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evansbby · 2 years

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𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 | dark!Ari Levinson x innocent!reader, dark!Steve Rogers x innocent!reader, dark!Curtis Everett x innocent!reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | dark, smut, noncon, dubcon, foursome, daddy!kink, oral, anal, physical violence, slapping, mention of alcohol and drugs, insertion of objects, spitting, toys, degradation, dumbification, spanking, very very strongly misogynistic, domesticity kink, slight petplay, bullying, Ari, Curtis and especially Steve being very mean, adultery/cheating, dacryphilia, collars, leashes, free use, sharing is caring.

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | Your husband Ari invites his friends Steve and Curtis for poker night. You knew they’d be sharing a few drinks together - what you don’t know is that they plan on sharing you too.

𝐀/𝐍 | This work includes MAJOR misogyny and degradation. The views of these characters do not reflect my own. Please heed warnings and don’t read if this isn’t your cup of tea. Otherwise, enjoy!

“Honey, where the hell are those drinks?” Ari’s voice is loud, booming and dripping with authority as it carries from the living room into the kitchen. Exhaling slowly a few times to steady your hand, you drop the final few ice cubes into your husband’s glass of whiskey, giving the drink a gentle stir before placing it on the tray next to the scotch and the beer.

“Sure, she’s a real looker, but she’s a bit slow.” You hear your husband explain to his friends. “I don’t worry, though, because what she lacks for in brains, she makes up for in other areas.”

“I’d definitely prefer a broad who’s dumb as bricks. I’d say it makes ‘em hotter.” One of his friends responds – you’re too focused on making sure you have their drinks exactly right to notice who it is that’s spoken.

Their laughter echoes and bounces off the walls of the living room, your husband’s the loudest of all.

Your parents had warned you against Ari Levinson. A business tycoon of his magnitude rocking up in your small town? He’d bought up all the small businesses, bulldozed down the local mall and played a hand in more than a handful of people being left unemployed – including both your parents. Your dad called him a ruthless, big city snob. Your mom called him trouble with a capital T. But you called him your husband.

Or daddy.

“She’s a bit on the younger side.” You hear another one of your husband’s friends – Steve Rogers, you think – comment, “You sure she knows what she’s doing?”

“She’ll manage.” Ari sounds smooth and unperturbed, “I’ve got her trained. And she’s well aware of what’ll happen if she messes up.”

You swallow, tray now gripped tightly in your hands as you make your way out of the kitchen.

Ari was charming and friendly when you’d first met him, and he’d swept you off your feet instantly. The naïve, small-town waitress seduced through his sugary sweet words and expensive gifts. The fact that he was so much older than you didn’t seem to matter, not when he made you feel sparks across your body and see stars behind your eyes.

You were married within three weeks of knowing him.

“I hope she does mess up.” Course, almost sadistic laugher echoes from the living room. Curtis. Ari’s other friend. “I’d love to stick around to witness the repercussions.”

You cringe at his insinuation. You know Curtis Everett is married. You also know he has a wild reputation for being a regular at both the town’s strip club and the local whorehouse. What he does for a living is unclear to you – Ari never discusses things like that with you – but he hangs around in the same circles as your husband and drives a nice car, so you assume he must have a lot of money.

“You ever used your belt on her, Levinson?” Steve asks casually. There’s a darkness to Steve Rogers that you can’t quite pinpoint. An air of mystery that no one in town seems to be able to crack – least of all you. All you know is that he’s one of Ari’s business partners, he’s divorced, and he rides a motorbike from time to time.

Your husband smirks, “Wouldn’t you like to know, you sadistic fuck.”

They know you’ve entered the living room, slowly making your way towards them whilst balancing the tray of drinks, yet they still talk about you like you’re not there. But you still feel nervous, despite none of the three men bothering to tear their gazes away from their game of poker to even spare you a glance.

Curtis is nearest to you, so you approach him first, silently holding out the tray of drinks just like Ari has taught you to do with every guest that’s come to visit in the past. And he looks up, head buzzed but facial hair dark and thick as ever. Beard not as thick as Ari’s, but still thick enough. Ocean blue eyes sparkling with intensity, he grabs his beer from the tray, taking a long swig while maintaining eye contact with you.

“That’s a pretty dress you got on, sweetheart.” Curtis leers, his gaze stuck on your cleavage peaking out past the neckline of your dress. After marrying you, Ari made sure you had a wardrobe full of cute dresses and skirts to wear just for him. All pastel and flowery and girly to match his tastes – which Curtis clearly seems to share.

You hesitate, glancing back at Ari with your lip tucked between your teeth. Curtis’ gaze is hungry and wolfish, taking advantage of the close proximity between the two of you. It makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand, being stared at like this. As if you’re an exhibit inside a zoo enclosure, but he’s the animal circling you from the outside.

“Don’t be rude, honey. Tell him thank you.” Your husband’s order is clear and commanding.

“Th-Thank you, Mr. Everett.” Never first names, your husband had told you that his friends – like Ari himself – were not your equals.

You move on to Steve next. He’s sat on the couch, or more like spread out on the couch because he’s taking up more than half the space. Not even sparing you a single glance when you bend down so the tray is level with him, he grabs his scotch and takes a long, calculated sip. A single strand of his dirty blonde hair falls over his forehead. He’s got long hair just like Ari, but where Ari’s is darker and wilder, Steve’s dirty blonde mane is almost always perfectly styled.

“She’s shaking like a scared little kitten.” Steve comments, and he’s looking at you now. Or rather, your body – his blue eyes drinking in all your curves whilst he still has yet to acknowledge you. But sure enough – he’s right. The tray in your hands is shaking despite your many efforts to calm your own nerves. There’s just something… fearsome about the blond sat in front of you. As if one wrong move on your part and he’ll eat you alive…

Curtis grins, “I think she’s scared of you, Rogers.”

Steve is unamused, “I could give her a good reason to be scared.”

You gulp, slowly straightening up and making your way over to Ari, who’s sat on his leather armchair. Handing your husband his whiskey, you take your seat on his knee – your designated place for whenever you guys have company. Very early on in your marriage, Ari had told you that good little wives sit on their husbands’ laps because the couches and chairs were reserved for the men.

His arm encircles around your waist, pulling you close and pressing a soft kiss to your temple. The act of affection relaxes you, tenseness evaporating from your limbs as you settle down against your husband. In his lap you feel so tiny; he’s just so big – they all are. All three of them don’t look an inch below 6’5, and it only adds to the intimidation you feel.

Their poker game resumes, and you try to make sense of it in your head but the truth is you have no idea what’s going on. You never understood the rules of poker, and Ari had just laughed when, in the past, you’d asked him to explain the game to you. “Poker is a men’s game.” He’d said wisely, “Little girls like you just need to sit tight and look pretty, so don’t you worry your dumb little head over it.”

“My wife’s being a fucking bitch.” Curtis breaks the silence with a drawl, cigarette waving in one hand and beer bottle in the other, “Got herself these progressive friends, telling her she doesn’t have to be in the kitchen all the time. Now suddenly she wants to go out for fucking girls’ night – as if she doesn’t have four of my fucking kids to be taking care of.”

Steve snorts, not even looking up from his cards, “You scared you might run into her at the strip club?”

Taking a long drag from his cigarette, Curtis exhales and the smoke billows out past his pink lips slowly, his blue eyes looking straight at you through the grey mist. “I don’t give a shit if I do. Maybe if she knew I was getting pleasure elsewhere, she’d try harder in the bedroom. Fuckin’ bitch.”

“Divorce her. That’s what I did when my broad got too big for her boots.” The blond finally looks up from his deck of cards, his icy blue eyes – like Curtis’ – drinking you in with their intense gaze. “Now Levinson’s got the right idea. Got himself a pretty young thing who doesn’t dare to even breathe unless he tells her to.”

Ari smirks, his thick fingers tracing shapes on your bare thigh, “You got that right. My little angel knows exactly where her place is, don’t you, baby?”

Of course, you know your place. You’d been happy to grant Ari full control of your life from the moment you had met him. He was just so handsome, so sweet, so charming – with seemingly endless amounts of money and praise that he had no problem spending on you. In your naïve eyes, he seemed like a God. And he still does, so you nod.

“Yes, Ari. I know my place.”

“Ari? Is that what she calls you?” Steve’s remark is quick and biting.

Your husband sighs, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. His touch is soft but his gaze hardens, and he doesn’t even have to say anything. His disapproval is evident in the look he gives you, and it makes your heart sink.

The rule is to only call Ari “daddy” when you’re inside the house. But he’s never made you do it when the two of you have company over. The thought of calling him that in front of Curtis and Steve makes your heart beat faster and heat rise to your cheeks. But the possibility of disobeying Ari makes you feel almost sick to your stomach.

“Sorry, I meant daddy. I know my place, daddy.” You correct yourself, earning a soft kiss on your lips from your husband, the simple gesture making you glow inwardly. It’s like your body is now wired to function on his approval. You try not to think about the fact that his friends are right there, because that might make you spontaneously combust with embarrassment.

“Fuckin’ newlyweds,” Curtis growls as he watches you and Ari continue to kiss. He suddenly slams his beer bottle on the coffee table, the loud thud making you jump. “Hey sweetie, get me another beer.”

No please, no thank you. But you scamper to obey anyways – you already know your night’s going to be spent going back and forth from kitchen to living room as you fetch drinks for them. You’re barely on your feet when Ari’s hand smacks your ass hard, the lewd sound echoing across the room along with the squeak of surprise that leaves your mouth.

The men laugh and you scurry out of the room quickly. “Where the hell did you find her, Levinson? She’s shyer than a fuckin’ mouse!” Curtis’ voice booms.

Inside the kitchen and away from their burning gazes, you allow yourself to exhale slowly. You may be overthinking it, but something seems off about tonight. It’s in the way that all three men are looking at you – your husband included. And the dress Ari chose for you is shorter than usual, which doesn’t help much with the staring. They’re treating you like an object, and you honestly don’t know how to feel about that.

“You think she got lost in there?” Steve’s voice is loud enough to carry through the walls and into the kitchen. You sigh, grabbing another bottle of beer from the fridge and making your way back out, being sure to tug your tiny dress down before you return.

“Here you are, Mr. Everett.” You say politely, breath hitching in your throat when his hand brushes against yours as he takes the beer from you.

“At least some women still remember their manners,” The buzzcut-haired man murmurs, “Fuckin’ feminists, ruining this world for the rest of us. You’re still good though, sweetie. Your daddy trained you well, huh?”

“Yes, Mr. Everett.” You disagree with just about everything he’s saying, but you have to keep that to yourself.

It’s hard to not be intimidated when all three men seem to have their eyes glued on you; you can feel their gazes again as you make your way back over to Ari. You’re about to sink back down on his lap when he raises a hand, the simple action making you freeze.

“Why don’t you sit by daddy’s feet for a little while, angel?”

He says it so sweetly, almost like he’s requesting you to do a small favour for him. But the edge in his tone, that unmistakable tinge of darkness dancing around his words can’t be ignored. It’s an order, cleverly disguised as a question although he has no reason to disguise it. But by his feet? On the floor?

You swallow harshly, suddenly remembering your parents’ distressed words of warning when you’d broken the news that you and Ari had eloped: “That man looks at you like you’re a piece of meat. You need to get out while you still can, he doesn’t respect you and he never will.” But you love him. You’re so in love with him that it hurts to disobey him, to upset him in any way, shape or form.

“Is she hard of hearing or something?” Steve’s deep baritone makes you jump inadvertently, not a note of sympathy in his words. “Maybe she isn’t as well trained as you say she is, Levinson. Hey sweetheart,” He clicks his teeth like he’s beckoning a dog, “Are you deaf or just plain dumb?”

Bristling at Steve’s stark meanness, you waste no more time in sinking down to your knees next to Ari’s feet, hands clasped neatly over your lap and chin jutted upwards to look at your husband. And Ari seems cool and collected as ever, taking another long gulp of his whiskey. He doesn’t even look your way, but his hand pats the top of your head – the action bringing you both embarrassment and comfort at the same time.

“To think she asked for a puppy for Christmas.” Ari says offhandedly, “I told her I didn’t have time to take care of two pets.” Again, the men laugh crudely, and you’re left feeling more than a little dejected. But Ari pushes the back of your head forward, making you rest your cheek on his thigh with his fingers raking through your hair and you relax once more.

“Speaking of dumb,” Curtis pipes up as they continue to play poker, “Ransom’s got a new bitch and she’s dumb as hell. Saw her at the club with him the other night, he had her dressed looking like a fuckin’ whore.” He smirks, “The things that girl would do for a line of crack.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?” Steve scoffs.

“Things you can’t even dream of, grandpa.” Curtis slaps his knee and barks out a laugh, “How long’s it been since you got your rocks off, huh?”

The blond shrugs, “At least I’m not a walking STD.”

You want to wrinkle your nose at their conversation but you know that wouldn’t be a good idea. But the way they speak about women is so crass, so dehumanising – it’s almost scary. The only thing keeping you calm right now is Ari’s heavy, warm hand as it strokes the top of your head continuously as if you’re his pet.

“My angel does everything Ransom’s crackwhore does, except she does it for free.” Ari interjects, a satisfied smirk painted on his face.

Curtis’ eyebrow cocks up in interest, and even Steve puts his drink down.

“Yeah? Sweetie, are you a little freak in the sheets?” Curtis asks as he leans forward to toss what’s left of his cigarette into the crystal ashtray that’s on the coffee table.

You immediately look up at Ari, who is now scratching the space behind your ear in a way that really does make you feel like you’re some kind of puppy. Your husband sighs, “Answer him, angel. And don’t look at me like that again. You speak when you’re spoken to, no ifs or buts. Got it?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You flinch at his stern tone before turning to look at Curtis. “I… I don’t know, Mr. Everett.”

A snort sounds past Steve’s lips, “She’s a little airhead, isn’t she? Gotta find me one of those. Hey, sweetheart, you ever let your daddy spank you? Fuck you all rough, take it up the ass for him?”

Eyes wide and blood running cold, you can feel the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the blonde’s blunt questions. But the sting of Ari’s disapproval and the threat of disobeying him has you stumbling over an answer:

“Y-Yes, Mr. Rogers. Daddy has done all of that to me.” And more.

Curtis whistles lowly, “Damn, sweetie, wish I had you sitting pretty in my bedroom instead of my cunt wife.”

You let out a soft gasp, immediately waiting with baited breath for Ari to blow up. In the short time you had been together, your husband was always very possessive of you. From giving dirty looks to random men who even dared to look at you, to resorting to violence any time another man tried to talk to you.

But the rules are different for his friends, clearly, because Ari doesn’t move a muscle, coolly downing his whiskey before setting the glass on the crystal coffee table. You almost mewl sadly when his hand stops stroking your head and he stands up.

“I forgot something upstairs,” He says vaguely as he looks down at you, “Honey, can I trust you to look after and entertain my friends while I go upstairs and get it?”

Again, it’s not a question. And the idea of being alone downstairs with Curtis and Steve without the comforting and protective presence of your husband is daunting to say the least. But it’s not like you can say no. You knew the day you married Ari that the word ‘no’ was no longer in your vocabulary.

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You nod subserviently, and your husband grins almost wolfishly. And there’s something about the expression on his face, the slight smirk on his pink lips and the way his tanned skin flushes in excitement – he’s been cool as a cucumber all evening but now? It’s as if he’s got something up his sleeve, and a glance at his friends shows they share the same dark sparkle in their eyes too.

But you don’t have time to ponder over anything, because the next thing you know you’re being hauled up onto your feet, a pained yelp escaping your lips as Ari yanks you upwards with a death grip on your hair.

“You hear that, guys? She said she’d entertain you. Who wants her first?”

It’s like everything’s happening lightning quick – Ari picking you up easily, and you squealing because your dress rides up and you’re pretty sure your panties are visible for a split second before you tug it back down. But that turns out to be the least of your worries because the next thing you know, your husband has unceremoniously dumped you into Steve’s lap.

Like a ragdoll.

“Hey, hey, calm down, sweetheart.” Steve immediately wraps his arms around your waist to stop you from flailing. His words drip with condescension and faux-comfort, and it feels almost alien to be in his arms. You’ve never been held like this by a man apart from your husband, and although Steve is so similar to Ari in build and looks – he’s still not your husband.

“Ari?” You squeak, but the only response you get is the sound of all three men laughing – a sound that you’ve been hearing all night.

“Hush, little baby.” Curtis mocks, reaching out to pull your cheek as if you really are a little baby, “Me and Mr. Rogers, we can be your daddies too, you know? Your daddy said it was okay.”

Your gaze trails dejectedly after Ari, or rather Ari’s back, as you watch him leave the room. And now you’re left with two pairs of steely blue eyes that are so like your husband’s yet so different in so many ways.

“Hand her over,” Curtis demands Steve almost immediately, “God knows I need her little body against me right now. I’m harder than a fucking rock, watching this little sweetheart fetch me beers all night.” He tries to yank you by your arm, but the blonde’s grip on you only tightens, and the younger man frowns, “Give her over, Rogers. She likes me better than you, anyways. Don’t you, sweetie?”

Well, he’s certainly nicer than Steve – but you don’t particularly like either of them right now. And you’re too panicked to answer him. How could Ari leave you alone with these two? And why would he throw you on Steve’s lap as if you were expected to…

Entertain him.

“A little girl like her craves the firm hand of an older man.” Steve responds smoothly, his hand resting on your bare thigh and giving it a soft squeeze that has you practically panting. No other man apart from Ari has touched you like this, and you can feel something so hard underneath you. The blond grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Don’t you, sweetheart? You like men twice your age best, don’t you? Gets your little pussy wet knowing you’re with a man old enough to be your dad?”

Curtis snorts, leaning back and lighting another cigarette, “Clearly. She married Levinson.”

That grabs your attention, and you find yourself shaking your head, “No, me and Ari are in love!”

You’re serious with your claim, and you don’t expect the two older men to burst out laughing. Loud, booming laughter that makes you even more uncomfortable than you already are. Beneath you, you can feel Steve’s hard crotch rubbing against your bottom as he laughs, his chest snug against your back as he holds you close with one muscular arm.

“Sure, sweetie, he loves you a lot. So much, in fact, that he’s willing to share you with his friends.”

You frown at Curtis’ statement – what does he mean by share?

You find out not two seconds later when Steve’s huge hands find the zipper of your dress, fingers deft and quick in unzipping you. Gasping, you try and wiggle away again but to no avail. “Mr. Rogers! Wh-What are you doing!?”

“Stay the fuck still,” Steve orders you, “Gotta get you out of this dress. As pretty as it is, I prefer my toys naked and compliant.” The straps of the dress are pushed down your shoulders, and Curtis joins in too, pulling the fabric down your body.

Blood rushes to your face, but for some reason your protests barely make it past your lips with how feeble they seem to be. Having both older men’s hands on you, pawing at you lewdly and practically shredding your dress to pieces with their impatience to get you naked; for some reason you feel your pussy throb.

No, no you can’t! You can’t betray Ari like this! So then why do you bite back a moan when Steve finally rips your dress in two, throwing the sorry-looking flowery rags to the floor before he cups both your breasts (Ari had told you not to wear a bra tonight), squeezing the soft flesh and rolling your hard nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Curtis’ rough and calloused palm immediately cups your pussy through your pale pink panties that Ari had chosen for you.

“Did you wet yourself, little girl? Or are you just excited?” He asks, grinding his palm down against your covered mound, making you gasp out loud. And you’ve always lacked willpower – Ari’s punished you enough times for it in the past – so you can’t help but buck your hips against Curtis’ hand, feeling the shame wash over you but not caring enough to stop.

“Look at her, humping against my hand already like a little slut – almost like she’s an eager little virgin or something. I guess Ari never taught her anything about self-control.” The buzzcut-haired man comments.

Steve smirks, still toying with your breasts as if he hasn’t touched a woman in years; squeezing them and pressing them together, holding you taut against him as you flail on top of him from all the mixed sensations you’re currently feeling.

“She’s all riled up from earlier. Pretty pussy’s all wet from fetching our drinks all night, or maybe it’s because she’s cheating on her husband. Hey! Stay the fuck still, you dumb fucking slut!” Steve growls suddenly, because Curtis chooses that moment to slap your panty-covered pussy hard, and your whole body convulses on top of Steve.

“Give her a drink, maybe it’ll calm her down.” Curtis nods to the glass of half-finished scotch on the coffee table, “It’s too bad Levinson didn’t want to drug her for this. Something about fucking a girl who’s half unconscious really gets me going.”

“No way. Half the fun is in the way she wails and fights back. Look at her now, conflicted and guilty because she’s feeling so good. She can’t even keep still, rutting like a little bunny in heat. Hey, sweetheart, have a sip.” Steve nudges his glass of scotch against your lips and you wrinkle your nose, eyes wide as saucers.

“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink.”

“Daddy doesn’t allow me to drink,” Curtis mimics you cruelly, making his voice all high-pitched, “Sweetie, your daddy left us in charge of you, so drinking a little bit of alcohol is the least of your worries. Now open up.”

You part your lips, ready to take a timid sip except Steve has different plans – he tips the glass over your face, the burning liquid sloshing all down your front. It’s icy cold against your skin, dripping down your neck and over your chest. Curtis groans, immediately dipping his head down to lick the liquid off of you. And his rough tongue against your smooth skin has you crying out as he licks a tantalising trail between your breasts, before his mouth latches onto your nipple, suctioning hard and practically fitting your whole breast into his mouth, making a show of it and moaning lewdly the whole time.

“Dumb baby,” Steve tsk-tsks, “Look at the mess you made. Wasting all of daddy’s drink. Apologise, right now.”

You hiccup, mind slowly going empty with Curtis going to town on your tits with no sign of slowing down. And he’s still got one hand pressing between your legs, and that mixed with the feel of Steve’s hard dick poking your ass from underneath has your mind going empty at a faster rate than ever. You involuntarily buck up against Curtis’ hand again, your pussy weeping already and you know you’re embarrassingly wet, and –

SMACK.

The force of the slap across your face leaves you winded and shocked, as does the stinging pain now spreading across your cheek.

“When I tell you to apologise, you apologise.” Steve warns sternly, and Curtis finally looks up, licking his full pink lips at the site of you with your head whipped to the side.

You feel your breathing grow ragged and your lower lip wobble, the pain and embarrassment almost too much for you to handle. Salty tears well in your eyes, a natural response to the slap you’ve just received, and you sniffle softly.

Ari reappears at that moment, and your heart swells at the sight of your husband. He always makes you feel so safe, so familiar – unlike the man whose lap you’re currently splayed out over. Like a baby, you outstretch your arms towards him. “Daddy! H-He… He hit me!”

That proclamation has Curtis beside himself with laughter, “Hear that, Steve? She just tattled on you! Like a little girl running to her daddy.”

Ari crouches down till he’s level with your face, grabbing your chin firmly between his thumb and forefinger, “He hit you, honey?”

“Yeah!”

“Where?”

Your hand is shaky as you point to your cheek which still throbs with pain. Steve hadn’t held back with his slap, and now he sits back with you still on his lap and a smile on his face, not an ounce of regret visible in his demeanour, as if he’s admiring his handiwork.

Ari’s own hand reaches out to stroke your stinging cheek softly, and you nuzzle into his palm, welcoming his touch. Steve is horrifically mean and Curtis is crass and rude, but your daddy is the best. He knows how to treat you right, knows exactly how to make you feel better with just a simple, soft touch –

SMACK.

You can hardly believe it when Ari strikes you across the face, the blow almost as hard as Steve’s, and now you burst out crying in earnest.

“Poor baby,” Curtis coos, lighting up his third cigarette of the hour and taking a long drag before puffing the smoke directly in your face. You cough harshly, his smoke filling your lungs and adding to your discomfort, but he doesn’t seem to care; “I guess that’s what you get for being a slut and cheating on your daddy with his two best friends.”

Ari strokes the side of your face where pain still blooms from his blow, and you find yourself flinching now, scared he’s going to hit you again. His eyes locked with your own tearful ones; and you don’t even notice the collar in his hand until he waves it in front of your face. In a voice beguiling, and so falsely gentle, he speaks as if he’s talking to a toddler: “Now honey, can you read what this collar says?”

Ari has made you wear plenty of collars in the past; you have your special pink one – the one with his initials on it as well as the words “daddy’s princess.” That one’s definitely your favourite. You also have a black one that says ‘daddy’s property’ which is nice too. But this collar in Ari’s hands, this one is new. It’s jet-black leather with silver studs, and a matching silver dog-tag that dangles from the front, glistening in the light with only one word inscribed on it:

Whore

You blubber softly, cheeks still stinging with pain and now a matching sting in your heart. What exactly is happening right now? You wonder to yourself as Ari fastens the collar around your neck while Steve holds you in place with a death grip.

“I asked you something, sweet girl. Did you read what the collar says?”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You sniffle, “Says whore.”

“It does. Because that’s what you are for tonight.” Ari chuckles softly at the bewildered look on your face, stroking your cheek once more in time with Steve who is now running his hands through your hair. “Angel, you’re new to this whole marriage and relationships thing – so I understand that you’re too dumb to know how it works. But good little wives not only offer their services to their husbands, but to their husbands’ friends too. And that’s what you’ll be doing tonight.”

You feel like he’s dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, “B-But…But…”

“No, Angel. No ‘buts,’ remember?” Ari taps your cheek lightly as if to remind you of the pain his palm is capable of inflicting. “You don’t want to be like Curtis’ wife, do you? A dumb, wild broad who believes she can think for herself? No, that’s not you. You’re good and innocent and you’ll do exactly what daddy says, won’t you? Because men don’t like women who think they have any power in this world – it turns us off more than anything else. Do you want to turn me off, baby? Do you want to disappoint me?”

“No!” You cry, and you’d have reached out to wrap your arms around Ari’s neck if it weren’t for Steve holding you close to his own chest, his breath hot against the back of your neck, “No, daddy! Never wanna disappoint you! I’ll do wh-whatever you guys want me to do.”

Steve is unforgiving when he drops you on the floor, and you wince as you land painfully on your ass. “Be a good whore then.” He says bluntly, “Hands and knees. Lick my shoe.”

It’s not the first time that night that shock courses through your veins, but three pairs of blue eyes have now locked in on you, with hungry and expectant gazes that make you believe that you are the object that they want you to be, that they undoubtedly see you as. And so you gulp and get into position, naked and kneeling before the blond, his boots scuffed and slightly dirty as you stare at them from eye level.

“She’s got a great ass.” Curtis remarks crudely, the men casually falling back into conversation whilst you will yourself to part your lips, peak your tongue out and give Steve’s shoe a tentative lick. And then another. You stifle a soft gasp when you feel Curtis’ rough hand on your bottom, patting it as if you’re an animal at an auction, “If she was mine, I’d have her naked and crawling around on all fours all the time, this peachy ass is too fuckable to hide underneath clothes.”

“It’s the first thing I noticed about her.” Ari agrees, and his hand joins Curtis’, grabbing onto your other cheek and giving it a firm squeeze, “She was working at some dingy diner… Had this tiny fuckin’ dress on – called it a ‘uniform’. Didn’t even know her back then but I got an eyeful of her little girl panties every time she bent over. Fuckin’ slut. She gave out not fifteen minutes later.”

Your cheeks burn, but you concentrate on Steve’s shoe, licking it as if your life depends on it. And despite everything, despite how inhumane and disrespectful and shameful and objectifying the act is, there’s something about kneeling in front of a powerful man like Steve, or like Ari or Curtis, that makes your pussy throb with need.

“Make the leather shine, whore.” Steve is so stark, so to-the-point with his orders; he shoves his boot in your face, rubbing it over your lips, chin and cheeks and covering your sensitive skin in a mix of your own spit and dirt. “You like that, don’t you? Like being treated with no respect like all little girls like you should be. You’re nothing more than the dirt beneath my shoe, sweetheart. Remember that.”

“Y-Yes, daddy.” You find yourself saying between licks. Being the main object of attention between these three men has you wetter and steadily growing dumber by the second.

Your panties – the last article of clothing covering your modesty – are roughly ripped off of you, the soggy fabric landing on the floor next to your face. Steve’s hands grip your hair tightly, jerking you roughly upwards till you’re level with his dick, cowering between his parted thighs. Less than a second later, he’s unzipped himself, pulling his dick out and nudging it against your lips, “Open up, whore.”

The only man whose dick you’ve sucked prior to this is Ari – and Steve is a lot less forgiving. Stuffing his length into your barely parted mouth, the blond moves you by the hair, guiding your lips up and down his fat dick, and you were already crying but fresh tears well in your eyes from the choking feeling of fullness, your nose smacking against his pelvis as he manhandles you.

“Wish she’d been a virgin up here.” Curtis mutters, completely unperturbed by the fact that you’re currently choking on Steve’s dick, and you feel a rush of cool air when he spreads your ass cheeks, “Would’ve been so much fun to break into her little asshole.”

“I couldn’t hold off on that,” Ari’s fingers are deft and confident, tracing the rim of your puckered hole like he’s done countless times before and making your entire body shiver from head to toe. “She let me fuck her ass on our second date. She’s still tight up there, though. Try and finger her, you won’t even get one in.”

Curtis spits, his saliva dripping down the crevice of your ass, pooling around your asshole where Ari works it in with his pointer finger, the thick ring of muscle practically closing up around him, barely allowing an inch of his digit in. You involuntarily wiggle, trying to move your hips backwards to meet their fingers as Curtis joins in. But while Ari is teasing, Curtis is straightforward – wasting no time in ramming his pointer finger up your ass. The pain blooms almost immediately, making you cry out around Steve’s dick.

“Ah, she’s a good little cocksucker, Ari.” Steve comments, his grip on your hair so tight it hurts, “But she can’t take my whole dick in, can she? Look at her, already crying and I’m not even halfway inside of her.” Once more, he slaps your cheek before tapping it in quick succession, “Hey, cockslut, did your daddy not teach you how to deepthroat?”

He pulls his dick out of your mouth, the loss of contact making you pout despite the fact that you were practically choking not a second ago. “S-Sorry, daddy. T-Too big, it’s too big. Mouth’s too small – oh fuck!” You lurch forward when you feel something warm and wet lapping at your puckered hole – it’s Curtis’ tongue, hungry and desperate against your tight hole, his hands roughly pushing apart your ass cheeks.

Ari’s fingers slip down to your sopping core, your wetness dripping down and staining the carpet, making it so easy for your husband’s knowing fingers to glide up and down your slit, circling your clit in a way that has you panting and grinding back into his hand, earning a slap on your wiggling bum in the process.

“Needy baby,” Ari murmurs, and you’re about to whine, beg for him to stop teasing, when your head whips to the side once more from a rush of contact. Steve’s gripping his huge dick in his hand, and it looks so hard and angry as he slaps you across the face with it. Once, twice, three times till you’re wailing like a baby.

“She’s so fucking hot when she cries.” Steve comments, rubbing his dick over your face now as if he’s a feral animal trying to mark you with his scent, pressing the bulbous tip of his cock against your lips and you can’t help but pathetically part them, mouth gaping to taste him again. But he moves on, rubbing his length and his balls over your cheeks, nose, just all over. “You like being a messy whore? Want daddy to smear your face with cum, spit and dirt, get you looking like a proper slutty whore?”

“Y-Yeah, please!” You cry softly, and Steve grins.

Ari’s two knuckles deep into your pussy by this point, his fingers so deliciously thick as he pumps in and out. He knows exactly how to curve his digits, and at what angle, making your back arch from doing the bare minimum, causing you to press your ass further into Curtis’ face and eager tongue.

“She tastes like a dream.” Curtis’ voice is muffled, hands reaching up to slap and squeeze your ass obscenely, as if the flesh is his personal stress-ball, “God, Levinson. Why didn’t you think of sharing her before? With a sweet tasting ass like hers…” It’s like he can’t help himself, his beard prickling your skin as he dips his head back down, tongue practically making out with your puckered hole.

He tries to shove another finger in, but barely manages to fit in the tip of it. “God, a sweet ass that’s also tight as fuck? No wonder you call her an angel.”

Ari smirks, “Told you. I gotta take my time loosening her up before I fuck her up there. Or you could hold her down and force yourself in. She’ll cry either way.”

You whimper needily between them. It’s crazy how they continue to talk about you as if you’re not splayed naked right there. But it turns you on beyond belief, the idea that you’re just an object to them, that they can discuss you as easily as they would discuss what’s on the morning news. It makes you want them even more, especially now that Curtis has lifted his head up, Ari’s fingers have stalled and even Steve has pushed your face back down to his boot.

The blond is busy palming his dick as he now gazes down hungrily at your exposed ass, “If we’re gonna vote on it, I say force it in. She’s just a hole at the end of the day, and she’s going to be taking more than one cock up her ass tonight regardless.”

Mewling softly, you reach out with grabby hands for one of them, as if silently begging them to keep touching you, to give you some sort of contact because all of it seems to have stopped as the three older men casually discuss your body. You can feel your slick pouring down and coating your thighs, making them sticky with your arousal but you don’t dare to touch yourself.

“P-Please, daddy, please touch me.” You don’t know who you’re addressing, but your desire overtakes your fear of the three intimidating men. Face nuzzling Steve’s calf, ass wiggling pointedly towards Curtis and hips grinding down on the carpet below you, you know shame is something you’ve left far, far behind. “Please. Need–wanna be touched!”

Ari’s fingers find your mouth, pushing past your lips and effectively shutting you up.

“I don’t know. There are certainly other ways to stretch her out.” The mischief is evident in Curtis’ eyes when he suddenly reaches for something on the coffee table. Your eyes, hazy with lust, follow his hand, breath hitching when he grabs his now empty beer bottle.

“What do you think, sweetie?” Curtis asks you, “You want daddy to stuff this bottle up your ass like you’re some kind of cheap whore performing tricks at the brothel?”

You cower as Ari gathers you into his lap, your back against his chest and his hands gripping your bare thighs, spreading them wide open for the other two men to see, pussy spread open and splayed out with wetness trickling down your thighs, glistening and embarrassingly obvious.

“She looks scared.” Steve remarks, “You scared, sweetheart?”

You quiver in your husband’s arms, nodding in response although your fearful eyes don’t leave the bottle in Curtis’ hand. The neck alone is daunting, and the rest of the bottle has an even wider girth that makes your unprepped asshole twitch in fear.

“Use your words when you’re talking to me.” The blond growls, irritation clouding over his handsome features.

“Y-Yeah, I’m scared.” You answer softly.

“But you’re gonna do it anyways, aren’t you?” Ari sings in your ear, slapping your thigh to spread your legs out even further, bending your knees and adjusting you so that your rear hole is in full view. And you’re so wet, so incredibly wet that your juices spill down to stain Ari’s jeans and the couch.

You turn to look at your husband with pleading eyes, hoping to find a semblance of pity in his handsome face, “D-Daddy, please. Please don’t make me – AH!”

Again, your face is whipped to the side with another unforgiving slap, and Ari smiles down at you so casually, as if he’s just kissed you good-morning instead of slapped you in the face. “Honey, you know better than to deny your daddies.”

That’s how you find yourself laid out on the coffee table, three pairs of eyes belonging to three very intimidating and powerful men staring down at you as if you’re a piece of meat and they’ve been starving for days.

“Stay the fuck still, whore.” Curtis barks; he’s got your legs over his shoulders to give him better access to your puckered hole, grip harsh as he tries to keep you from flailing around. Your hole’s been stretched out by his and Ari’s thick fingers and a mix of your wetness and his saliva, but it still burns as he tries to force the thicker end of the beer bottle into you.

“H-Hurts!” You mewl, blindly grabbing at anything you can – which happens to be the collar of Steve’s shirt. Ruthlessly, the blond shoves your hand off of him, instead guiding it to his erect dick which is still wet from your saliva.

“If you’re gonna grab on to something, might as well be useful about it.” His dick is so thick, and just as big as Ari’s from what you can feel. Your little hand barely wraps around it, but you can’t even focus on pleasuring him because of the violating pain of the beer bottle being stuffed up your ass.

Ari guides your other hand to wrap around his dick, which is now also out of his unzipped jeans. “C’mon baby, jack us off the way I taught you to. The way I like it.” His tone is mesmerising, it’s almost instinctive when you obey, pumping the two thick dicks in your hands, trying to focus on their veiny girth and the way they twitch against your palms, how hard they feel, how big they both are.

“Oh, fuck, daddy, it hurts!” You cry out again, legs tightening around Curtis’ shoulders as he continues to stuff the unforgiving glass bottle up your ass. The buzzcut-haired man swats your thigh warningly, dislodging the bottle from your puckered hole completely, leaving you gaping as he swirls it around your pussy, gathering your wetness on its surface before returning it to your ass.

“Cut the complaining, baby girl. Your daddy already told us you’re a slut for anal, how much you love taking cock up your ass. How is this bottle any different, huh?” Curtis kisses up your thigh, slowly staring to fuck the bottle in and out of your ass as he sucks on your sensitive skin – no doubt leaving a mark in the process.

Meanwhile, Steve guides your hand to his balls, making you fondle and squeeze them, play with them indecently while the blonde grunts lowly, “God, wish my bitch of an ex-wife was half as compliant as you. What made you decide to become such a slutty whore, huh sweetheart?”

“W-Wanted to please daddy.” You answer quickly, knowing that if you didn’t then there’d be hell to pay – and probably another slap.

Ari smirks, brushing your hair out of your face almost tenderly as you continue to jack him off, “Damn right. It’s beautiful how just a few months ago, you were a naïve little virgin, and just look what a cockslut you’ve turned into now.”

“She’s still naïve, I’d say.” Curtis pipes up, his bicep muscles tensing as he shallowly fucks you with the beer bottle, in and out and in and out so rhythmically yet you’re seeing stars created from your own pain and sick pleasure.

“Naïve? More like dumb. Don’t think I’ve met a slut with an emptier head – but that’s what makes her the perfect wife, I guess.” Steve muses.

Being the “perfect wife” leads to you splayed out on the coffee table while the three men return to their seats, leaving you panting, unsated and still with the beer bottle lodged up your ass.

“Keep your legs open, angel.” Ari commands you, picking his deck of cards back up and that’s when you realise that they plan to ignore you and continue with their poker game instead. A low whine sounds past your lips at the thought.

“Look at her, crying like a baby again. She’s used to you spoiling her, Ari. Bet she thinks we were gonna make her cum or something.” Curtis snickers, kicking his feet up on the table, dangerously close to your pussy.

“P-Please – n-not fair – wanna cum so bad!” You cry softly, wanting to touch your pussy so badly but not knowing whether or not you had the permission to do it. And you’d much rather have one of them touch you, knowing it would feel so much better.

“You’re the entertainment tonight, before anything else, whore. The entertainment doesn’t get to cum until your daddies say so.” Steve says firmly, holding his cards in one hand and pumping his dick leisurely with the other, hungry blue eyes devouring the sight of you in such a compromising position in front of him, “You’re going to stay like that while your daddies play our game, and you better fuck yourself with that bottle the whole time.”

So that’s what you do, pursing your lips in pain as you do it. Never in a million years did you imagine yourself being used as the visual entertainment for your husband and his friends; naked and splayed out while they made you fuck yourself with a beer bottle. You can feel your asshole stretch and burn at the intrusion; eyes scrunching shut from the pain that blooms. But your pussy is so wet, slick cream pooling on the coffee table underneath you in the filthiest sight imaginable.

“God, she looks hot as fuck.” Curtis is quick to comment, his boot nudging your thighs open even more so he can get a better look, “You ever think of doing porn, sweetie? You’d be a natural, just look at the way you’re putting on such a filthy show for your daddies.”

Almost instinctively, you arch your back, the bottle making obscene squelching noises as you fuck it past the tight ring of your asshole, little pants leaving your mouth as if you’re a dog in heat.

“She’s enjoying herself.” Steve clicks his tongue at the observation, barely looking up from his deck of cards.

“You’re not allowed to cum, angel. Remember that.” Ari says casually, his words making you mewl in frustration.

But it’s hard not to cum when you’re so wet, and Curtis’ boot keeps nudging against your leg, inching closer and closer to your pussy till the sole grazes against your clit and you gasp loudly, jerking forward, “AH, daddy!”

The older men all ignore you, continuing their own conversation whilst you shiver and convulse and whimper between them, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, trying your best to focus and keep your legs apart as you continue to sheath your poor, quivering asshole with the beer bottle.

But more than the beer bottle, all you can really focus on is Curtis’ boot and how he’s so obviously pressing it against your wet folds, making the leather glisten with your juices. Half panicked, you whip your head towards Ari, wondering if he sees what his friend is doing. But your husband seems determined to ignore you – almost as if you’re not even there.

“Daddy,” you cry softly, not really knowing who you’re crying for. It’s instinctive and slightly shameful when you can’t help but grind down against Curtis’ boot, your pussy squelching and needy from being treated like a whore. And the buzzcut haired man doesn’t even acknowledge you, cigarette lazily caught between his lips as he digs his boot into your wet cunt.

It doesn’t take long until you’re riding his boot, grinding down on it as if your life depends on it, panting like you’re in heat as his shoe swirls around your wetness. Your cream coating the leather, he digs into your clit, nudging at your sensitive bundle of nerves and making you moan out wantonly in pleasure.

“Ah, ah daddy–oh fuck!”

You’re squirting all over his shoe before you ever realise what’s happening, so much of your cream now pooling on the coffee table that it’s made the surface slippery. And Curtis continues to push his boot cruelly into your sensitive button, and like a thirsty whore you hump against him, riding out your high and forgetting that there’s anyone else in the room.

“Levinson, looks like your whore wife doesn’t know how to follow instructions.”

Ari leans down over your quivering form, “Honey, what did I say about not cumming?” His voice brims with disappointment and you just want to bury your face in your hands.

“ ‘m sorry,” you hiccup, “C-Couldn’t help it. Mr. Ev-Everett – He used his shoe… wouldn’t stop!”

“Look at her, tattling to her daddy again.” Curtis laughs, getting to his feet and giving your ass a hard smack that has you howling with pain, “You’re lucky I’m not gonna make you lick your mess off my shoe, you horny bitch. But I think I’ll give my wife the honour of doing that when I get home tonight.”

Your eyes are wide as saucers as Ari helps your shaky body get on your hands and knees on the coffee table. From his pocket, he pulls out a leather leash, casually hooking it to your collar and tying the other end around the leg of the table, effectively trapping you in place.

“Stay still honey, and stick your ass out nicely so I can see it,” Ari commands softly, and it’s the gentleness in his voice that scares you the most. Because you’ve broken his rule – you’ve cum without permission, and you can’t even begin to imagine what’s going to happen now.

It’s the deathly quiet that has your heart beating harder than ever, this ominous sense of foreboding building up as the three men surround you like a pack of depraved wolves. Hunger in their eyes and hands itching to touch your body as they close in on you slowly, and Ari strokes your hair softly – but it feels like the softness that precedes the inevitable blow…

“I told you not to cum without permission, honey.” Ari breathes in your ear, “I guess you’ll have to learn how to follow orders the hard way, won’t you?”

Your breath hitches when you hear the unmistakable sound of Steve’s belt as he unbuckles it.

Well! There we go! The truth is, I wrote this fic many, many months ago and lost inspiration to complete it - which is why it ends where it does. I would never say never to a potential part 2, but who knows! I feel like I’m in my soft dom loving era atm, so this kind of depraved stuff isn’t as easy for me to write anymore. But do tell me what you think, as I know a lot of you have been waiting for this for many months! Please reblog and comment and let me know what you think! Any thots and ideas about this fic are also totally welcome! I hope you enjoyed.

#chris evans #ari levinson #steve rogers #curtis everett #dark steve rogers #dark ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #steve rogers x reader #chris evans fanfiction #curtis everett x reader

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adobe-outdesign · 1 year

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Nigel: The Muppets' Most Interesting Uninteresting Character

(This was supposed to be a fun little post about an obscure Muppet character but now I fell down a hole doing too much research and sunk cost fallacy won't let me live it down unless I include all of the useless information I've learned so enjoy knowing more about this character than you ever have or ever will want to know)

Nigel was created to be the host of the Muppet Show's Sex and Violence pilot instead of Kermit (who only appears in the pilot for like 30 seconds)

He was originally puppeteered by Jim Henson himself, giving him a vaguely Kermit-esq voice initially

Nigel Voice Count: 1

Nigel is a yellow... something. You’d assume he’s just a stylized human Muppet but in S4E18 Sam refers to him as a “thing”

He actually looks near-identical to a Fraggle minus the tail. I don’t know what to do with this information

Nigel was diagnosed with terminal Boring Personality disease due to the following attributes:

He’s very meek. Unlike Kermit, who will freak out and tell people they suck to their faces, Nigel raises his voice one (1) time and mostly relies on Sam the Eagle and Crazy Harry to deal with the assorted chaos

His face is flexible like Kermit’s, but he has permanently partially-lidded eyes that leave him looking exhausted in every scene he’s in

He’s generally unenthusiastic and seems like he wants to go home constantly

Jim Henson: The Works describes him as "lacking in spunk and charisma," which is hilariously cruel yet 100% accurate

What’s surprising at this point is that instead of scrapping him, he instead took on the role of orchestra conductor on the show proper, where he proceeds to do almost nothing for five seasons

The Muppets Character Encyclopedia actually provides a canon reason for this: Nigel lost the job of host due to his “shy manner”, and Kermit, feeling bad for replacing him, gave him his new job

He can technically be seen in basically every episode during the theme song, but aside from that, he often pops up in the chorus during songs

Which is funny when you consider he should be in the pit Doing His Job during those sequences

A quick list of his more important (if you can even call them that) appearances:

S1E2: He has Zoot play a song called “Sax and Violence” b/c pilot references

It’s actually implied the Mayhem falls under his jurisdiction as he threatens to fire Zoot, but this never comes up again

S1E24: Playing the part of a library patron noisily chewing gum (despite not having teeth. idk you figure it out). This one’s only notable because he’s wearing the same outfit from the pilot

S3E16: Nigel’s eyelids are not connected to the rest of his body and he’s facing backwards through the entire backstage segment so you’re uncomfortably aware of this

S1E23 has Floyd complaining that the theme song is cringe(TM), at which point it’s casually revealed that Nigel wrote it?? how is this character so important and unimportant at the exact same time

If you’ve seen this episode and aren’t deaf you might have noticed he has a completely different voice here. This is because John Lovelady has taken over as his puppeteer, presumably because Jim was busy Running The Entire Show

Nigel Voice Count: 2

Nigel has a talent for whistling, which is shown off in S2E18 during a performance with Floyd (this is the only time he comes on stage to perform that isn’t with a crowd)

He shows this off again in S4E18 to participate in the age-old sport of Annoying Sam the Eagle backstage

As of the 2011 movie Walter takes over as the show’s resident whistler because Nigel isn’t allowed to have character traits

He briefly shows up during the credits of The Muppet Movie (now puppeteered by Dave Goelz). Because of this, in the UK version of the end credits, he has another completely different voice

Nigel Voice Count: 3

After a brief background appearance in The Jim Henson Hour (S1E12), Nigel proceeded to completely disappear for 20 years

I’m guessing the reason was that his puppet was becoming unusable. The foam used for the muppets disintegrates over time, and his puppet was ~15 years old at this point

Things were particularly bleak for him in the 90s because Muppets Tonight came out with a new unrelated TV director character named... Nigel. Because Jim had passed away at this point and I think everyone working on the show literally Forgot they already had a character named that

Not that it would be that big of a problem, seeing as the chances of yellow Nigel returning were bleak. who was gonna spend time and money rebuilding an incredibly minor background character like him

TRICK QUESTION because he was rebuilt for The Muppets (2011), which is pretty amazing when you consider that he does Nothing during this movie

The new puppet looks pretty similar to the old one. I think the face is a bit rounder/more structured but I could also be losing my mind

(Side note: shoutout to whoever decided to give him a scarf in this scene. that’s such an unnecessary detail)

What’s great is that now that the puppet’s been rebuilt he’s shown up in a lot of stuff because they have no reason not to include him. Some of the more notable examples include:

The music video for OK Go’s cover of the theme song (which I certainly hope he would show up in I mean. it’s his song)

In the live shows (The Muppets Take the Bowl and The Muppets Take the O2) there’s a parade of overlooked characters, which includes Nigel. I just find it funny that:

A) The writers fully acknowledge that he’s King of the Background Characters

B) The in-universe implication that Kermit was like “no one knows who you are, wanna be in a parade celebrating that fact” and Nigel was like “okay”

His most recent appearance was in Muppets Haunted Mansion, where he’s dead (don’t worry about it). More importantly, he gets an entire shot to himself conducting some skulls, which I think is the first time the camera’s been focused solely on him in literally 40 years. Good job, buddy!

Here’s some other misc appearances that I couldn’t fit elsewhere:

He appears alongside Jim and a few other Muppets in a 1977 commercial for American Express (once again wearing his pilot outfit), which is particularly strange considering he’s the only character there that used to be puppeteered by Jim

In 2010 he got a somewhat important role in the first issue of Muppet Sherlock Holmes, playing the part of a butler suspected of poisoning the head of the house

He gets one whole page in The Muppets Character Encyclopedia from 2014 (right next to other Nigel). In addition to the aforementioned info bridging the gap between the pilot and the show proper, it also states that he’s susceptible to hypnosis and he trained at the Tommy Newsom Academy for Music and Charisma

In terms of future projects: there is both a Jim Henson biopic and documentary coming in the future (side note: why???), so it’s possible he might be discussed briefly in one of those

I have no thesis statement or reason for writing this, but I guess I’ll close out by saying that I find it fascinating that a failed main character from a pilot episode is still appearing in recent Muppet productions but solely as a background character. I hope that in 2073 I can put on some Muppet media and Nigel will still be there still doing absolutely nothing

thanks for coming to my TED talk

#muppets #the muppets #the muppet show #the muppets 2011 #nigel #outdesign posts things #long post #nigel is like The character to throw in a scene if you want to show you know your stuff #because all the hardcore fans will be like 'omg nigel' without fail every time while regular fans literally won't even notice him #tumblr stop removing my sub bullets you're making my rambly incoherent posts look even more incoherent #greatest hits

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mint-yooxgi · 6 months

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Guardian - Yandere!Griffin!Jongho

Yandere AU & Griffin AU - First Person POV

Genre: Mature, Smutty Themes, Internal Monologue

Pairing: Jongho X Implied Chubby!Fem!Reader

Words: 1,557

Warnings: Possessive thoughts, violence - both implied and alluded to. This is a Yandere story, it will contain themes such as stalking, violence, obsession, possessive natures, and just general overall creepiness and swearing. You have been warned.

A/n: This one's a lil shorter than the rest, but I think it gets the point across. He also turned out much more violent and possessive than I thought he would, but I think it suits his character here. I hope you'll look forward to the final one of these coming soon, too! As always, Feedback is greatly appreciated! Enjoy~

The Fifteenth of The Feral Drabbles

You should have listened to me. I told you not to walk home alone in the dark. And yet… here we are.

You know, you’re much more peaceful when you’re unconscious. You don’t have a chance to nag me all the time.

It’s not that I’m trying to be controlling. Not at all. I just worry, okay?

I know it might be difficult for you to understand, but I do worry about you. I’m not always going to be around to protect you like tonight. I’m just lucky I decided to follow after you, even after we said goodnight.

I could sense them. I knew you were being followed by more than just one of them, and I couldn’t let them take advantage of you. I don’t care if we had all been out in a group to start, their intentions after we said goodbye were impure!

I see the way others look at you when you’re not paying attention. Really, it’s quite obvious, but you act like you don’t notice. Of course they’d look. They’d all be stupid not to chance a glance at the stunning beauty that lays before them. I want them to look, but only when you’re with me. Look, but never touch.

I just wish they’d leave you alone.

Can’t they understand that you’re mine?

Fucking posers. I should gouge all their eyes out for what they tried to do to you tonight. Even just thinking about it makes my blood boil and my feathers ruffle. Knowing you, you’ll probably brush it all off once you wake up, making every excuse you can for those other guys. Only I know the truth, and I don’t care if you believe me or not.

No, they weren’t ‘being nice’ and walking you home, they expected something. They always expect something. No, they also weren’t ‘keeping an eye out’ for you. I do that. They were stalking you! I hear them always whispering about that one guy asking you out, and I couldn’t have that!

You understand, right? Why I had to split his head open like a watermelon? He could have taken you away from me, and I couldn’t have that. You mean too much to me…

Don’t worry, I’ll take you home. I’ll keep you safe. I’m the only one who can. The only one you should trust.

The moon is full tonight as the wind whips through my feathers. I thought taking you for a little flight would help soothe you after the trauma you’ve just endured. Despite you being unconscious, I feel like it’s helping. I’ve got you, and even in your sleep, you’ve got me. I will never let you fall, and besides, maybe if you wake up while we soar through the night sky, you’ll be less mad about what happened.

Not that you should be mad at all, but you always get upset at me when I stick up for you. Every time I step in when people make inappropriate comments, or I ‘accidentally’ trip someone that’s standing a little too close to you, you cuss me out. I can practically hear your voice in my head already yelling about how they were just being ‘friendly’.

‘Friendly’ my ass.

Good thing you’re asleep. That eye roll would have earned me a smack on my arm. Perhaps even a disappointed shake of your head, too.

You’re lucky I love you. I let you get away with so much shit I normally would never put up with. I suppose that’s what happens when you care about someone as much as I care about you…

I’ll never admit how much I enjoy it when you touch me, even when you playfully smack my arm, or the upside of my head. I’d rather receive one hundred- no, one thousand of those than see you even lay a finger on someone else that’s not me. If you thought I was violent tonight, you should see some of the corpses of the people who’ve touched you, especially without your permission. Certain people, like our close friends and your family, I can let slide. But nasty fuckers who think they have any sort of chance with you?

Never.

It’s pathetic how easily their flesh shreds beneath my claws. Honestly, I can’t believe any of them ever thought that they even had a chance with you. If they can’t save themselves, how are they ever going to protect you? Fucking pathetic, weak morsels that don’t deserve to even share the same air as you.

Of course, I’d never let you see that side of me. The one that’s covered in entrails and blood after disposing of the trash. You’d worry too much, and besides, I never want you to be scared of me. You have nothing to fear. Never from me. Not while I’m around. After all, everything I do, I do for you.

Really, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Say the word, even so much as imply you want something, and it’s yours. You are my one and only saving grace in this godforsaken world, and I will do everything in my power to see you smile. I will always be there to offer you a shoulder to cry on, and loving arms to embrace you when you need me.

Nothing is off limits. I just want to make you happy.

I will make you happy. I know I will. Yet, you seem to brush off my advances every chance you get. What will it take for you to see how completely and utterly devoted I am to you? I would burn down entire cities, level the highest of mountains to the ground to prove myself to you.

The impossible will become probable with me around. That’s my promise to you.

See! Even subconsciously you want to be close to me! Your grip just tightened on my back. You’re even nuzzling closer into my feathers!

…Either that, or you’re waking up.

Perhaps I should simply glide through the air now if that’s the case. Like I said, I don’t want to scare you.

Oh… it seems as though it was a false alarm. You’re still sleeping so soundly. As you should.

I’ve got you.

Are you dreaming of me? I always dream about you, so it’s only fair. I promised myself that I’d become the man of your dreams, but to think that might be literal is just… well, it only makes my affections for you grow. Let me protect you in your dreams just as well as I protect you in reality. Let my love wash over you so you feel it even when you’re away from me, deep within your own unconscious mind. Feel my devotion washing over you with every breath, and stay with me. Forevermore.

Perhaps now you’ll take me seriously. After you wake up, and calm down of course, I’ll tell you how I really feel. No more skirting around our feelings, and hoping you’ll understand why I do what I do. I need to be more forward, and finally tell you my everlasting love for you is real.

Thinking of it now… will you kiss me when I confess? Oh, gods… just thinking about the feel of your lips pressed against my own is making my head spin. Are they as soft as they look? Have you fantasized about mine as often as I’ve dreamt about yours? Do you also want my lips to caress every inch of your body when we’re alone? I swear nothing but the sweetest of praises will fall from my lips as I press them to your own, and all over your glorious body worthy of every piece of worship I plan to offer to you.

And worship you I shall.

There will be no part of you untouched by me. There is no part of you unloved by me. I plan to show you, to make you mine in every meaning of the sense, but only if you will allow me to do so. I only ever want to please you, to make you shake as you succumb to the deepest throws of pleasure, drowning you completely in ecstasy so you can no longer tell where you end and I begin.

I was made to love you, and you were made to be loved by me.

Let me feel your nails digging into my back. Mark up my thighs which I know you adore. It’s cute to see you turn away shyly every time I catch you staring and admiring me. Though, you shouldn’t be ashamed, I admire you, too. Every chance I can get.

I always hear you joking about finding someone who will completely ravage you. Someone who will make you scream their name until the early hours of the morning. Someone to love you until you can’t take it anymore, to focus completely on you and you alone.

Well, Darling, I’m right here. Ready and eager whenever you are. You wouldn’t even have to ask, for I would fall to my knees to please you. Every. Single. Time.

Once you wake up, I’ll take you home. I just hope someday that home will be with me. A place to call our own. Where I am yours, and you are mine.

As it should be.

As it will be.

#cultofdionysusnet #mfu net #yandere ateez #yandere jongho #ateez scenario #jongho scenario #ateez imagine #kpop au #kpop scenario #kpop imagine #yandere kpop #griffin au #chubby reader #ateez au

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sunonyoreface · 1 year

Text

He Knows - Simon “Ghost” Riley Pt. 11

An: Change of pace, enjoy some fluff!

Hi there, this is a series about Simon Riley from COD. This series does not follow any of the established plots or timelines from the games. While I use the names of some characters, they are different from the ones in COD.

Summary: You’re held captive by 141 for reasons unknown.

Word count: 1700

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: angst, military setting, explicit language, graphic depictions of violence, use of guns.

Ghost’s deep breaths and the crackling fire are the only audible sounds in the entire cabin. Over the last while, I became accustomed to all the different sounds of the task members at night. Snoring mostly, but there was always at least some noise. At home, I lived in a place across from a bar and was used to the sounds of sirens and cars and drunk people wandering the streets at night as they shouted at each other. Here it’s the complete opposite. There’s nothing to drown out my thoughts and I don’t know how to feel about it.

Ghost was in contact with Price who said they survived the raid, but lost several men. He wouldn’t tell me how many. Soap’s team and one other returning from a mission caught the tail end of the Ultranationalists as they were retreating with their recaptured members. 141 cut off the last Ultranationalists, but almost every prisoner escaped. Overall it was a loss, but they’re lucky nearly all of them survived. My mind drifts off to the man who was shot in the hanger. I wonder if he made it.

Part of me wanted to sleep on the floor instead of sharing a bed, but the floor’s cold and I already struggle with that enough as is. Ghost didn’t bring up the topic of who sleeps where, so neither did I. After our fight, he’s barely spoken.

Unfolded, the futon is the size of a double bed. It’s hard despite an old mattress topper being placed under the sheets and far from big enough for Ghost. He sleeps on his side and has to bend his knees just to stop his legs from hanging off the end. Several pillows and musty blankets were stashed away in one of the cabinets and currently wrap around me. Ghost said he didn’t want any, so I took his because you can never have too many blankets.

A soft orange glow escapes a small window in the wood stove. It’s just bright enough to see the outlines of everything in the cabin. I’ve always liked warm light like this. Maybe it’s an innate thing passed down from my ancestors all those years ago who slept beside fires every night. Maybe its because the light confirms that the most dangerous thing in the room lies next to me in bed and not creeping in the shadows.

I’ve had to pee for at least an hour but don’t want to go outside to the outhouse. There’s no indoor plumbing, but there is a double-seater with a moon carved into the door. I glance at the sleeping man beside me. The feeling’s only going to get worse. I’ll be quiet. He won’t notice.

I slip my legs out of the blankets and onto the hardwood floor. My back hurts from the mattress already. Just as I’m about to stand up, something latches on to my wrist with an unnatural strength.

“Where’re you going?” Ghost’s voice is deeper than normal. He props himself up with his other arm. And I thought I was a light sleeper. But maybe he was awake this whole time.

“Washroom,” I whisper trying to stay quiet even though there’s no one to wake up.

“You have to tell me,” he grumbles. I roll my eyes at his remark. I don’t know if he thinks I’m stupid enough to run away or that maybe I have other intentions.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” he catches the irritation in my tone.

“You don’t know what’s out there,”

“I doubt anyone’s followed us here,” I say, but I don’t really know. Neither does he.

“Don’t be a fool,” his hand remains on my arm. “Besides there’s wildlife out there. Wolves. Coyotes.”

“How about you watch from the window,” I say. “I don’t think you need to hear me use the toilet,” I tack on at the end to discourage him.

“Fine,” He mumbles. I bite my lip to hide my smile. It worked. “Take my jacket,” he releases his grasp to reach the jacket hanging on the arm of the futon. When I shrug it over my shoulders, it swallows me whole. The inside is lined with a soft, welcoming fleece. A scent of gunpowder and something decidedly more earthy engulfs me as I pull the zipper up to my nose.

“Thanks,”

I never imagined myself peeing outside before, but here we are. The toilet seat is so cold against my legs the need almost completely disappears. Not to mention how dark it is in here with no electricity. I want to leave the door open to get some moonlight in here, but then I risk Ghost seeing in. I can suck it up for two minutes.

Outside, the night sky is otherworldly. There’s no light pollution or clouds blocking the stars and I can’t stop staring. There’s just a thin layer of compact snow on the ground, so I take the opportunity to lie down and look up at the sky. It’s cold, but nothing worse than the winters at home. There’s no harsh wind blowing against my skin, so it’s finally tolerable.

“What’re you doing?” heavy footsteps crunch against the snow. I smile to myself because this is the one place he can’t be quiet.

“Stargazing,” I whisper, “Shh, you’ll wake the wolves,” From the corner of my eye, I see Ghost look up at the stars and pause for a moment. I wonder if he cares about mundane things like this? Is he capable of seeing beauty after all the horrors he’s witnessed? In another breath, he disappears back into the cabin. Guess not.

After our fight, it felt like a storm passed over us. The tension eased just a bit as the wind died down. The waters returned to normal and then almost into glass. There’s no fighting against whitecaps as we try to make it to land. I wouldn’t go as far as saying it’s smooth sailing. But things aren’t nearly as rocky as they were before. For now, we have an understanding.

The crunching sound of footsteps approaches again and then Ghost does something out of character. He hands me his helmet with the night vision googles attached. I hesitate before grabbing it, what’s the catch? I look into his eyes for an answer, there’s a glint, but they hold no malice. The helmet is heavy in my hands. I can’t believe he wears this all day. His neck must constantly ache.

“Flip the lenses down and look at the stars with them,” he says. I sit up to put the helmet on. It’s an unnatural feeling: like there’s a brick of cement sitting on my head. Ghost crouches down and reaches for the strap to tighten it. “Stay still,” his hands brush against the sensitive skin on the underside of my chin as he fixes the strap so the helmet won’t slide off my head. He switched out the bloody skull mask for a plain, black balaclava before bed. It humanizes him, seeing him wear something else. He’s less hidden with this one. Although his face is still covered with black paint, it’s easier to read his expressions. The balaclava highlights the outline of his strong cheek bones and jaw. His eyes almost look kind under the moonlight.

My heart skips a beat when Ghost flips down the night vision lens. It’s like looking at a whole new world. I look around at the trees first and notice how far I can see. Everything looks like it has a green filter.

“Look up,” his voice is eager. So, I do. And what I see is almost indescribable. I feel like I can see every star in the universe. It’s breathtaking. Hypnotizing. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It’s…” I can’t find the words I’m looking for and for a moment I don’t know if they exist. The men who created our language weren’t alive to witness a sight such as this. And so, the dictionaries remain empty. “Incredible,” will have to do.

“The goggles are the best part about night missions,” he says as he lays down beside me on the cold ground. Ghost crosses his arms across his chest to keep his hands warm. His shoulder brushes against my arm and I notice he isn’t watching the stars.

In the silence of the woods, I feel the safest I’ve felt in weeks. The world feels like it’s asleep. We’re the only people around for miles. There are no other task members are walking around with oversized guns, or angry prisoners, or the looming threat of an Ultranationalist raid. There’s just Ghost. And right now, he doesn’t feel like much of a threat.

“Can you see the stars at home?” I ask.

“No.”

“Me either.”

I let the silence hang in the air for a while longer. The frosty night air caresses my face. Our breath is visible in tiny puffs of clouds.

“Do you want them back?” I turn my head to look at him. His black balaclava takes on a whitish glow under the lens.

“Keep ‘em for now,” his voice is quiet but awake. Any drowsiness from before has disappeared. I have a feeling most of his nights are spent awake.

I don’t know how long we’re out there, maybe an hour or so. Ghost points out the different constellations in the sky. I thought it might be a personal interest, but then he says they’re used for navigation when they don’t have access to GPS or maps. If you know important reference points or certain constellations, you’ll never be lost. He speaks quietly to preserve the stillness around us and guides my vision with his hands as he points out each constellation. The man beside me is a completely different one than a few hours ago. This one, I like. I could listen to his soothing voice talk about the stars all night. In the back of my mind, I think about how often our arms brush each time he points out a new star, how I shifted closer to feel his shoulder press harder against mine.

It’s only when the cold starts to seep into my bones that I suggest we head back in. This whole time Ghost was out here in just his Henley and jeans. Yet he didn’t complain once. I wonder if he ever complains. Or if he just pushes every emotion to the back of his mind until it’s ready to burst.

“They’re beautiful,” I say once again as I hand Ghost back his helmet.

He searches my eyes for quite some time before agreeing.

“They are.”

PT 12:

#COD MW2 #cod ghost #cod ghost imagine #cod imagine #MW2 #MWII #mw2 imagine #mw2 fanfic #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley cod #simon riley fluff #GHOST FLUFF #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mwii

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writerblue275 · 7 months

Text

Jayce finding out about your relationship with Viktor.

Inspiration: Part of my pet name headcanon (HERE) for Viktor! I just had to. The thought of this cute little interaction from the pet name “my most esteemed colleague” was just too good.

Character: Arcane!Viktor

Genre: Headcanon

Category: FLUFF (Ft. Jayce being a bit of a silly goose. 😂.)

Gender: Gender Neutral Reader!

TW: Small mention of alcohol. Swearing (because I swear lmao.)

Important context: Based on what I wrote in the pet name headcanon, I’m writing this with the idea of the reader being a professor at the academy (any subject). Also timeline-wise: this is before the end of the timeskip. Obviously HexTech exists, but Jayce isn’t a councilman yet or anything.

You and Viktor have only been dating maybe a couple months at this point. Your relationship is extremely new.

Not many people in your lives know. Not because you both aren’t happy or excited about this new relationship. It’s quite the opposite, in fact.

You two have never been so happy, but both of you are just fairly private people. Neither of you feel the need to be extremely obvious about your relationship in public. You’re both happy to save affection for those quiet moments alone together.

Someone who surprisingly does know? Heimerdinger. He knows because he’s the one who introduced you to Viktor at the academy holiday party last year. It was only maybe a couple months after you joined the faculty.

He immediately noticed you and Viktor both trying to discreetly check each other out during academy meetings.

“Discreetly” lmao you two were halfway to making heart eyes at each other already, let’s be so fucking for real. But he thought about it and realized you two would actually be really good for each other.

“Viktor, my boy, I’d like to introduce you to one of our newer colleagues here at the academy, Professor (Y/L/N). Professor (Y/L/N) teaches [enter subject] and is already responsible for some incredible projects. Professor, I’m pleased to introduce my former assistant, Viktor. He’s now working in our labs with Mr. Jayce Talis on HexTech.”

You couldn’t help but smile shyly at the tall young man who seems only a bit older than you are. He’s really quite handsome. And his EYES. You were pretty sure you could get lost in those amber eyes forever.

You realized you’d been quietly watching for a moment instead of responding, causing you to blush and stammer out a response.

“V-Very lovely to meet you, Viktor. I’ve asked Professor Heimerdinger to refer to me as (Y/N). Since he still won’t, I hope you will? I find Professor (Y/L/N) too formal for me, at least among colleagues.”

Viktor gave you a smile that made your heart flip. “(Y/N) does seem a lot more fitting, I agree. Happy to call you whatever you’d prefer (SMOOTH VIKTOR 😉). Now, while we were talking, I see they’ve set out the champagne. Would you like me to bring you a glass?”

“I’d love that, thank you! Once you return, I’d love to hear more about the intricacies of HexTech. Your work with Mr. Talis is fascinating and I’d love to understand it better, especially if I can hear from an expert.”

“Happy to talk about it, as long as I can hear more about [subject you teach] and your projects. I admit it’s not a topic I’m extremely familiar with.”

You smiled. “I’d love to tell you about my work, though I can’t promise it’ll be as attention holding as yours.”

Heimerdinger stepped in here, “You sell yourself short, Professor. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed our conversations about your projects. Now you two go enjoy yourselves. I’m going to go make sure people aren’t causing any trouble.”

The yordle had been alive long enough to know when two people have excellent chemistry. He noticed the intense sparks between both of you IMMEDIATELY and he figured it wouldn’t be long before the two of you were together. (Surprise surprise he was correct.)

You’d never had so much fun at a work function before that night.

You and Viktor ended up talking together the rest of the party and he walked you home. Turns out the two of you live fairly close to each other.

You and him quickly became friends, and it only took a couple months for him to ask you on a coffee date, which you happily agreed to.

And once again you and him ended up talking together for hours. It was the most enjoyable date you’d ever had. You’d never felt so naturally comfortable with someone before.

And Viktor wasn’t even upset about being away from work for so long (though he did have to create some random excuse to appease Jayce’s curiosity).

Soon one date turned into more, and before too long, the two of you were officially in a relationship.

This brings us back to the present.

Viktor always gets to his lab so much earlier than you arrive at the academy.

To the point you sometimes wonder if he’s slept there. (The answer is sometimes yes.)

But anyway, one Wednesday night when Viktor decides he isn’t going to sleep at the lab, he comes over to your apartment for dinner. And while you two are chatting, he can’t help but complain a bit about the coffee machine in the lab not working.

And while of course you are being a supportive partner and listening to him, it is kind of hilarious, but also concerning, to realize how much this man depends on caffeine to get through his day.

Like you knew he drank coffee. You were not aware how much coffee he consumed since he mostly consumed it in the lab.

As the two of you sit together on the couch, chatting while Viktor goes over notes and you grade assignments, you can’t help but muse out loud a little bit after another round of tired grumbling from him.

“Tomorrow is my light class day. I could bring you coffee and breakfast? Since I know you’re already at the academy before the local cafes open.”

He perks up at the thought.

“I don’t need the breakfast, just the coffee, my dear.”

That earns him a mock stern stare from you.

“Ah ah ah, I’m going to make sure you actually eat breakfast, damnit. Even better, I’ll eat my breakfast with you. I rarely get to see you in the mornings, so it will be nice.”

He can’t help but smile. It would be nice to see you in the morning, especially when he’s tired. You always brighten his day whenever he sees you.

You’ve been visiting him and Jayce in their lab occasionally since you and Viktor became friends, but due to both of your recent schedules, it’s been a while, like since before the two of you made things official.

“That sounds nice, yes. When should I expect you?” His voice is happy as he laces his fingers with your hand that isn’t holding a pen.

You can’t help but blush happily at the little gesture. Viktor becoming more and more affectionate with you in private has been such a lovely surprise.

“I usually get to the academy around 9 on Thursdays. Does 9:15 work for you?”

He nods. “You know my order, yes?”

“Of course, Vitya. But, I also want to go ahead and at least grab coffee and pastries for Jayce and Sky. Do you know their coffee orders?”

After noting down his lab mates’ orders, you happily go back to grading papers, now enjoying companionable silence with Viktor.

Once he decides to get home for the evening, you send him off with a gentle peck and a “I’ll see you tomorrow with breakfast, love.”

He’s blushing so hard on the way home omg. You made him so happy calling him love.

And so the next day, you walk into work with one of those drink carriers, a big bag with pastries, and a smaller bag with your and Viktor’s omelets.

After dropping off the non-essentials in your office, you make your way over to the lab section of the academy.

You knock on their lab’s main door before opening it, just to give them a little heads up someone is coming in.

As you walk in, you’re greeted with a happy, but tired, “(Y/N)!” from Jayce. You and him have become friends too since you became close with Viktor.

“Good morning, Jayce! I’ve brought the lab some treats since I heard the coffee machine is currently out of commission.”

“Did Viktor tell you? Oh my god, you’re my fucking hero!”

Speaking of Viktor, he’s nose deep in textbooks at his desk, but the second Jayce says your name, he looks up and smiles at you, getting up and making his way over to you.”

“Ah! There’s my most esteemed colleague! Come to save the day.”

You can’t help but giggle at the silly little name.

But out of the corner of your eye you see Jayce looking a confused and maybe even just a little bit hurt that Viktor reffered to you, someone he’s only known like six months, as his most esteemed colleague and not him, the man he literally founded HexTech with.

Not that Jayce doesn’t respect you. He’s thinks you’re incredibly impressive, but after all they’ve been through, damn Viktor that hurts a little.

Realizing that you have to be the one to smooth over Jayce’s misunderstanding somehow, you meet Viktor in the middle of the room, smiling as he takes the coffees.

As soon as he takes the coffees and the smaller bag with just breakfast for you two, you lean up and gently peck his cheek and offer him a “Good morning, my most esteemed colleague. I hope you haven’t been caffeine deprived for too long, Viktor.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed by your generous gift and presence, my dear.”

Now out of the corner of your eye you see Jayce’s eyebrows immediately go up in surprise, and he definitely doesn’t look upset anymore. In fact, he looks super excited for both of you, sporting the largest grin.

He even calls out a, “Ah Viktor, they really are your most esteemed colleague, I see.”

You smile at Jayce as you go over to give him the pastry box while Viktor gets a little pink on his cheeks.

“Those are for everyone, Jayce, so I better hear that Sky got some too. Anyway, I suppose I am. He is mine as well! Careful of teasing though. I’ve given Viktor all the coffees to pass out, so he might decide to keep yours for himself.”

Viktor smirks at you as Jayce lets out a tired whine.

“Ah, I like the way you think, my love!”

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Ahhh this was so fun to write. As soon as I put “my most esteemed colleague” as a “slightly silly but still plausible and cute” answer on the list of Viktor’s pet names for his partner, this idea immediately came to mind and I just had to write it. Having been in university, and then grad school, I’ve been colleagues with some pretty cool people. I also loved including the little first meeting and matchmaker Heimerdinger for this Professor!Reader AU! Shoutout again to my friend from college who is my beta reader for Arcane things because she also loves Viktor basically as much as I do (lmao I love my friends)!

#arcane #arcane viktor #viktor x reader #viktor #viktor headcanons #Viktor fluff #viktor arcane #arcane headcanon #reader insert #arcane fluff #jayce arcane #silly goose Jayce

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fumifooms · 3 months

Note

i know you aren't really into marcille/laios any longer, but since you went looking online for dungeon meshi doujins, did you happen to find any other marcille/laios ones? (funnily enough at the convention i was at a couple weeks back they had like five, but they were extremely over-exaggerated and personally i prefer my fan content relatively in character...)

Ok first of all: Yeah listen laimar doesn’t have a grip on me anymore but I still quite enjoy it! Just more passively… Altho I do have an analysis that focuses a lot on the importance they hold to each other in my early stage wips drafts, and listen in canon I do think they’re queerplatonic flavored, call me an ot3 qpr truther because Laios Marcille and Falin have a something going on and it transcends being put into a box. But hey hey I reblog laimar artworks I bought that recent doujin I put laimar fics in my -checks- 106 pages long to-read list… Also I have like 5 pages of fanfic prompts for them I may or may not get to writing. Though yeah I do feel bad whenever I notice people following after liking all my laimar posts haha

Sadly to get to the meat of the topic, not really… I don’t go to cons for lack of opportunity so whatever I find is through online. The one I got is The Fourth Basement Floor, it has an english ver and seems so so very in character I can’t wait to get it! Otherwise I’ve looked on Otakurepublic & Doujinrepublic since I use their services for merch from Japan, warning if you click on the link, there are 18+ ones and covers can be pretty explicit. I don’t remember any other laimar one except the one nsfw one I think, but on the plus side there are a lot of gen no ships doujins. I’m bothered because looking back I feel like the catalogue of doujins was wider when I looked all those months ago and it feels like I’m forgetting something hmm… I wish I could help more, but yeah �� Pixiv has many laimar comics up (in japanese) if that sates the hunger any

As consolation since I’m already here, why not show some of my laimar things laying around gathering dust I’m fond of. Don’t look if you don’t want to be spoiled for fics I may or may not write I guess? All down below is just laimar prompts

I spoke about some various ones and esp my timeline where she gets him into Daltian Clan here. "Laios… I was wondering, because you enjoy fantasy stories right? I was wondering if you’d like to give my favorite book series a go… It has monsters!" I love love love post-canon laimar where he gets the habit of chewing on her hair because he’s stimming and hungry. Like a goat.

Laios goes to Marcille for love advice. "You like someone?! Do I know them?" She eagerly asked. "Erm… Yes…?" // Post-canon. He’s so nervous and puts his foot in his mouth n lets things slip out that he thought would give him away. (Comic) "You like someone??! What are they like? Who are they?" And he’s like "Well… She’s a half-elf." He’s like shit she’ll probably know right away. And she goes still. "I’ve never met another half-elf!! We’re so rare! You’re saying you met one and didn’t tell me???!" She’s shaking him. And then she goes still again, contempt drawing on her face. "Wait… Are you asking me for advice because I’m a half-elf?" Laios runs with it "Yes!! And because you’re so savvy with romance and what people like…? If, uh, if you were a half-elf, what would you like to get as a gift? What sort of confession would you want?" "… You saved it there. Okay so since I’m so knowledgeable on romance, tell me what is she like?" "-describes Marcille-" She nods, smug yet oblivious. "Aah I can already tell we’d be great friends. Good taste." (then Thinking bubble with him giving her flowers at a restaurant "Did you know roses are edible and used in recipes", candlelit dinner, or wait maybe the most romantic is cooking together alone at home, chocolate! It’s expensive though… Wait I’m king now!)

Lil comic, Laios wakes up snuggled against Marcille’s back then promptly falls off the bed. The noise makes Marcille wake up and she’s like omg are u ok?? Laios is so sweaty and panicked and in denial about her being special to him. She explains, disgruntled at the memory "Izutsumi is bunking in with Chilchuck again, they’re taking the whole bedrolls." Pause. "Sorry, I should have told you, but you like sleeping with Izutsumi too so I figured…" She looked sheepish. "Between you and Senshi, I much prefer sleeping with you. It feels sort of nostalgic, like a sleepover, no?" He relaxes and gets in the bed again, smiling. "But… We’ve never had a sleepover?" She chuckles "I guess not. I must be getting that impression because of Falin…" And the air between them is warm yet bittersweet now, as she smiles like that and his eyes and smile cloud over. The earlier instinctive reluctance to touch is gone now. She snuggles into his arms and is like "Hug me?" "Okay." And he does, wraps his arms around her and tucks his chin over her head.

Post canon, marcille takes him to a squid restaurant. Cute lighthearted hehe. He sulks "If there are any parasites in this I will ban squid from this kingdom or so help me…"

Short post canon fluff marcille pov about laios gaining weight n becoming chubby. She used to dream of chiseled abs and angular elves, laios in every way, shape and form is so far from the beauty standards she idealized so. And yet… She loves how soft sleeping against him is, how much there’s more of him for her to hug and nuzzle her face in. She loves seeing him and seeing someone strong, who isn’t malnourished or underweight, someone healthy with color in their skin. An healthy appetite. He used to look more like a rectangle, severe and strict, but now he looked rounder, and seeing him smile at her always made her feel like that roundness suited him. She smiled back, and melted thinking about how her boyfriend was the sweetest in the world. ^I still wanna do this one really bad. Sometimes a fic premise comes from nowhere and puts you in a chokehold and you must finish it to obtain catharsis

Short oneshot about laios musing about Marcille’s smile, how important it is to him in subtle ways etc: Ends with Laios being like wait there’s something off (succubus). Then he grabbed her throat. Or smth

Laios seeing her dungeon like "this is so wrong Marcille you can’t run a dungeon for shit" and also "WHAT ARE THESE HORRORS OF MONSTERS NOO THEY CAN’T BE EFFECTIVE LIKE THAT"

Dinner for two: Very warm. Marcille and Laios are meeting up and cooking a dinner just for them both, no one else is there. They’re being so domestic and it’s light. Laios pauses at some point, doing the dishes, saying… I’ve always worried, thinking doing things like these would remind me of my parents.

Laios doesn’t know what to do when he realizes he actually *likes* likes Marcille, so he avoids her. Everyone notices and is disapproving of him.

Her mana acts up and she shares her dream with someone, kinda like with Izutsumi. Listen the premise could be smutty but I think it’d be more fun if they just hanged out n were silly, like the nightmares chapter without the nightmare

Laimar pining but from the view of Chilchuck, his love hatred sensing a storm brewing. The giggling, the looks. Ugh! It reminded him of himself and his wife when they were young and newly dating.

I love Laios and Izu being worsties so. Laios sees izutsumi rubbing her scent on marcille’s clothes and gets possessive. Maybe Golden Kingdom maybe something else I have no clue but Laios being ridiculous and cheek rubbing or something <3

I might want to do an AU where Laios gets into werebeast ring fighting, before canon and the split happens after he deserts the military. So he’s alone, has nothing going for him and stumbles into that sphere and gets werebeast tattoos done. It doesn’t make him happier at all and fighting sucks actually, but it brings money and he likes being a beast and being cheered by a crowd aka illusion of being liked, and money brings food and eating is the privilege of the living etc etc. So then when he goes to check on Falin at the academy it’s a big AU where he has a whole other reputation and look to him, and when he meets izutsumi their relationship is different and aaaaaa… He’s freeer in this au, lets himself be animalistic and weird, even though ofc the arc is him letting himself be more human as well and connecting with humans, through talking and infodumping n shit. Oh I went off but the laimar is because it’s inspired by cool laimar art here (warning tho it’s an art dump with toudencest also 😔) but werewolf Laios laimar AUs… A lotta fun stuff there idk idk

#Laimar #ask #Ppl can send me laimar asks tbh idk when i’d get to them but i do still love them #Not all that much left i wanna explore analysis or post wise with them though #Laios touden #marcille donato #Fanfic wips #Dungeon meshi #Spoilers #dungeon meshi manga spoilers

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livelaughlovesubs · 3 months

Text

Study about leviathan

Thanks to the people who replied to my post!

Trigger warning: the things I’m going to mention include child trauma, sexual abuse and other. The language I’m going to use is direct. I do not share that experience, which is why I tried my best to do valid research. I’m not trying to offend anyone, and I’m really sorry if I get things wrong.

My opinion, it could be totally wrong so take it with a grain of salt~

So, right of the bat, I think we can all agree that Levi probably got sexually assaulted as a child.

‘Rough, oppressive hands. Filthy sounds of breathing. Humiliating violence that ensued’ this is probably the biggest hint I’ve found to my previous statement.

Now, I think most of his actions can be understood from his past and if we make some claims. On the surface, he seems like a cold, strict and violent person. Also very mean and rough, and an asshole if you want. Many people weren’t a fan of his ero scene (I think). That scene also made things more complicated, cuz he said that he wanted the mc to hate him. He dislikes people who hate him or love him for no reason. Levi was a dominant bottom, has agoraphobia (fear of leaving their save place), is obsessively into breath play and prideful, jealous but also insecure.

It’s a lot to unpack and he really is complicated, but I’ll try to explain what I found/ what I think would make sense for his character.

Levi got experimented on and assaulted as a kid, got beaten up and tortured while in the company of other children with the same fate. This is important to understand him. The story (chapter 5, towards the end) mentioned that the beating included strangulation, force injection/ in take of chemicals, getting punched etc. and there’s been that speculation (which is true), that trauma can turn into kinks. The reason why trauma can turn into kinks… cuz the brain is weird. Your brain can’t forget that traumatic experience and keeps replaying that scene (cause of ptsd), and your body remembers that feeling you’ve felt. Even if your body feels ‘pleasure’ it doesn’t mean you actually enjoy it, but then your brain does some weird shit and you get a specific kink towards that situation.

I think the reason why Levi is into chocking could be due to that, due to being strangulated by those angels, having his air snapped off from experiments, chocking on his vomit from the aftermath. His ero scene, including how he insulted minhyeok and made mc mad was all planned. Mc also noticed how even though he was the bottom, he was always in control. He also was a huge masochist and wanted mc to whip him or hurt him. You could just brush it off as his kink, though maybe it has some connections like before.

I read that victims of sexual trauma tend to seek out people that are similar to their abuser, actively or subconsciously. Or they are into bdsm cuz they want to role play that experience, this time with a consenting partner. They would never want to relive that experience, but they want to role play it because now they do have control over the situation. It’s as if they are reclaiming the control that they didn’t have. This is comparable with what Levi is doing, wanting his partner to hurt him and treat him horribly like what the angels did. He wanted mc to hate him to recreate the scene with the angels more similarity, while still being in control of everything. He had completely control the entire time, could stop whenever he wanted or overpower you. Also, for him who knows how to lie and betray, who isn’t so naive to trust everyone, it’s easier if they hate you. Then their actions will be easier to understand.

About why he isn’t fond of people who hate or love him for no reason, maybe comes from the angels who hated him for existing and the other ill fated children who lost their lives for him for the same reason. He definitely feels guilty for the children who chose to sacrifice themselves for no reason. He probably thinks it would make him feel less guilty if the people had a good reason for their deeds. If they had a good reason for torturing him, for loving him, he would feel less bad and guilty.

Fear of leaving places he considered safe, that probably came from the trauma as well. He knows he won’t end up in that cage again, but it’s a trauma, his brain won’t forget. Another reason why he might not want to leave his safe place could be because he considers himself different from the other devils. He knows how to lie, be suspicious and fear their own kind. If the other devils think they are agents of heaven, he won’t have a place to call home anymore. Levi had to be strong and build his own nation to protect himself as well as other orphans, he won’t want it to crumble now. He had to live a good life for his comrades. That could also explain why he is so stoic or serious. He doesn’t have the luxury of fooling around, he had to make sure no one would ever get suspicious over them and chase them away. No matter how much you reassure him, he won’t be able to change. Even so there are times where he feels safe enough to smile and be chill. But that’s only when he is in hades, his palace and with his closest allies. This fear of his must also be the reason he is a shut in.

Some people said that having agoraphobia feels like no one understands you. It feels like everyone judges you or is about to hurt you. It fits Levi, who is so wary of other devils.

Many of his personality traits indicate that he is a narcissist. Prideful, insecure and jealous. There are different types of narcissists, he is the kind that is secretly insecure and puts on strong airs. He probably compares himself to others due to that and has a frail ego. That must also be where his jealousy comes from or the fact he can’t take critique well. Being a narcissist doesn’t only mean you feel like you are the worst when you are alone, it’s also actively talking yourself into believing you are better than everyone else. This could be another reason why he’s a shut in, because it’s so much easier, then you don’t need to compare yourself to others.

I also feel like he needs to be the best because the kids told him to live a cool life in their stead. He also had a day where he gets especially horny, right? It had something to do with his trauma and angels, more conformation that his trauma turned into kink. Being hypersexuell is also one of the symptoms.

With such circumstances, it’s no wonder he grew up cold and distant. Anyway, I wrote this on a whim, I don’t know if my thought process even makes any sense, maybe I forgot some aspects too. Just ask for my opinion of anything if you want.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb levi #what in hell is bad levi #leviathan whb #leviathan what in hell is bad #sub leviathan #whb leviathan #prettybusy what in “hell” is bad?#what in “hell” is bad?

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hugmekenobi · 1 year

Text

The Bad Batch (1)

Chapter One: Aftermath

GIF by @sinfulsalutations

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: You joined the Batch 8 months ago and everything was going well. But then, Order 66 happened and suddenly the galaxy around you changed. Now, not only do you need to be careful given your new ‘social status’, but you also need to navigate your feelings towards a certain Sergeant.

Chapter Summary: You and the Batch have to deal with the way the galaxy has changed. And secrets get revealed along the way.

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers

Warnings: Use of (Y/N) (but I’ve limited it as much as I could), swearing, canon-typical violence, character deaths, slight canon deviation (particularly in later chapters), the Force works according to what I need, angst, mild injury description, reader also digs herself a hole with some poor early choices

Word Count (Ch 1): 18.9K (so sorry, episode one is a long one)

Rating: 18+

Author’s notes: Like I said, just putting this out there cause I finished this last year and I just have it sitting in my docs and figured I’d give it a shot! Majority of the dialogue is from the show but my own parts and voice is in there too! I’ve written the reader to be someone who makes mistakes and isn’t a flawless character because that’s how I want her to be so I can understand if that’s not for everyone, I even got annoyed myself sometimes lol. But yeah, still very nervous about sharing this but if you do read, hope you enjoy! :)

MasterList

Kaller.

You watched as the young padawan left your group to head back to his master. You remembered when you had been his age. Life had been so different. You never imagined that where you were right now is how your life would’ve worked out. Fighting in a war? Or at least facing conflict of some kind? Sure, that seemed inevitable given the way your life was set out but going from a life of relative peace to a soldier (not that that label was very well accepted but it was what you believed), to a civilian, back to a soldier but fighting with a group of defective clones? No. Nothing could’ve prepared you for that.

“Credit for your thoughts?”

You smiled and turned to face the, more modulated, but all too familiar covered smokiness voice of Sergeant Hunter of Clone Force 99. You’d ran in to him and the rest of the group a long time ago- it was coming up on 8 months ago now- when they were on a mission on Devaron, one of the many planets you had settled in. You’d watched as they got themselves into a bit of bother with a rather large battalion of Separatist droids and you knew you had to help. With your assistance, along with their rather unorthodox tactics, the droids had been taken care of quickly and you found yourself not wanting to leave them so when Hunter offered you a spot on his squad, you hadn’t hesitated. At the end of the day, you were back doing what you enjoyed- helping people. Of course, something you hadn’t fully thought through and something you quickly realised was that, with them being soldiers of the Republic, you were often in the presence of a Jedi which wasn’t ideal. You huffed out a breath before replying, “That would just be a waste of your rather limited funds.”

“You’re okay though?” Hunter asked, lightly touching your shoulder.

Even though his helmet was on, you could feel his eyes looking into yours. You pushed away the heat that began to spread through your body. The last thing you needed was to get that warm and fuzzy feeling you so often felt in front of the clone with enhanced senses. That had been getting harder and harder lately. Yes, upon first meeting him, you’d noticed that he was a rather attractive, but you’d hoped that feeling would only run surface deep, but you’d been wrong.

Over the months you’d been alongside him, that feeling only grew until it became a deeply engrained part of you. There were moments where perhaps you thought those feelings were reciprocated. A few months into your new membership, after spending your time sleeping in one of the ship’s passenger seats, the two of you began share his bunk in both the ship and their barracks because, according to him, ‘sleeping in one of those chairs wasn’t a suitable way to live or prepare for missions’.

Moreover, you were often paired up with him on these missions, but you convinced yourself this was nothing more than him being a good friend and sergeant. Yes, it was all platonic. Friends platonically shared a bunk and often woke up in each other’s arms. Yes, it could only possibly be platonic. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Hunter, can we do this already, I wanna attack some droids!” Wrecker complained loudly.

You drew your hood and mask up and followed Hunter over to where Echo, Tech, Wrecker and Crosshair were standing.

You took your weapon from the sheath slung over your back. You’d melted down a bunch of vibroblades to make this. It wasn’t quite the length of a sword, but it was close enough, and it was the nearest thing to a positive reminder of home you had.

“I still don’t understand why you use that and not a blaster. Logically, a blaster is more practical for a battle.” Tech observed.

“You know Tech, sometimes you don’t need to understand everything. This works just fine for what I need.” You replied simply.

“Okay. Everyone ready?” Hunter asked.

You and the others nodded.

You took a breath to calm your pounding heart. This mission would be the closest you’d come to encountering the many Jedi masters scattered across the galaxy. You’d always managed to not stick around too long after the job was done. You tended to hang back, usually with Crosshair, avoiding any and all interaction whilst the others spoke to them, but you sensed this mission would have you in closer proximity than you would like. You couldn’t put a finger as to why you felt this way, a large factor was probably you and the group were the only reinforcements available so there wouldn’t be many buffers, but there was also something else that was bothering you- you were going to tell them after the mission today and you had no idea how it would go down or just how bad their reactions would be. You couldn’t dwell on it for too long though, Wrecker had dislodged the boulder and it had begun its course down the cliffside, so you all began your descent to the droids below.

It was child’s play really. You gelled well with the rest of them. Every droid you came across fell victim to a stab of your weapon and Wrecker didn’t need your help getting rid of the tanks, much to your relief. You weren’t sure you would be able to get away with that today. It was over relatively quickly. Chopping off the last droid’s head, you began walking over to where Caleb and his master were taking cover. Maybe you could hide behind Wrecker and go mostly unseen.

“If you’re done hiding down there, I suggest you launch a counter-attack.” Hunter said, removing his helmet. “Another droid battalion is approaching.”

“The General is the one who gives the orders around here.”

The Jedi Master put her hand up to appease the clone captain. “He’s right Captain this is our chance. Launch the counterattack.”

“Yes General.” He said a tad reluctantly before addressing the rest of the battalion. “Alright men let’s go!” He ordered before he, the Padawan and the General made their way out their bunker towards you all.

Wreaker pushed his way past Echo, leaving you a bit more exposed than you would like. “There you are little Jedi. You missed all the fun!”

“Watching your team in action was the fun.” Caleb replied with a smile.

“Care to introduce your new friends Caleb?” She asked.

Fuck. You watched as the General lowered her hood. That was Depa Billaba. There was a very strong chance she could recognised you. You adjusted your mask over your nose, making sure it suitably covered as much of your face as it possibly could.

“Yes Master. This is Wrecker, Hunter, Echo, Tech, Crosshair and…” He trailed off and looked past Wrecker slightly. “Sorry, I don’t think I caught your name earlier.”

You coughed and stepped forward beside Wrecker as you told her your name.

The Jedi Master let out a hum as she heard it. “Forgive me, that name sounds very familiar. Have we met before?” Depa mused, her eyes peering into your own.

You avoided her gaze quickly. “No.” You replied before retreating back into the safety of the group.

Hunter watched you carefully. He knew you didn’t like interacting much with the other people the mission involved but this time you seemed even more uncomfortable than usual.

She stared at you for a moment longer before returning her focus back to the group as a whole. “While I’m not sure fun is the sentiment I would express. I agree with my padawan. Your exploits were quite impressive.”

“Exploits?” Wrecker repeated, confusion in his voice.

“Don’t overthink it, Wrecker.” Crosshair said, before walking off.

You followed him; you really didn’t want to be a part of this interaction.

“Thank you General.” Echo said.

“Now would one of you please explain where my actual reinforcements are.”

“Re-routed to the Capital. We’re all you’re getting.” Hunter answered.

“Ha! We’re all you need!” Wrecker added.

“Actually, if my intel is correct, the general will not need any of us. The Clone War will soon be over.” Tech said.

“Better tell that to the clankers headed our way.” Depa’s clone captain countered.

“I am referring to the encrypted comm chatter. Clone intelligence is reporting General Obi Wan Kenobi has found and engaged General Grievous on Utapau.” Tech explained.

“If he captures or kills Grievous, the Separatist command structure would collapse.” Echo theorised.

“And most likely the droid armies along with them.” Tech added.

“A fascinating theory yet unfortunately not something we can control from here. I suggest we focus on the task at hand.” Depa suggested.

“Any orders?” Hunter asked. “Or shall we do what we do?” He added before putting on his helmet.

“Let’s blow something up! Yeah!” Wrecker cried enthusiastically.

“Well Caleb, shall we let them ‘do what they do’?” She asked her young padawan.

“Only if I can go with them.” He answered happily.

“Very well.”

“Hey kid you ready for this? We move fast.” Hunter told him.

“Good, that’s the only way I know.” He replied smoothly before running off.

“I like him!” Wrecker said before him, and Echo followed.

Giving a quick salute, Hunter too ran off.

You had noticed the group had dispersed so you and Crosshair ran towards the squad too. You were keeping pace with Caleb at the back but as you were running, your body ran cold, and you knew it wasn’t the Kaller climate. Something was wrong, you could feel it. You knew Caleb did too because you both slowed down at the same time and that was when you heard the blaster fire. You turned around and your heart sank to your stomach.

“Master.” Caleb said, his voice filled with concern.

“Caleb, wait!” You tried to grab him, but he turned and began to run back to the sight where his master was fending of a group of clones.

“Master!” He cried out again, igniting his lightsaber.

Hunter and the rest of the squad too began to hear the blaster fire and stopped and turned around to see what was happening.

You watched helplessly as the Jedi Master took multiple blaster bolts and as you heard her final cry, you felt a pain that wasn’t just from this. It felt like the pain of an entire galaxy, and it took everything in your power not to fall to your knees. You couldn’t give yourself away. You inhaled deeply and saw Caleb making his way back to you, but you heard Hunter and the others approaching and as they did so Caleb stopped and looked warily at the group of clones.

“Stay away from me!” He demanded, before running off into the forest.

“Kid, wait!” Hunter called after him.

“What the fuck was that?” You asked, coming to stand beside Hunter.

“Wha, what just happened?” Echo asked.

“The comm channel is repeating one directive. Execute Order 66.” Tech explained.

“Yeah, I heard that too. What’s Order 66?” Wrecker inquired.

“I am not certain.” Tech said with a slight sigh.

“Well can you get certain?” You snapped aggressively.

The others all turned to look at you.

You sighed. “Sorry. Just shocked, that’s all.”

Hunter studied you for a moment before addressing the group. “Echo, Tech talk to the Reg captain. Find out what you can.” He looked to you and Crosshair. “We will track down the kid and make sure nothing happens to him. Wrecker, stall anyone who tries to follow us.”

The three of you ran into the woods. You knew you could find him quicker than Hunter could track him but until you knew what exactly this order was, your secret would have to remain a secret.

“He’s close.” Hunter said quietly.

You looked in the trees around you and you spotted a huddled brown figure on a tree branch. You nudged Crosshair and subtlety pointed up. “There.”

Hunter followed your gaze. “Come on down kid. We’re here to help.”

You noticed Crosshair fiddling with his sniper. “What are you- No!” You watched in horror as Crosshair fired on the branch and the young Jedi deflected the bolt.

“Liar!” He shouted before jumping away.

“What are you doing?” Hunter asked, stunned.

“Following orders.” Crosshair answered.

You just stared at him. “You don’t even know what the order is.”

“Stand down.” Hunter ordered, pushing Crosshair back. “Until we know what’s going on.” He walked off, tugging your arm gently to get you to follow him.

You shook your head at Crosshair before following Hunter.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” Crosshair said once the two of you were out of earshot before he walked after you.

The comm linked chirped and Wrecker’s gruff voice came through. “Hunter, you’ve got regs in bound.”

“Copy that.”

“We have a situation.” This time it was Tech’s voice.

“Tell us something we don’t know, Tech.” You answered.

“It appears the regs have been ordered to execute the Jedi.”

You immediately stopped walking. You felt lightheaded and your knees were definitely threatening to buckle and this time you weren’t so sure you could resist, so you leaned against a tree.

“What? Which Jedi?” Hunter asked.

“All of them. They’re saying the Jedi have committed treason.” Tech clarified.

“That would explain things.” Crosshair said.

“It doesn’t begin to explain things!” You snapped, pushing off the tree to walk towards him.

“I suggest you get back here.” Tech inserted.

“Can’t, haven’t found the kid yet.” Hunter explained.

Crosshair turned and raised his rife. “Wrong.” He fired.

You watched Caleb fall and ignite his lightsaber and come running at Crosshair.

“Stop!” You shouted at Crosshair before trying to grab his rifle, but he pushed you back and continued firing at the padawan.

“Crosshair, stand down!” Hunter ordered.

Caleb landed a blow to the rifle causing it to fall from Crosshair’s grip.

“Don’t!” Hunter called out.

Caleb landed a hard kick to Crosshair’s chest, causing his to crash into the bottom of a tree.

You turned to face Caleb and spoke calmly to him. “Take it easy, kid.” You took a slow step towards him. “Easy.”

You heard the sound of Hunter’s blaster hitting the ground and he also began to slowly walk towards the boy. “We’re on your side.” He said.

Caleb turned and ran.

You shot Hunter a look and the two of you ran after him. As you approached where he was, you saw he had stopped at the edge of a cliff. You and Hunter both slowed your advance.

“Stay back!” He cried.

Hunter removed his helmet, and you followed suit by taking down your hood and mask.

“Just hear us out.” You said gently.

“No. You killed her!”

“The others did. We’re just as confused as you are.” Hunter replied.

You saw the fear and uncertainty in Caleb’s eyes. You inhaled deeply. It was worth a shot, so you reached out into his force signature. Caleb, listen to me.

Caleb turned his gaze towards you, his eyes wide with surprise. You’re a-

Yes, but I’ve not been a part of The Order for a long time.

They killed her. I can’t trust them.

They didn’t kill her Caleb. He wants to help you. Let him, no harm will come to you I can promise you that. Trust him.

Do he and the others know about you?

No. You knew there was no point in lying to him.

Then how am I supposed to believe I can trust them when you haven’t even told them who you are?

There were a series of reasons for why I- You can- Please Caleb listen to me.

No!

Caleb don’t- You shook your head slightly in mild discomfort. He’d pushed you out. You wouldn’t be able to communicate with him like that now unless he was the one to instigate it.

Hunter’s eyes darted between you both. He couldn’t think of how, but he could’ve sworn the two of you just had a conversation. He brought his attention back to the frightened padawan in front of him. He slowly continued his approach.

“Stay back! Stay back!” Caleb shouted.

“We can help you. Come with us.” Hunter moved forward again and reached his hand out.

Caleb glanced at you whilst backing towards the edge. I won’t tell him, but I can’t go with you.

You nodded sadly but you couldn’t blame him. If you were in his position, you weren’t sure you would go either. Suddenly, you all heard the sound of regs heading in your direction and you knew your time was up.

“No!” Hunter called out but it was too late. Caleb turned and jumped across the river and with one last look back, he disappeared into the woods.

Perhaps, if you were smart, you would’ve followed him, but you didn’t want to leave your squad and you needed answers too. You’d kept it a secret this long, it would just be a little harder now. You and Hunter watched him go and out of the corner of your eye, you saw Crosshair approach.

“Where’s the Jedi?” He enquired.

“I stunned him when he jumped. He didn’t make it.” Hunter answered soberly before turning away.

Crosshair glanced at you. You only glared at him and turned to follow Hunter.

The ship came out of hyperspace. “We are coming up on Kamino.” Tech announced.

“It’s good to be home. How long’s it been?” Wrecker asked.

“One hundred and eighty rotations in a standard cycle but galactic zone changes put the adjusted figure at around two hundred and five.” Tech explained.

“What?” Wrecker replied, face filled with confusion.

Echo sighed. “A long time.”

“You got that right!” Wrecker replied with a laugh.

Despite everything that just happened, you chuckled slightly. Something you never grew tired of was the dynamic between all of them. You adjusted yourself slightly from where you were platonically sitting on the floor, leaning against Hunter’s legs. You noticed that Crosshair was staring at you both.

“What?” Hunter asked, without opening his eyes.

“You sure that padawan died when he fell?” Crosshair asked.

“It was pretty easy to deduce, Crosshair.” You snapped.

Crosshair looked back to Hunter.

“Sure I’m sure. Why?” He replied, looking over at him.

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

“Or some of us don’t like to watch.” You added solemnly before standing up and moving towards the front window.

Hunter got out of his seat and followed you.

As you entered the rather wet and thunderous planet atmosphere, two ships set themselves up on either side of The Marauder. “Unidentified transport transmit your clearance code.”

“Clearance code?” Echo repeated. “Don’t they know who we are?”

“Must be a protocol drill.” Tech stated before transmitting the code.

“Authorisation confirmed. Proceed to landing bay one-tac-one.”

As the ship landed and you all walked out, you could not only see but feel that something was different.

“Shock troopers? What’s the Coruscant guard doing here?” Hunter thought out loud as he saw a group of red and white armoured clones walk past.

“Something strange is going on here. This doesn’t feel like a simulation.” You said.

Tech looked up from his datapad. “You are correct. This isn’t a drill.”

“Oh, man. What did we miss now?” Wrecker complained.

“The end of the war.” A shock trooper replied.

“Say again, trooper.” Hunter requested.

“General Grievous was defeated on Utapau. The Separatist leadership has collapsed. The war is over.”

“Just like I said.” Tech pointed out.

Wrecker gasped and sounded genuinely impressed. “It is just like you said!”

You weren’t so impressed. Kenobi- your friend- was probably dead now anyway. The end of the war did not feel right to you. Something was wrong and it wasn’t just the dead Jedi. As you were standing there, two regs carrying a stretcher passed you and a hand came free of its covering and a lightsaber fell out of its grasp. You took a step forward and stared at it and felt that cold feeling rush through your veins again.

“Is there a problem?” The shock trooper addressed you.

You tore your gaze from the weapon in his head and spoke calmy. “No problem.”

Hunter came beside you and brushed his fingers against yours. “We’ll just head to our barracks then.”

“Best hurry. There’s a mandatory general assembly at 1500.” The trooper informed you all as you walked away.

“It’s not just the clones on Kaller. All the regs are acting strange.” Hunter observed.

“Let’s test that theory.” Tech said before approaching an oncoming group of regs. “Excuse me, Trooper. What division are you from?”

“Step aside.” The clone responded roughly, elbowing Tech.

“Oh. Well, they seem the same to me.” Tech said frankly.

You gave him a small smile and patted his shoulder sympathetically as you walked past him.

“Ahh. Good to be back.” Wreaker said as you all entered the barracks.

“The smell’s getting worse.” You and Echo said in unison.

“You’re both still new. You’ll get used to it.” He said cheerfully enough, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Speak for yourself.” Crosshair said, pushing past the two of you.

“Well, I’ll get the board.” Wreaker pulled out his vibroknife and began adding to the tallies that were etched on the wall.

You took off the strap that had your weapon in it and laid it down on the table in the middle of the room and sat down next to Hunter. Your knees touched under the table.

“Eleven more successful missions. Ha! Like there was any doubt.” Wrecker said proudly before heading to his bunk.

“Kaller wasn’t a win.” Echo added.

“Says who? We completed our objective.” Wreaker argued.

“Not every objective.” Crosshair said.

You glanced at him suspiciously. Ever since Kaller, he had been acting strange.

“Those two let that Jedi kid escape.” He continued, pointing in your direction. “Or do you want to keep lying to us?”

You clenched your fists tightly to stop yourself from doing or saying something stupid.

Hunter stood up and walked towards the window. “I don’t like to think of executing our commanders as a mission objective.”

“An order is an order.” Crosshair stated.

“Since when?” You questioned as Hunter turned to face him.

Crosshair stared harshly between the two of you before Echo spoke up.

“None of this makes sense. Those clones served alongside General Billaba for years. How could they turn on her like that?” Echo said, a hint of anger coming through.

“Because of the regs programming.” Tech replied.

You looked at him. “Come again?”

“What programming?” Hunter asked.

“It’s been well documented that the Kaminoans inhibited the cognitive functions of clones to engineer them to follow orders without question.”

“Ha! We sure don’t!” Wrecker said smugly, pushing his Lula toy into Crosshair’s face who was having none of it and pushed against it.

“Obviously we are different.” Tech said. “They manipulated pre-existing aberrations in our DNA, resulting in your brute strength, Crosshair’s sharpshooting skills, Hunter’s enhanced senses and my exceptional mind. My guess is we are immune to the effects of the programming. Though I can’t be 100% certain of it.”

You stole a look at Crosshair who only narrowed his gaze at you. You looked away. “What about Echo? He was a reg before he joined you, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, if all regs were programmed, why didn’t I react like the others?” Echo asked.

“The damage you sustained on Skako Minor most likely wiped out all your present behavioural modifications. You are more machine than man… percentagewise, at least.” Tech answered.

Echo sighed. “Lucky me.”

You gave Echo a sympathetic smile before a PA announcer sounded. “All personnel report to the staging area for a briefing on the state of the Republic.”

You grabbed your weapon casing and jumped out of your seat and walked towards the door. You needed this briefing. Maybe after it you would finally be able to make sense of all that happened.

“This is one meeting I don’t want to miss.” Hunter said, following you.

“First time for everything.” Tech said before he and everyone else made their way out.

You were stunned by the image on the screen in front of you. Chancellor Palpatine had certainly had a rough time of it. His skin looked like it was about to fall off his face, it was scarred and damaged to the point where if you hadn’t been heard so many of his previous senate meetings, you might have struggled to recognise him. But what shocked you even more were the words that were coming out of his mouth.

“And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated.”

Jedi rebellion? They wouldn’t have- they couldn’t- would they? No. You had your issues with them, but you couldn’t believe this. You felt sick to your stomach.

“The attempt on my life has left me scarred and deformed but I assure you my resolve has never been stronger!”

You were too focused on the screen in front of you to notice Hunter glance up to the platform where the top Kaminoans were. With them he noticed someone he did not recognise.

“What is it?” Tech asked him.

He turned to him slightly but by the time he looked back up, the person was gone. “Nothing.” He replied. Then he felt a hard grip on his wrist, and he looked down to see your hand there before he looked back at you and saw that the colour had drained from your face.

“The Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire!”

“Galactic Empire?” Echo repeated quietly.

“For a safe and secure society.” Palpatine finished with a smile and applause rang through the assembly.

“Still don’t think the regs are programmed?” Tech pointed out.

You glanced around you; everyone was cheering in unison. Everyone was happy about this new reign. Everyone except the six of you. All this assembly did was confirm your suspicions. You couldn’t ever tell them what you were. Not only would that put you in danger, but it would put them in danger too. You had to do everything in your power to supress that part of you, you’d gotten good at it when you were on your own. You only started to embrace that part of you again when you joined this group. You had to do this, or you were screwed.

As you all walked down the corridor from the meeting, you were still trying to process what you had just witnessed.

“Galactic Empire? We’re soldiers of the Republic.” Echo said.

“Republic, Empire… What’s the difference?” Crosshair inserted.

You scoffed in disgust. “I can think of a few.”

“The systematic termination of the Jedi is a big one for me.” Tech responded.

“That being the main one.” You agreed.

Just then, Hunter held his hand up to stop you all. “We’ve got company.”

You all turned round and what greeted you left you quite surprised.

“Hello.” The young child said with a smile and wave.

“What’s that?” Wreaker asked, bending down.

“Adolescent human female. Origins… uncertain.” Tech replied.

“Or in layman’s terms, Tech, a young girl.” You said with smile and a roll of your eyes. You walked forward and kneeled down in front of her. “What’s your name?”

“My name’s Omega. I was wondering when you guys would come back.”

“You know who we are?” Hunter asked, nudging past Tech.

“Hunter, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, Crosshair and (Y/N).” She said looking back to you. “You’re Clone Force 99. Although-”

“Yeah, I know. I’m clearly not a clone but I helped these fellas out of some hot water, and they’ve needed me ever since.” You grinned up at Hunter who shook his head, a small smile on his face.

“Technically-”

“No, Tech. Everything I’ve said is true.” You turned back to him with a smirk.

Omega let out a small laugh.

“What are you doing on Kamino, kid?” Hunter asked.

“Her job, of course.” A smooth, calm voice answered for her.

You stood up and saw a female Kaminoan approach your group. “She is my medical assistant. One with a curious mind that causes her to wander. Come Omega, there is work to do.” She turned away and Omega followed her but not before giving you all one last wave.

You glanced at Hunter and the others and were pleased to see that they all looked just as confused as you were. In your time on Kamino and all that you knew about it, that was quite unexpected.

“This day keeps getting weirder and weirder.” Hunter said.

“Can’t disagree with you there.” You said.

You didn’t know if it was because you’d been living off rations for so long, but this canteen food was quite possibly the best food you’d tasted in a while. You were at what was now your usual table.

“Clones being programmed. Nothing controls me.” Wrecker said authoritatively, standing up at the table.

“Wrecker, it is a logical conclusion that your affinity for destruction would stem from your conditioning.” Tech explained.

“You take that back!”

“I am merely stating a scientific hypothesis based on factual data.”

“Well, I’ve got a fact for you. I like to blow things up because I like to blow things up!” He yelled, slamming his fists down on the table. “Got it?”

“Well, I’m convinced.” Crosshair sneered.

“Will you sit down.” You hissed, grabbing Wrecker’s arm, you didn’t want any more attention being drawn to you and the squad right now.

Hunter joined your table, sitting across from you. “An Imperial’s been sent to evaluate the clones. Everybody’s talking about it.”

“What kind of evaluation?” Echo inquired.

“Hopefully not mental. Clearly, we’d never pass that.” Tech said.

You couldn’t help but huff out a laugh at the looks on the others faces. Then another strange thing happened.

“Hello again.” Omega said as she sat down at the table next to Hunter.

You all just kind of stared at her.

“Omega. From earlier? In the corridor?”

You cleared your throat. “Sorry. Come on guys, back to basic human interactions please. Staring like this is just weird.”

Hunter spoke up. “Yeah, kid we remember. Don’t you have someplace to be?”

“No. I’ll stay.” She said before dipping into her food.

“You want to sit with us?” You asked sceptically.

“That’s never happened before.” Tech added.

“I like you. You don’t fit in around here either.” She said.

“What are you really doing here on Kamino, kid? Don’t you have a family somewhere? Parents?” Hunter asked.

“Parents?” She repeated, looking at him slightly puzzled.

“Check it out. The defects squad’s got themselves a new recruit. Another member added to the Sad Batch. Gotta say, I preferred it when they brought back the hot loner.”

Don’t be an idiot, don’t be idiot. You don’t want attention right now, you thought to yourself. So, you just joined the others in glaring at the two regs that walked past your table. You went back to focusing on your food, but you seemed to have lost your appetite now. Then all you heard was a squelch and you looked up to see Omega standing on the table, one roll in hand, the other seemed to have exploded all over the one reg’s neck and the side of his face.

“Who threw that?” He demanded angrily, eyes scanning the area.

“I did.” Omega said seriously. “Now apologise to my friends.”

“I like this kid!” Wrecker said.

“What did you say to me?” The reg pointed in her direction and began walking towards her.

“Whoa, whoah, whoa. Back off.” Hunter stood in front of him. “I suggest you keep moving.” He said firmly.

You and Wrecker both stood up behind Omega. You hoped this would be all you had to do.

“Know your place, lab scrapper.” The reg started to walk away but as he did so a bunch of food trays hit him.

You all turned to look at Wrecker who was holding two more trays. “Oops.”

You put your head in your hands. “Wrecker, did you have to?”

“That’s it.” The reg said heatedly.

“Oh yeah!” Wrecker shouted before throwing the trays, those ones hitting another reg straight in the face.

“So much for lack of attention”. You grumbled to yourself before landing a punch to a clone that was coming from your left.

A quick look around told you that everyone was doing just fine, even Omega was handling herself and Crosshair… well, he was just being Crosshair, eating his meal, not phased by what was happening around him. That was until a clone kicked Echo into his tray and his food went everywhere… then he got involved.

You came round the table to go to the clones near Tech, but a clone stood in front of you. “You’d be better off getting out the way. Save yourself the black eye and sore ribs.” You stated.

“I’ve got a better idea. Come back to my barracks. Save us both the fight. Unless you into that sorta thing.” He said with a smirk.

“I just threw up in my mouth.” You said with a disgusted scoff.

“Sorry, guess I just thought clones were your type or is it only the one’s with a higher military rank?” He jeered.

You glowered at him before darting forward and landing a punch to the right side of his face and a quick kick to the middle of his body sent him onto his back. He groaned. “Did try to warn you.” You said smugly.

You stepped over him and made your way to Tech. You both were able to easily deal with the few clones that came over but then you heard a crash. You turned to see Echo being tackled to the ground. You had to turn away quickly to push back another clone that had advanced towards you. As you did so you heard Tech call out.

“Echo, watch out!”

You looked and saw the reg bring down the metal tray straight on to Echo’s head and he slumped to the side. You ran over to the reg and pushed him away and knelt down by Echo. “He needs to go to the medical bay.”

Machines. That was all he could see. No, he couldn’t be back there. “No! Get them off!” Echo sat up quickly, pushing the scanners away.

“But my tests are not yet complete.” The small droid said calmly.

“Echo. Echo, it’s okay. It’s me. Omega.” She soothed, moving the droid to the side. “I understand. I don’t like being hooked up to their machines either.”

Echo looked at her and took another few breaths to calm himself down.

The droid spoke again. “Hello, CT-1409.”

“His name is Echo.” Omega pointed out.

“I am AZ-345211896246498721347. Your assigned medical droid.” The droid said with a spin of his body.

You walked through the medical bay doors alongside Hunter and were thrilled to see that Echo was awake.

“Ha told you he’s alive. You owe me two credits!” Wrecker said smugly to Crosshair who only shook his head.

“How you doing, Echo?” You asked.

“CT-1409’s condition is stable.” The droid answered. “But I have some distressing news for the four of you. According to your test results, you all appear to be genetically defective clones.”

The droid’s sincere and distraught tone meant you had to turn away to choke back your laughter.

“I will leave you to process the shock of this revelation.” He said gravely before going away.

“We’ve got a problem.” Echo announced.

“Not really. We’re more deviant than we are defective.” Tech interjected.

You studied Echo’s face, and you could tell whatever he had to say had nothing to do with any medical information. “You’re not talking about that are you?”

Echo nodded. “Admiral Tarkin’s here. He’s the one evaluating the clones.”

You scoffed in disgust which caused the others to stare at you.

“How would you know anything about him?” Crosshair asked.

“Uh… I had a life before you guys you know. I heard rumours.” You said quickly. You couldn’t tell them the reason you knew he was kind of an asshole was because of your time in the Jedi Order where you had argued with him as he helped the Order ruin the life of your friend. It didn’t surprise you that he was already an important person in this new Empire. He was definitely someone you needed to avoid, if there was even the slightest chance he recognised you, you all were fucked, and you couldn’t have that.

“This is the same Tarkin form the Citadel rescue when you, uh… How shall I put this?” Tech paused.

“Blew up.” Wrecker finished the sentence.

“And turned into that.” Crosshair added, taking his toothpick out his mouth.

“Way to be sensitive guys.” You said with a shake of your head.

Echo sighed. “Yes, and he’s not a big supporter of clones.”

“We’ll soon find out. We’ve been summoned by the prime minister.” Hunter said, crossing his arms.

“Guess he didn’t find that mess hall fight amusing. But I sure did.” Wrecker said.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with.” Hunter said.

You all made your way to go but Omega called after you. “Wait!” She darted in front of doorway. “The fight was my fault. I’m going too.” She said determinedly.

“Not happening. We’ll handle this.” Hunter said firmly before walking past her.

“But I-”

“Listen, kid.” Hunter turned sharply to look at her. “Our squad’s nothing but trouble. For your sake, keep your distance. Got it?”

Your heart went out to her as you watched Hunter walk away. “He was a little harsh, but he’s right. I love them all, but we tend to end up in tight spots and as you’ve seen, we’re not the most popular group there is. I’m sure we’ll see you around though.” You placed a hand on her shoulder before walking out the door to join Hunter and the others as they waited for you.

You began walking towards the prime minister’s office but as you were walking a shock trooper addressed you harshly. “Where do you think you’re going? The training facility is that way.”

You all turned to look at the trooper.

“Training facility?” Hunter asked.

“For a battle simulation. Admiral Tarkin has requested to see more of your squad in action.”

“Then we’re not being reprimanded?” Tech questioned.

“No, you’re being tested.” The clone answered severely.

I sure as hell am not, you thought to yourself, this was the last thing you needed. “Well, you guys enjoy that. I’m just going to head back to the barracks. Good luck, sure you’ll do great.” You said casually with a click of your fingers. You slowly etched your way out the group and began to walk past Hunter and the shock trooper. As you did so, the trooper grabbed your arm.

“That includes you.”

Hunter reached his hand out and he felt the others behind him take a step forward, but he caught himself just in time and waved them back. He was sure you could handle this yourself plus he didn’t want to get his squad into any more trouble.

You looked down at the grip the clone had on your forearm and looked into his helmet, an unimpressed expression on your face. “Is this not part of the clone evaluation?” You asked him.

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re an observant fellow and those eyes of yours can see that I’m obviously not a clone.” You removed yourself from his grasp. “So, I’ll not be participating in Admiral Tarkin’s evaluation.”

“He requested your presence too. As far as he’s concerned, you’re an equal part of this squad so that means you’re being evaluated too.”

Shit, you thought to yourself. You could only hope enough time had passed and the hood and mask would be enough that he wouldn’t recognise you. You made your way back into the group, ignoring many of their quizzical stares.

“Now, go gear up.” The shock trooper ordered.

“So, we’re not in trouble, and they want us to fight more? Ha! Maybe this Empire thing’s not so bad after all.” Wrecker said merrily.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” You muttered as you headed to the training facility.

As the lift to the training facility began to rise, you kept adjusting your ensemble. You couldn’t afford any slip ups when you were doing this.

“It’s fine.” Echo muttered to you.

You glanced at him but before you could say anything else, you all were in the facility, and you kept your head down whilst Tarkin spoke to you all from the observation area where the prime minister was too. His suave voice echoed around the room. “The value of all clone troopers and other personnel…”

You didn’t need to lift your head; you could feel him looking at you.

“Is being challenge by the Empire. To demonstrate your effectiveness, a combat-proficiency test is in order. Take your positions.” He finished speaking.

“We’ve done these a thousand times, guys. You know what to do.” Hunter stated before putting on his helmet.

“A battle simulation? Give us a real challenge.” Wrecker voiced through his helmet before you all broke off into your positions.

You crouched behind one of the barriers that had Tech and Wrecker behind them too, whilst the other 3 took up their positions on the opposite one.

You waited a few moments before you heard the whirring of the training droids, and the towers came online and fired down on you. You knew Crosshair would be sent to the towers and sure enough, you saw him make his way over to them. You didn’t have a blaster, but you did have another vibroblade strapped to your thigh, so you took that out and threw it at one of the droids. It implanted itself deep within the face of the droid and it collapsed to the floor. You noticed a few more fall too as the other’s shots met their targets.

As Crosshair took the towers down, Hunter signalled you all to move in. You ran out from behind the barrier and drew your modified vibro-weapon. You picked your knife up from the fallen droid and dodged a few of the shots headed your way, managing to cut down a couple more before you took shelter behind another barrier. You couldn’t help but feel a bit irritated, if you could use your ‘special’ skillset effectively this could all be over so much quicker.

You peered out from behind it to see Wrecker doing exactly what you wished you could do: just taking on all the droids. You made eye-contact with Tech who only rolled his eyes. To be honest you were grateful for Wrecker’s antics at this point, you needed this to be over. Plus, it was enjoyable to watch him get so much fun out of a drill like this.

“What else you go? Gimme more!” Wrecker shouted up to the watch platform.

Admiral Tarkin thought this had been over much too quickly. This group hadn’t been tested nearly enough. “If the Galactic Empire is to be stronger than the Republic which preceded it, it’s soldiers must follow suit. Switch to live fire.”

The prime minister didn’t like that idea one bit. “Admiral Tarkin, I must protest. I don’t care so much about the woman, but live rounds could damage my clones and my facility.”

“For which you will be fairly compensated. Do it!”

The prime minister reluctantly nodded towards the Kaminoans at the control panel.

You had been studying their interaction, something didn’t look right. You attention was brought back to the current situation as new, more advanced droids appeared in the area in front of you. This combined with what you had just seen above you didn’t look good. “Wrecker, hold on a minute!” You called out as he began running towards them. His shots were useless, even his brute strength didn’t have an effect.

Then it all went to hell.

You watched as the droids used live rounds, one of them hitting Wrecker. You darted out quickly, managing to cut the arms off the first droid. You ran over and grabbed Wrecker’s right arm. “You alright?”

“I felt that one.” Wrecker said, his voice straining slightly.

Tech had dashed out to grab his other arm so together the two of you were able to scurry behind the barrier before the other droid’s blaster fire made contact with you.

You sat helplessly whilst blaster fire surrounded you. Why was it the one time you actually needed to use the abilities you had the one time where you absolutely could not. If it got bad enough, you might have to anyway. You knew where that would leave you, but what about the others? A whistle brought you out of your head and you looked over to see Hunter giving the three of you hand signals.

“Oh! I hate hand signals!” Wrecker complained.

“They’re not too difficult to understand Wrecker once you know them.” You said, taking your knife back out and throwing it into the arm of one of the other droids. It didn’t do much to stop it, it just focused its attention on you causing you to duck quickly.

“Perhaps if you memorised them.” Tech suggested.

“Why don’t you memorise them?” Wrecker snipped back.

“We have.” You and Tech said at the same time.

“What we did on Felucia.” Tech clarified.

You jumped out from behind the small wall, jumping over the head of the droid that had your smaller vibro-blade in it, grabbing it as you did so. You knew that was foolish but if you needed to, you could talk your way out of it. You’d done it before.

You distracted the droids to allow Wrecker the time to move in. You slid on your knees, avoiding the blaster fire, and sliced through the legs of one of the droids. As it fell, you stabbed your weapon through the head of it, rendering it useless. Great, two down, lots more to go, you thought. You felt a blaster bolt whizz past your head as you ran quickly to where Hunter and Crosshair were taking cover. “How do you think we’re doing?”

“Could be better.” Hunter replied.

You saw that Tech was in the middle of reprogramming the droid. If all went according to plan, the playing-field should even out shortly.

Admiral Tarkin watched this display with intrigue. “These are rather unusual tactics.”

“The clones of experimental Unit 99 have a tendency to veer from standard combat protocol. Something that the woman who is a part of their group has also embraced.” The prime minister explained.

Tarkin peered down at you. There was something about you that didn’t quite sit right with him, and he needed to know what it was.

Oh, thank fuck, you thought. Tech had successfully reprogrammed the droid so now your life was simpler. With Tech taking down most of the advancing droids, the rest of you were able to finish the ones that remained. Everything seemed to be going fine… right up until it wasn’t. Tech had already started to struggle keeping the connection with the droid he was controlling and to make matters worse, a last droid appeared at the top of the training facility and fired at Tech’s droid. He fell to the ground.

“Tech!” You cried out. You saw Hunter throw his vibroblade into its arm and you used that to run up to it to stop it from continuing its fire in Tech’s direction but you severely under-estimated how fast it would react. Before you could use your weapon, it landed a kick to the centre of your chest that sent you flying backwards. You collided into Hunter, who quickly got to his feet and grabbed you. The two of you scrambled to get to cover. You leant back against the barrier and Hunter kneeled in front of you. “Sorry about that.” You said sheepishly, trying to get the air back into your lungs. “That was really dumb.”

“Are you okay?” Hunter asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. I’m sure I’m supposed to feel like my entire chest has just caved in on itself.” You said with a laugh.

Hunter sighed, hoping you couldn’t pick up on the extent of the relief he felt. He looked away from you. “Crosshair, we need more cover fire!”

You looked to see how Tech was. He was still on the ground and that droid wasn’t stopping its assault. You needed one of them to come up with something quick or you really wouldn’t have much of a choice. If you had to die in order to save your squad, then you’d do that but at the same time you really hoped there would be another option. Crosshair’s voice then sounded.

“Wrecker, knife!”

You watched as Wrecker threw his knife into the air and Crosshair’s shot hit it perfectly. It spun in the air and hit the middle of the droid’s head, deactivating it. Out of all the shots you’d seen him do, that was by far the most impressive. You rested the back of your head against the block in relief. Your secret was able to stay a secret still.

“Here.”

You looked to see Hunter holding his hand out to you. Calm yourself down and just take the hand like a normal human being. Nice and casual, you reminded yourself. You took it and let him bring you to your feet. “Thanks.”

Hunter wanted nothing more than to keep that feeling of your hand in his for as long as possible, but he knew this wasn’t the place or time. Not to mention, you probably didn’t view it in the same light he did. He let your hand go once you were on your feet. “Nice work.” He directed to Crosshair.

You had made your way over to Tech and helped him to his feet. You glanced up at the observation platform to see Tarkin walking away. Please let that be the last I see of him, you thought.

Omega looked at the man who was studying the birthing pods and she felt a sense of unease.

“Extraordinary. Aren’t they?” The head scientist Nala Se said.

“That remains to be seen. Tell me about Clone Force 99.” Tarkin requested.

“They are medically defective clones whose cellular mutations enhanced traits desirable in a soldier.” Nala Se responded.

“And the woman who is with them?”

Lama Su told him your name before continuing with explaining your background. “She came back to Kamino with them the last time the clones were here. According to them, she assisted them on a mission, and they offered her a place on the squad. As far as I’m aware, she’s been with them ever since. Her tendency to stray from the normal rules also means she fits in well.” The prime minister replied.

Tarkin thought for a few moments, but your name didn’t ring any bells with him unfortunately. “Where did she come from?”

“They met her on Devaron. As to her original origin, I do not know.”

Tarkin pondered this before continuing. “How many of these enhanced clones do you possess?”

“Five are all that remain.” Nala Se answered.

“They could be an asset to your new Empire. Their female included, she’s bonded with them in a way I’ve not seen their fellow clones do.” The prime minister added.

“Yet reports indicate they exhibit a concerning level of disobedience and disregard for orders.” Tarkin countered.

“A side effect of their mutation.” Nale Se explained.

“Yet one that has never hindered the completion of their missions.” The prime minister inserted.

“Then they executed Order 66?” Tarkin asked.

“Since both the Jedi General and Padawan on Kaller were eliminated, one would assume-”

“Assume nothing.” Tarkin interrupted the Kaminoan prime minister. “Only the general’s death is confirmed. A counter-report filed by one of their own, says the Padawan escaped. Let us see where the loyalty of these clones and their friend truly lies.” Tarkin said before leaving the room.

Omega watched as he left. She didn’t like him, and she worried about what he had in store for all of you.

You removed your mask and hood as you entered the barracks and sat down at the table, head in your hands. What the fuck was that evaluation? Live rounds? What the hell? Apparently, Wrecker shared your unhappiness.

“Live rounds? They used live rounds! On us!” He said, throwing his helmet on the table.

“We were there, Wrecker. We know.” Tech replied.

“I tried to warn you about Tarkin.” Echo added.

“Yup. Major Dickhead.” You concurred.

“Who’s that Imperial snake think he is?” Wrecker voiced angrily.

“Stow it already. You got shot. It happens all the time.” Crosshair said coldly.

You stared at Crosshair and made eye-contact with Hunter who nodded back at you. Good, at least I’m not the only one who has noticed this, you thought.

“There’s a fundamental difference between taking fire in battle and being used for target practice.” Tech refuted.

“Exactly! We’re not dummy droids.” Wrecker agreed, looking at Crosshair.

“That much we agree on.”

Shit. You quickly put your hood and mask up and went to stand next to Crosshair as Admiral Tarkin entered the room. You felt Echo and Hunter’s eyes on you as you did that, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t exactly avoid him now so this was the closest you could get.

“That was quite an impressive display.” Tarkin said, walking down the middle on the line.

“Didn’t have much of a choice.” Hunter answered.

“Our new empire may have methods which seem a bit unorthodox but so does is this squadron. Particularly your presence here, (Y/N), is it?”

“Yes.” You said quietly, avoiding eye-contact. You felt his cold hands through your mask as they placed themselves on your chin, angling your face up to look at him. You resisted the instinct to tear his hand away and send him crashing into the barrack wall.

Hunter had to fight the urge to pull his hand off of you, but he noticed your left hand moving. The signal was clear, you were fine. He looked to the others who were all frowning in Tarkin’s direction, well, all except Crosshair who kept his expression neutral, and shook his head to stop any of them from saying anything.

“Your choice of weapon is rather unusual. How did you come by such a device?” Tarkin asked you.

“I made it myself. Gathered a bunch of vibroblades together.” You replied.

“And no blaster?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like them.” You answered simply.

Tarkin paused. In all his time in military command, he’d never come across an ordinary soldier who didn’t fight with a blaster by choice. Only the- no that couldn’t be possible. He continued his questioning. “You weren’t a part of this squad in the beginning.” Tarkin stated.

“That’s correct.” You answered curtly.

“Yet they allowed you to join them after only knowing you for a brief amount of time.”

“I made a good impression.” You said coolly.

“Clearly. Tell me, your military and fighting background, what was it?”

“Self-taught.” You lied smoothly.

“I doubt that. A person of your skill had to have received training from somewhere.”

“I pick up quickly, working with this squad helped me figure a few things out.” You replied easily.

You were good. He had to hand it to you, but his suspicions were not yet quashed. Your voice and eyes felt familiar to him. There was only one way he’d know if he was right or not. “Take of your mask.” Tarkin ordered.

You felt your heartbeat start pounding in your ears. “No.”

“That’s an order.”

“Not one I’ll be following and if you try anything, you’ll end up in the medical bay.” You said defiantly.

Tarkin narrowed his gaze at you but before he could say anything, a clone voice grabbed his attention.

“You got a mission for us sir?” Hunter asked, wanting Tarkin’s attention to be away from you.

“Indeed.” Tarkin responded, releasing his grip on you, until either you slipped up or he had further information he would just have to wait. There was a larger issue at hand here. He walked to face the clone who spoke to him. “We have tracked a group of insurgents to the Onderon sector. They must be dealt with.”

You took a shaky breath as he turned away from you. That was too fucking close.

“What sort of insurgents?” Echo asked.

“Separatist forces intent on keeping the galaxy at war. If you neutralize this grave threat, you will be looked upon most favourably as I assess the needs of the Imperial army.” He informed you all before walking out of the room.

You felt all the eyes in the room turn to look at you. “Problem?” You asked casually.

“What was that all about?” Wrecker asked.

“What?” You said with a shrug of your shoulders.

“If you were trying to get yourself thrown in the brig, that was an excellent way to go about it.” Tech added.

“I wasn’t trying to- I didn’t- I-” You broke off with a sigh.

“What’s going on?” Hunter asked you, his tone softer than what it usually was, as he moved to stand in front of you and laid a hand on your shoulder.

You looked into his eyes. You hated this. You wanted nothing more than to tell him- to tell all of them- what you were but you couldn’t, the time where you could safely tell them was gone and now it was killing you inside, way worse than it was before. “Nothing.” You shuffled away from him. “Come on, we got a mission to get on with.” You left the room quickly and walked down the corridor to the ship.

Echo and the others came to stand by Hunter who had watched you go. “She’s been acting strangely. Have you noticed?”

“Of course, I have. She’s been different since the mission at Kaller.” Hunter agreed.

“I too have observed several alterations in her behaviour since landing here.” Tech added.

“Do we think she’s okay?” Wrecker asked.

“Why are we talking about this? She’s right, we have a mission to be getting on with.” Crosshair frostily.

Hunter glared at him. “Since when don’t you care?”

“Never said I didn’t but I think we all know why you do.” Crosshair replied. “I’m just focused on the mission as we all should be. Certain feelings should be pushed aside.”

Hunter turned away from him. He wouldn’t have this conversation again. “Come on, let’s go.” He could only hope there would be a moment where you would feel comfortable enough to tell him what you were going through.

You were sitting on the steps leading into the ship after Tech and Echo arrived, trying to push your anxiety and self-loathing away but to no avail. All that had happened had overthrown any denial you were able to hold on to.

You couldn’t convince yourself otherwise; your entire relationship with them had started with a lie.

You had lied about the biggest part of your life to your team. No matter how you acted around them, no matter how much of it was genuine, your lie remained, and that lie was going to have to stay a part of you forever and you couldn’t do it anymore. This part of you would either kill you or them and you cared too much to see that happen to them. After this mission, you would leave them, as much as that hurt you to decide, you knew it was the only way out. You’d been on your own before, you could do it again. You stood up and walked over to Echo who was staring at the datapad. “Find any more intel on the insurgents?”

Echo looked up from the screen. “Negative. Imperial files are locked down tight.”

“That’s annoying. Maybe Tech-”

“Yes, give me time. I’ll crack them.”

You turned to see Tech walking down the steps. “Yeah, I figured as much.”

“I’ll say this for the Empire. They know fire power. You should see the new armoury.” Wrecker announced as he and Crosshair came over with what you assumed was a box filled with explosives.

“That impressive huh?” You asked.

“He actually cried.” Crosshair revealed.

“Hey, we both did.” Wrecker protested.

You let out a small laugh. That was the Crosshair you’d been familiar with, the one you’d seen glimpses of earlier was unknown to you, but it was good to see that he seemed his usual self.

“There’s no room on board for that.” Tech said.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll make room.” He sighed happily as he made went to pick up the container. “A new mission and unlimited explosives. Things are back to normal.”

“That’s not going near my rack.” Tech objected as he followed Wrecker on to the ship. “I refuse to sleep by a projectile again.”

You smiled fondly as you watched them go on board. You were going to miss that. “Hey.” You lightly grabbed Crosshair’s arm as he walked past you. “Where’s Hunter?”

Crosshair looked past you. “There.”

You turned to see Hunter walking through the doors.

Hunter noticed you looking over at him. He knew you shouldn’t affect him this way, in fact his life would be a lot simpler if you didn’t, but he couldn’t help it. Within two months of you joining his squad, you had grown to become a key part of him, and he couldn’t stop it, not even if he wanted to and right now, whatever was happening with you, was driving him crazy. He wanted to help you, but he didn’t know how, and he couldn’t know how until he knew what was bothering you which you clearly didn’t want to tell him or anyone else for that matter. A familiar voice brought him back to the current moment.

“Hunter!”

He sighed and turned to see Omega running to catch up to him. “I told you to keep your distance.”

“I know, but I need to talk to you.” She said.

He kneeled down in front of her. “Alright. What is it?”

“That Imperial officer, I think he has it out for you. I overheard him talking to Lama Su. He doesn’t like clones or (Y/N).”

Hunter let out a chuckle. “Ah, that’s nothing new for us. But we get the job done and (Y/N) has already made it clear to him she could handle any trouble he throws her way.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“A mission’s a mission. It’s nothing to worry about.”

“Then let me come with you.” Omega pleaded.

“Kid, you’re not a soldier. It’s dangerous.”

“It’s dangerous here too. Things aren’t like before. We need to leave Kamino.”

From the distance, Hunter heard Wrecker calling for him. They were ready to go. “Change takes getting used to. You’ll see. Just give it time.” He stood up and began to walk away.

“Hunter.” Omega called quietly after him.

He turned to face her.

“Um, never mind.”

He carried on walking to the ship.

You stood next to Crosshair as Hunter approached. “She okay?”

“Ah, something about her I can’t figure out.”

“Well, she’s a kid, they’re not supposed to be easy to figure out. Hell, most adults aren’t.” You patted his shoulder before going on board the ship.

I’ll say, Hunter thought to himself as he watched you climb the steps.

“Well, I guess kids aren’t quite your area of expertise either.” Crosshair added before he followed you up.

Omega watched Hunter board the ship and watched as it flew away. She hoped they would be okay.

“Omega, come along. I told you to stay close.” Lama Se beckoned.

Omega turned away to follow her out the docking bay.

The ship landed in the Onderonean jungle, and you all left the ship, helmets, and masks on, hoods up. You could hear the sounds of many creatures roaring in the distance.

“What was that?” Echo asked.

“You don’t want to know.” Tech replied bluntly.

“Well, at least it’s not a swamp.” You added brightly.

“Close enough.” Crosshair griped.

“The Separatist encampment’s two clicks south. We’ll continue on foot and do a full perimeter scan.” Hunter ordered. He stopped Wrecker as he went to run past him. “Covertly.”

“Oh, come on. It’s been days since I’ve blown something up.” Wrecker moaned.

“Easy, Wrecker. Your programming’s kicking in.” Tech pointed out.

“Hey, don’t start with that!” Wrecker said before knocking Tech in front of him.

You smiled to yourself and shook your head at Tech. “Was that really necessary?”

“I was merely pointing out-”

“I know, I know.” You said with a laugh. “Come on, you’re the man with the scanner, lead the way.”

The rest of you followed behind Tech as he scanned the jungle area.

“How many droids we talking about, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“I can’t tell from this distance. Something’s blocking my scan.” Tech replied, hitting the side of the datapad.

“Clankers always travel together in packs. Let’s get a closer look at what we’re walking into.” Hunter said.

You all climbed up one of the large trees and laid down flat.

“Tell me what you see, Tech.” Hunter directed.

“I’m clocking twenty-five heat signatures ahead but zero droids.” Tech answered.

“Tarkin said insurgents, not droids.” Crosshair said.

“I’m not sure they’re either.” You pointed out as you peered through your macrobinoculars. You passed them over to Echo.

“She’s right. There are children down there.” Echo stated.

“Children? Out here?” Hunter said, confusion in his voice. He grabbed the binoculars from Echo and sat up as he looked through them.

You sat up and looked at him. “Something’s not right, Hunter.” You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

“What are you waiting for? Give the order.” Crosshair instructed, the scope of his rifle focusing in on one of the people.

“Negative. Stand down.” Hunter ordered.

“What?” Crosshair responded.

“You mean, we’re not blasting any droids?” Wrecker asked.

“There aren’t any droids, Wrecker.” You replied. You felt the like there were many sets of eyes on you.

“Well, so what do we do?” Wrecker asked.

“We finish the mission.” Crosshair answered. “Make the call, Hunter.”

“We’re not alone. Now stand down.” Hunter commanded.

Just as he did so, a group of who you guessed were the so called ‘insurgents’, surrounded you all. You drew your weapon and kept your eyes on them.

“Let’s hear them out.” Hunter pushed your sword down. “Trust me.”

You looked at him and nodded. You followed his lead and put your hands behind your head, as did the others, but you noticed that Crosshair hadn’t yet done so. “Crosshair.” You hissed.

Crosshair only let out an incredibly irritated sigh before he lowered his rifle and raised his hands.

Before you began the walk down to the camp, the troops came and took some of the equipment you all were carrying, including the helmets. One of the soldiers took your hood and mask down. You went to quickly push them back up, but he held his gun up at you.

“Don’t.” He said sternly.

“Hey, easy with that.” Hunter said to the soldier, turning back to look at you.

“It’s fine. I’m sorry.” You said calmly, lowering your hands slowly. The others had their helmets taken so you would have to make do too. “I’ll leave it down.” Please let there be no one here who could possibly recognise me, you thought.

The sight which greeted you left you lost for words. Aside from a few soldiers, most of the people at the camp were ordinary civilians, not a weapon or threat amongst them. What had Tarkin been talking about?

“These aren’t Separatists. They’re Republic fighters.” Echo said.

“Why would Tarkin send us to attack our own forces?” Tech asked Hunter.

“Because we refuse to fight for an Empire.”

Oh, of course. It would truly be too much to ask that you could go an entire day without the threat of being recognised. That voice belonged to Saw Gerrera and you’d only helped him utilise some more of his forces after Obi Wan, Rex, Anakin and Ahsoka had assisted him earlier in the war. You stepped behind Wrecker, hoping his size would shield you a little bit. He turned back and glanced down at you, but you just shook your head gestured for him to turn back around.

“You’re Saw Gerrera. Trained by Captain Rex and General Skywalker to fight for the Republic.” Tech stated.

Hunter watched as the man stepped towards him and took his blaster out it’s holster.

“So, the newly declared Empire sent you to wipe us out?” Saw said, turning away from the clone in front of him.

“Well, we’re here to neutralise a group of insurgents.” Hunter explained.

Gererra chuckled and turned to face him. “Well… here we are. What are you going to do? Strike us down like you did the Jedi?”

Your blood ran cold as he said that. The images in your head so vivid it was like you were back on Kaller.

“Is that a request?” Crosshair sneered.

“Enough.” Hunter said firmly. “We expected to find battle droids, not-”

“Civilians? Times change, targets change.” Saw interrupted. “Why don’t you take a look at the insurgents you were sent to destroy.”

Hunter studied at the group in front of him, they looked worried and afraid. These people weren’t a threat that needed to be taken out.

“Makes you wonder what else they’re lying about.” Saw said before turning to address his group. “Let’s mobilise. Pack up the camp.”

Hunter took a few steps towards Saw. He glanced back to see the others following but you weren’t where you had been standing when you first arrived. Wrecker coughed and tilted his head back. He then noticed your silhouette behind him. He turned back to face Saw. “What’s going on here? Who are these people?”

Saw stood up and responded to the clone. “Villagers, croppers, former Republic fighters, all now displaced refugees since Palpatine unjustly appointed himself Emperor.”

“According to reports, the Jedi made an attempt on the Supreme Chancellor’s life. His actions were a defensive measure.” Tech said.

You couldn’t help but scoff.

Saw paused. “You boys got yourself someone else?”

Stupid. Dumb. Idiot. Shit. Fuck. You could’ve kept thinking about all the words that described the stupidity of your actions, but you knew you would have to move out from behind Wrecker anyway, so you stepped out and as soon as you did so, you saw the flash of recognition in Saw’s eyes. You reached out quickly. Please don’t. They don’t know. I’ve been with them for a while and now more than ever they can’t know. Telling them puts them in danger and I can’t have that. Please.

Hunter looked between you and Saw. You had that same intensity in your eyes that you did on Kaller before the padawan jumped.

You let out a sigh of relief as he gave you the tiniest nod of his head. Again, you ignored the side-eye the others were giving you.

Saw looked away from you and back to the clone with the goggles. “And I figured you for the smart one. With the Jedi decimated and the clone army under his command, Palpatine will have control over the entire galaxy. Unless we stop him.”

“The war is over.” Crosshair said.

“If we give up now, everything we fought for… everyone we lost, will have been for nothing. I won’t let that happen. The Clone War may have ended but a civil war is about to begin.”

You didn’t know what to make of this. You weren’t keen on the idea of this new Empire, but you didn’t like the war either, too many people got caught in the crossfire, too many people got hurt but this regime would probably do just as much damage. You couldn’t remember the last time there had been peace in the galaxy.

“With a handful of fighters and limited firepower? You don’t stand a chance.” Hunter said straightforwardly.

“Not alone we don’t.” Saw insisted.

“We should leave if we’re gonna make the rendezvous.” A soldier informed Gerrera. “What do we do with them?”

Saw paused and looked at the group in front of him. “The clones and others.” He paused slightly and looked in your direction, but he saw your gaze quickly drop down. He continued. “Once helped us free Onderon, so we’ll give them a choice. The old ways are done.” He pointed the clone’s blaster at him.

You took a slight step forward just in case.

“You can either adapt and survive, or die with the past.” Saw carried on as he turned the blaster around before he handed it back to him. “The decision is yours.” He finished before turning of the lamp and walking into the jungle with the rest of his squad.

You watched him as he walked away, and you reached out one last time. Thank you. You saw him stop for a brief second before continuing to walk on. You put your hood and mask back on and waited for Wrecker to gather the gear. You stood next to Hunter and pulled on his arm but just as the two of you were about to walk away, you both stopped. You made sure to stop a second after he did. You had that suspicious feeling again and you knew Hunter did too but neither of you could see anything. You glanced at him, but he just gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, you knew that meant he wasn’t sure what it was. You both turned to go, unaware of the probe droid in the treeline.

“At least with the Republic we knew where we stood. Tarkin and this Empire are a whole different story.” Tech stated as you all made your way back to the ship.

“Why are we debating this? We need to complete the mission.” Crosshair said.

You turned around sharply to stare at him. “Wake up Crosshair. They sent us to eliminate innocent civilians.”

“Who said they’re innocent?” Crosshair replied, holding your stare.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hunter said frustratedly, turning back to face Crosshair.

“Me? What about her display back there? That didn’t strike you as unusual?” Crosshair snarled, turning to look at you.

You avoided Hunter’s gaze as his eyes flicked towards you. “You don’t know what you’re talking about Crosshair.”

“Technically he’s referring to-”

“Not now, Tech.” You interrupted quickly.

“That aside.” Crosshair continued. “I’m following orders.”

“Exactly.” Hunter countered, taking a few steps towards him.

“Those insurgents are plotting against the Emperor.”

“Are you serious? Why does that matter? This Emperor isn’t providing safety or security, him and this regime are going to crush people and tear them apart. There’ll never be an end to the conflict that people have had to deal with for so long.” You said angrily.

Crosshair only glared at you before looking back at Hunter. “If you don’t have the stomach to do what needs to be done, then you’re not fit to lead this squad.”

You watched as the two of them stared each other down before that recognisable feeling of being watched returned to you. “Hunter, I think-” You didn’t need to finish your sentence, since Hunter had already drawn his blaster and fired it past Crosshair’s head. You looked to see a probe droid crash to the ground.

“We’re being followed.” Hunter said before brushing past Crosshair.

You all followed him towards the site where the droid fell.

“That is a probe droid.” Tech explained.

“Oh, joy.” You said sarcastically.

“Tarkin’s spying on us now?” Wrecker asked.

“The Jedi never did that.” Echo added.

“Not that you know of.” Crosshair refuted.

“No, they didn’t.” You argued, immediately regretting it. What was your problem? Were you trying to get yourself killed? Clearly you were suffering from an ill-timed case of word vomit. For months, no for years, you were able to keep this secret why all of a sudden was every word that came out of your mouth one that could lead into it. You glanced around the group; everyone was staring at you. Perfect.

“How would you know?” Tech asked.

“Um, you know, I hear things and from what I’ve heard, the Jedi were pretty stand-up guys.” Maker, what the fuck did you sound like? Never in your life would you have described the Jedi, or anyone for that matter, this way.

While he desperately wanted to know what was going on with you, he also wanted to save you from any more awkwardness. “Omega.”

“What about her?” Echo asked, turning his eyes from you to look back at Hunter.

You huffed out a breath and nodded a thank you as Hunter walked past you, before following him back to the ship.

“She warned me about the mission. And Tarkin.” Hunter replied. “She said not to return to Kamino, that it’s not safe for us anymore.”

Wrecker grunted. “Maybe she’s right.”

“We’re taking the word of a child now?” Crosshair asked stonily.

“I would not discount Omega’s insight. A state of heightened awareness is not unusual for an enhanced clone such as herself.” Tech said simply, looking up from his datapad.

You angled your head to face Tech as he leaned against the ship’s doorway. “She’s a what now?”

Wrecker just laughed. “Good one Tech, you almost had me.” He joined you on the steps of the ship.

“When Nala Se spoke of five clones, Tarkin assumed that meant us, but Echo’s a reg. The fifth is Omega. I confirmed my suspicions after analysing her DNA while we were in the infirmary.” Tech explained.

“And you waited until now to mention it?” Echo asked, a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“Well, I thought it was obvious.” Tech replied plainly.

“Hey, Tech, here’s an idea. If it seems obvious to you, it’s probably not to the rest of us. These are things that are good to know well in advance.” You said with a shake of your head, standing up and joining him in the doorway.

“We’re going back for her.” Hunter said, turning away from the jungle.

Crosshair stepped in front of him. “Disobeying orders again over a kid? Bad play, Hunter.” He pushed a finger into his chest.

Hunter just pushed his hand aside and stepped past him. “She’s one of us. We’ve added a new member before, and it worked out.” He said, glancing at you.

You met his stare, but you couldn’t help but feel the guilt of what you were doing come crashing through you.

“We’re not leaving her there.” Hunter continued before stepping past you and into the ship.

Lost in thought, you stared out the ship window, your eyes following the droplets of rainwater as they slowly trickled down. You found yourself picking two beads of water and waiting to see which one would reach the bottom first. It was funny, you knew of Kamino’s climate before coming here and the times you had the weather had always been the same, dark, and stormy, yet you were always surprised to see it be that way. You couldn’t imagine anything good was waiting for you all once you landed but you knew Hunter was right, Omega had to leave with you all. Tech’s voice took your attention away from the trickling water.

“I’m getting no response from com-scan.”

“That’s unusual.” You said quizzically.

“Indeed.” Tech replied.

“Bring us in. We’ll find out what’s going on.” Hunter directed.

Before you stepped out from the ship, you drew your hood and mask back up- to protect you from the harsh weather more than anything else right now. You all walked towards the- now sealed- bay doors but before you all entered, Hunter spoke. “Stick to the plan. Split up, find Omega, meet back here at the ship.”

You nodded and walked over to open the door and you weren’t comforted by what greeted you. The bay was encased in darkness, the usual hustle wasn’t anywhere to be seen. The eeriness of it made your skin crawl. You stepped forward but before you could make it very far, shock troopers came out, blasters drawn, and your group was surrounded in an instant.

“As expected.” Crosshair sniped.

“Shut up, Crosshair.” You hissed back. You looked over to see Admiral Tarkin make his way over to Hunter. Dammit. Your mask and hood would be useless now, that probe droid would’ve caught you without it. You could only wait with bated breath and hope that time and Tarkin’s general distaste for the Jedi would have meant he still wouldn’t recognise you.

“The Empire does not tolerate failure, Sergeant.” Tarkin said, his displeasure evident.

“There were… complications.” Hunter replied.

“Yes, the probe droid’s report was quite detailed. Conspiring with Saw Gerrera. And you made your position quite clear.” Tarkin said, directing his gaze at you.

At least he didn’t recognise you. You’d be dead already if he had, you thought before replying, “Yeah, that position being I’m not a fan of a system or an Emperor that likes to go after innocent civilians. Not to mention, some of his employees are assholes. Oh, sorry, that’s a big generalisation, I meant at least one of them is.” You responded, glaring at him.

Tarkin did his best to maintain his composure. The probe droid had managed to send an image of your face and he was annoyed to admit that your profile meant nothing to him but this attitude of yours was becoming a problem and it would have to be dealt with. He nodded to the shock trooper closest to you and smirked as the butt of his blaster made contact with your cheek and then your stomach.

You grunted and kneeled down in pain. “Make that two employees. That feel good?” You panted, looking back at Tarkin. You took Echo’s outstretched hand and stood up, taking a few deep breaths to get air back into your lungs.

“Quite. You would do better to learn your place.” Tarkin answered.

“You need to stop.” Echo whispered.

“I can handle it fine.” You muttered back.

“You might, but he can’t.” Echo said, jutting his head in Hunter’s direction.

You glanced over to see Hunter’s fists clenched at his sides; his jaw tight as he stared at Tarkin. Any other day, you would’ve let your thoughts run wild with what that could mean, but now was not the correct time for that sort of thought process so you just skipped to the last part of your routine and dismissed it as nothing special. It was nothing more than a leader who cared about the general wellbeing of his squad, if it had been anyone else, it would’ve been the same.

“I assume you know the punishment for treason.” Tarkin resumed, speaking to the clone sergeant.

You went to open your mouth again but Echo’s tug on your arm stopped you.

“Treason?” Hunter replied, shocked.

“Throw them in the brig.” Tarkin ordered.

This was how you would die.

This was the way Tarkin would kill you.

No, not by finding out your Jedi secret.

But by locking you in the brig with Hunter wearing only his blacks.

The material clung tightly to him, accentuating every ripple of muscle he had. You simply could not handle it. Yes, the two of you shared a bunk and when he had the time, you knew he would remove his armour and sleep in them, but it was usually always dark, and you were too exhausted to actually notice and appreciate what they did for him. You weren’t the most focused waking up either, so you’d never had, what you supposed was the pleasure given the way your body was reacting right now with heat spreading throughout it and your heart rate dramatically increasing, of seeing him in them.

Now it was happening at the worst possible time.

You were trapped.

In a tight space.

With every other squad member.

Who in the galaxy had you wronged to receive this punishment? To have him in front of you, looking like that, and not being able to act on every impulse that your body was wanting to do, was torture.

It felt wrong, not to mention a little bit creepy, to let your mind wander this way when there was no way his had ever done the same, but you couldn’t help it. This was going to kill you.

“You’re staring.” Echo uttered quietly to you.

“Shut it.” You shushed back, no malice behind it, before turning away from Hunter swiftly and you sat down on the bench, so out of it that you didn’t notice the small child sitting in the corner of the cell or really register that Hunter had been looking at you just as intensely.

Hunter couldn’t help but look at you. If Tarkin wanted to give him a hard time, this was a good way to do it. Being trapped in the brig with you was doing things to him that he should be better at ignoring. Your top layer had been taken off you so you were left wearing your leggings and undershirt which meant much of your skin was exposed and it was making his mind create images and thoughts he absolutely should not be having. He began thinking about the various ways he could make the goosebumps on your arms disappear, but he stopped himself. It was not the correct time for this, it was never the correct time for it, but he couldn’t help himself. This was going to be a struggle.

“You’re staring.” Wrecker whispered to him.

“I’m not.” Hunter replied defensively, before looking away from you quickly and facing the back of the cell.

Echo glanced between the two of you as you both looked away from each other at the same time. He sighed internally. He couldn’t believe you both were so clueless. Everyone else could see how you felt about each other but nothing had happened. He’d lost track of the number of conversations he and the others had with each of you individually about it, only to be faced with pathetic denials and excuses from both of you. They’d even tried a couple of times to set up situations were the two of you were alone, to try and force one of you to talk because it was just getting ridiculous and still nothing happened. You both were, somehow, too oblivious to what you felt for one another.

“Well, the plan wasn’t a total failure.” Tech spoke up.

You looked at him and followed his gaze and there was Omega. Huddled against the wall of the cell. Wow, your brain had short circuited after seeing Hunter. How did you not see her? What happened next wasn’t helping either. You watched as Hunter made his way forward and kneel down in front of her, it took all your willpower to not stare at the muscles in his back.

“I warned you not to come back.” Omega said.

“Had to. We were looking for you.” Hunter responded, making sure he was keeping his eyes on her and not you.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched her face light up in surprise.

“Me?” She replied.

“What do you say, kid? You wanna come with us or did we get captured for nothing?” Hunter asked.

“You came back for me?” She repeated.

“That’s right. Or you can stay on Kamino if-”

“No, it’s like I said before. I want to go with you.” She said eagerly, standing up.

“How touching.” Crosshair sneered.

You turned to look at Crosshair before glancing back at Hunter as he stood up and stared back at Crosshair. You cleared your throat, trying to disperse the awkward tension that had arose.

“Uh, Hunter, how are we breaking outta here?” Wrecker asked.

“I’m working on it.” He replied sternly, his eyes staying on Crosshair.

“You know what you should work on? Explaining when you went soft. I have a pretty good idea though.” Crosshair said, his eyes focusing on you.

You looked away awkwardly. Apart from Echo, Crosshair had been one of the main people who had spoken to you about the whole Hunter situation despite your many denials. Even though he’d done it in his Crosshair way, you had never got the impression it was a serious problem for him. Until now.

Hunter stole a glance at you before looking back at Crosshair.

“Stow it, Crosshair.” Echo said.

You noticed Omega glancing in your direction. You gave her what you hoped was a reassuring smile and stood up and walked just behind Hunter, so you were standing next to her.

“Don’t you see we’re locked up in here because of him?” Crosshair said angrily. “He had us disobey orders.”

“So what?” You asked.

“I never thought you disobeying orders was a problem.” Tech added.

“Yeah. We do it all the time.” Wrecker agreed.

“Good soldiers follow orders.” Crosshair said aggressively, taking a few steps closer to Hunter. “Every choice you’ve made since Kaller has been wrong. First the Padawan, then Gerrera. You’re becoming a liability.”

You shook your head in disbelief but when you saw Omega look anxiously back up at you again, you put your arm around her shoulder. Judging by your most recent displays, if you spoke up more, you would probably only make things worse.

“We can debate my choices later.” Hunter replied. “For now, let’s focus on getting outta here.” He took a step away from Crosshair.

You studied Crosshair as he went to sit down. He was clutching the side of his head. Something about him now just felt weird to you, he felt like a stranger. You felt Omega leave your side and watched as she made her way over to him. She was a medical assistant after all, maybe she could figure out what was going on with him. You sat back down on the bench and placed your face in your hands, wincing slightly as you forgot about the bruise that was forming on your cheek.

“Does it hurt?”

You lifted your eyes to see Hunter kneeling in front of you, his eyes focused on you. You shook your head. “Nah not really. There’ll be a bruise but it’s fine if I just leave it alone. I should’ve seen it coming though, there was only so much of my charming demeanour Tarkin could take.” You said with a small smile. Before you could say anything else, you looked past Hunter to see a shock trooper approaching. You stood up.

Hunter mirrored your actions and turned to see what was going on.

“CT-9904, you’re coming with us.” The trooper dictated, whilst another brought the shield down.

You took a couple steps to the right whilst Hunter darted in front of the trooper. “Oh, no, no, no. We stay together.” He said firmly.

The trooper only hit his blaster into Hunter’s stomach.

“Hunter!” You quickly made your way over to him and grabbed his arm to haul him back to his feet. “Are you okay?” You asked softly.

“I’m fine.” He replied, grimacing slightly as he straightened up.

“Yeah, being on the receiving end of one of those isn’t the greatest feeling in the world.” You let go of his arm and made to step towards the clone, but he held his blaster up.

“Stand down!” He ordered.

You and the others stilled and all you could do was watch as Crosshair left the cell and walked out the door with them. You didn’t know what they wanted with him, but one thing was certain, it could not possibly be good.

You were situated on the other end of the cell, opting to lean against the wall rather than the bench. You told yourself it would be more comfortable for your back and not because you had a better view of Hunter that way.

You straightened your back against the wall. It had been a while since you’d all been sent to the brig, and you were getting fed up. You couldn’t be bothered wrestling with your inner turmoil anymore. All it would take would be a simple flick of your wrist and the switch controlling the shield would be lowered and you all would be able to leave. You could deal with the other soldiers easily enough and then you could leave them and… and never look back.

You sighed sadly but as you looked to where Hunter was sitting, that feeling of sadness changed in to one of amusement as you saw Omega mimicking each movement he made. That was another reason to do this, at least you guys had actually done something to piss Tarkin off, Omega was just a kid and didn’t deserve this. You inhaled deeply. “Guys I can-”

“I’ve got it. Why didn’t I think of it before?” Tech interrupted before pausing to looking back at you.

“No, go ahead Tech.” You said quickly. Just because you’d been at peace with that decision didn’t mean you wanted to do it, doing that would still put them in danger so if Tech had a plan, then you weren’t going to stop him.

Tech moved Echo aside and sat where he had once been before continuing. “This isn’t a prison.”

“Yeah, well I beg to differ.” Echo said.

“This is a Kaminoan facility. It was built prior to the Clone Wars. There were no barracks or prisons when it was constructed.” Tech clarified.

“Well, how does that help us?” You asked.

“Because while these cells were retrofitted to hold normal individuals, they could not possibly account for someone like Wrecker.” Tech replied.

“Oh! You mean I could punch our way out?” Wrecker asked eagerly, standing up.

You glanced over to where the troopers were and noticed them looking back to where you all were.

“Ssshh.” Hunter and Omega both said.

“Oh. Right. You mean I could punch our way out?” Wrecker repeated at a whisper this time.

“If you punch the correct spot.” Tech confirmed.

“Right. Show me where.” Wrecker said, rubbing his knuckles keenly.

“If this is gonna work, we’ll need some cover. Form a wall.” Hunter ordered.

You, Echo, Hunter, and Omega stood up to conceal the area of the wall Tech was examining. Omega had taken up what was your usual position next to Hunter, so you just stood next to her.

Hunter glanced down at Omega and then looked over her head at you only to see you look back at him and shrug with a small smile on your face.

“Hit this. Here.” Tech directed to Wrecker before coming to stand next to you.

“Right.” Wrecker kneeled down. “Tell me when.”

“Now.” Hunter said.

Wrecker punched the area and quickly sat back down.

The rest of you stood casually and waited for the troopers to look away again.

Wrecker examined the spot that he hit but let out a grumble. “Nothing happened.”

“Are you sure this is going to work?” You asked Tech quietly. You needed to know if your services would actually be required.

“Try it again. A little harder.” Tech said.

“You’re all clear. Make it count.” Hunter said.

“Okay.” Wrecker said before pulling his arm back and crashing his fist into the metal wall.

Again, you all waited for the soldiers to look away from you.

“Oh, it still didn’t work.” Wrecker said.

You kept your eyes on the soldiers in front of you, but you felt Tech leave your side to examine the wall.

“Oh yes, it did.” Tech corrected. “Look.” He pulled back part of the metal to reveal an opening behind the wall.

“I’ll never fit through that.” Wrecker pointed out.

“Astute as always Wrecker, but I was actually going to suggest-”

“I’ll do it.” Omega agreed.

“You sure, kid?” Hunter asked.

“I’m sure.” She confirmed.

“I’ll go with her.” You said, looking at Hunter.

He nodded. He knew you could handle these guards just fine; he didn’t need to be worried. “Okay. Omega, get to the console and hit the lever to lower the ray shield.” He looked back at you. “The guards are all yours.”

You smiled before glancing down at Omega. “Come on, Omega, let’s go.” You both stepped back and squeezed through the gap in the wall. You let Omega start climbing first, you followed closely behind.

“Incoming.” Echo warned as the group of shock troopers approached.

“Wait, where are the other two?” The guard at the front asked.

“You tell us.” Hunter replied calmly.

“Harm them and you’re a dead man.” Echo said.

Another one of the clones spoke into the commlink on his wrist. “Operations, we need a status report on prisoners 0219 and 0220.”

You and Omega paused as you heard this echo up through the vent, she had stopped just on top of it, you were just behind her.

Omega felt the vent buckle under her slightly and she glanced back at you.

You held your finger up to your lips and raised your hand to tell her to wait. You kept an ear out for what was happening below you and from the sounds of it, Wrecker was doing his best to provide an excuse, but he didn’t quite have the knack for that sorta skill, for as long as you knew him, he never had.

You kept listening and knew you had your opening once you heard the guard ask again for where the two of you were. You nudged Omega’s leg and gave a single nod of your head. As she hit the vent and came tumbling down with it, you jumped down quickly after her and you noticed that most of the guards were trapped under it, so your job had just gotten a lot simpler. “Hit the switch, Omega!” You called before landing a kick to the trooper that had gotten up to grab her and that kick sent him right into Wrecker’s oncoming fist. You took in the scene around you and sighed.

“What?” Hunter asked, walking over to you.

“Oh, nothing. Just thought I’d have more to do.” You pouted. “Omega did a lot of my job for me. Nice job, kid!” You said smiling at her.

Hunter chuckled before addressing the wider group. “We need to find out where they took Crosshair. Let’s move.”

You all carefully made your way through the hallways before stopping at the next new corridor. You sighed. “We’re not going to get very far without our gear.”

“They started moving all your things to the hangar. Your gear might be there too.” Omega suggested to Hunter.

“This way.” Hunter directed.

The six of you began to quickly head towards the hangar. You only hoped you would be able to find and help Crosshair in time.

The group of you silently made your way into the hangar and you were pleased to see that all your kit was there. You grabbed your hooded layer and hastily put it on, and you immediately felt comforted. You knew you shouldn’t have let it, but the ensemble you had put together provided you with a deep sense of security, something you’d only ever found at one other time in your life and that involved lying next to a certain someone in the quiet and darkness of space. You were losing one, so you were glad to still have the other.

You slung your sword over your back and tied your smaller vibroblade to your thigh. You looked around you to see the others finishing putting their gear back on, though Wrecker seemed to have lost something.

“Tech, power up the ship. The rest of us will go after Crosshair.” Hunter instructed, grabbing his blaster.

Yet again, you felt a disturbance in your veins as you heard the beeping of the door behind you. You turned to look towards it. “I don’t think we’ll have to go far.” Just as you said that the door opened. You and the others ducked swiftly before peaking over the crates in front of you and what you saw filled your heart with dismay. Amidst the shock troopers that ran through, came another soldier, armour all black, sniper rifle in hand. You weren’t fast enough.

“Is that… Crosshair?” Wrecker asked, his tone filled with disbelief.

You saw out of the corner of your eye that Hunter had stood up and walked into the middle of the room, so he was standing across from Crosshair. Your eyes darted between them, you had to be ready just in case. You wouldn’t let anything happen to Hunter.

“Best stand down, Sergeant.” Crosshair warned. “Make it easy on yourself.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Hunter replied.

“We should’ve killed that Jedi. You disobeyed orders.”

Your heart stopped. What had happened to him? You bit your tongue to stop yourself from saying anything that would only prove to escalate the situation. You took a moment to glance down at Omega who had taken cover by the crate you were positioned at. You laid a hand on her shoulder, hoping that it would provide some comfort before focusing your attention back on Hunter and Crosshair.

“I did what I thought was right.” Hunter answered.

“You never could see the bigger picture. Now surrender.”

One look at Hunter and the others told you everything you needed to know. No one here was surrendering.

“Is that an order?” Hunter asked.

“Heh. I guess it is.” Crosshair responded with a smirk.

“Well, I guess I’m disobeying that one too.”

You took a deep as the two of them stared each other down. You knew one of them was getting ready to shoot and you just knew Crosshair would be the one to shoot first so if it looked like Hunter wouldn’t be able to get out the way in time, you would be ready. “Stay close, Omega.” You whispered to her whilst keeping your gaze on the men in front of you.

You waited, everyone else tensed their blasters but you waited.

You’d had a lot of practice in patience. In everyday situations, you weren’t great at it but when it came to scenarios like this, you pretty much had it nailed.

You tuned out the thunder in the background and watched.

You exhaled deeply as you watched Hunter duck out the way of Crosshair’s shot and you turned back to face him, your back against the crate, as he hunkered down in front of you. “Don’t do that to me.” You chastised him but your voice was filled with relief.

Hunter couldn’t let his mind wander about what your relief meant in regard to him right now, so he only nodded at you before putting his helmet on and taking up position next to you.

“Omega, keep your head down.” You told her as blaster shots pinged off the crate and your surroundings. You cursed under your breath as the shock troopers threw smoke charges, concealing your view, well only partially concealing yours. You could sense where the others were, but you couldn’t reveal that without answering other questions and given Crosshair’s new allegiance, you most certainly couldn’t do anything to remove the smoke yourself. You and Hunter ducked as a blaster bolt fired past your heads. “Tech, we gotta move. Now!” You called into the comm on your wrist.

“I’m working on it.” Tech responded.

“Wrecker, clear the smoke on three.” Hunter directed.

“You got it, boss.” Wrecker replied, grabbing two crate lids.

“Omega, stay low.” Hunter reiterated. “One… two…”

“Three!” Wrecker finished, jumping up and hitting the trays together, the impact dispersing the smoke.

You watched as he flung the lids into the oncoming soldiers, one making contact, but Crosshair managed to get out of the way of the other before getting a shot away in Wrecker’s direction. You quickly moved a finger, keeping your hands at your side but it wasn’t enough, the bolt still made contact with the upper left part of Wrecker’s chest, and you watched with worry as he fell down. “Omega, don’t!” You grabbed the girl’s arm and pulled her next to you just as a shot whizzed past. “He’s using Wrecker as bait.” You told her, keeping her from going again.

“But he needs help.”

“I know.” You said, looking at her with a nod. You turned to face Hunter. “What’s the plan, Hunter?”

“Tech, we’re out of time.” Hunter called to the ship, looking away from you.

“Almost got it!” Tech called back, powering up the engines.

“When I say go, you both head for that ramp and don’t stop. Got it?” Hunter said, his helmet turning from Omega to look at you. “Echo, we go for Wrecker.”

“No way, I’m not-” You began to protest.

“I need you to be safe.”

Any quick retort you were about to give vanished from your lips. “What?”

“I meant I need you to make sure the kid stays safe.” Hunter corrected quickly. Now was not the time.

You sighed, of course that’s what he meant. “Okay.”

“Go!” Hunter stood up and repeatedly fired his blaster in the direction of Crosshair and the other troopers.

You grabbed Omega’s hand and the two of you ran to the ship, but you couldn’t shake the deep feeling within you that Echo and Hunter would need your help. Clearly Omega felt similarly because you both stopped at the same time. You noticed a blaster on top of one of the crates. You grabbed it and handed it to her. “Go to the stairs of the ship. Trust yourself and take the shot. You’ll know when.” You told her urgently. You watched her take the blaster with a nod, fear but also determination behind her eyes.

“What about you?”

“I’m going to circle back around this crate. Don’t wait for me.” You both split up, you making sure you moved to the crate closest to you, your eyes never leaving Crosshair.

Just as you got yourself situated, you saw Crosshair raise his rifle towards where Echo and Hunter were struggling to get Wrecker to the ship.

You lifted your hand, closed your eyes, and called on the Force to push him down. Just as you did this, you heard Omega’s shot hit his blaster and you opened your eyes to see Crosshair sprawled on the floor. You knew he wouldn’t stay down very long. With Hunter and Echo’s gaze fixed on Omega, you darted out and grabbed Wrecker’s feet to help bring him on board the ship.

Crosshair couldn’t understand what just happened, one minute he was getting ready to fire his rifle, the next he was knocked to the ground. He recovered quickly and stood up, drawing his other blaster.

“I told you to go.” Hunter said, voice straining slightly with Wrecker’s additional weight.

“That wasn’t going to happen.” You replied, ducking your head as some of Crosshair’s hurried shots rang around you. You all made it onto the ship, and it took off, leaving Crosshair and Kamino behind you.

“Ouch!” Wrecker complained as you stuck the needle in his shoulder between the gaps in his armour. “Hey, hey, hey. What’s that gonna do?” He asked anxiously as he saw the next needle you brought out.

“You’ll be okay. Just hold still.” You replied.

“Is this what you were looking for?” Omega asked, holding the stuffed toy up to Wrecker.

“You found my Lula!” Wrecker gasped, taking it from the small girl.

You used that moment to quickly stick the other shot into his neck.

“Ow!” Wrecker cried out.

“I saw an opportunity and I took it.” You said with a smile. “It’s done now, don’t worry.”

Omega giggled and moved out the way as Tech came over to Wrecker.

“Hold still.” Tech instructed, holding out his scanner.

“Don’t examine me. I’m not a computer.” Wrecker said huffily.

“This will take just a second.” Tech responded.

“Get that thing away from me.” Wrecker grunted.

You huffed out a laugh and looked away from the two squabbling clones to see Omega heading for the cockpit. You took a few steps forward and turned around to look at Hunter, tilting your head in Omega’s direction, indicating that he should follow.

Hunter nodded and walked with you into the cockpit. He glanced at you, not knowing if he should speak first. He wasn’t sure how this was all was supposed to work.

“Go on.” You murmured. You stayed back a couple paces, waiting for him to go first.

He took a deep breath before approaching Omega. “Your first time in space?”

“First time anywhere.” Omega replied, looking back at him.

There was a slight pause before he spoke again. “That was an impressive shot back there. Where’d you learn to do that?” Hunter asked.

“I don’t know. She told me to trust myself but I’ve never fired a blaster before. I guess I got lucky.” She said, with a shrug of her shoulders.

Hunter faced you. “You told her to take the shot?”

“Figured you’d need to the help. I didn’t want anything to happen to you.” You told him as you came to stand beside him. “Or Echo, or Wrecker.” You included quickly.

Before Hunter could say anything else to you, Tech and the others wandered through.

You took that moment to step aside and sit down in the seat behind the co-pilots chair. That was a bit close. You chuckled as you saw Echo come through bearing much of Wrecker’s weight, it definitely looked like a struggle. “How’s he doing, Tech?”

“He got lucky, but he’ll be fine.” Tech replied.

“It’ll take more than a blaster shot to take me down.” Wrecker said with a laugh.

“You were down.” Echo corrected, removing Wrecker’s arm from his shoulder.

“Yeah, well, not for long.” Wrecker responded with a chuckled before grabbing his shoulder in pain.

“What’s the plan, Hunter?” Tech asked, swivelling his pilot’s chair slightly.

“I thought we could go off on our own. Lay low. But with Crosshair gunning for us, I’m not so sure.” Hunter answered.

“What about your friends? Could any of them help us.” Omega asked, looking back at Tech.

You barked out a laugh.

“That would be a short list.” Tech replied, before looking back out the window.

“I can think of one.” Hunter revealed. “Plot a course for J-19.”

“J-19?” You and Echo asked.

“We know a guy.” Hunter said, glancing between you both before looking back at Omega and turning the co-pilot seat towards her. “Strap in kid, you’re not gonna want to miss this view.”

You smiled warmly as you watched him and as you saw Omega study what Tech was doing to prepare the jump to hyperspace but that smile quickly became one of sadness. You were dreading the conversation you needed to have once you reached this new destination. You sighed and left your seat just as the ship entered hyperspace.

You stepped away from the cockpit and were just about to take your sword off and lay it down when you heard Echo say something that made you freeze.

“I still can’t believe Crosshair just fell down like that.”

“Yeah, that was pretty weird.” Wrecker agreed.

“Anyone see what happened?” Hunter asked.

“Oh, that was (Y/N).” Omega answered innocently.

Shit. You were rooted to the spot. You thought you’d gotten away with it.

“It couldn’t possibly have been her, she was nowhere near Crosshair. She was helping get Wrecker on board the ship.” Tech corrected.

“Yeah, how could she have done that?” Wrecker asked.

“Her attention was on Crosshair when he was getting ready to shoot. I saw her close her eyes, raise her hand slightly and the next thing that happened was he was on the ground.” Omega explained.

Fuck.

“Ha nice one kid, way to cheer me up. No way she can do that.” Wrecker said with a laugh. He turned to face you, expecting to see you smiling at such a ridiculous suggestion but instead he was met with your back.

Hunter had turned to look at you, only to see you frozen in place. Omega couldn’t have been right, could she?

“She does not possess such an ability.” Tech argued. “Only the…” Tech trailed off, turning to look at you. You had been behaving differently ever since Kaller and this could be a reason as to why. Was it true?

“Yeah, sorry Omega, only the Jedi can do that and she certainly isn’t one. We’d know.” Echo added. “Right?” Echo turned to look at you only to be met with the sight of your back at the other end of the ship. “(Y/N)?”

You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t lie anymore. You felt all their eyes on your back.

“I’m sorry, did I say something I shouldn’t have?” Omega asked worriedly.

You sighed and finished taking off your weapon. “No.” You probably would’ve had to tell them when you told them you were leaving, they wouldn’t have let you get out of that one without a series of questions. You squeezed your eyes tight before opening them and turning to face the many pairs of eyes that were focused on you. You might as well start over. You introduced yourself again with a new piece of information. “Hi. My name is (Y/N) and I used to be a member of the Jedi Order.”

Next Chapter>

#the bad batch #hunter x reader #hunter x fem!reader #hunter x female!reader #hunter x femaleJedi!reader #sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #hunter the bad batch #friends to lovers #star wars #fluff #angst #hunter x you #hunter x y/n #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter x you #the bad batch fanfiction

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saintsenara · 11 months

Note

Call for asks: I’ve noticed you’ve avoided saying anything about Jegulus for the last few asks so…. Jegulus 😈

anon please, i’m not avoiding saying anything about jegulus, i genuinely don’t know her.

but, fine, let’s imagine i do.

i don’t enjoy it as a pairing, not because i think it’s unfeasible [in my view, the joy of fanfiction is taking a completely implausible premise and making it work], but because i don’t like the way that the fandom which has built up around jegulus expects certain tropes and characterisations which turn the characters into just profoundly uninteresting people.

and this is the case for all the marauders and marauders-adjacent characters [i’m looking at you, fanon barty crouch jr.!], undoubtedly because the era has so little actual canon material that fanon becomes canon and authors run from there. and that’s great - anyone writing stories in a world hostile to hobbies and creativity is a triumph - but the standard way of writing jegulus which has coalesced around this fanon doesn’t appeal to me in the slightest.

there are many jegulus tropes i don’t love: how it always becomes a parallel wolfstar [james and peter would be the cultured choice if we have to do that]; how it’s just drarry but in the seventies [when the cultured choice for that is lucius malfoy/arthur weasley]; how james becomes a tediously good person when the evidence of canon is that he’s a bit of a dick; how it relies on an exaggerated portrayal of orion and walburga’s abusive parenting which misses the fact that regulus evidently colluded with them against sirius; how it assumes the marauders aren’t intensely codependent [sirius mentions-lily-once black is definitely going to let his brother hang around with them, sure]; how snape is sometimes there and always a knob. james and regulus are also so similar in terms of background, social position at school etc. that there’s no juicy spark [as in snack, for example]. and, of course, prongsfoot is canon.

and so on…

but the biggest reason i can’t get into it?

regulus is a death eater, and not by mistake.

now, we all love a fluffy no-voldemort au, but unless that is a jegulus author’s stated setting, they are going to have to deal with the fact that regulus fucking loves the dark lord. this is a teenage boy who has press clippings about voldemort’s terrorism taped above his bed. he knows exactly what he’s getting into and he likes it.

indeed, my reading of deathly hallows is that regulus’ decision to go and get the locket has absolutely nothing to do with a damascene conversion that conducting a campaign of sectarian violence against muggles and muggleborns is bad, but that learning of the existence of the horcrux - and also voldemort’s lack of respect towards his property, kreacher [after all, we see an attitude expressed canonically by wizards that other people have no right to interfere in how you treat your slaves] - makes clear to him that the dark lord’s aims are not oligarchy, with those from pureblood families ruling in happy condescension over a ministry which is fundamentally unchanged, but ruling in majesty as an immortal absolute monarch. his death is a repudiation of his beliefs, yes, but it is a repudiation of the fact that he believed voldemort was his champion, rather than that he believed voldemort was wrong.

and, actually, i don’t think this in and of itself makes jegulus insurmountable. james is a pureblood, and while there is absolutely no evidence in his few canon appearances that he harboured blood-supremacist views, the very fact of his background would allow a complacency which might let him overlook some of regulus’ opinions [think, for example, about ron’s attitude towards house elves]. equally, we have no evidence that regulus couldn’t completely disavow his former beliefs.

but, it requires the fact that regulus isn’t just a tiny baby who aspires to join a terror group by mistake to actually be dealt with, and i have never seen a single piece of jegulus which does so.

#asks answered #asenora's opinions on ships #jegulus #regulus black #james potter #i'm in danger

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merakiui · 1 year

Text

11:11 — sugar dew sewn anew.

yandere!rook hunt x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, obsession, violence, murder/death of reader, description of blood/injuries, rook is rather morbid and creepy in this fic note - this fic is the result of a character fic poll, in which rook was the winner.

“You wear a very forlorn face when you paint, mon cher.”

You swivel on the stool, legs unfolding at the ankles, to properly peer past the easel at the man who sits in a gold-and-white satin chair, backdropped by various animal heads. They’re mounted with such care, each one organized according to where it lies on the food chain. They almost form a pyramid when you look at them from where you’re seated. From a dusky brown house mouse to a pitch-black crow, the heads range in species and size, all arranged on a vermillion wall.

The biggest one, sitting in the very center of the display, right above your client’s head, is a chestnut-colored buck with a pair of magnificent antlers curling from its scalp. From where Rook sits, it almost looks like those horns are sprouting from his head. Contemplating the discrepancies between man and buck, you swirl your brush through a muddy cup of water and survey the rest of the aureate placards until you reach the top.

There’s a mount lacking a head.

It was the first thing you took notice of after stepping through the halls of this quaint cabin to reach the sitting room. Although, after spending hours enclosed in cedarwood walls, it feels more like a trophy room—a place meant to showcase the spoils of every hunt rather than welcome people with disarming decorations.

Rook crosses one leg over the other and, resting his elbows upon his knee, steeples his hands. You peer at the antlers, noting the valiant curvature, before meeting his verdant stare. A grin slowly sprawls on his lips once he realizes you’ve caught his gaze.

“I concentrate on my source,” you explain with a shrug, still twirling the brush through the water. “Steady focus makes a steady hand…or something along those lines.”

“And yet you never smile, even when working so diligently to bring your masterpiece to completion.”

“If I viewed it as such, then I would have reason to smile.” Your contemptuous scowl slides to the canvas, where you’ve painted two dull green eyes set into a freckle-speckled face. The beginnings of a smile trace the portrait’s plush lips, withholding secrets no one will ever know. “I’ve yet to create a masterpiece. Therefore I can’t smile.”

“Oh, you’re much too critical of your art!” Unclasping his hands, Rook places one upon his chest, as if he must calm his heart after hearing your response. “I’ve studied your work, both through a screen and in person, and as your devout follower I can wholeheartedly say it is beautiful in every way, even down to the miniscule flaws other critics often spot with sharp, perceptive eyes!”

“You speak as if I lead a cult,” you admit with a sheepish chuckle. “I’m just painting the things I find interesting.”

“For a reason, I assume?”

“Usually it’s to find inspiration for what I hope will be my first masterpiece. I’d like to finally feel proud of my work.” The brush peruses the colorful selection on your palette, settling into the green you’ve mixed from yellow and blue. “It’s not that I’m unhappy. I just can’t find it in me to love what I produce.”

“But you enjoy creating, yes?”

“Of course. It’s what I’ve been doing for years. Painting allows me to understand the world and its inhabitants through my own lens.” You put brush to canvas in a series of small, significant strokes. “So when I’m painting… Well, I guess I just want to try to love the things I put on my canvases, even if it’s impossible.”

“Is that so? Then I’m beyond flattered you would ever consider using me as your most beloved muse!” He tilts his head, suddenly more animated than when he first sat down to pose for you, and adds, “I love you, too. Very much, my little artiste.”

“Are you just saying that so I’ll paint you handsomely?”

“Why, I would never say anything that would influence or persuade your process! Just as I love sweetly and solemnly, I also love monstrously and mercilessly. The primal facets of humankind are not exempt from my loving eyes. Even the most dirty and deceitful corners of this world—I love those just as fiercely. So should you choose to depict me as a fiend, I will adore your representation regardless of its harsh implications. After all, there’s beauty in tragedy.”

“And would that make life the greatest tragedy?” You hum as you add a sadistic glimmer to the eyes on the canvas. They pierce you with their unblinking stare, hollowing your soul until they reach unfathomable depths. “Or maybe it’s the ability to love with such a big heart?”

“Are you suggesting love is a tragedy? I suppose, in some sad sense, it is. Unrequited feelings, shattered hearts, lovers separated by way of death or divorce, and even the type of love that curdles like spoiled milk—oh, the misfortune! Each is a tragic tale spun from a mixture of melancholy or the intensity of hatred and all-consuming loneliness. But even so, no matter how horrendous it may seem, I hold each in my heart. They’re beautiful because they have the unique ability to shape a person into someone new—for better or for worse.”

You lower your arm, hesitating while the excuses rise to the surface, before turning to look at him. “I’ve never known real love, Mr. Hunt, which is why I’m trying to capture it while I paint. I suspect I’ll be able to smile at my work because it will be something I’ve fallen in love with. Only then can I consider it a true masterpiece.”

“Your way of thinking is simply très bien!” He drums his fingers along his knee, humming his contemplation. “I’d love to unscrew your skull and poke through your brain. I wonder what memories have shriveled your ability to love…”

“It’s not that it’s shriveled. It’s just…” You shrug, losing your previous statement. “The words ‘I love you’ are just that—words. I have no use for meaningless sentiments. If I force myself to love, it feels wrong. I can like people and things, but loving them is too much. I can’t cross that line. If I did, I’d be a liar.”

“Ah, so it’s like that…” Rook chuckles, but none of what you said was remotely humorous. His voice lowers to a whisper, ghostly and haunting, as if wrapping around your head and settling into the very folds of your brain. “I find it charming that you’re unable to love and I love too much. We possess many differences, and yet at the very center of it all we’re merely human beings composed of flesh and blood. It’s a beauty more stunning than the most radiant sunset!”

You pretend to have not heard him, resigning yourself to your work as you spend an absurd amount of time trying to illustrate the peculiar glaze in his eyes. They’re always so bright, but here you’ve painted them as soulless, viridescent sockets—a dark, dense forest having lost its vivid greenery with winter’s frost. But then there is not an ounce of ice within Rook’s eyes. They are always smoldering with many things: enthusiasm, intellect, new opinions just waiting to be shared regardless of whether or not you wish to hear them. It’s a genuine warmth, but something feels strange. Out of place. Much like the headless mount poised right above Rook to form the tip of the pyramid.

Why is that mount lacking a head?

Without realizing it, you’ve abandoned your task with fixing his eyes to start on the antlers poking from a head of canary-hued hair.

“You live up to your surname, sir.”

“Please, you’re much too formal with your fan. You need only call me Rook, should it suit your fancy.” He giggles when you pin him with a dubious glare. “Is it so wrong to label myself as such? I go to great lengths out of admiration and support of your work. Wouldn’t that, by definition, make me your fan?”

“I’m not very famous.”

“In my eyes, you are the famed sun and I am merely the moon who hopelessly pursues.”

“Really? Well, I wasn’t aware I had an eloquent hunter for a fan.”

“Do you find my hobby eccentric?”

“No. It’s normal to enjoy all sorts of pastimes. Hunting is as much of a hobby as it is a sustainable sport. In older times, most people would hunt for the sake of survival.”

Rook nods, his gaze flicking towards the heads on the wall. You dip your brush in brown paint to add more color to the antlers. “It takes immaculate patience to be a hunter. Most hunts are not always successful.”

“Is there a reason you hunt?”

“It’s in a human’s nature to obtain the unobtainable, and I seek beauty in its most visceral forms.”

“I see…”

“Do you?” Rook crosses his legs again, but this time his posture is stiffly statuesque. “Is obsession not the most flattering form of dedication?”

“It’s not exactly how I’d go about defining dedication… But then I suppose everyone has their reasons.” You steal a peek at the headless mount. “Do these heads mean anything to you?”

“Why, of course! They are the beautiful animals I have pierced with my arrow, whether or not I intended to. Often, when you trek through the territory of beasts, you might need to release a mortally wounded animal from its suffering.”

“So a mercy kill.” Your eyes return to the painting, where you set to work adding tiny blossoms along the curved antlers. “Doesn’t that upset you?”

“So goes the cycle of life, I’m afraid. I would be a daring fool to interfere with the balance of the world.”

“Have you ever lost any of your hunts?”

Rook hums, tapping out a rhythm against the top of his hand. The pads of his fingers fall in rapid succession: tick, tick, tick, tick. “As a matter of fact, I have! Just last week, after your departure, I lost the mouse I’ve been trying to catch for years now.”

“Years? Shouldn’t you give up?”

“Not until I feel that mouse’s heart beat within my enclosed fist.” He smiles wide, flashing flawless rows of pearly whites. Under the dim lighting, they appear sharp and predatory. “I suspect I’ll get lucky tonight.”

“How can you be sure? Mice are difficult to catch with bare hands. You’ll need a trap.”

“Mon cher, you wound me! I would never make such an amateur error.” He chuckles to himself, relishing in the cruelty of a joke that doesn’t quite land. “When I set my sights on something, it’s a guarantee I will catch it, even if I must play a dreadful waiting game.”

“My apologies. I was only passing on a helpful tip.”

You pull away from the canvas to inspect the strands of white dahlias curled around the man’s antlers. Frowning, you raise your arm, intending to slash through the portrait with a streak of black paint, when it occurs to you that you need only add red.

But before carmine, you return to nature reflected in wide greens.

“Has my dear artiste ever hunted before?”

“No, not really. I seek inspiration all the time, but I wouldn’t call that a hunt.”

“Oh? Please elaborate.”

“There are stakes in a hunt. Life and death. Danger. A battle of wits between predator and prey. Looking for inspiration is just a matter of searching and exploring. It might lead some down scary paths, but for me it’s a matter of reading more books or taking a stroll through the town. I don’t like dangerous things, so I tend to avoid them.”

“It pays to be cautious, no?”

“Right. Shouldn’t you be the same, Rook? As a hunter, don’t you worry about what might happen if you aren’t careful?”

“Of course there are worries! That comes with every profession and hobby.” He gestures to the plastic tarps plastered to the floor and walls. “You worried you’d sully my floors, and to ease such a fear I put these protective plastics up. My worries for hunting may be different, but they are worries all the same.”

“I guess that��s true… Well, what do you worry about?”

“Whether I’ll be fast enough to catch my prey when they’re unarmed and unaware.”

“O-Oh… That’s a little…”

Rook laughs a guttural laugh—a sound that comes right from the depths of his chest. “Imagine something you’ve always wanted. Picture it slipping through your fingers, just out of your reach, and now you’ve lost the chance to seize it. Is that not worth a worry or two?”

“I can’t say. I’ve never tried to chase after things I knew I wouldn’t be able to have.”

“Mon cher, you must learn to take risks. How else will you live?”

“I live perfectly fine without the need to step out of my comfort zone.”

Rook hums. “I think you’d change your tune if you found yourself in a risky situation.”

“Define risky.”

“Life and death.”

You pause, your brush poised at the pupil in his eye. “Everyone wants to survive. It’s in our nature as animals. A very basic instinct.”

“And despite our most dedicated efforts to stall the inevitable, death catches us all—some sooner than most.”

“This is getting kinda…morbid.”

“Haven’t you wondered,” he asks, and you don’t hear the wood creak under approaching feet, “what someone might do if they found your corpse?”

He’s behind you. Five steps away in this cubic space. The man with antlers has crawled out of the canvas that once confined him, and he’s behind you.

The mount on the wall lacks a head.

The man in the chair lacks antlers.

The creature in the portrait lacks humanity.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a voice recorder tucked away beneath the chair.

You swallow thickly, your heart in your throat. “I… I’m not sure. I’d hope they’d give me a proper, respectful burial if I died of natural causes.”

And if it wasn’t natural causes?

You don’t hear him verbalize the question, but somehow you catch it amidst the smothering silence.

“If it wasn’t natural causes…” You force a laugh, but it’s flat and misplaced just like the headless mount. “That would be murder, right?”

His shadow looms behind you, cast ominously dark over the earthly colored canvas. Slowly, so slowly, your free hand lowers to the pocket in your artist’s apron, where a dozen palette knives rest. Trembling fingers peruse the selection, locating the one with the sharpest point, and it’s the heaviest burden you’ve ever secured in your fist. You remain sitting horribly still on the stool, listening only to the frantic, slick sound of blood rushing in your ears.

Steeling your frayed nerves, you whirl just as he descends.

There’s a pause, a stumbled heartbeat, and then raw fear coagulates into confusion when you find him sitting primly in his chair, his verdant stare striking through you as if it’s an arrow he’s just loosed. It hits its mark, for it leaves you pinned in perplexity.

He was behind me.

“And… And what about you?” you ask, your tongue heavy and thick in your mouth. “If someone… If I found your corpse, what would you want me to do with it?”

He was behind me. I’m sure of it.

“That wouldn’t happen.” His lips curl into a cat-like smile, and he angles his head curiously. “Normally it’s the other way around.”

You see it, then. The silver glint of a sharpened meat cleaver. It lies in his lap, where his fingers curl around the wooden handle, and all while holding eye contact he continues to smile. His teeth are refined cutlery in the light: artfully honed, yet not quite serrated, they’re tough enough to bite and tear and chew. Like a deer trapped in the hauntingly hypnotic glow of oncoming headlights, you don’t dare move. Perspiration wets your brow, slides down your back between your shoulder blades. You lick your lips. Anticipation claws through your intestines, nestling in the very pit of your stomach. Bile creeps its way up your throat like acidic fingers.

What’s happening?

“Come now, ma souris, don’t give me such a sullen face! I’ve shown you my hand. Isn’t that a miracle more beautiful than life itself?”

Your hold on the little palette knife tightens. “One person’s going to leave this room,” you say, your eyes sliding to the recording device, “and it’s not going to be me. Isn’t that right, Rook?”

“I can’t possibly say,” he affirms, dulcet and smooth like rivers of blood running ruby-red from a broken nose. His finger drums a rhythm against the flat side of the cleaver. “But I can certainly guess.”

Carefully, you rise from the stool. His eyes track you, so full of the vitality of the color green. More than that, they’re bright with bloodlust and you’ve been caught in the crosshairs of his cutting gaze. He peers at your unfinished painting and chuckles.

“Even your interpretation of me is beautiful! It’s an honor to be your fan, ma souris. Truly, I’m quite happy.”

You brandish the palette knife as if that will do anything to protect you from him. He stands from his seat, a monster adorned in gloomy garb. Like a stain against the red wall of heads, he no longer fits into the picture you once thought he did. Rather, he is blight in human form, a sinister omen housed within a skeleton encased in friendly skin.

And he’s walking right towards you, putting one foot in front of the other, in no hurry to rush. The cleaver taps against his hip as he approaches, each bump mirroring every one of your heartbeats with startling accuracy.

“Are… Are you unhappy with my portrayal?” you ask, not particularly interested in his reply, but desperate to keep him talking at arm’s length.

For every step he takes, you take two backwards.

“Not at all! In fact, I’m flattered.” Rook narrows his eyes at you, sickly entertained. “You’ve made prey out of a predator. Not many are capable of such a generous feat.”

Your back connects with the door. Swallowing thickly, you search for the door knob. “Do you really see yourself as one? You don’t have to be one. Y-You can be neither. You’re only human.”

“Ah, but humans are the worst kind of predator.”

“What makes you say that?” Your fingers wrap around the metal door knob.

“Humans are afforded choices. We think through decisions. We make merry with our enemies and then hurt them after they’ve properly settled. We are complex in a way that differs from other animals. Predators are bound by survival, always trapped in high-stakes life or death, unable to truly make a decision that ventures beyond whether they wish to live another day or become sustenance for those who sit a rung above on the food chain. You see, we are not simple predators.” He raises the cleaver and points it at you. “As for humans, we can decide if we want to feel something when we hurt and kill. We can communicate in languages simple predators can’t use. Oh, the beauty of words!” He chuckles, elated. “To pluck a phrase from my vast lexicon: I’m going to take your life for myself, ma souris. Stow it within the depths of my very soul so that I may be the only one to treasure your rarity.”

The confession guts you quicker than his knife ever could.

Wrenching the door open, you turn on your heel and step through, ready to break into a sprint, when heavy footfalls make their way towards you from behind. He covers the meager distance in seconds, wrapping a muscled arm around your torso and yanking you back into the room. You scream, words and sounds mixing into something incoherent, and elbow him in the ribs with as much force as you can muster. He releases you and you, fueled with panic and adrenaline, drop to your knees just as he swings, your hand closing around the palette knife you had previously lost.

Somehow you manage to get back on your feet when he descends again, this time intentionally missing your shoulder when he brings the cleaver down. It cuts through the sliver of space between empty air and your own body, narrowly missing you by a hair. You throw yourself against the wall, entangled in a plastic tarp that comes loose from its hooks. They fall around you in noisy pitter-patters, something akin to metallic rainfall, and you hit the floor with a harsh thump.

And all the while, the mounts continue to peer at you with glass eyes.

“There’s no need to fall over yourself in a frantic haste. You’ll waste all of your energy, and even then adrenaline won’t be enough to fuel you. I’ll catch you if you aren’t careful…” He smiles at you from where he stands, green eyes cold with calculation. “Let’s take a moment to chat, shall we? I’d like to regale you with the five stages of the delightful thing known as prey drive. You’ve heard of it, haven’t you?”

“No, of course not,” you spit, vitriol lacing every syllable. Your pupils flit about the room, tracing the cleaver in his hand and then flickering towards the chair. The recording device sits in shadow, just within your reach. If you can stand up, take two steps forward, and drop down when he moves to intercept, you might be able to retrieve it. “Enlighten me since you seem so eager to run your mouth.”

Rook chuckles and enunciates his every step with a whistle. He reaches the chair in three steps and kicks the recording device out from under it. You watch it skid across the floor towards you, settling mere inches from your feet. You glance at it; it’s still recording, seconds stapled into it with every tick of your heart.

“A dog searches.” His back is turned to you, and he gazes at the mounts on the wall. You lower just enough to swipe the device from the ground. It’s not heavy in your palm; rather, it’s palm-sized and it slips into your pocket like a silent knife through butter. “And when it finds, it stalks. Have you caught the pattern yet?”

His neck is right there. All you need to do is rush up to him, grab him from behind, and drive the palette knife so far into the side of his neck that it’ll surely cause some sort of distress. Or you could turn and run. You have evidence. You have his address. You have your car. You can escape. You can drive far away from this horrifying cabin in the woods and never return. You can live.

You can run.

“And from there…”

So you do.

He whirls just as you dart through the door, over the threshold into the hall, and you miss the crazed twinkle reflected in wild, untamed green eyes. Rook’s laughter follows you, airy and light like a comforting breeze. He’s alive with murderous delight, and you’re nearly dead with fright.

“Ensues the chase!” he calls out, so close in the cramped confines of the hall that his voice nearly grazes you.

You swallow your sobs, pressing onwards with hardened resolve, and follow the length of the hall until it spits you out into another room. It’s undeniably a kitchen, what with the refrigerator and microwave pushed into a corner, but it’s furnished more like a lab. Nearly every appliance is metallic and the floors are tiled, constructed with surfaces that are perfect for washing away pesky fluids. A drain is built into the very center of the floor, sticking out like the nastiest bruise. You spy meat hooks hanging in place of where spatulas and whisks ought to be—both of which are innocent culinary tools meant to assist in food preparation rather than something killer.

Spinning on your feet, you locate the door opposite of where you stand in the small kitchen-lab and take a momentous step towards it, hoping it leads you closer to an exit and further from your hunter, when a cold hand seizes your wrist, spidery digits curling into your skin. A shrill scream rips from the depths of your throat, surely shredding your vocal chords into bloody ribbons. You struggle, yanking your arm in vain, for his hold is impossibly strong. He tugs you towards him, his feet moving in time with the shuffling of yours. It’s a stiff stalemate of a waltz. You pull away and he pursues, his hand creeping up your arm in an attempt to pin it to the nearest surface. With another helpless shriek, you tear yourself free, staggering backwards against the metal table, which rolls further away on well-oiled wheels. Your horrified reflection blinks back at you in the shine, and with a sunken heart you realize it’s a dissection table.

“Mon cher, I must say, you wear disarray so naturally. It’s far too forbidden for my simple eyes to behold.”

“Why… Why are you doing this?” Your voice is thick with terror, sore from screaming, and you wipe furiously at your glossy eyes. “Please stop… You’ve had your fun. Now… Now let me go. I… I promise I won’t come back here again. Y-You can keep all of the supplies and the canvas. Just let me go…”

A secretive smile stretches slowly across his lips. “Oh, how Fortuna graces me with the benevolent opportunity to admire these special sides of yours. To be able to witness the rawness of pure horror after cornering the most dangerous animal of all…” He pricks his finger on the tip of the blade and adds in a breathy whisper, “Beauté.”

A disgusted shiver claws its way up your spine. You glare at him. “So it’s the thrill you enjoy, yeah? It doesn’t faze you that you’re going to kill an innocent person?!”

He tilts his head. “Rather than snuffing your light, I intend to give new life to your excellence. In many ways, aren’t I also an artist?”

“Like hell! You’re crazy!” You take a step back when he advances, moving towards you like a graceful panther stalking its prey. Your grip on the palette knife tightens. “What did I ever do to you to deserve this?”

“Nothing, mon amour.”

“N-Nothing?”

“Absolutely nothing!” he reaffirms, rather conversationally, and the frustration-riddled tension in your body deflates all at once.

“But… But I thought—” You shake your head, hopelessly searching for a means of convincing him otherwise in his pursuit, and say, “I thought you… You said you loved me! Can you really hurt someone you love?”

Rook hesitates, his feet shuffling to a halt, and he peers blankly at you, all emotions veiled in a stoic mask. “While it’s true that I will always cherish you in life, I must also come to love you in death. If I’m unable to accept even the rotting and decaying sides of everlasting love that most shy away from, then I’m simply undeserving of my title as a hunter. If I seek the wonders of life, it’s only fair I seek the wonders of death all the same. You understand, don’t you?”

“No! In what world would I ever understand that logic?!” You point the palette knife at him. “You don’t have to kill me. You really don’t have to…”

“I suppose, if I’m to apologize for anything, I should ask that you forgive my greedy behavior. I’m hopelessly infatuated with your work, so allow me to thank you for all that you have shown me tonight. I promise to repay your tenderness tenfold.”

He smiles, stepping aside to allow you passage through the door, and foolishly you take the bait. It’s a run through tar—something you’d only ever experience in a dream, in which outrunning a villain is an impossible task. You make it through the door and out into the hall, and from there your only goal is to mindlessly flee towards safety. Tears obscure your vision, clinging to your lashes like fragile sugar dew.

You think you see the outline of a faraway door, but perhaps it’s just the illusion brought on by mournful tears.

You think you’ll make it to freedom, but perhaps it’s just the animalistic desire to survive that ignites your nerves.

You think you can escape the horrors of encroaching affection, but it slips into your hand, tight and reassuring.

Tugged into the kitchen-lab, your back collides with Rook’s chest. His grip is bone-crushing, and you don’t hear anything he’s saying—is he humming or waxing poetry?—but you feel the warmth of spreading blood as it soaks through your shirt and stains your artist’s apron. The palette knife slips from your grasp, landing on the floor with a noisy clatter. You peer down at your abdomen, where the cleaver is snugly nestled in your stomach.

The cleaver.

It’s in your stomach.

He’s stabbed you.

The cleaver.

It’s in your stomach.

It doesn’t hurt. Not at first. The shock snuffs the agony. He twists it gingerly, once or twice, before he yanks it out. Sticky strings of torn flesh and blood cling to the blade, connecting it to the injury he’s inflicted. Then you feel the rush of torturous, agonizing pain, and it stings more than anything you've ever experienced before. Red-hot, thick trails of blood trickle through your fingers when you shakily place your hand upon the wound, hoping to stop the flow. Rook clicks his tongue and guides you towards the dissection table, your feet dragging bonelessly upon the floor as you’re led along. You try to fight him, but everything’s so painful, and so all you can manage is a slight shake of the shoulders. Your world spins, and your mind reels as it struggles to process the dangerous gash.

“After the chase,” he says, lowering you onto the table despite your blubbery protests, “the dog grabs its prey in a sharp-toothed bite and then it kills.”

“S-Stop… You…” Your fingers curl into shredded skin, and you press down with as much strength as your shuddering body can muster. Blood continues to seep through the cracks between your fingers. “You… You’ll kill me…”

“Well, that’s the point, no?” Rook pets your cheek, fondness glittering in his green eyes.

You peer up at him through bleary eyes, reaching for his face with a trembling hand. “Please… I’m begging you… It h-hurts… Please…” A helpless sob wracks through your frail form. “Please, Rook…”

For a while—whether an eternity or merely a few seconds, it’s hard to discern—he watches you fade in and out of consciousness, your groans a haunting melody in the discomforting quiet. Eventually, his hand finds yours on the table, limp and twitching, and envelops it in a firm hold.

Blissfully ignorant to your wheezing gasps, he begins to murmur: “‘Out—out are the lights—out all. And, over each quivering form, the curtain, a funeral pall, comes down with the rush of a storm. While the angels, all pallid and wan, uprising, unveiling, affirm that the play is the tragedy, ‘Man.’” He looms over you like a ghastly shadow, lips arranged in a gleeful grin. “‘And its hero, the Conqueror Worm.’”

The time is 11:11 at night when you finally fall into Death’s frigid embrace, never to wake again.

11:11 - the mystical time at which the universe tugs celestial cotton from its ears and listens to wishes and woes alike. it is not a promise that all wishes will be granted and all woes will be soothed at this hour.

The time is 11:11 in the morning, and sweet, twittering birdsong flutters into the trophy room through a window left ajar.

The sun has long since risen, casting radiant beams through the thinning slices between the trees. Rook Hunt hums as he works, deft fingers perusing various cosmetics arranged on a metal tray. Eyeshadow is applied to delicate, paper-thin eyelids, each one pinned open in the permanence of preservation. Glass marbles are set into hollow sockets, colored in memory of the eyes that were once attached to a brain via optic nerves. He matches foundation to the skin tone, which works well to hide meticulous stitching and mottled flesh. He’s humming in tune with the birds, the nearby rushing stream, and the swaying foliage caught up in a wind gust, relishing in nature’s symphony.

“You claimed you’d finally smile after you’ve learned to love,” Rook observes, petting the top of the head, feeling human hair beneath his rough, calloused palm. “And now you beam brighter than the sun outside! Perhaps it’s because of me? You’ve always been so honest with your heart. It’s a facet I most adore.”

His gaze slides towards the unfinished painting propped against the wall, where an antlered man smiles at his viewer, his green eyes filled with a mysterious forest.

“Have you always thought me to be prey?” Rook pauses, awaiting an answer, and snatches a lipstick from the selection. “Or maybe this is an artist’s ideal vision… Perhaps it’s a fantasy you’ve wished to see or a place you’ve always wanted to visit. Escapism is most magnificent when it’s comforting.” He opens the lipstick and surveys the color with his observant greens. He inhales deeply and catches notes of the cedarwood cabin walls and the floral perfume he spritzed on his dear artiste. “Though it may not be your masterpiece, it’s one that will forever fascinate.”

Red blooms on dry lips that can no longer scream or protest. He cups a cheek stuffed with the finest wood wool, palming an area that was once bruised and broken. The grisly mark has been painted over, and now it is out of sight and, as far as the hunter is concerned, out of mind. As the saying goes, before one can broach beauty, one must suffer some degree of destruction.

Rook steps down from the ladder and sets the tray of cosmetics on the gold-and-white satin chair. He lifts his hands, fingers forming the borders of a rectangle to frame you in his own portrait. At long last, the headless mount has its head and the pyramid of trophies is complete. There’s a crooked smile sewn into features expertly stitched to finalize beguiling taxidermy.

With a covert grin, Rook peers through his fingers at your head situated at the very tip of a tragic triangle.

“After all, prey are the prettiest when they’re dyed scarlet.”

#if i said jade's version of this concept was far more lighthearted would anyone believe me?#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere rook hunt #yandere rook hunt x reader #yandere rook #yandere rook x reader #tw: death #tw: murder #tw: violence

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