your body, your laughter. Now all you had left were words like blades and silence like armor.

You sat down heavily, elbows on your knees. Kal’s words echoed back to you. So did Jango’s.

They were made to die. That’s the whole point.

They were made to destroy the republic.

You hated that you cared. So you hardened. Buried it. Like everything else that fell into that ocean.

⸻

Kamino – Barracks Locker Room, Later That Night

Steam clung to the walls as Domino Squad filed into the locker room in silence. The debrief had been brief — mostly just more biting commentary from the new trainer, not that they’d expected anything else. Not after today.

Fives yanked off his training vest and slammed it into the locker. “What’s her problem?”

Hevy rubbed the back of his neck, sweat still clinging to his curls. “She didn’t even give us a chance. We’ve been trying.”

“Trying’s not good enough,” Echo muttered from a bench, hands clasped between his knees. “Not for her.”

Cutup whistled low. “She’s got a mouth like a Hutt and a heart like an ice cube.”

Droidbait sat down hard beside Echo. “You think she’s always been like that?”

“Nah,” Hevy said. “The trainers talked about her like she was tough but fair. That wasn’t fair.”

“Wanna know what’s not fair?” Fives shot back. “Being told we’re a waste of time before we even finish the course. Like we’re broken just for breathing wrong.”

There was silence for a long beat. The kind that builds like pressure in your lungs.

“…She’s scared,” Echo said quietly.

They all turned to look at him.

“Did you see her eyes?” he continued. “They’re tired. Not like tired from training. Tired like… she’s been running from something.”

Fives rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

“I think she doesn’t want to get attached to us,” Echo said. “Like maybe she did once, and it hurt too much.”

Cutup nodded slowly. “Maybe she’s just trying to keep her distance so she doesn’t care again.”

Droidbait whispered, “But she still looked at us like we mattered. In between the insults.”

Fives snorted. “Well, that makes it so much better.”

They all fell quiet again, the sting of failure biting deeper than bruises.

Clone Force 99 stood out of sight, just around the bend from the corridor, listening. They hadn’t meant to eavesdrop — not really. But they hadn’t left either.

Wrecker frowned deeply. “They don’t get it.”

Hunter folded his arms, gaze fixed down the hall. “They’re not supposed to. That wasn’t their version of her.”

Crosshair leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “They’re not wrong, though. She is scared. And mean.”

“She’s not mean,” Wrecker muttered.

“She’s in pain,” Tech said, softly. “She’s attempting to maintain detachment through emotional dissociation.”

Crosshair gave him a flat look. “You mean: she’s scared and mean.”

Hunter’s jaw tightened.

“She’s doing what she thinks she has to do,” he said. “We all do.”

They stood in silence a while longer, the sounds of shuffling armor and quiet complaints drifting out from the cadet barracks behind the wall.

Eventually, Hunter motioned with his head. “Come on. Let’s give them space.”

As they walked off, Wrecker looked back one more time.

“They’re not gonna understand her,” he said, almost like it hurt to say. “Not like we did.”

No one corrected him.

⸻

Kamino – South Training Wing, Observation Hall

The rain hit the windows like a constant heartbeat, the gray ocean pressing against the city from all sides. You stood alone in the hall above the combat pad, staring down at Domino Squad’s first recorded session under your guidance. The playback looped on the holoscreen. Clumsy footwork. Predictable formations. Snide comments tossed at you, all bark and no bite.

You didn’t wince when the footage showed you cutting in mid-sprint with your signature cold remark:

“Maybe you should quit while you’re so incredibly behind.”

The delivery had been deadpan. Deadly. You hadn’t even looked back.

They’d sneered. Echo had muttered something under his breath. Fives had laughed—at you, not with you—but even that had sounded uncertain.

Let them resent you. You weren’t there to coddle them. Not anymore.

Behind you, voices rose.

You didn’t turn around, but the names were unmistakable.

Bric. El-Les. Loud. Always louder than they needed to be.

“She’s not even trying,” Bric growled from down the corridor. “That training session was a demolition, not instruction. [Y/N] just tore them down and walked out.”

“You saw how they performed,” El-Les countered. “I’m not sure what else she could have done. They don’t respect her—”

“Because she’s not giving them a reason to,” Bric spat. “She didn’t teach. She mocked. She acted like she couldn’t stand to be in the room.”

You remained still, arms crossed. Listening. Let them talk.

“[Y/N] is dangerous,” Bric went on. “You think the Chancellor doesn’t remember what she pulled before the war started? The traitor accusations? Her vanishing act after resisting arrest? She’s only back because Skirata talked someone into it.”

El-Les hesitated. “And because she trained Clone Force 99. Say what you will, but that squad is still operational. Still elite.”

“They’re freaks,” Bric hissed. “Just like she wanted them. You really want her turning Domino into another mess like that?”

You didn’t flinch. You did smile, though. Briefly.

“Maybe that’s exactly what they need,” El-Les muttered, just before their voices faded down the hall.

⸻

Domino Squad huddled inside the shared bunkroom. The lights were dim, the low hum of the rain providing a rhythmic silence none of them dared break too loudly.

“She hates us,” Hevy finally said.

“No,” Echo muttered from his bunk. “She just doesn’t care.”

Fives threw a boot at him. “She does care. You saw her eyes, didn’t you? She just hides it. Like… armor.”

“Maybe she’s just tired of us screwing everything up,” Cutup said with a yawn.

“She didn’t teach like the other trainers,” Echo continued. “It was more like… she was trying to see if we’d break.”

“She said some things that made Bric sound nice,” Hevy grumbled.

“Yeah,” Fives said quietly. “But she’s not Bric.”

They sat in silence for a long moment.

“She’s been through something,” Fives added. “She survived Jango trying to kill her. That doesn’t just go away.”

“She looked… familiar,” Cutup murmured. “Not her face. Her way. Like… someone who’s been knocked flat more times than you can count and still gets up just to spite the galaxy.”

The others stared.

“What?” Cutup said, shrugging. “I have depth.”

⸻

Above, in a different sector of the city, the Batch stood shoulder to shoulder at the edge of a balcony, silently watching the glow of the barracks.

“She didn’t even look at us,” Wrecker said softly, arms crossed, eyes low.

“She’s changed,” Tech said flatly.

“Of course she has,” Hunter murmured.

“She always told us attachment makes you stupid,” Crosshair muttered, chewing on a toothpick. “Guess she took her own advice.”

“She told me I was strong because I was soft,” Wrecker said. “But now she looks at everyone like they’re strangers.”

None of them spoke for a long while.

Finally, Hunter exhaled. “She’s not a stranger. She’s still [Y/N]. Just… further away now.”

“And hurt,” Wrecker whispered. “Really hurt.”

⸻

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[chosoniisan]

caught in the middle ▶︎▶︎ choso + suguru (r18)

➤ pairing: kamo choso | reader | getou suguru

➤ setting: modern, non-curse au (uni au, specifically)

➤ genre: smut!! (a little dark, just a lil')

➤ caution: threesome (ish); a splash of d*bious c*nsent (coercion); oral s*x (p & v); rough treatment

➤ summary: according to suguru (no thanks to choso), you're too inexperienced for your own good; he intends to change that

➤ authoress' notes: I was struck with the idea of choso and suguru tag teaming you, and so this was born plus I haven't written smut in so long and wanted to dust myself off. my hope is that I can make this into a lil mini series, because I'm keen to continue exploring the concept of suguru showing you & choso the ropes when it comes to the downright nasty. I'm also keen to playing into a degenerate characterization of suguru, but that's neither here nor there :')

“Remember what I said—don’t let her cum before I do.”

Would you have preferred him talking to you rather than over you?

Who knows, but what you do know is that either way you’re the last one who’s primed to contribute any sort of coherent response. And how could you when you’re currently suffering from acute choking-on-Suguru’s-girth disease of which your symptoms include aching in your jaw, saltiness clinging to your palate, and, of course, an affinity for only breathing through the mostly muffled, the utterly debauched.

But he’s only one accessory to the crime of ruining you from both ends with the other half of the blame resting on Choso’s shoulders, coupled with you resting entirely on his face. How much “persuasion” went into this arrangement is a story for later if ever, particularly when Choso’s not flattening his tongue for another pass across the seam of your lower lips, as though a consolation for drawing back at the last second. 

“. . .That doesn’t seem fair to her,” he pitches in your defense, and for that he has your appreciation, even if speaking up for you brings with it the fanning of his breath, teasing of his pinked tiers where you’re most sensitive. It isn’t a perfect solution. . .or much of one at all, considering he makes a point to return to the source of intoxication, courtesy of a rogue flicker over you in that empty space—not so much with the ripple effect that sends you sputtering around Suguru and wishing he isn’t crammed so deeply in your mouth. “She always likes it when I eat her out, and I really want her to cum on me. . .”

Just like Choso’s blatant admission, so too is the embarrassment scorching through your insides, bubbling up over the expanse of your face; though you can only contemplate craning back since Suguru is enough steps ahead of you to crown his fingers through your hair. Suffice it to say, you aren’t going anywhere besides the engorged length of him, filling you up to the absolute brim. (Clearly addressing Choso’s knack for oversharing to your detriment will also have to wait for another time. And honestly, you’re not entirely sure you would have gotten through to him when he’s this overtaken by the peachy pit between your legs.)

Off the heels of abashment, you falter a bit as those pesky digits relinquish their hold on your tresses once Suguru’s commanded your compliance again. He’s silkly devious that way, tracing the pads of his fingertips across your cheek at first before his thumb presses at the corner of your lips and strains the tender flesh even further around his member. Unlike earlier, his sunglow gaze is trained wholly on you and no one else, nursing a glossy sheen atop your skin (then there’s Choso who isn’t helping your case either, wetting saliva over your folds). “Don’t you think that’s selfish of you?”

Is what Suguru says in the same moment that he’s devolved into using his hand on your face to guide you even further onto him, until he’s bobbing dangerously near the back of your throat, preluding what’s to come. Though as for the right now, he’s thoroughly effected by your oral sleeve, those last vestiges of self-constraint gradually falling to the wayside in a wash of heartthrob red laying claim to more and more of his face. “You have me to thank for this—yet you’re only concerned about getting off yourself.” His chiding has an edge of something else, which persists in obscurity as you’re beholden to a punctuated ram throwing you off kilter. “I didn’t think you were a selfish girl. . .” he trails off there, leading you along his very short leash. “Tell me I’m not wrong about you.”

You don’t tell Suguru anything—instead, you offer a semblance of a nod, accompanied by an even greater offering of slickened reverence to his cock as you work him feverishly into your mouth, skimming over the vein webbed on his underside. That sets off the chain reaction of him folding over you with a malted groan spilt from his lips, and in the meantime you rear your hips back, hoping Choso takes the hint to sympathize with your plight of not wanting to fall over the edge too soon. Because if he keeps at his previous pace, you have no doubt in your mind that you’ll be reacquainted with the sort of rapture only he knows how to indulge you in.

Surprisingly, Choso is receptive to your wordless plea even while he steers you back onto him with hands curled over your sides; the hum of a sigh inked in relief strums through him as he stitches himself back to you in earnest. Like each ticking second spent away from your heat was a second shaved from his existence. He’s measured for once with his devotion, smearing beads of your wetness to pave the way for his tongue breaching past your pleated slit and settling between your inner walls with a sinful ease. From you, there’s a whine that splinters into pieces the moment it hits the air as you’re realizing (belatedly) that you severely underestimated Choso’s proclivity for cultivating you into pure bliss.

It's too late now with his one-track mind and equally fervent ministrations, so you try to make what you can out of the situation in spite of electricity sparking over your nerves, the incessant bubbling up in your stomach already signaling the beginning of the end. And you need look no further than the weight of Suguru seeded on your tongue. Choso might be stealing a good chunk of your attention, but that doesn’t stop you from fixating on the sting at the outer edges of your lips from a tight fit or the soon-to-be mottling over your knees trying to keep yourself steady in the midst of a deterioration into downright battering. How quickly demanding bruises through Suguru like a contagion, the strain that’s cured only from your undoing by his hand, and so you’re left with no choice but to let yourself be caught up by him, in him, for the sake of him.

“You know. . .you’re not very good at this,” Suguru remarks as if he isn’t fiercely warming himself between your lips, because only he could pull himself together enough to tear into you with a breezy tinge in his wake, the proverbial salt in your wound. Sooner rather than later, his hand finds itself tangled at the back of your head, dragging you right down to the base of him, and your scramble to smother your gag reflex (and Choso in the process) through a hail of full-bodied quaking merely proves his point. “You’re lucky I’m willing to teach you how to properly suck dick, since Choso clearly isn’t giving you enough practice.”

Speaking of—it’s right then and there that Choso takes the opportunity to really spear you on his tongue.

He isn’t taking that dig too well.

Problem is. . .his displeasure is misplaced, or at least it feels that way when his fingers move to split open your folds so he can bully and prod at the spot that has you blinking back stars in collapse. A whine sets the stage for your frantic writhing atop Choso, trying your best to dislodge him for your own good, but he’s resistant to coaxing of any kind when you’re falling apart at his beck. It’s one thing to bear through an unrelenting Choso, molding you to the shape of his sticky sweet pleasure, but it’s another thing entirely to keep your head above the waters of gratification whilst swallowing down every inch of Suguru’s cock.

And he doesn’t make it any easier for you, you who’s allegedly rough around the edges in the craft of obliging a man. Breathing might as well be a luxury what with Suguru beating your throat raw with his swollen tip, and there’s no finesse in the way you fumble your tongue over him; either your efforts aren’t clumsy enough to warrant a snide affront or he’s far too consumed with chasing after his own end through you. (You’re inclined to think it’s the latter more so than the former.) Beneath the chorus of depravity suffusing the room, your heart is heavy against your ribcage, and you can only hope that Suguru acquiesces first, even if that means holding your nose to his c—

Lips seal around your clit with particular fervor.

Oh, no.

No no no no no.

A sweeping arch invites itself over your back in the same beat that you instinctively squeeze your thighs around Choso’s head, surrendering even more of yourself to his gluttony. It’s a vicious, depraved cycle because with every convulsion racking down to your bones, you’re anchored back to him gorging on you with little abandon, utterly remorseless that he’s driving you out of your mind. Ecstasy is oh so malted, tastes like a milk & honey delicacy while Choso can’t seem to decide whether to savor your pulsing clit or root through your tightly knotted, dripping wet clutch. Though it’s the bitter part of that sweetness sobering you up before you have a chance to feed into the velveted hunger that’s ravaging as it is rosied:

“You really don’t listen, do you.” His infliction isn’t the slow, too slow drag of his shaft along your tongue nor is it him relinquishing your mouth to slide along the side of your face. And neither is it the obscene tap, tapping of his ruddy cockhead against your cheek, streaking a mess of juices over the once untouched canvas of you.

Blinking bleariness from your vision and yet his moonless gaze, crackling at the edges, is clear as day—says there’s no need to wait long for true retribution.

 “I guess, I’ll have to give you a lesson in obedience, too—my treat.”

[phyrestartr]

Simple Things [2] - Miguel O'hara x Male!Reader

# SFW, fluff, comfort, flirting, light angst, male!reader, dad!reader, spider!reader, implied depression, mentions of trauma, mentions of past relationships, mentions of manipulation, old men just doing their best, miguel is a sweetheart and a nerd, multi-part drabble collection

[ 1 ] Smoke Break | [ 2 ] We Change Like the Seasons | [ 3 ] Meet The Kids

Notes: WOW I DID IT?? AN UPDATE AYO!! No promises, but I might try to update this drabble collection every Saturday or smth 🤔 The thought for this was to make it a sorta prelude to establish the reader's relationship with Miguel, and to cement him into the universe a little bit before closing up this sequential collection and delving into shite that's more random and based off rando prompts or smth. Dunno, but we'll see!

--We Change Like the Seasons--

After your candid smoke break with Miguel, the universe apparently thought it'd be funny to throw Mercury into retrograde and absolutely wreak havoc within HQ.

Miguel, the man deciding he was responsible for all,  got affected the most: on bad days, comms exploded with barked commands and a plethora of scoffs; on worse days, a twisted frustration would fray his voice and heat his stare; on the worst days, he grit his teeth and flexed his claws whenever anyone so much as thought to come near him. Miguel didn't scare you, though. His temperament paled in comparison to what you'd faced in the military.

But you would hear the whispers sometimes, discussions about your leader going unhinged or feral. You knew how bad people moved, though, and you'd decided too long ago that Miguel was anything but a bad person. Prickly, sure, hot-headed and temperamental at times, too, but he cared. If he didn’t, then he never would have thought of funding and organizing an entire HQ and society for spider-people. He wouldn’t work towards saving everyone’s everything, either. You couldn’t help but appreciate his strong leadership, even if he did lose his temper every now and then. 

But still, you ended up keeping your distance for a time. Life had gotten busier, and you couldn’t bring yourself around HQ as often suddenly. You weren’t part of the “elite strike force” that Miguel had going, so it didn’t really matter in the end; you weren’t one of the best, you weren’t special. All you wanted was to help where you could, as much as you could. The important shit could be left to those more ingrained in all of this.

–--

Miguel felt your absence around HQ. It was like noticing the sun setting a little earlier on its way to autumn, the realization that the world would have a little less time in the light each day. A small thing. A simple pleasure one didn’t realize they basked in until too much time had passed since it disappeared. 

His mind wandered to the times he saw you before the small talk, the way you always gave little nods in greeting, whether you were passing by or coming for a meeting, and the way you sought out the younger spiders to check on them. And how could he forget about that pie you brought him? He wasn’t used to someone doing something thoughtful for him just because they wanted to. He told people where to go, what anomaly to fetch, but he never expected anyone to be so…you. 

"Heeey, Miguel? Head stuck in the clouds?" Lyla asked. 

"I–what?" Miguel blinked, suddenly feeling how dry and tired his eyes were from staring blankly at orange screens. "Santa Muerte. How long was I–" 

"Liiike ten minutes?" She smiled as Miguel sighed and rubbed at his face, willing the fatigue away. "But you got a special delivery." 

Miguel squinted over his shoulder. His expression relaxed when he saw it–a familiar, lone tupperware container. It sat near the very back, where the elevator doors were, hidden somewhere in the shadows. Last time it'd appeared on his centre console. Why so far away this time? 

"Thanks, Lyla," Miguel mumbled. He padded to the box and popped the lid open, indulging in the sweet scent of sugar cookies. A pleased purr rumbled in his chest as he peered inside, first spying an incredibly misshapen, large cookie that sat on top. Words in red scrawled across the creamy white layer of frosting, reading something to the effect of, "for Pa's frend Meegull." 

Meegull.

His hand rubbed over his mouth. Warmth bloomed in his chest, curling into an emptiness he’d long acknowledged, but refused to fill. Did he have a right to? After everything he’s done–

But those thoughts could be set aside for a moment, carefully and tenderly, acknowledging the state of his own fragility. This moment, this little thing, was a gift from someone else. Time and care spent into forging that spark in his chest for just a moment.

He could see ripples of the past: the messy chaos of the kitchen, smiles shared between father and daughter, a little girl refusing her father’s help and wanting to write the message all on her own. 

Miguel had been there too, once. In the sun and the rain, playing goalie for a little sports star, teaching her to dribble and pass and play nice with the other girls on her team. His little one was so like him–competitive, snarky, bright. She burned so bright she turned his heart to ash.

“You okay?” Lyla peeped, peering over Miguel’s shoulder. 

Miguel took a deep breath. He nodded. “Yeah. I’m–I’m fine. Just…yeah.” 

His confidant nodded. “Yeah. I get it.” Lyla adjusted her sunnies before flickering down to the box and reading the garbled message. “Awe, that’s cute.” 

Miguel huffed a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. It is.” 

“You think he’ll bring his daughters around?” Was that hope he heard in his little AI’s voice?

“Well, if he does,” Miguel started as he snapped the container closed, “I’ll have to make sure I thank them.”

–-

You laid on your back, one leg crossed over the other. Your wakefulness ebbed and flowed to the rhythm of whatever song buzzed through those old headphones of yours. They were beaten up things, artifacts that should have been replaced three times over already, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it; your girl loaned them to you on base all those years ago, and whenever you picked them up and felt the soft, crackled leather against your fingers, you'd be reminded of easier times, simpler days–a past where you were blissfully unaware. 

The memories hurt, sure, but the little bit of peace she brought you soothed your heart, while at the same time breaking it into two jagged parts. You wished she still stood by you, that you might find yourself whole again if she were still there. Maybe your serenity would have lasted, turned into marriage, evolved into something unreal, but that's not what happened.

Sometimes, you'd feel the icy prick of needles when you reached for the decrepit Sonys. They'd pierce all over, from your temples down to your ankles, and they hurt. God, did it ever hurt. Just like whatever they injected you with–whatever she injected you with–that bonded to your DNA, that made you more than human, and less than human. 

God. It hurt.

You remembered her so vividly. Behind the veil of black obscuring the vision of closed eyes, you saw her standing there, the spitting image of what your little Isabella would look like when she grew up. Only, you hoped she'd have the good parts of Liliana, leaving behind the frigid woman who lured you into an experiment. 

"You're gonna be fine, honey, just trust me. Your DNA's a perfect match. You're the only suitor for the test--you'll be the next Captain America."

Honeyed words, simple lies, sweet nothings–she did everything to trap you, but you would have bent a knee at "please."

"I trust you." 

But you really shouldn't have. 

Your hand curled tightly around the phone on your chest as you recalled the pain: the acidity eating your eyes, the boiling in your veins, the snapping of rearranging bones. It wasn't normal, not in the grand scheme of Spiderman and how his powers felt when they manifested. But you weren't exactly normal, either, considering you once coexisted with another in your body. 

Heat washed up your face. Your eyes slid open slowly, and you stared up at a perfectly clear, azure expanse of sky, blurred through molten, crystalline grief. Christ, why was this happening now? You'd done so well for so long, kept it all together. Why–

The door to the balcony hissed open. You rubbed your face, willing the pear-cut diamonds away, not letting them rest on haggard skin. Losing it in front of somebody wasn’t allowed. You weren’t sure if you could come back from it. 

“Good to know I'm not the only one who sleeps on the job," Miguel remarked, voice warm and latent with snark. 

You couldn’t help a huff of amusement yourself. "Great minds think alike, hey?"  You yawned and sat up, letting your headphones slip down to your neck while you messed with your nest of fluffy hair. "This is the only place I–uh, I…" 

You blinked dumbly in the face of a to-go cup held out to you. The roasted scent of fresh coffee wholly distracted you from whatever the hell you were trying to say, but you didn't reach for it. Was it even for you? You wanted it, but–

"This is the part where you take it," Miguel teased, reaching it slightly closer to you.

You grasped it with both hands, feeling a weird, pleasant, happy boom pulse through your chest and down your arms, rushing a dusting of rose to your nose and cheeks while your mind flailed helplessly. What the fuck was this? The hell were you supposed to do with this? Well, drink it, duh, but…

"I, uh…yeah, thanks." You held the drink close and let it warm your cold hands. It felt nice. "But, uh, why–?" 

"That's a stupid question." Miguel didn't even look your way. He leaned against the wall, though, and sipped from his own cup.

You were the one left fidgeting this time. You picked at the cardboard sleeve, tearing tiny rips into it before finally letting yourself indulge and take a sip. It was sweet, slightly too sweet, but in a very…well, Miguel kind of way: expected to be bitter, but decidedly the opposite.

"Didn't know how you take it," Miguel grumbled, hints of (oh?) embarrassment in his voice. Hah. Cute. 

"Hey, tastes fine to me. Better sweet than bitter, yeah?" You hummed as the tiniest of smiles fought its way to the surface. "'Ppreciate it, Boss. Seriously." 

Miguel's shoulders lost their tense edge. "Well. Least I could do, since you keep feeding me." 

"That's just my fatherly instinct kicking in; I got a mighty strong urge to take care of any reckless kiddos that run amok. Y’know, the ones who leap before they think, the ones who forget to eat, yadda yadda." You sipped your coffee again and intentionally ignored the indignant look sent your way. 

"Good to know you see me as a reckless punk," Miguel huffed. 

"Mh. Feel free to call me 'daddy.'" 

That got a laugh out of him, just a few breathy beats. "Oh, wow, I think I'll forget you just said that, actually." 

"Your loss." You smiled slightly against the rim of your cup as you stared out at Nueva York. "Can’t say daddy is much of a turn-on in bed these days, though. Not when you have little ones," you mumbled to yourself more than to Miguel. But the man had enhanced hearing, so of course he heard. 

"You're joking," Miguel said, exasperated. 

Your gaze met his and you quirked a brow. "Hm?" 

"You really had people call you that in bed?" The distasteful sour expression Miguel wore reminded you so much of your littlest one when she ate something she hated. You had to rush to swallow your coffee before you laughed.

"Yeah. Not my favourite thing, but it happens. Besides, I'm not about to tell them to knock it off in the middle of things." You shrugged and picked at the plastic lid. "Men 'n women 'n everyone in-between think it's sexy to call a guy that these days, y'know?" You shook your head and sighed softly, but still amused.

"These days," Miguel repeated. "How often are you–?" 

"A man's gotta eat, Boss." You smiled at him, letting that atrocious playboy slip out to say hello with the sort of smirk you gave him. You almost thought Miguel's ears turned a bit red, but it was probably just from the cold. 

"You can't tell me you're not getting any," you half-asked, half-remarked. “A guy like you?”

Miguel cleared his throat and sipped from his cup. "Guess I just haven't found anyone in a while." 

"Yeah?" You tilted your head back against the wall as you stared up at the clouds. "Huh. Not even any of the spiders?" 

"It's just–what's the point?" He burst. "At the end of this shitshow, all of us are going back to our dimensions, back to our lives and we won't get to–" his breath hitched, "we don't always get what we want." 

You dragged yourself up from the ground, being careful not to drop your drink, headphones or phone as you stood by your fellow Spiderman. You ditched your phone in your pocket before clasping a warm, heavy hand on Miguel's unyielding shoulder. 

"Miguel," you started, looking at him earnestly while he stared forward, eyes hard, but softening with the murmur of his name, "you can't think like that. Everything ends. It has to." 

"Not comforting." 

"Hey, hey, I'm not done." You gave him a small, friendly shake and felt his muscles almost relax under your touch. "Listen, if everything lasted forever, nothing would be special, yeah? Life would be meaningless, love wouldn't matter. But you get a chance to have that happiness–" 

Memories of roses in her hair came with a gentle gust of peculiar warm wind, so out of place in the playful nip of autumn. If you took a moment, if you closed your eyes and breathed deep, you might've caught the whisper of white jasmine riding the coattails of summer nights long since passed. That was your happy place. Somewhere you wished you could have stayed longer. Somewhere you were glad you could wander back to moments of quiet loneliness.

"--and it'd be a real shame to give up on that." 

Maybe it was the vibrato in your voice, or maybe it was the words you spoke resonating with him, but something sparked in whirling carmine irises, painting them a colour so like Dahlia's favourite red roses. You couldn't help but stare. You couldn't stop the thorned buds blooming in your chest, either. 

Miguel smiled, then. Light and sweet, with a sweep of those eyes, half-lidded and thoughtful, gazing back to the city. More flowers bloomed. 

"And here I thought you were a soldier. Where'd all that come from?" He asked quietly. His brows furrowed, though, worrying over something. 

"Eh. Lots of therapy." You pat his shoulder a few gentle times. "But I'm serious, y'know? Good things come to an end. And, y'know, if it really hurts ya, you can just use your fancy gizmo to go visit, yeah? Or, I mean, you can just find someone to fuck." 

Miguel gave you a look and the mood shifted away from genuinity back into clownery (thank God). "To fuck?" He balked. You nodded wisely. "You-- I'm too old to be sleeping around."

"Hey, hey, I sleep around. You're never too old." You almost managed a glare at him. "Sometimes I just wanna mess around, get laid, maybe accidentally find The One–" 

"Oh, you’re hoping to find 'the one,' huh?" Miguel remarked, definitely believing you. “How’s that going for you?”

You sighed dramatically and leaned into him like your will to live was running out. "Oh, It’s brutal. Lots of trial and error. Such a shame." 

"Mmh, I'm sure." 

[ladysternchen]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/58282759/chapters/162003175

Snippet:

“Who is there?” Turgon called, though it hardly mattered.

No-one would live. 

The figure still stood unmoving, not answering his question. 

“Show yourself!”

Again, his command went unanswered. But Turgon still lowered his sword. Whoever this was, whoever had chosen to disobey a direct order of their king, this was not the time to turn his sword on another elf.

Then the figure moved at last, drawing back his hood, and Turgon felt hot, sickening wrath boil in his guts.

“You!”

Turgon’s voice rose with his sword-arm, anger momentarily drowning out all fear and despair. That his nephew had the nerves to seek him out here after all that he had done, to disturb his final moments that he really rather would have taken to himself, when this was all Maeglin’s fault, when he had betrayed them, had betrayed Turgon’s love and trust, when he had treated him as a son… 

“Have you come to finish this? Have you come to take down the king? Help yourself, then. I daresay dying through a sword is less uncomfortable than suffocating, or burning to death, or being crushed as the tower tumbles. But is that not a high price you pay for the satisfaction of personally taking my life, Maeglin? For there is no escaping this, not unless you trust in your master to rescue you!”

Turgon’s words seemed to have struck a nerve, for Maeglin screwed up his face as though in agony, and yelled back: “He is not my master! How… how can you say… he tortured me! He snatched me out of the mines, and imprisoned me and tortured me and threatened to… to kill everyone!”

Pity stirred in Turgon, though it did not as yet surmount his anger.

“And what difference does it now make? Everyone is dying right now. Did you expect him to show mercy? Did he promise you rule over my city, once I am dead? Idril’s hand against her will, once her husband and son are gone?”

Maeglin raised his arms above his face as though Turgon had aimed a blow at him, which again made Turgon wince. What use was it to vent his feelings at his nephew now? Maeglin would pay for his betrayal with his life, just as Turgon would, so was it not now time to be the wiser of them, and lay aside his wrath, and comfort his nephew when comfort was due?

He therefore sheathed his sword again, and stretched out a consoling arm towards Maeglin.

“Is your mother safe?” he asked hoarsely.

Fear still shimmered in Maeglin’s eyes, but he nodded nonetheless, which sent waves of relief through Turgon.

“I think so. I saw her with Idril and Glorfindel last, after Tuor had carried Eärendil away. I think they all… they all went to safety. The way that Idril designed.”

Now it was Turgon’s turn to nod, both to signal his understanding and his approval at Maeglin not talking aloud about Idril’s tunnel. No-one could know at this stage what the enemy could hear, where all his ears were hidden. 

Somewhat to Turgon’s surprise, Maeglin did not seem consoled by Turgon’s gesture at all, rather the contrary. Tears were flowing freely over his sooty face now, and he tore at his hair, looking utterly, utterly forlorn. 

“Maeglin…”

“I don’t deserve your comfort, uncle!” he screamed “You know not what I have done!”

“Of course I know what you have don…”

“No!” Maeglin screeched, looking quite deranged. “No, you do not. I… I tried to kill the boy. I thought… I thought that if I could get Tuor and Eärendil out of the way, I could…”

Dread filled Turgon’s insides like lead. Yes, he had long known about Maeglin pining for Idril, but he had largely ignored it, especially since his daughter had so clearly rejected her cousin. And if Maeglin had been a little cool towards Eärendil, well, Turgon had just assumed that his nephew was simply not comfortable around children. But never, ever, would he have thought Maeglin capable of murdering a child.

“Is he…” 

Turgon’s voice failed him. He could not bring himself to ask. 

“He is safe, I… I couldn’t. I saw Amil approaching with Idirl, and couldn’t. I set him down, and Tuor snatched him up and they all disappeared. Which surprised me. I thought Tuor would kill me for sure.”

“I am glad he did not.” Turgon whispered, his voice all but failing him.

It was getting ever hotter and more difficult to breathe through the thickening smoke. It would not be long now, and he was getting weary. This idle wait for his death worse than seeking it in battle.

Turgon therefore let himself slide to the floor by the window, hoping that the little bit of fresh air would make suffocating a little more bearable. Maeglin still stood unmoving, and Turgon held out an arm in a silent invitation, and sighed in relief when Meaglin tentatively accepted it and sat down beside him. He could really do with some company just now.

“Why do you do this? Why are you not shouting at me, or duelling me or… have you not understood what I have just told you?”

“Because I meant what I said. I truly am glad that Tuor did not lay hand on you.”

“How though? Don’t you wish I had never come to Gondolin?”

The incredulity in Maeglin’s voice made Turgon’s heart clench.

“No. I am glad you are here now, and I am glad that you were and are a part of my life. You made a mistake, a huge and costly one, but I am still glad to know you. How could I not be, with you being my sister’s only child? Aredhel and I were always close. We fought, a lot, driving your grandparents up the walls. But… I would always help her sneak out with Celegrom to hunt, and she would make sure that nobody made fun of my drawings and buildings of stone.”

“You enjoyed designing cities even as a child?”

“Oh yes. I do not remember it, but my mother always said that I would leave small towers of rocks throughout the house when I was but a babe, under the table, on the stairs. She could track me by them. And as I got older, my buildings became more complex. And your mother, regardless of how mad she was at me, would never touch my designs.”

“Was that why she came with you to Gondolin?”

Turgon sighed.

“Yes. And you know, had I been a little less selfish, I would have discouraged her. I planned this city, this kingdom to be hidden, secluded. And Aredhel is the person who least likes to be confined, or just live in one place for longer. She could never have been happy here. That was why I let her go in the end, even if it was with great forebodings.”

For a while, neither of them spoke. The shouts and screams from inside the tower were getting quieter now, as people were overcome by smoke and fire in the lower levels of the tower. Turgon found he did not care much. He feared Mandos not, and neither did his household, and they would meet again very soon there, after all. 

Beside him, Maeglin tilted his body ever so slightly, so that he could lean against Turgon. He smiled. If he had to die here, locked in his own tower, then comforting his nephew in his final moments felt like a very good use of the time he had left. 

[tokusho]

Cooking From The Heart

WC-1.8K

Warnings: Mentions of minor injury basically fluff

Notes: Reader has tinnitus, GN! Reader, no use of Y/N, established relationship with John Price

Placing the key into the ignition your car roars to life, your hand moves to the console to turn up the music for the radio preparing yourself for a long day. The car is piled to the brim with groceries ready to cook a feast for four hungry men. Pulling out of the parking lot you start to drive from London to the English countryside where the lone military base sits. As you drive you can’t help but reminisce on the past and how fortunate you are to have such an amazing life.

Joining the military at the ripe age of eighteen you met John Price, your rival, a man that always got on your nerves. Despite how good of a soldier he was he constantly had to outshine you whilst being blunt, hard headed, and a little cocky. You rose through the ranks with him, each promotion with him standing by your side getting the same title much to your dismay. As years pass you both set aside your differences becoming friends despite past bickering, soon after that John took your hand into his on a warm summer night in a safe house asking you to be his girlfriend. 

A long loud ring reverberates from your ears as the radio cuts out pulling you out of your memories, out of the past. A memory rushes through your mind reminding you of the bitter memory as to what changed your life for the better or worse.You and the boys were out fighting the cartel in Las Almas when a stun grenade rolled right to your feet. The flash blinded you and the ringing in your ears was deafening, but unlike the others the ringing in your ears never ceased. Due to tinnitus you were honorably discharged from the military cutting your career short. As you sat home alone you felt as though your life, your family was ripped away, it was hard not having the harsh routine of war in your life. The others and John tried their best to support you but nothing seemed to pull you out from the pit. But it all changed when you decided to go back to your old base to make home cooked meals for the men you loved. It made you feel connected again with those who fought by your side, it filled the hole in your heart. Since then you made it a weekly ritual when they were at base to cook for them.

Driving up to the guards of the base you smile pulling out your ID as usual despite how they were once under your command and how you visit weekly. You park your car and pick up a couple bags of groceries to bring into the community kitchen to start making dinner, it takes a couple trips to bring in all the bags due to the sheer amount of food you bought. You look at the analog clock to see it's only noon but it's essential to start early, needing every precious minute to cook or else they’d be eating at midnight. Turning on the radio you start to prep all the ingredients making sure to wash every vegetable there is, you mix the sauces and cut the herbs so the food will taste immaculate. 

Your mind drifts again, smiling softly as you remember the best day of your life. John held your hand softly guiding you through a small park nearby your shared flat until you saw the soft glow of candle lights illuminating the path ahead. Walking together hand in hand along the glowing trail until you reached a clearing where the moon was bright reflecting off the pond in front of you. You admired the scene getting lost in the moment until you looked back at John who was on his knee with a ring asking if you’d be his one and only.

Looking outside of the window you see the sun setting along with the sounds of boots shuffling against the floor, low playful banter echo through the halls and their baritone voices seem to shake the thin walls of the base. The voices become more clear as the men slowly enter the rec room, Soap's iconic accent rings out after a dramatic sniff of the air.

“Smells delicious charaid I oughta get tha’ recipe from you onea these day”, the scot says with an infectious smile. He moves in close attempting to dip his finger into the soup to have a taste. Before he could even attempt it you lightly smack his hand with a wooden spoon shaking your head as you continue to prep dinner, “Nuh uh Mactavish you’re not having a taste of the soup until it's done and all of you get washed up.”

A chuckle comes from Gaz as he grabs Soap by the collar dragging him away from the delectable pot of soup in front of them saying teasingly, “Y’know that our former Captain will never let you have a taste before its done, and they are right we’re pretty gross from training last one to the showers has to organize the armory”. With that the two sergeants sprint out of the rec room jeering and poking fun at each other. 

You chuckle at the childish sight feeling a familiar pair of eyes staring at you from the corner of the room. Without you even looking up to see who it is you say softly, “Hello Simon'', there's a moment of silence before the mans gruff voice responds quietly, “How are you holdin’ up captain?” disguised to know if you were ok mentally, a sign that he cared.

A small smile forms on your lips as you turn to look at the man that many fear, the ghost of 141. His eyes soften slightly as he sees the smile on your lips. “I’ve been good, sometimes it gets lonely back at the flat without you guys running around it but I've been waiting all week to see you guys again”, he nods before leaving the rec room getting the answer he wanted to hear heading to the showers just like his sergeants.

A single pair of boots walk towards you stopping right behind you, without any fear you lean back into the man's chest looking up at him. His beard is perfectly groomed as usual and his beautiful blue eyes look into yours. A small tired smile appears on his face as he leans down to kiss the crown of your head mumbling, “I missed you love”, his strong arms snake their way around your waist pulling you in closer. You turn your head to  the side of his cheek before returning to cooking dinner, enjoying the feeling of your husband holding you close. “I missed you to lovie”. Despite him seeing you every morning and everynight back at home, any time away from you was painful for him.

He stands behind you holding you close for a while enjoying your presence against his tired body. Slowly one of his hands reaches out to grab a piece of food still cooking before you take his hand into yours, stopping his attempt. Squeezing his hand before bringing it up to your lips to kiss softly you say teasingly, “You may be the Captain of this team but that doesn’t make you exempt from the rules big man”, he only laughs and kisses your cheek responding with a cheeky grin “We both know you can’t stay angry at me for long and who is the one that always got in trouble for breaking the rules while we were privates? Oh wait I think it was you”. You can’t help but roll your eyes playfully before playful shoving him off of your body, “I’m sorry love but you're drenched in sweat and smell bad, you need to go head to the showers or else I’m not saving you a plate. Dinner should be ready by the time everyones out.” John chuckles before kissing your cheek softly saying softly in his gruff voice, “Roger that captain I’ll go take a shower you better save me a plate”, he shuffles away leaving you alone in the kitchen yet again. 

The soft music from the radio playing in the background dulls the ringing in your ears and fills the lonely space. Searching through the many bags you brought to the base you finally  find the nice tablecloth, you spread it out and place it over the rickety old dining room table. As the music flows you place each plate, fork, and knife with care despite knowing it’ll be used to destroy the table cloth underneath them. You place the food onto the kitchen table due to the sheer amount of food there is, as you set down some vegetables you hear the jovial conversations of the team coming in ready to eat. 

Gaz lets out a low whistle, “Damn you really cooked your ass off huh”, you wipe your hands off on a towel before saying with a smile, “Only for my boys no one else gets the pleasure of having a taste”. The men start to gather around before you say, “Before everyone eats, no weapons at the table. Other soldiers can worry about war but right now it's dinner time, time for you to be men and not soldiers”

They place the weapons on a table nearby, their knives and pistols sit neatly so they can easily grab them just in case.  Soap looks up at you and says curiously, “We all know tha’ you don’t want knives at tha table but is there a reason as ta why?”. You look up at him and say frankly with a smile, “well I just want you guys to be relaxed for once, letting your worries go enjoying a nice dinner. Along with the time you tried to do a knife trick at the table and almost sliced off your finger” the men around Soap laugh. Ghost slaps Soap’s back playfully, “You were cryin’ like a baby Johnny, screamin’ out for the medic running around like a chicken without a head”.You join in with the laughter feeling the stresses of the week melt off your shoulders.

With a wide smile you announce happily, “Alright guys dig in”, Soap is the first to pick up his plate piling his food up onto the plate with the others right behind him doing exactly the same. John walks up to you with two plates, handing one of them to you, “Thank you love for making all of this food” you look up at him with a smile, “it's nothing John, I love doing this. It's the highlight of my week.” John allows you to go in front of him to get your food. You sit down at the table and John sits next to you, carefree conversations are made between the men and you as they start to eat their food. Their smiles and laughter are as precious as gold to you. This is your family, this is home and there is no greater joy in your life than to be eating dinner with the people you love most.

[thesith]

— Chapter Three: Favorite Clones

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“I asked Echo to swap shifts so I could tell you this part of the story - it… means a lot to me.” Hunter started, ready to reminisce about his beloved Commander.

“Where’d ya end up getting your tat anyway?” Wrecker asked while once again scavenging your kitchen for food. His brothers also looked at you for an answer, scanning your figure for any sign of the ink.

“Tats,” You corrected before sighing, pulling down the collar of the shirt you’d been wearing, revealing the insignia over your heart. You could sense the room fill to the brim with emotions, even from Crosshair. A groan of joy escaped Wrecker’s mouth as he brought you into a tight hug - one containing so much love.

“I think it’s perfect,” slipped from Hunter’s lips, who decided to join in on the hug - subsequently the other two brothers followed. “Good choice, Commander.”

You smiled and removed your hand from Wrecker’s back, placing a hand over the new 99. You hadn’t expected to form such a strong attachment to the group, but looking back on everything, it was inevitable. “Okay, okay - guys let’s not get sappy now!”

Wrecker wiped his tear-stained cheeks, “It- It’s just that…”

“We know, Wrecker. They’re one of us,” Hunter cut in in an attempt to console his brother, “They will always be part of our squad.”

With a new-found freedom from Wrecker’s arms, you remembered, “Hey, Wrecker? Remember how you wanted to try my lightsaber and we forgot?”

As if on cue his eyes brightened and he held out his hands, squeezing his fingers to his palm in a ‘gimme’ motion. The sight made you laugh while you used the Force to bring your lightsaber to your hand.

You went over the basics with the larger clone, his brothers watching in awe as you ignited the lightsaber on a lower setting so no real damage would be dealt to your living room. The green light shone on Wrecker’s face as you handed it to him, which ended with him waving it around in an attempt to imitate the few Jedi he’s seen.

“So,” Hunter started while watching his brother swing the lightsaber at non-existent enemies, “Tech told us that you helped him feel the Force.”

“Aw, are you jealous?” Crosshair teased with a smirk on his face.

Hunter immediately shook his head (which looked suspicious, but you let it slide), “No, just wondering how you did that. Could you do it with us, too?”

“I honestly had no idea that it was possible until I tried with Tech - I’ve always been more in tune with the Force than many of my peers, save for Anakin Skywalker, and been able to wield it in ways many cannot.” You started, hoping to give Hunter a satisfactory answer, “I could most likely do the same for the rest of you, if you’d like to feel it.”

“A consular, then?” Tech questioned your reply, “I’ve been studying articles on the Jedi since your arrival with us - if I’m not mistaken, Jedi Consulars tend to not use their lightsabers unless it’s a last resort, which I have observed in your combative style. They also use a green blade most frequently, rather than the blue and yellow of guardians and sentinels, respectively.”

You nodded, “You’re correct, though I wouldn’t expect otherwise from you. My green blade reflects my status, but the crystal chooses the Jedi - not the other way around. Honestly if I had my choice of color it’d be purple.”

“Like Master Windu’s, then? I have never understood why he wields such a color.”

You laughed, “Honestly, I’m not sure either. I think it’s because of the form he developed and uses - it’s close to using the dark side of the Force.”

”Ah, I see. You believe it to be a combination of the Sith’s red and Jedi’s blue?”

You nodded, turning your attention back to the faux-Jedi Wrecker, who’s having the time of his life with your saber. You had to stifle a laugh at him running around the room, attempting to twirl his lightsaber behind his back.

“Okay, Wrecker - that’s enough. Give the Commander back their lightsaber - we have work to do.”

Wrecker huffed, not wanting his fun to end. Eventually, he flipped the ignition switch and returned your hilt, which you hooked back onto your belt.

Hunter spoke your name from beside you, causing you to meet his gaze. “Are we your favorite clones?”

“I’ve been living with you for half a year and you’re asking me that?” A rhetorical question, “Yes, you are my favorite clones. Though, there was one clone I was very close to from General Skywalker’s legion, the 501st.”

“Just haven’t seen him in awhile?” Hunter pushed, wanting to know more about this clone.

You averted your eyes and looked everywhere but at him, “Yes, I haven’t seen him in awhile. He… died. A couple years ago. It was a mission to retrieve information from a Jedi Master, who was locked in the Citadel on Lola Sayu.” You rubbed the fabric of your robes between your pointer finger and thumb, “He was so brave and kind, always eager to learn - his batchmates named him Echo.”

Hunter placed a caring hand on your shoulder, “I’m sorry for your loss, Commander. He sounds like a great guy.”

You could only nod, accepting Hunter’s comforting touch. You lifted up the hem of your robes and traced your fingers over the new ink that laid on your ribcage - 1409. The gaze on your tattoo was heavy, yet no words were spoken by anyone in the room.

Your short-lived vacation on Coruscant had finally come to an end, and it was time for your squad to set back out into the galaxy - part of you was grateful to be leaving the bustling ecumenopolis, but you would definitely miss the downtime. You had a feeling that the next time you returned to Coruscant would be your last time with the Bad Batch, and you weren’t ready for that day to come.

“Wait a minute,” A sleepy Omega asked her brother, not knowing whether the tiredness made her hear things, “Echo died?”

“He’s here with us, so no,” Hunter neglected to explain what really happened, “That is why he hasn’t told any of the story yet, though. He was… away during this time period.”

By the time Hunter finished his sentence, Omega was fast asleep with soft snores leaving her slightly-open mouth.

[fanaticsnail]

AAAAAAAAA!!!! SAPSORROW LORE!!!!!

Her story is so sad I can understand why she felt so anguished and took drastic measures out of anger. It makes so much sense in a way that doesn't try to justify the pain she's caused and continues to try to cause and it's all the more beautiful for it. Of course she's a victim who's choices are stripped from her but so too are her victims.

I support women's rights, but more importantly I support women's wrongs.

Also the fake out where for a moment I thought our Governess was talking to a princess?? The parallels? The way Mihawk's agate stone is left waiting for it's final command, the true desires of Sapsorrow beyond her need for revenge.

“And any words she brings onto you harbouring doubt, I will smother you in nothing but kindness and love to reassure you.” 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 I love Governess and Peronas and Zoros relationship so much

(insert Irish "Back off ye spooky bitch!" Here)

"I love you, my lady. We both do, don't we Zoro?" And the hug????? Are you trying to kill me, snail???

The letterrrrrrrr....... Hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

They're so Romance, I love them

Governess addressing Sapsorrow and offering her to walk down the aisle with her so she might share a happy ending is so sweet and brave to show such kindness knowing it might anger her more and be met with scorn. Sapsorrow admitting she's going after Croc next!!! Her hinting to Rosinante and Law!!!!

Her allowing herself to feel some warmth and conceding to the Governess that she might move forward in her story of her own volition, not compelled or controlled by anyone else the way Sapsorrow was. Her allowing her her choice when her own was taken from her unfairly, letting her try for a happy ending even though she didn't get one, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASAAA.

“The Sun-Dress is my favourite, my lady,” oh stawp it you're going to make me blush!

“If I had a heart, I would even show mercy on Red-Hair for such a fine craft. But alas, I do not.” AHAHA I found this absolutely hilarious despite knowing it only spells trouble for Shanks. But it's okay, I will laugh at his pain.

THE LONGING GAZES!!!! THE LOVE LOST EXPRESSIONS!!!! THE AFFECTION!!!!!

Corpse bride reference????? Thematically appropriate, actually.

Not Zoro getting teary eyed!!! I'm right there with you, babe, don't you worry

Without hesitation, Mihawk clasped your wrist, holding your hand in place as his tongue danced around your fingertips to skillfully rid them from the honey. Your shocked expression was shrouded by the presence of Mihawk’s thumb within your own lips, prompting you to perform a similar action to suck the sticky substance to rid its presence from his digits. -- SIR. SIR. SIR. THERE ARE PEOPLE WATCHING. THERE IS A PRIEST PRESENT. SIR PLEASE. GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF! ONE OF US HAS TO BE UNDER CONTROL HERE!!

Good God. Let me just take a moment for the word smithing of our talented writer who has a way with describing kisses.

Okay, I can't wait any longer.

The inclusion of the tradition is such a creative addition!! The drama!! The fun!! I know that Buggy's rapscallion behaviour is only a vessel for your mischief Snail, you can't fool me. But he is very rascally and himself, you write him so well.

I can't wait for Mihawk to officially fulfill his destined role as Mr "Where is my wife?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman cursed by the law to marry her own father" - FanaticSnail

Sapsorrow: The Storyteller

I cannot marry my father // I cannot ignore the law // I cannot shame the king // But the ring-- is the ring-- is the ring--//

Her heart bares such great sadness, so she must bare into others the same curse of sadness; in hopes their outcomes be changed to a more desirable outcome.

I'm so glad you noticed the parallels! As the Princess' governess attempted to console her in her sorrow, she, as spectral queen, was comforted by a new governess now bound to Mihawk - a love she truly would have wanted for herself.

But also, yes: "Back off 'ya spooky betch"

I love how you've enjoyed her relationships and interactions with Perona and Zoro. I've thoroughly enjoyed writing their development. Little glazed eyes Zoro, squeaky Perona - they love their adoptive parents (their "mother" young enough to be their sister or favourite aunt, rather than biological).

Also, yes to Mihawk doing these displayed of unbridled lust in public. And who could blame him? He's in love!

Buggy kidnapping her to uphold a Kuraigana tradition will never not be funny to me. Gotta give the new husband a sense of panic as his bride is now lost to him.

I wonder what he will do to win back her adoration......

He's yet to hold a physical conversation with his wife aside for his vows to her, and now he has to hunt for her and woo her officially.

I hope the hunt doesn't take too long, the food is starting to get cold.

[triptychgrip]

What if a drunken/accidental livestream led the public to find out about the Sochi banquet, four years after the fact?

MOTHERing_Heights commented: 12-09-2019 at 07:15am Love your posts, as always.

Regarding theories as to how the ISU kept banquet details from leaking…we all know the organization is all but broke, so they probably didn’t bribe any of the skaters to not mention it through $$$. More than likely, Viktor “I Have Gorgeous Eyes But Cross Me And I’ll Shoot Laser Beams Out Of Them” Nikiforov probably made every banquet attendee swear not to leak anything, realizing Yuuri might not want that level of media attention.

We now know Viktor didn’t realize Yuuri was that drunk, so his desire for discretion back then was probably more along the lines of “well I’m so famous and this level of scrutiny is something Yuuri probably isn’t used to, best to keep this quiet” and less of the “Woe is me! My future husband was trashed the night he captured my soul, gotta keep this hush hush” variety.

1 response to MOTHERing_Heights Lets_Get_You_To_Bed_Grandma commented: 12-09-2019 at 07:25am ajldkfjlskdaldkflskdf “Woe is me! My future husband was trashed the night he captured my soul…” This honestly sent me to the moon....why is this totally something Viktor would have thought?!

I’m now imagining him pacing and hand-wringing in his/Yuuri’s hotel room at the Barcelona GPF the night he found out that Yuuri didn’t know (the same night of their engagement, apparently?!). Oh, to be a fly on that wall…

And speaking of hand-wringing, can we all spare a moment of silence for the freaking PINING Viktor must have undergone during that 4 month gap between Sochi and hauling ass to Japan?? I’m wondering if he consoled himself in the meantime by commissioning a fanfic writer to bring to life all of his lovelorn fantasies on the page? Or, perhaps he went the route of us mere mortals and stalked Yuuri’s (formerly nonexistent) social media outlets? LMAO

---

Ahh, in-universe social media freak-outs: I love writing them, and the above excerpt/text message image is from my latest one-shot: part 1 of an eventual 3-part series about the aftermath in the event that the public finds out about the Sochi GPF Banquet shenanigans, four years after the fact.

As in: well after the Yuuri of my fic-verse wins gold at the 2018 Winter Olympics, as well as after he and Viktor get married.

The ensuing chaos has the potential for humor, of course, but also major feels, which is what attracted me to wanting to write about it in the first place

In my fic-verse, our YOI faves are having a hell of a time in Turin, Italy, enjoying themselves at the 2019 GPF Banquet, which ends up being a celebration of Yuuri winning his second GPF title (just a few points ahead of Yurio).

Due to Mila and Sara's peer pressure, Yuuri and Yurio drink far too much of the locally reknown grappa, which leads them to 1) set off together in search of more substantial food than the slim hors d'oeuvres pickings, and 2) accidentally go live on Instagram while discussing what went down in Sochi (well, it's more like Yurio slurring in his explanation and Yuuri interjecting now and again with incoherent "wait a secccc, tha' wuzz me? I did that?!" exclamations)

Needless to say, when a few Yuri's Angels record the live and upload it online, the internet EXPLODES; up until this point, everyone had believed Yuuri and Viktor's relationship origins to be pretty straightforward: they've been together since October 2016 and since then, they've never hinted at anything even slightly chaotic happening in Sochi.

Part 1 focuses on everyone's initial reactions the morning after Yuuri and Yurio's livestream; part 2 will be hurt/comfort-focused, as both Viktor and Yuuri grow insecure (though, for very different reasons); and the final part will feature Yuuri and Viktor hosting their own (sober) livestream to "take command of the narrative", as Yuuri's extremely stressed publicist suggests

I hope this overview piques your interest in my story, or encourages you to check out my other Yuri!!! on Ice works

[brucenorris007]

(Dis)Closure

Summary: A great part of Shadow's identity stems from the past and people who have already long since departed. Knowing and accepting the fact are two separate things, and he's already lost no small amount of sleep over it. In the midst of a mission and entirely on accident, he comes across someone who might be able to understand.

6242 words

“Decommission?”

Shadow’s throat closed up; even if he could bring himself to speak, he wouldn’t trust himself.

“Fifty years and change it’s been up there,” Rouge said, ever willing to cover for him. “Why now?”

“It’s being discussed.” The Commander said. He shared a look with Shadow; the understanding they’d reached years ago may have been lukewarm at best, but they had the ARK in common, even if their memories didn’t overlap.

Though he, at least, could rely on his memories of the place.

“It’s been discussed several times, but there’s been more of a push for action the past few months. Hardly a guarantee that anything will go through, of course.”

Rouge huffed; Shadow blinked. A rare dry remark about the glacial pace of decisions in government from the Commander; he must’ve had severely conflicting feelings on the subject.

“In any case,” he said, pressing on. “Renewed discussion means there’s precedent for a reassessment of the state of the ARK.”

“And that’s why you called me in.” Shadow said, trying to seem more present than he felt.

“Agents Shadow and Rouge will accompany unit E-123 and a small G.U.N. team to collect data and compile a comprehensive report on the ARK, it’s functions and general status. Prioritize thoroughness and accuracy over efficiency; we don’t want to find the report lacking in any way.”

Shadow blinked; something about that last point felt off. He glanced sidelong at Rouge; she stared at the Commander through narrowed eyes, tapping a finger on the table.

“Dismissed.”

The Commander, naturally, gave nothing else away.

—————

“It’s all bogus.”

Rouge waited until they were back at the house–away from prying ears–making their respective preparations before she weighed in on the mission.

Or ‘pile of excrement wrapped in shiny foil’ as she colorfully called it at one point.

“There’s no way G.U.N. doesn’t have a comprehensive file already,” she said. “They don’t need a separate squad dedicated to finding out which switches and levers still work.”

“IT IS ILLOGICAL,” Omega agreed. “DEACTIVATION IS INEFFICIENT AND WASTEFUL.”

“They’ll never go through with it,” Rouge said. “Setting aside the less savory aspects of its history, the ARK is still cutting edge even after fifty years. Decommissioning means lost money and releasing control of it; that’s not the government’s style. I smell a PR stunt.”

Shadow experienced the conversation as something happening around him rather than anything that involved him; owing far more to his headspace than either Rouge or Omega’s intentions.

He’d been having trouble sleeping again; despite being designed by one of history’s most brilliant minds, fatigue still accumulated and affected him.

“A DEFECT SHARED BY ALL MEATBAGS.”

Omega had once said.

Shadow wasn’t sure whether his friend had been teasing him or making an awkward attempt at consolation.

Possibly both.

“Hey.”

Shadow blinked and looked up at Rouge. She raised an upturned fist, threw a middle finger at him.

Shadow responded in kind, almost mechanically.

Rouge narrowed her eyes by a millimeter and hummed.

He looked around his gun closet again; having already spent fifteen minutes staring at his arsenal, he ultimately walked back out empty-handed.

—————

Space colony ARK.

Space station, research facility, military installation, and superweapon all in one.

Rouge wore her professional face well in front of the other soldiers, but she seemed less than enthused to have returned. Though that might have had more to do with annoyance regarding aspects of the mission rather than the ARK itself.

“The three of us could cover this facility in half a day; instead, they’ve bogged us down with a squad and all but told us not to rush. We’re just stalling so a bunch of suits and politicians down there can argue for another few weeks. If G.U.N. needs us to waste time somewhere, it should’ve been Venice.”

On the other hand, Omega had significantly more interest in the assignment; if only as an excuse to peruse and explore something that once took out a chunk of the moon.

“DIBS ON THE CONTROL ROOM.”

For his part, Shadow had spent a decent stretch of the last few years actively trying to avoid thinking too much about the ARK; a decidedly counterproductive strategy. Resistance to a strain of thought only led to a greater frequency of the same. Recently, he’d learned to accept thoughts of the space station passing through his mind without fighting them or affording them undue attention.

So, in theory, he would have been fine with the assignment.

Would have been, if it didn’t also require the company of a small G.U.N. unit; a ratio of two soldiers to one tech or engineer. His general relationship with the organization was at best professional; in more realistic terms, tenuous. He and Omega were employed largely by proxy to Rouge. Not for lack of qualifications, but the government was never going to wholly trust a bioweapon that once nearly broke the planet or a walking armory built by the world’s foremost terrorist.

And on their end, Omega loathed the idea of answering to any master save himself.

The source of Shadow’s misgivings didn’t warrant mention.

“All right, folks, let’s go over this one more time.”

The one silver lining, if one could be found, was that agent Roque had been included among those assigned to the mission. Team Dark would be hard-pressed to say they actively liked any of the other soldiers or agents employed by G.U.N., but a handful were certainly preferable to the rest. The deciding factors usually boiled down to: how they spoke to Rouge–and where their eyes went when doing so; whether they referred to Omega by name or series number; and what they said about Shadow, either to his face or behind his back.

Those who fell short were the most frequent victims of Omega’s pranks.

Roque earned a passing grade on all counts.

“We’re going to work our way through the colony quadrant by quadrant; we’re going to at least double-check every room and chamber,” he said, pinching his mouth for a split-second like he’d eaten something sour. Apparently, Roque and Rouge were of a similar mind on the mission being a waste of time. “But that’s no excuse to slack off on your reports.”

Roque folded his arms.

“This isn’t a tour, but it is a long-term assignment. Once the ship docks, you unload and find quarters first; do your routines, your business, I don’t care. But unless your name is Shadow, Rouge or Omega, do not wander off, do not split from your teams, and do not get lost.”

“Why are they the exceptions?”

“Because we’ll be in Shadow’s backyard, because Rouge is Rouge, and because Omega isn’t going to listen to anything anyone except those two tell him anyway.”

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

The clicking tongues and resentful looks aimed at Omega just reaffirmed that no one could pick up on when he was joking or being serious. Roque, for his part, smirked.

All right, maybe Team Dark liked him a little bit.

—————

Monotony descended quickly and mercilessly after boarding the ARK.

The tedium–and more specifically, the lack of any action or problem to occupy his mind–was wearing Shadow down further. The long halls and passages were bleeding together, even for him.

Team Dark was trudging back to their quarters at the end of another shift; Rouge was plumbing Omega’s CPU for synonyms for functional or operable to put in her reports of the spaces they’d checked so far. Omega’s utterly rote responses said that he felt about as invested in the process as she did.

Shadow kept pace between them, gaze trailing along the floor; trying, fruitlessly, to empty his mind.

His ear twitched.

Footfalls rang off the metallic walls.

Heavy tread. Boots.

From somewhere behind him. Approaching fast.

His hands sweat.

Raised voices.

His vision tunneled.

Military uniform.

Loaded guns.

He needed to go.

“. . . hell are you. . .?!”

“. . . CREATURE.”

Bang.

He needed to be–

“Shadow!”

not here.

Kvhroon.

—————

Kvhroon.

Shadow fumbled his landing; still gripping the chaos emerald, he reached for the nearest support his free hand could find to steady himself. Breathed. Fought to breathe slower.

Sunlight, grass, tree bark against his palm, the smell of naturally flowing and clean–not sterile, but clean–water.

Everything the ARK was not.

“Haaaa. . .”

Eventually, the next breath came out easier; less harried and clearer. The sudden shift between locations, away from the scene of… from the scene helped him grasp an equilibrium.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Took another deep breath. Exhaled.

Opened his eyes.

Daylight filtered gently through a canopy of trees and massive mushrooms in a forest jarringly absent the scent of anything like modern civilization. Save a nearby creek, the area was silent; but as he stood there taking in the scenery and letting the adrenalin ebb, birds perched in the branches overhead, chirping curiously.

His appearance must have startled them.

“Shadow?”

His quills jumped and he spun on his heel, fists clenched.

Knuckles’ shoulders hitched and his raised his own fists.

An awkward standoff lasted until Shadow’s next exhale; he dropped his hands. He wondered, in the back of his mind, how the echidna had managed to get as close as he did without being noticed. At least his appearance told Shadow where he’d teleported to, and it made sense that he’d subconsciously choose this place.

Angel Island was as near the antithesis of the ARK as one could get.

“What’s going on?” Knuckles asked, relaxing his stance more readily than Shadow had.

Shadow didn’t know why–whether due to the episode or the fact that he’d only slept around five of the past forty-eight hours–but what came out of his mouth was

“I needed somewhere to rest.”

Knuckles blinked. Shadow broke eye contact. It was more truth than he’d usually afford, but not too much for him to bear.

Knuckles squinted at him for a second. Scratched his head. Then made a sharp 120 degree right turn and walked off, disappearing between the trees and mushroom stalks.

Shadow sighed. Taking the echidna’s behavior for a dismissal, he was about to call on his emerald’s energy to return to the ARK when Knuckles poked his head back into view with a cocked eyebrow.

“You coming?”

He blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

Nodded, for lack of anything better coming to mind. Knuckles walked off again and Shadow followed.

“You’re not going to ask?” Shadow said after a beat of silence save their footstepsin the grass.

Knuckles shrugged.

“If you came here with trouble,” he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Or for a fight, you would have opened with that.”

Shadow didn’t have anything to say to that assessment. It was true, after all.

Conversation fell into a lull until they reached a small clearing; one of the forest creeks fed into a pond with a smattering of lily-pads. Chao sleepily crawled and ambled around the water’s edge, a few curled up together atop the lily-pads.

“A lot of them come here when they’re worn out.” Knuckles said; his normally projecting voice pitched low and quiet.

Shadow tilted his head back. More mushrooms growing out of the hills provided shade and protection from inclement weather; enough ambient light peeking through to see the space without disturbing anyone’s rest. Leaves on branches yet higher softly shshshing in the breeze provided a soothing white noise.

Perhaps Maria would have–

“It’s peaceful.” He said finally, cutting short that thought before it could take form.

Knuckles dropped himself into the grass and cushioned his head on his hands. Shadow noticed one chao rolling down an incline toward the pond. Moving fast and silent, he caught the hapless creature before it reached the water.

Cradling it in his palm, he sat down at the base of a tree; the chao nuzzled into his fur.

Shadow leaned against the tree’s trunk. His eyelids grew heavy and…

.

.

.

.

.

Shadow woke with a start. Blinking bleariness from his eyes and shaking the dregs of slumber out of his quills, he looked around.

It took him a moment longer than he’d admit to remember he was on Angel Island.

‘How long did I. . .?’

He stood up, mindful that he didn’t disturb any of the chao; the one who’d been on his chest had wandered off at some point.

He grabbed his chaos emerald, glanced at Knuckles; found the echidna watching him through one eye.

“Uh.” Shadow said eloquently.

“. . .”

“. . .”

Kvhroon.

—————

“HE HAS RETURNED.”

On making it back to the ARK, Shadow put in a bit of effort pretending he knew where his friends were in front of the other soldiers despite having no idea. The benefit of knowing the space so well; no one questioned where he was meant to be.

He found Omega and Rouge in the room the three of them had claimed as their quarters.

“You okay?” Rouge asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I just needed space.”

“Two and a half hours of?”

“Yes.” Shadow said immediately; the better to hide his surprise that it’d been that long.

Neither of them questioned him on it, at least.

“Where’d you go?”

“I,” he said, hesitating. He broke eye contact. “Does it matter?”

“Not really,” Rouge admitted with a shrug. “But you don’t usually teleport when you need space.”

“IS THE CAUSE OF YOUR INSOMNIA RELEVANT?”

Shadow winced. He thought he’d disguised his sleeplessness fairly well. Then again, they’d been living together for more than four years. Omega suddenly leaned in, unblinking eyes staring.

Shadow’s quills bristled at the assessment.

“What?”

“RESPONSE TIME AND OCULAR REACTION SPEED NEARER TO BASELINE: YOU HAVE RESTED.”

Omega sounded satisfied by that conclusion. Shadow blinked and folded his arms, reaching for something to divert attention off him.

“What was the commotion about before?”

—————

The commotion, as it turned out, had been the result of a few soldiers encountering a stray displaying erratic behavior.

(“You know those blobby liquid things roaming around in and out of the colony?”

“Artificial Chaos.”

“Apparently one lashed out; they’re supposed to guard this place and should recognize G.U.N. as something like an ally. They said it escaped just in the middle of a chase.”)

In any case, the idea of a malicious stray proved infinitely more interesting to the unit than ticking off a list of rooms in the colony. Roque hadn’t been especially moved by the enthusiasm.

(“Look, this place has been around a long time; a lot’s happened up here. Keep your eyes open, but we’re not organizing a manhunt for a single stray.”)

Thus, while the parameters for the mission hadn’t changed, the soldiers and techs were marginally more alert with the potential of encountering the anomalous experiment; the latter out of a sense of self-preservation, the former due to a desire to shoot something.

For Shadow, business carried on as usual. Assess the state of various chambers, make note of what was in working order and what wasn’t, keep his mind on a leash to prevent wandering.

“This place creeps me out.”

And occasionally endure commentary when Team Dark and one of the tech/soldier teams happened to be moving in the same direction.

“I hope they shut all this down for keeps; I woke up in a cold sweat and I got chills every hour on the hour since then.”

“Sounds like a sickness to me.” Rouge muttered quietly as they trailed a few paces behind the other team.

“What do you expect from a place run by a Robotnik?”

Unlike Rouge, the G.U.N. soldiers were whispering a little too loud for anyone to believe they didn’t want to be heard. Shadow could have backtracked or stopped until the other team split off down a different path, but that somehow felt too much like giving up.

“Crazy like Eggman doesn’t occur naturally; hell, it’s probably hereditary.”

The whirring in Omega’s chassis briefly shifted into a faint, agitated hum. Rouge put a hand in Shadow’s quills and gave a single, gentle tug. Shadow clenched his fist, trying to ground himself.

“Might’ve been for the best that”

Motion at the end of the passage caught his eye; the liquid movement and turquoise coloration prompted him to race past the soldiers.

“Wha–?”

“I see it.”

Giving nothing else in the way of context, he rounded the corner; briefly jumping to kick off the adjacent wall and maintain as much momentum as he could. The stray slithered and swam, moving fast considering its composition.

Still not as fast as Shadow.

Inside of a minute, he had it cornered, volatile and jagged chaos energy ready to fly from his hand. The cyborg flared its liquid body into a larger, more substantive shape, yet didn’t attack. Part of the apparatus on its head was damaged, partially immersed within the viscous fluid of its body. Somehow, it managed to maintain a shape despite that.

Shadow stared the creature down for a full beat. Two.

He heard footsteps approaching.

The spear of energy in his palm dissipated.

The stray flew into a ventilation shaft just as he turned his back to meet the others.

“Did you get it?”

“No,” he said, walking past them. “I was mistaken.”

Hours later, unknown to all but him, one of the station’s airlocks disengaged; an odd combination of ancient deity and cybernetic technology disappeared into the depths of space.

—————

Shadow found himself returning to Angel Island more than once. Not so long as to be missed–at least not by anyone save Omega and Rouge–but even brief periods away made his assignment on the ARK more tolerable.

Something about the tranquility and absence of industry made his head feel less claustrophobic. His thoughts had more room to breathe off the ARK than on, even if he never really aired those thoughts aloud.

He didn’t always fall asleep; when he did, Knuckles would be there when he awoke, ever the conscientious guardian of the island. Sometimes he just sat in silence; Knuckles wouldn't disturb him either way. He’d invariably arrive and plant himself within a mutual line of sight but removed enough so as not to be an obtrusive presence.

Occasionally they talked a little. They’d reached a point where Knuckles knew where Shadow was meant to be and a bit about the goings-on.

“Now a lot of them are saying it’s haunted,” Shadow said. “I suspect they’re just entertaining themselves, but it’s still a leap from seeing one oddity to suspecting vengeful spirits.”

Knuckles hummed.

“Yeah,” he said. “All the ghosts I’ve seen were planet bound. They probably don’t like how empty space is.”

A beat.

Shadow turned his head to stare at the echidna.

“. . . all the what?”

Regardless of the reason, the dichotomy between Angel Island and the ARK helped Shadow maintain some inward balance.

—————

He ran into the stray again.

“Why are you here?” Shadow asked quietly.

The creature, having been chanced upon rather than chased, didn’t react defensively as it had before. Its shape shifted and collapsed; bipedal, quadrupedal, limbed, or aerodynamic, as though testing to find a form it preferred.

“You’ve escaped this place at least once,” Shadow said, almost thinking aloud more than speaking to the cyborg; it failed to give him much attention once it realized he wasn’t hostile. “Possibly more than that.”

One strain of thought that’d contributed to Shadow’s insomnia was that of assimilation and transference. His memories of the ARK were at once so viscerally integral to him that they caused him physical pain at times; and yet, knowing that a few had been manipulated or altered, he couldn’t help simultaneously regarding them as something foreign. He’d read somewhere about the phenomenal capacity for adaptability the body possessed. There, it’d been in the context of transplants–limbs, organs and the like–but did the same apply to memories?

What, then, did he actually know? What should he trust?

“You’re anomalous,” he said. “Free from the constraints of definitions of what you should be. You could exist anywhere, yet return to this place.”

The creature momentarily turned to stare at him.

“Is that your choice?”

It shifted again and vanished.

“Or can’t you help it?”

—————

Not every part of Angel Island consisted of forest or even greenery. The floating landmass housed several different biomes that somehow coexisted harmoniously without encroaching on or negatively influencing each other.

“This is the sanctuary.” Knuckles said with some reverence in his tone.

Some locations defied explanation; Shadow had teleported to the island with, as usual the past week and change, little precision as to where he landed. He’d been immediately dumbstruck by the expansive ruins stretching out and reaching yet higher before him, all obscured from view below by a blanket of clouds.

“How do you always know where I am?” Shadow asked after they’d been walking for a minute.

The longest duration between his arrival and the echidna finding him that he could recall had been twenty minutes. For as fantastic and removed as the sanctuary appeared to be, today it’d been less then fifteen.

Knuckles, having sat down to recline against a winding pillar, breathed a short chuckle.

“I’m not telling you that.”

Shadow blinked. Knuckles smirked.

“It’s a foolish warrior who gives away his advantages.”

Shadow huffed. Silently conceded the point. Found a perch near one of the sanctuary’s many ledges and dangled his legs over the side.

“What do you do?” Knuckles asked after a while.

“Hm?” Shadow hummed, glancing back at the echidna over his shoulder.

“All that time you’re not sleeping,” he clarified. Knuckles turned his head to look at him. “What do you do?”

Shadow half-turned away. Looked off into the distance.

“Ask questions, mostly.”

A beat.

“Yeah.”

Another short silence. Then

“Get any answers?”

Shadow sighed.

“Rarely.”

“. . . yeah.”

—————

Kvhroon.

“I return with gifts.”

“You’re my favorite,” Rouge said, immediately grabbing the bag of to-go boxes from Dancing Ganesha. She ripped open one container and almost moaned biting into a samosa. “Shit, that’s good.”

Shadow slipped a portable Bluetooth speaker to Omega from the house. His friend eagerly stashed the device within some central chamber, singing at his quietest volume

“CARNAGE.”

A half-smile crept across Shadow’s face. Neither had begrudged him the intermittent need for space and time away from the ARK, but he’d felt a little guilty leaving them behind to tedium so often. Hence his offerings.

“Is that tandoori?”

Roque, having glimpsed the proceedings in their quarters in passing, paused to make a face.

“For breakfast?”

Rouge, having already taken another mouthful with zero shame, wagged a finger at him.

“Hon, we’re in space,” she said. “Up here, our ‘daily’ solar cycle is just over an hour. There’s no breakfast, lunch or dinner; just a meal.”

“TIME IS A CONSTRUCT.”

Roque blinked. Twice. Opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Walked up to Shadow and held out a ten.

“Do you know the Great Wall restaurant by chance?” He asked.

Shadow raised an eyebrow at the proffered note.

“For twenty, I do.”

Roque challenged Shadow’s eyebrow with his own.

“Service charge.” Shadow said.

Roque shook his head and handed over another ten.

“I’m not getting change back, am I?”

Shadow smirked in lieu of an answer.

Kvhroon.

—————

“Ready when you are, Omega.”

Shadow murmured into his comm on the channel Team Dark had chosen for themselves separate the rest of the unit.

Being the loudest and most extroverted of the trio, the monotony of their assignment had worn on Omega more than Rouge or even Shadow. The highlight for him had been seeing the ARK’s central chamber and, more specifically, the controls and schematics for the eclipse cannon.

(“IMPRESSIVE FOR AN ANCIENT AND INFERIOR MACHINE. I APPLAUD THE ATTENTION TO POTENTIAL FOR MAYHEM AND EXPLOSIONS.”

“It certainly caused enough damage last time.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“. . . CAN WE–?”

“No.”

“A SYSTEM TEST WILL NOT HARM ANYONE.”

“. . .”

“AMENDMENT: WILL NOT HARM ANYONE IMPORTANT.”

“Still no.”

“I don’t think it works on wishes, Omega. You need at least one or more chaos emeralds before it’ll wake up.”

“. . .”

“Stop looking at me like that, my answer’s the same.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a little. . . reorganization. Maybe cutting off a certain dangling state?”

“. . .”

“REPEAT: NO. ONE. IMPORTANT.”

“Tempting. But I don’t think it’s capable of that sort of surgical precision.”

“PHOOEY.”)

Honestly, it’d been the highlight of the assignment for Shadow, too. After which, though, Omega had clearly been more than ready to go home. Unfortunately, they were only halfway through the comprehensive report on the ARK.

Equipped with a Bluetooth speaker, though, Omega’s penchant for pranks came out and his mood drastically improved. Particularly with the ambience that murmurs of hauntings provided, just waiting to be exploited.

“ENGAGE.”

The next five minutes saw no fewer than a dozen G.U.N. staff getting the pants scared off them. Compressed shrieks and wails reverberating through vents, sudden creaks and blaring static from monitors being passed by, and random lyrics of Holy Diver interspersed in more than one team’s quarters.

Kvhroon.

All incidents taking place over too large an area for the victims to draw any logical conclusions. It wouldn’t be helped by the inexplicable fact that some later encountered Omega trudging around wearing a garlic necklace.

Shadow kept his expression stoic as another screaming tech sprinted past him, even with Omega chanting CHAOS through his comm. He teleported one last time; having been seen acting innocuously enough by a few, he’d secured an alibi.

Maria might have. . .

The scene he stumbled across killed whatever mirth he’d felt for his part in the prank.

A slowly dissolving mess on the floor, a chrome component shattered to pieces. Whether through accident, bullet or otherwise. . .

The stray was dead.

Shadow’s pulse thundered between his ears.

The sound of his blood rushing through his veins drowned out anything Rouge, Omega, or anyone else might have been saying to him.

Kvhroon.

—————

Whatever the source of Angel Island’s calming effect on him, it didn’t soothe him now. He paced up and down in the grass, hands in his quills, clenching and unclenching into fists. Every stimulus–the blinding sun, the chafing breeze, even the sound of his own breathing–just agitated him further, until, inevitably

“What’s going on?”

Knuckles appeared.

Shadow rounded on him.

“Why?” He demanded.

Knuckles’ brow pinched.

“Wh–?”

“Why do the dead insist on trying to control us?”

He frowned.

Shadow spun around, pacing again.

“What right do they have to influence reality once they’ve departed? To affect our lives?”

“Shadow”

Shadow turned on the echidna; his voice rose to a shout.

“And who are you to let them?! What does that make you?”

Knuckles’ expression shuttered.

Shadow stepped in.

“You owe them nothing, yet you let their ghosts tie you down, define you! They haunt you and you let them, despite having all the power in the world you allow some strain of guilt or shame or obligation lay out and decide who you are! Why do you keep catering and conforming your life to those who are fucking gone?!”

Knuckles shoved Shadow so hard he flew backward several feet and landed on his back.

“Get. Lost.” He growled.

Shadow, gasping for having the wind knocked out him, glared at the echidna. The guardian glared back; teeth bared in a snarl.

Kvhroon.

—————

‘Dammit.’

He’d lost his mind. And taken out his frustration on someone who’d helped him, despite having nothing to do with any of his self-made issues. He didn’t want his temper to turn volatile on anyone else, so he sequestered himself in the corner of the colony farthest from any of the rest of the unit or his team and muted his comm.

Shadow wandered the colony for the better part of two days, heedless of direction or what his instincts said about how each new chamber might affect his emotional state. He could handle whatever the consequences might turn out to be; after all, no one would see him react.

And so of course, he ended up near the ward.

As emotionally charged as his memories of the ARK were, they were also incomplete; many tantalizingly vague and blurry. Five-foot high glass casings called to mind phantoms of echoes of experimentation and tests. Long and wide spaces with old scorch marks littering the walls had him fingering his inhibitors.

And the one room with a bookshelf, a bed with five pillows and a chess set left him momentarily paralyzed in the doorway; the space somehow seemed frozen in time, near to preserved. His chest faintly ached beneath his fur.

This was her room. The knowledge slotted into place as a fact, albeit one among many he didn’t wholly trust.

Shadow ran a finger along the spines of the books on the shelf on his way to the table and picked up the chess set; a wooden finish board that folded in half and held the pieces inside. He sat on the bed, propped his head on the arrangement of pillows.

 He resolved himself.

—————

Kvhroon.

Shadow, still holding the chess set, teleported into what Knuckles referred to as the garden and waited. As ever, the guardian made an appearance within minutes of his arrival.

“I”

Knuckles raised a hand, palm open, before Shadow could get a word in. He stared at him for a minute, then waved him forward.

“Follow me.” He said tersely.

The echidna raced off across the marble ruins. Shadow fell into step in his wake, trailing Knuckles over obstacles, chasms and occasionally lava until they came to what looked like a nondescript wall. Knuckles punched a specific spot in the marble and a rumbling preceded a section of the stonework sliding downward to reveal a doorway.

Knuckles gestured on with a tilt of his head before entering. Shadow followed again.

At the end of a brief trek underground, they came out inside a magnificent hall; carved by hand yet by no means inferior to anything a machine could do. Knuckles stopped in front of one of many murals; despite the hour of the day and the absence of discernible windows or views to the outside, some almost ethereal light source let Shadow see perfectly.

A tribe of echidnas.

“I’m not just guarding the Master Emerald,” Knuckles said. He passed a hand over the mural, making only the slightest contact with the wall. “I’m preserving something. Something a lot harder to define than a gem too powerful to be carelessly wielded.”

Knuckles let his hand linger on the mural, turning to regard the rest of the chamber.

“I’ve only poked around a fraction of this part of the island; read only a few of what texts are still legible. Not all of it is pleasant.”

Shadow’s grip on the chess set tightened.

“But this isn’t about obligation for me, it’s about my history,” he said. “It’s about protecting something that would otherwise be lost forever.”

Knuckles looked at Shadow.

“Dying isn’t final,” he said. “Being forgotten is. Whatever else happens in my life, I can’t just kill them off.”

Shadow swallowed. Knuckles turned back to the mural. Shadow looked down at his shoes, letting the echidna’s solemn tone fill the space and settle in his mind.

He exhaled.

“I brought something,” he said finally, holding up the chess set. “It’s a game; though I haven’t played chess in years.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Knuckles said. “Haven’t played it.”

“Learning could take a while.”

Knuckles shrugged.

“Patience is one of the first skills you need to survive up here,” he said. “Sonic’s the only one who makes me forget that.” He paused, considering. “Well, him and the bat.”

Shadow conceded the point. With some silent understanding, they sat before the mural and unfolded the board.

Neither of them was especially skilled; once Knuckles had committed to memory how each piece moved, the difference in their playing became apparent. Shadow could more quickly pick out all viable moves available to him on any given turn whereas Knuckles could consistently see a move or two ahead; although the echidna tended to be stubborn once he’d decided on a plan he liked.

Eventually, they were comfortable enough with the game and Shadow broke the silence.

“You asked me before,” he said. “What I do when I’m not sleeping.”

“You said you ask questions.”

“Yes. But they’re usually angled toward the same topic: who I am.”

“. . .”

“I was created,” Shadow said. “To fulfill multiple purposes. Some contradictory. Ultimately, it seems I was made for someone.”

“Who?” Knuckles asked evenly.

“Maria,” Shadow whispered. “Everything ties back to her. My creator agreed to make me a weapon so that he’d have the funds and technology necessary to create me for his granddaughter. I was made to be her protector, her brother, her cure–I was even programmed to have a soul that resembled hers.”

Knuckles didn’t respond. He moved his knight.

“Or so I’ve been led to believe.” Shadow muttered, advancing a bishop.

“It’s not true?”

“I don’t know,” Shadow grunted, frustrated. “At least some of my memories have been altered at least once before. Who’s to say whether the memories I have now, as I recall them, are any more real than those that were suggested to me?”

Knuckles moved his knight again.

“There are moments when I resent the whole of what I know about the ARK,” Shadow confessed. “But Maria is so much a part of me that I can’t separate an identity of my own apart from her influence. I’d cease to be Shadow then.”

Shadow balled his fists.

“But I don’t even know anything about who Maria was.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Knuckles didn’t say anything for a full minute.

“. . . It’s your turn.”

“Hn.”

Shadow advanced a pawn.

“You don’t know because you don’t trust yourself?”

“I don’t trust what’s there,” Shadow muttered. “Or the handful of people that remain who knew her. I’ve got nothing to go on.”

“I seem to recall you plummeting through the atmosphere because of a promise,” Knuckles said; not a hint of derision or sarcasm in his tone, just earnest curiosity. “Did I get that wrong?”

Shadow froze.

His hand, holding his queen, hovered over the chess board, one move shy of checkmate.

“Her dying words were a plea for me to protect the planet,” Shadow said, glancing up at Knuckles. “That’s the only thing I’m certain of.”

Shadow knew he sounded a little too certain of Maria’s last words; bordering on desperate for a thread of truth in his memories to cling to, especially after how he’d already said he knew nothing about her.

He suspected, after the last couple weeks, that Knuckles understood that near-desperation. Perhaps that was why he didn’t call attention to it.

“A dying wish sounds like a whole lot more than nothing,” Knuckles said. “You can tell plenty about someone from that.”

“Can you?” Shadow asked.

“Besides,” Knuckles said, ignoring the question. “Do you really need to know someone for them to be important?”

Shadow opened his mouth; paused, remembered who he was talking to, where he was. He dipped his head, turning the echidna’s question over in his mind.

“. . . I should get back,” he said in lieu of an answer. He stood up, waved his hand when Knuckles moved to pack up the chess set. “You hang onto it. You’re in the practice of keeping things, right?”

Knuckles brow jumped, and he gave him an assessing look. He smirked.

“It’s what I was born to do,” he said. “I’ll have figured out how to beat you next time.”

Shadow huffed, turning away from the mural. Paused.

“Knuckles,” he said, pairing the words with a backward glance over his shoulder. “Do you really think a wish is enough to know someone?”

A reply was slow in coming. The echidna’s eyes briefly turned elsewhere.

“No one wastes their last words on nonsense,” he said. “Children least of all.”

“. . . !”

Shadow’s mind, lost and adrift at sea for weeks, finally, finally settled. He sighed.

“Thank you.”

He weighed his emerald in his hand. Called on its power.

“Chaos energy.”

He turned around again.

“Huh?”

“I can tell whenever you’re on the island,” Knuckles said. “Because you bleed chaos energy. That’s how I know where you are.”

Shadow blinked.

“I thought only fools give away their advantages.”

Not that giving Shadow that information made it any less of an advantage. Knuckles smirked and shrugged.

“I can handle it,” he said. “Besides. Some of my favorite people in the world are fools.”

—————

G.U.N. called a premature end to their mission a couple days afterward. A few people groaned that the call back to terra firma only came once they’d finished upwards of eighty percent of their report, but most were just relieved.

Shadow personally all but collapsed on their couch as soon as he made it into the house. He shifted just enough to situate his quills and then lay motionless.

“I need check on the club,” Rouge said, only swapping out a change of clothes before standing at the door again. “Don’t wait up.”

Shadow managed some unintelligible noise that might’ve been distantly related to a grunt.

“Hey.”

Begrudgingly, he cracked his eyes open. He got Rouge’s middle finger for the effort.

He responded in kind and lazily stuck out his tongue. Rouge laughed and slammed the door shut behind her.

That was the last thing Shadow knew before falling into the deepest sleep he’d had in nearly a month.

@generic-sonic-fan

[justannadahfanfictor]

The Queens successor: part 1

Hey there, so the last few days I’ve been hella into the movie Epic from 2013 and so I ofc came up with a reader Oc idea that I’m going to write. It’s going to be 3 parts. Tbh I can’t really see Ronin with anyone other than Tara but I love the sunshine x grumpy trope. I ofc wanted it to be in the Epic universe so this is what I’ve come up with. Hope you enjoy ❣️

*authors note: hey there I just wanted to apologize in the case I’m not using the correct tags to post this. I saw a post of someone ranting saying it makes the person super angry when the post should be y/n but it’s not. If I knew that I wouldn’t have started writing it the way I did. Now on that note I am going to continue writing at least the rest of this story the way it’s already being written especially because it’s an Oc, but yea, I hope y’all enjoy it as much as possible especially if you’re someone who gets angry when things aren’t written as y/n. Thanks for your understanding.

Word count for pt 1: 3k+

Reader: Oc named Elizabeth but everyone calls her Liz, Poppy, Princess or Princess Poppy

She is Queen Tara’s successor. Queen Tara and Ronin have looked after her since she was a baby.

Love interest: a leaf man named Michael. He is the reader’s personal guard as well as her best friend. He is 2nd in command. Though he is a few years older than Poppy, they grew up together.

Reader and Michael have a relationship very similar to Tara and Ronin (sunshine x grumpy).

This is just a cute fic in the universe of Epic and how Tara and Ronin helped bring the couple together.

There will be quite a bit of parallels in this story compared to Tara and Ronin

17 years prior: Queen Tara’s POV

Today had been a long day. Boggins had become relentless leading to lots and lots of meetings with officials trying to come up with a plan to keep them from crossing into Moonhaven territory. Of course there was also dealing with my feelings for a certain leafman I’ve known for years. I want to be more than friends with him, but I don’t want to ruin the friendship we have. He can be so hard to read sometimes. It made nights like these feel lonely, gloomy; which fit right in with the way the weather was tonight. I was getting ready for bed, listening to the rain as it was really coming down out there.

Thunder began to rumble in when I heard it, clear as day; a baby in distress. I took a second to look out my window where I saw it. There on the palace steps was what looked to be a basket. I extended some vines to bring the basket to me, wanting to get it out of the rain. The sounds of a baby crying became louder as the basket became closer. I pulled the basket up in through the window where I saw the most beautiful baby. She didn’t look to be wearing regular clothes but had an English poppy flower covering her almost like a blanket. I picked the baby up to console her and dry her off a bit when I saw there was a note in the basket. It seemed almost like a cryptic, prophetic message, written in beautiful calligraphy. “She is the secret to future peace; when the time comes and you are deceased.” There was no sign as to who had wrote this. As I went to turn the paper over to look for any answers to who this little girl was, I gave myself a paper cut, hissing out in pain. As I was holding the infant who was now quiet in my arms, she reached out to hold my pointer finger (the finger that was cut). I was going to try to give her a different finger when a soft, warm light shined bright from the palm of her hand. Within seconds, the cut and any evidence there was a cut there before was gone, all healed up. It seemed clear as day this was my sign from Mother Nature. This baby girl was to be the next Queen of Moonhaven. As I was admiring her little features (a tiny button nose, beautiful blue eyes, fiery red hair) she started to whine and cry. I held her close as I rubbed her back speaking sweetly to her. “Alright my little princess; you’re safe with me. What’s the matter hmm? Are you cold?”.

A knock was heard on my door a guard calling out to me; “Your majesty is everything alright in there? I hear crying.” I opened the door to speak with the soldier, holding my little girl close trying to get her to calm down. I told the soldier “everything is alright. I need one of you to go get commander Ronin and bring him back here. Tell him it’s urgent and I need another one of you to find some baby clothes and blankets as well as any other supplies you can find at this hour of night. We will get the rest tomorrow.” The guard was quick to follow orders and go get Ronin. Another guard was quick to come back maybe 10 minutes later with a few baby onsies, diapers and a nice warm blanket. As she handed over the supplies she explained she had had a baby about 2 years ago and these were all extra supplies she had that I could have. I thanked her for her generosity and told her she would be rewarded greatly in the near future. She told me it was not problem but I insisted. She thanked me and then was dismissed to head back home to her own little one.

Less than 30 minutes from my order, Ronin came running to my room looking panicked. He always worries too much. “Your highness I came as soon as I could. What seems to be the problem” He crouched at my side holding my waist lightly inspecting me to check for any wounds and to analyze my face for any giveaways from my mood. I blushed slightly but tried not to say anything about him holding me otherwise he would stop and make distance between us. I told him jokingly “Ronin how many times have I told you just to call me Tara. Everything’s fine, but I wanted you to be the first to know about this. Come sit.” I said making room on the bed next to me. Since it was just the two of us he seemed to have let his guard down sitting next to me holding my hand rubbing his thumb on the back for comfort. “Sorry, what is it you need to tell me” he asked giving me all his attention. He barely even acknowledged that there was a basket sitting near me on the bed as well. “Well,” I started, “I was getting ready for bed when I heard a baby crying from outside.” I pulled the basket towards us showing him there was a baby sleeping sound in that basket. Ronin being the overthinker he is started asking every and any question making sure the baby was not a set up from the Boggins. I stopped him quickly and told him “she’s a sign of the next Queen. Look” I said handing him the note written. He analyzed it quietly before saying “I’ve never seen writing or paper like this before. What do you wish to do with her?” I ran my finger softly over babygirl’s face smiling telling him “it looks like I’ve finally gotten my wish to become a mom in this lifetime.”

I could feel him looking at me and when I went to look back at him, I could feel it. There were no words that needed to be said to feel his love for me. He brought his hand up to my cheek to hold my face lovingly. I could feel the pull we had towards each other, the space between us becoming smaller and smaller when my sweet girl started to whine, wanting to be held. We both pulled away slightly blush and giggling a little. I loved seeing him smile. It was one of the most beautiful things to see/experience. I went to pick her up when Ronin asked if he could hold her instead. I nodded smiling. He picked her up holding her like he was afraid she was gonna break. She looked at him curiously before wrapping her hand around his finger, yawning and curling in closer to him, getting comfy in his arms. She looked so small in his arms. If I could fall even more in love with this man, in that moment, I did. “She’s so small” he said, holding her close. “Do you know what you want to name her?” He asked. I rubbed her nose to her forehead lightly trying to put her back to sleep while she was in his arms and nodded. “I think I am going to name her Elizabeth, but Liz for short or Poppy for a nickname since she came with a big poppy flower.” He smiled looking down at her. “Hello then Poppy. It’s nice to meet you. I promise to always protect you and your mother no matter what it takes.”

He gave her a kiss on the forehead before we put her back in her basket making her comfy. He stood up to go after that and told me “I should get going since it seems we’ll have a busy day tomorrow.” Before he could leave I quickly grabbed his hand. “Stay, please.” My confidence seemed to dwindle a bit so I added “she seems to like you, just in case I need help with her in the night”. He nodded and agreed taking off his shoes before getting under the covers as Liz was put on the ground in her basket next to his side of the bed. I got under the covers and turned off the light. Right before sleep over took me, I felt an arm curl around my waist and bring me closer. I fell asleep, smiling, content with being in the arms of the one I love.

A few months later:

Elizabeth was secretly a blessing for Ronin and i’s relationship. Over the last few months, we had fallen into a routine of taking care of her, him staying over most nights. The kingdom was very happy to hear of the new successor and although many didn’t say anything, I could see and feel they were happy for whatever was going on between Ronin and I.

Things however almost took a turn for the worst about a week ago. We were sitting having tea after a meeting about new procedures for Boggins at the border and how many leafmen had said they felt something big was about to happen. Ronin was holding Liz making faces at her trying to get her to smile and giggle. I looked at him smiling and without even thinking I told him quietly but confidently “I love you”. He stopped what he was doing and asked me “what did you say?” I was scared to tell him but I figured it was now or never. I took a deep breath and started “ I said I love you. I knew I loved you before, I’ve known for years, but seeing you with Poppy, seeing how good you are with her, the closer we’ve gotten since she came into our lives, I can’t avoid my feelings for you anymore. I love you Ronin. I want to wake up next to you every morning and go to sleep next to you every night. I want to work alongside you until my last breath, I want to make you smile as much as I possibly can because to see you smile is to see one of the most beautiful things on earth.”

He looked shocked at my confession with a little bit of fear as well. He didn’t say anything just put Liz back in her stroller and told me “sorry, I forgot I have to go. Meeting with the other leafmen about a possible ambush.” He couldn’t even look me in the eyes. Had I been reading the situation all wrong? A few tears rolled down my cheeks as I was left with my daughter alone.

It’s been about a week and I’ve had very little interaction with Ronin and it’s not from lack of trying. Any chance he gets to avoid me or not talk about what happened a week ago he does. It’s taking a toll on Elizabeth. She’s been extra fussy. In the night sometimes it takes hours to get her to sleep because I know she just wants him to hold her. I may be her mother, but along the way, Ronin became her father and she’s 100% a daddy’s girl. After another night of little to no sleep because of not being able to calm Poppy, I finally snapped.

It was late morning when Ronin came in to debrief with me on the training they were going to be doing today closer to the border, which would leave the village and palace heavily under protected but I figured it was alright. There had been no attacks in months, today hopefully would be no different. I had been nodding off a little towards the end when Ronin tried to get my attention. “Is everything alright Queen Tara? You seem really tired.” Wonder what gave it away. Maybe the eyebags I had from multiple sleepless nights, or the constant yawning. “No everything is not alright” I said with a deep sigh, trying not to explode. I continued on “I know you are upset with me about last week but that doesn’t give you the right to take it out on Elizabeth. Whether you like it or not she has become attached to you these last few months. I have stayed up the last week every single night because she won’t stop crying. She cries until she’s exhausted and then falls asleep for maybe 30 minutes and then cries some more. She wants you. She wants her father.” “Queen Tara-“ he went to speak when Poppy started to cry from the other room. With tears about to overflow from my eyes I took a deep breath and told him “have a good training, stay safe” and then headed to find my princess. I picked her up holding her close to me. “Shh, I know honey, I know, mama’s here. I know I’m not the one you want but please try to calm down for me” I said while rubbing circles on her back walking around the room a bit. What I didn’t see was Ronin standing in the doorway, with guilt taking over his facial features before he left for training.

Ronin’s POV:

Hearing Tara tell me she loves me just made me panic. I was so happy to hear what I feel is reciprocated, but I just had so many other things running through my mind. What if because I am a high ranking officer she is used as collateral damage. What if Princess Poppy was taken to get to me, to torture me? What if I’m a bad father, a bad husband? What if my serious nature weighs on Tara’s happiness? “You okay there Commander? You seem really in your head lately.” My best friend says to me as we start off the training. He was the only one who knew what happened last week and the only one I really talked to about my love for our Queen and childhood friend. “Yea, just got into it a bit with Tara about the princess before we left.” I said sadly looking down at the forces already working on their maneuvers and training. My friend nodded, putting a hand on my shoulder and just told me “dude you gotta apologize and tell her how you feel. You’ve wanted to be with her for forever, now’s your chance.”

Before I could respond, our forces were attacked by Boggins, a good amount of them but not nearly enough for this to be it after months of no attacks. Before killing one of the last ones that came to attack us I held my sword to his throat and said “where are the rest of you?” He smirked spitting out some blood before saying really arrogantly, “We heard there’s a new princess of Moonhaven. We just want to come and introduce ourselves to her. Btw, you’ll never make it back in time to protect her.” Before he could say anything else I killed him and yelled out to my 2nd in command. “The Queen and Princess are in danger. Keep 1/2 of the soldiers here in case this is a ploy and the other half come with me. Move like your life depends on it.” I called for my bird and took off before anyone else was even following behind. I had to get there before either of them got hurt. If I cant tell Tara how I feel, if I never get to hold Liz again, I will never forgive myself.

When we got back to the village, many were in lockdown as Boggins were wreaking havoc. I killed a few as I flew towards the palace. When I got to the palace, I saw dead leafmen on the ground. I hurried in, sword at the ready. A few more leafmen had finally arrived for backup. There were so many Boggins. I started killing on a frenzy once I heard my princess crying. I followed the crying to a room upstairs. It was coming from a room we created to be a safe room years ago, we just never thought we’d have to use it. “Tara” I called out frantically. “Are you in there?” “Yes we’re okay. Is it safe to come out yet?” She asked. It was so relieving to hear her voice. “Not yet” I told her. “I want to make sure theres no Boggins hiding anywhere” I added. Once we did a perimeter sweep and everything was cleared I knocked on the door telling her it was all clear. Tara opened the door and before she could say anything, I pulled her in by her waist with one hand and cupped her cheek gently with the other and kissed her. I put every emotion I had been feeling over the last week into that kiss. I pulled back when I needed air and put our foreheads together. “I love you too” I told her quietly.

“I thought I was never going to be able to say that to you.” I was wrapped up in some vines and lifted off my feet as she said to me “im not completely helpless yknow” which made Poppy giggle from her place on Tara’s hip. “I am aware” I said unamused. “You’re the life of the forest, looking after you is my duty. And Poppy my little princess must carry on your legacy when the time comes. She’s already full of life herself.” I felt the vines loosen and put me back down on the ground but one tickling the side of my face. “Say it again” she whispered, almost as if she were afraid this was all a dream. “I love you” I told her again as she got closer and kissed me again, this kiss full of passion and love. We broke the kiss when I started to hear whining coming from Liz who did not like not having our attention it seems. She was getting ready to start crying again when I picked her up and brought her into my arms.

Almost immediately the whining ceased as I brought her to my chest patting and rubbing circles on her back. “Aww, did someone miss me. I’m so sorry my baby, I’m right here. Daddy’s not going anywhere.” She was cradled in my arms and within minutes, she was knocked out. As I looked down at her lovingly Tara said sadly “she’s missed you so much” I held her closer telling her “I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m sorry I ran the last time. I just didn’t want to put you in danger and didn’t know if I was enough to be with an absolute queen both metaphorically and literally.” The rest of the day was spent together, just holding my princess in my arms and spending time with the love of my life. Things really had changed so much these last few months but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Poppy truly is a blessing.

Authors note: hey there I hope you enjoyed the first part! I wanted to add drawing I created of the oc characters Poppy and Michael 🙂 I’m also gonna add the edit of epic that has just had its claws dug into me these last few days. I want a love like this 😩