#see you in the trenches and/or on the other side *salutes*

[lairmadness]

Regrettably, the blog will be on hiatus for the month of july while the mods are busy mauling the shit out of each other and everyone else participating in Art Fight!

Both of us are on different teams and have a selection of our respective askblog characters uploaded, so drop by if you're also taking part :) we attack back (or try to)! Be aware you may run into a handful of story spoilers, but anything major is obscured behind warnings.

Mod Dox (Team Vampires) - Mod Tracker (Team Werewolves)

The blog will not be completely silent, though- we'll be doing Munday every week, and will reblog a different ask meme each week starting this upcoming Monday. If there's any you'd especially be interested in us doing feel free to drop a link in our askbox! We'll also be taking general lore and worldbuilding questions throughout the month, no prompting required. The plot will resume in early August, so plenty of time to get your questions in.

Hope to see you soon!

[zepskies]

Love, By Any Other Name

Pairing: Castiel x F. Reader

Summary: You want him. Castiel can’t help but crave you. Dean sees both of you and wishes you’d stop being idiots.

AN: This is my first ever commission! Written for @girlsforpjm, who requested "mutual pining" with Castiel. Here you go, lovely! I sincerely hope you enjoy it. 💜

**Also, this is set during season 12.

Song Inspo: “Wicked Game” by Chris Isaak

Word Count: 4,500

Tags/Warnings: Mutual pining, angst, blood and injury, (contains events from 12.12), fluff, some spice, implied smut.

“Achooo!!”

Sam grimaces while he watches you wipe your nose against your bare wrist. You shake your head and frown at the dusty tomes piled high beside you. You and Sam have been organizing the library for two hours now.

“That’s it, I can’t do this anymore,” you lament. “I need a break. My sinuses need a break.”

Sam’s lips twitch at a smile. “It’s okay. I got the rest of these.”

You aim a lazy salute at your friend and continue to sniffle as you leave the library. You circle this labyrinth of a bunker for a while, but you can’t seem to find the trench coat-wearing angel that’s supposed to live here too.

You end up in the garage, where Dean is tuning up his Baby. His shirt sleeves are rolled up to the elbows, and he’s got a grease stain across his cheek.

“Hey, you seen Cas?” you ask.

Dean barely perks up from under Baby’s hood to answer you. “He went out this morning. Haven’t seen him since.”

You pout at that, leaning against the side of the car near where Dean is tinkering.

“Is it too much to ask for him to leave a note or something?” you mutter.

Dean finally glances over at you. His lips edge at a smirk.

“What, miss your little boyfriend?” he teases.

The insinuation manages to take you by surprise. Your face starts to warm in embarrassment, but you cover it with a scoff.

“You should know. He was your boyfriend first,” you volley back. Dean’s expression flattens in annoyance.

“Don’t you have anything better to do right now?” he snarks.

“Nope,” you reply, popping the “P.” But you have mercy on him.

Instead of pestering him further, you just tip over the screwdriver he had balanced on the car’s frame. He makes a sound of protest as it falls somewhere between the gears inside his precious car.

He barks your name, and his angry voice echoes on the walls to magnify his frustration, but you’re already hastening back into the hall and down to the kitchen, trying to stifle your laughter.

You’ve slipped into the kitchen to escape. Yet that’s where you find the bunker’s resident angel, washing his hands of what looks like breadcrumbs in the sink.

“Hey,” you greet him jovially. He treats you with a small smile. “Where were you?”

“Oh, nowhere really. Just stepped out for a bit,” he replies. You get the sense that he’s hiding something. You smile and step closer to him, leaning a hand on the counter.

“Oh, yeah? Where?” you ask. Your eyes gleam with amusement. “Another ‘mission on high?’”

He sends you a droll look. “No.”

You tug on his sleeve. “Come on. Tell me.”

He smiles in return, and he gives you his own version of teasing.

“Childishness doesn’t become you,” he says.

“I’m just curious. You’ve been gone all day,” you reply, tilting your head. Your stare is unyielding, and familiar; Cas knows how stubborn you can be when you want something—especially information. Sometimes he finds it annoying, but in moments like these, it’s tempered by your playful, endearing smile.

“I was on a walk,” he finally admits.

You raise your brows. “A walk? Cas, it’s winter. Like 20 degrees outside.”

“I enjoy nature,” he shrugs. “The cold doesn’t bother me much anyway.”

…Well, he is an angel. You suppose it makes sense that he doesn’t feel the frigid weather like a human would. Your brow quirks with another curious thought.

“So you were washing your hands because…?” you ask.

Castiel’s face becomes a little more bashful. “I was feeding the birds some bread.”

At that, your smile grows. Here he is: Castiel, warrior angel of the Lord, Feeder of Pigeons.

“Well, if you ever want a walking companion, I’d be happy to join you,” you offer.

Castiel gives you a certain look, like he doesn’t quite believe you. 

Your lips purse. “What?”

He sinks his hands into his pockets as he leans his slightly hunched form back on his heels.

“Nothing,” he claims. “It’s only, I seem to remember you forcing Dean to kill a spider in your room. You claimed, and I quote, bastard things that crawl don’t belong indoors.”

You cross your arms and stare back at him narrowly, even though you try to stifle a smile.

“What’s your point? Everyone’s afraid of spiders,” you reason.

He raises a brow. “You also claim to have a vendetta against birds.”

“Pigeons, Castiel. They’re rats with wings.” Even Dean would agree with you on that one.

Castiel gives you a dubious look, however.

“Forgive me if I’m skeptical of your supposed love of nature,” he says drolly.

You want to argue more, but Sam enters the room with Dean on his heels. Both men seem to sense they’ve interrupted something. You clear your throat and turn to them.

“What’s up?” you ask, more nonchalant than you feel whenever you’re near the angel beside you. Castiel glances at you, before he too silently addresses Sam and Dean.

“Uh, we’ve caught a case,” Sam says. “It’s not far. Three dead, all with their hearts, and most of their internal organs ripped out.”

“Ech,” you reply with a grimace. “Sounds kind of like a ghoul. Maybe a werewolf on steroids?”

“Well, they were fresh kills, and it’s a full moon. So more than likely we’re looking at werewolves,” he replies.

You smile thinly. “Great.”

You hate werewolves.

Correction: you really hate werewolves.

The thought hits you yet again as you lay on the floor of a dusty old hunting cabin.

The irony.

Dean hefts you in his arms, after slicing his silver blade through the heart of the yellow-eyed bastard that tore you open with his claws.

“It’s bad, isn’t it?” you ask, hating how your voice trembles. Dean doesn’t answer you at first. He holds his hand to the oozing gash in your side.

“Nah, you’ll be okay. Just hang in there,” he says. Blood quickly covers his palm. He curses inside his mind.

“Cas!” he calls out roughly.

The angel had been fighting in the other the room with Sam, but after he burns out the eyes of the last werewolf and its body falls to the ground, he hears the undercurrent of alarm in Dean’s shouting. With Sam on his heels, he returns to the living room to find you and Dean.

Castiel’s steps halt in the doorway when he sees you. His face slackens for a moment, but then he hardens. He moves forward swiftly.

“Move,” he says to Dean in order to come to your side. Dean’s eyes widen, but he does as he’s told after laying you down to the floor. 

Castiel stares down at your face, offering you comfort with his eyes. You stare up at him in pain, but also with hope, and trust. You’re able to curl your fingers around the edge of his trench coat.

Then he presses his hand to your cheek. He closes his eyes in concentration while he heals you. 

Though he expels more power than he should to heal you completely. He knows it when his body sways a little after he’s done. Dean grabs his shoulder to keep him steady.

“You good?” Dean asks.

Castiel nods; he’s more focused on the way you’re catching your breath. You marvel at how your wounds, your pain, and even your blood is gone—completely washed away. He helps you sit up with an arm wrapping around your shoulders. Then he gathers you tight against him, so he can help you stand as well. He wavers again on his feet, just a little, but you’re too perceptive not to catch it. You realize he did too much to save you.

You still chide at him with a frown. “You didn’t have to use up so much of your energy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “Think nothing of it.”

Those are useless words, but you don’t bother arguing with him anymore. You just sigh and hold onto his strong arms while regaining your balance. You know for a fact that you’re blushing when you glance up at him.

Biting your lip, you soon turn away to grab the knife you’d dropped in the fight.

Without you or Cas noticing, Sam and Dean share a knowing glance. It’s subtle, in the way the brothers have perfected. Dean barely curbs a smile as he leads the way back to the car. 

You settle next to Cas in the backseat and try not to glance at him too often. You don’t know that he’s trying not to do the same to you.

Dean glances back at you two in the rearview mirror. He shakes his head.

Idiots.

Mary Winchester has been a welcome return to the family…when she’s here. Ever since Amara brought her back, she’s been distant with her sons. You don’t understand it all that well, but it’s not your place to say anything, you don’t think.

You do think Mary is a badass hunter. You just don’t know her that well.

About a week after the werewolf hunt, Mary drops in with Wally, a fellow hunter in need of assistance with a demon problem. You, Sam, Dean, and Castiel are all game. While you haven’t had to deal with demons too much in the past, you know that they’re…something of a specialty for the Winchesters. 

But of course, it quickly goes to shit.

The demon lives alone, in some shack by a river where he likes to fish. The group of you wait until he’s stepped out of the house before you go inside and case the place, looking for a good spot to spray a Devil’s Trap or two and try to trap him.

When the demon returns, he’s far stronger than any of you anticipated. The Devil’s Trap breaks with little effort (the demon’s just laughing). Then he flashes yellow eyes. You and Castiel share a look of widening shock. Mary takes a preemptive step back.

And when the kitchen door is about to close on the three of you, the angel pushes you into the next room before you can turn and fight. Sam helps you back onto your feet, though you stare at the door in horror. He and Dean try to break the door down, but it’s no use. It’s supernaturally sealed. 

You felt useless standing there. You wrack your brain for a solution, and you glance out one of the windows. Maybe there’s another way into the kitchen!

“Guys! What if we go around?” you suggest.

With that idea taking root in each of you, Sam and Dean follow you outside. Before you guys can even make it around the house, Wally flags you down. 

“We’ve got incoming!” he says. And you realize what he means. A group of black-eyed demons are bounding toward the house.

Aw, shit. You’re grateful to have Sam and Dean beside you, because the demons nearly overtake all of you. You manage to hold your own, along with the brothers. Wally isn’t so fortunate. His body hits the floor after his own blade sinks into his chest.

A pit begins to form in your stomach as you scramble toward the Impala. The plan is to catch up with Mary; thanks to Cas, she’d been able to flee the demon strong enough to snap a Devil’s Trap like a cheap trick. But she’d then taken Cas with her to safety. 

Now, Dean drives the Impala down the road at breakneck speed. 

“Are you okay?” Sam asks his mother through the phone. The car is silent enough for you to hear Mary’s reply.

“…No.”

When you step into the barn, the first thing you have to focus on is Cas covered in his own blood. He’s been stabbed by one of the demon’s strange and powerful weapons, and he lies on an old, dingy couch. You hurry to Cas’s side and take in, your face filled with horror, though you try and fail to mask it. 

You reach out a hand, but you hesitate to touch him. Suffering is written across his face. He tries to stifle sounds of pain out of habit.

Tears are fresh in your eyes as you look down at him in dismay. You chance laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“Can you heal yourself?” you ask.

“No,” he answers eventually. “I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I think I’m…”

No, your lower lip trembles as you shake your head.

“No,” you repeat aloud. “You just need time.”

You turn to Dean, who’s approached from behind you. But you quickly turn back to Cas, as if you’ll miss out on precious few moments. Castiel’s furrowed gaze tells you he’d rather not have you see him like this, but you don’t care. There’s no way you’re leaving his side. 

The weapon that was able to do this to him was the Lance of Michael, you all discover, when Crowley suddenly appears. He also informs you all that this is no ordinary demon. It’s Ramiel, Prince of Hell. You don’t give a shit about the specifics of how Crowley is wrapped up in this.

All you care about is if there’s a cure to Cas’s wounds. Crowley’s only words of wisdom are to leave the angel behind and run as fast as you can. 

He disappears before you can spit at him. 

“Cas, how bad is it?” Dean asks, after the King of Hell predictably makes a run for it. 

Castiel opened up his shirt collar to reveal a spiderweb of black crackling across his clammy skin, slowly breaking down his vessel. 

“Crowley’s right. You should go.”

Your hand tightens on his shoulder. “Cas—”

“No, listen to me,” he says, staring into your eyes. He continues with difficulty. “Look…thank you. Thank you. Knowing you all, it’s been the best part of my life. The things we’ve shared together, they have changed me… You’re my family, and I love you.”

His gaze had fallen on you, making your breath hitch. But his dark blue eyes travel to Sam and Dean next, and even Mary. 

“I love all of you.” The angel is the closest to tears and heartbreak that you’ve ever seen him. He struggles to hold himself together, in more ways than one. “Just, please, please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run, and save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off as long as I can.”

You’re shaking your head before he even finishes the sentence. Tears pour down your cheeks in silent streams, but you still hold him down when he tries to force his body to sit up. He doesn’t have the strength to resist you encouraging him to lie back down. 

Dean voices what you’re all thinking.

No. None of you would cut and run and leave him to die, no matter what Cas says. 

“Like you said, we’re family. And we don’t leave family behind.”

Ramiel comes for all of you, specifically for his stolen weapon. Killing the rest of you would just be an added bonus.

But while the four of you manage to pin down the demon with holy fire and a good fight, it’s Sam who manages to stab the Prince of Hell with Michael’s Lance, killing him in flash of brilliant light and rendering his body to ash. 

Of course, that’s when Crowley arrives once again, late holding his proverbial Starbucks. In this case, what would’ve been a mocha frappe is actually the Lance—and Crowley breaks it in half. It somehow reverses the curse of the blade, and therefore frees Castiel. 

He’s able to heal himself back to a full recovery. 

But also, rather predictably, Crowley disappears again before you all can recover yourselves. 

Sam and Dean help the angel back onto his feet. His clothes are still covered in blood, but his skin is clear and no longer clammy, his eyes no longer bloodshot. He’s shocked to still be alive, and you can barely contain yourself. Tears stream down your face as you surprise him with a hug.

Cas releases an oof, his body wavering just slightly before he plants his feet and wraps his arms around you. His hold tightens around your smaller frame, and he chances resting his chin on the top of your head.  

“So…you’re good?” Mary asks incredulously. 

Castiel raises his gaze to answer her. “I guess I am.”

You’re quiet for the rest of the drive home. Mary had taken her own car for the hunt, so it leaves you once again in the backseat with Castiel.

He finds your silence perturbing, though he doesn’t have the courage to ask you what’s wrong. Despite his full recovery, you still seem upset somehow. 

Part of him wants to reach out to you…but he stops himself. He also reminds himself not to stare at you. Instead, he turns his head back out the window. You felt his gaze on your profile, but you resolve to keep yours stubbornly out of your own window. 

The only one who notices the exchange, yet again through the rearview mirror, is Dean. His lips firm into a thoughtful frown. 

Home, sweet home, you think wryly when you enter the bunker. 

You give into the urge to beeline straight for your room without even turning your head. 

Sam and Mary follow suit, which leaves Castiel hesitating in the hall. Dean takes pity on him and claps his shoulder. 

“You okay, man?” he asks. Cas is staring after you like a man who’s lost his way.

“She’s…upset,” he replies, both confused and bothered by that fact.  

Dean’s lips twitch humorlessly. “Yeah, well, you almost died.”

“Yes,” Cas gives a wry nod. “But she seems upset at me.”

Dean has to smile for real. It’s plain as day what’s on his friend’s mind, and why. Just like it’s obvious as hell (at least to him) why you’re probably “upset.” As always, Dean takes up the role of wingman. 

“Why don’t you just go talk to her then?” he suggests.

Castiel hesitates. He’s not sure if he’d be intruding on you. The emotions of human women are foreign to him. They always have been, even when he was human, not so long ago. But he trusts Dean’s advice on these things.

So, he eventually nods. He means to follow you, but Dean stops him for a moment with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Maybe after you, uh, wash your clothes. Take a shower. Maybe shave a little,” he says, brushing his fingers over his own chin. “But uh, keep a little scruff. Some chicks dig that.”

“Shave my facial hair, but…keep my facial hair?” Cas tries to clarify. 

Dean blinks at his friend. Christ.

 “Okay, look, just clean yourself up,” he says. “You’ll be fine.”

With one last clap on the back, Dean disappears down the hall to his room. It leaves Castiel feeling somewhat unbalanced, but he treks the other way.

Normally he would restore his clothes with his powers, but he’d used up his reserves just to heal himself. There was a time when his connection to heaven was enough to do more than heal his own injuries. Now, however, both he and heaven itself are in a lesser state. 

Shaking his head, he goes down to the laundry room. He still remembers how to wash his own clothing. 

He unintentionally finds you there in the laundry room. You’ve peeled away your jacket that had been stained with his blood, and you’re tossing it into the machine. It leaves you in a thin shirt and jeans.

Castiel finds himself admiring your form; the familiar curve of your face, the shade of your hair, the outline of your bra through your shirt (which he tries not to notice), and the other curves that he has to often felt guilty for tracing with his eyes…and imagining with his hands.  

You look up when he enters the room.

He knocks himself out of his thoughts and freezes, a bit uncertain.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you,” he offers.

You just shake your head. “It’s okay.”

Your eyes roam over him then, from head to toe. It makes his face feel a bit warm.

“You want me to throw that coat in with mine?” you ask, pointing over to him. Cas examines his bloody trench coat.

“I’m not sure there’s any saving it, but we can try,” he says. He peels off the coat and allows you to throw it into the watching machine along with your bloody clothing.

“Your shirt’s white, so you should wash that separately,” you advise.

“I know,” he says, with a faint smile. “I, uh, I remember.”

You begin to regain some of your normal self, glancing at him with more warmth in your eyes. 

“Do you ever miss being human?” you ask. Cas draws closer to you. He rests a hand near yours, where you lean on the dryer. 

“There were some enjoyable aspects. Food, in particular,” he admits. “Now if I try to take a bite of a sandwich, it’s just…molecules, really.”

You wince in sympathy. “God, I don’t know how I could go through life without being able to enjoy another Snickers bar.”

He nods in agreement. He remembers chocolate well.

“But it wasn’t just the taste. It was the feeling of satiety. Sometimes, being uncomfortably full was quite satisfying,” he says. That makes you smile. 

But it soon drops when you take in the disgusting state of his shirt. Unbidden, it reminds you of every horrific thing that happened tonight. You really can’t bear it. 

“Okay, give me that,” you gesture at the shirt.

You start to unbutton it before he’s really ready for you, but he tries to get over his embarrassment by removing his tie. Meanwhile, you undo the buttons of his shirt while trying not to think too hard about what you’re really doing as you start to see flashes of his skin, from chest to sternum.

He takes a peek at your face. 

“Are you angry?” he asks. 

Your brows are furrowed, but this time more in confusion when you look up at him. 

“No. Why?” 

Cas’s brows furrow. “It feels like you’re angry…at me.”

The hasty motions of your hands calm at that. You consider him with a frown. Maybe you are a little upset at him. It’s not really fair, you know, but it’s how you feel. You blow out a sigh. 

“I just… After everything we’ve been through, everything you’ve done for us, how could you think for one second that we would leave you there alone? Alone to die?” you ask. It renders Castiel a bit stunned into silence. 

Your grip tightens on the now open edges of his shirt.

“Look, that situation was bad enough. But if you ever try to push me away like that again…”

You’re unable to finish that thought. You become waylaid by your own tears as emotion clogs your throat and threatens to choke you. 

Castiel raises a hand to touch your face, tentatively at first, then more comforting. He brushes his thumb across your cheek, catching the tears there. 

“I wasn’t trying to push you away,” he confesses. “I was trying to save you…because I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, even as I lay dying.”

You hold onto his hand. Biting your lower lip, you find enough courage to meet his eyes. They’ve lowered to your lips, you realize, though maybe Cas doesn’t. He seems a bit surprised when you lean up towards him.

You go more slowly. Your hand falls on his warm chest. For God’s sake, do something, you tell yourself. 

You don’t know if he can pick up on your thoughts as well with your bodies touching this close, but he seems to have an internal battle of his own. You each make a decision at the same time.

It has you leaning up the rest of the way, and Castiel bending down to meet your kiss.  

He gathers you closer; one hand finds its way into your tangled hair, while the other grasps your hip and brings you flush against him. Your hands move up his chest and wind around his neck. He holds you tightly against him as his lips claim yours, over and over with increasing urgency. 

He turns you in his arms and hefts you up onto the dryer machine. There he gets even more leverage to kiss you the way he has secretly imagined, to touch you the way he’s too often craved, with his hands warming up and down your thighs.

You utter a moan of longing as you hold his face. You like the scrape of his stubble against your palms. You can almost imagine that delightful tingling against otherplaces down your body. Places you’d like him to explore when you have more privacy…

Or maybe here is privacy enough.

You alternatively tangle and tug your fingers through his hair. And it’s his turn to moan when you take his lower lip between your teeth, scraping just hard enough to be both painful and delightful.

He squeezes your thighs in retaliation. It prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him even closer. Your dirty boots cross behind his back.

But soon, his touch gentles, more tender than demanding as he slows the kiss. His lips veer from yours and burn a path across your jawline, down the smooth column of your neck.

It allows you to catch your breath, but the feeling of his gentle lips and rough cheek just turns you on even more. You card your fingers through his hair and close your eyes. 

“Cas,” you breathe in content. 

He hesitates, with his lips on your neck. “Yes?”

You blink for a moment, but then you have to giggle. You twine your arms around his neck and hold him close. 

“Nothing,” you reply. Your smile says it all though. Cas sees it when he pulls away a bit, turning his gaze back to you. He caresses your cheek with the back of his hand. 

“I didn’t think feelings such as this…desires like this, would affect me after I became an angel again.”

Your smile brightens, even as you blush. “Does that make me special?”

“Yes,” he replies, with a soft smile. “But for many more, and far better reasons than that.”

Your eyes begin to sting with unshed tears. You bite the edge of your lower lip, but Cas’s thumb swiping across encourages you to release it.

“When you said that you loved me,” you say, a little shakily, “did you just mean…in the family sense?”

Castiel meets your eyes, and there he finds his courage. 

“Yes,” he says. “And no.”

With another one of those smiles he’s come to love, you bring him back in for a kiss. All too soon, it becomes hungrier, rougher, born of passion and secret desires finally spilling free. 

“Wait,” you pant against his lips, taking his hands in yours. “Come with me.”

Anywhere, his heart says.

But after you jump down from the dryer, you tug him by the hand out of the laundry room. After a quick scan of the hallway, you give him a playful little smile and lead him down to your room.

Castiel can’t help but smile in return. He follows your lead in more ways than one when the door to your bedroom shuts behind you both.

You help him shrug off his tattered shirt, and he helps you out of yours next, followed swiftly by the belt buckle on his slacks. 

In that moment, and many moments after, you’re grateful for door locks. You just hope the Winchesters aren’t dumb enough to interrupt what you have planned next for your angel…

Because it might just take all night.

AN: I haven't written for Castiel in a long time, but I had fun with this. 🥰 I hope you all enjoy it! Let me know what you think. 😘

Castiel Masterlist

Supernatural Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Castiel Tag List:

@kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @ades106 @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373 @brianochka @branj19 @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog @globetrotter28

@charmed-asylum @waywardxwords @deanwinchestersgirl87 @this-is-me19 @rachiem4-blog @sweettimelady @leigh70 @clinicallydepresso @xiphoidbones @skoveu @nyotamalfoy @kmc1989 @emily-winchester @pap3rtigers @kaleldobrev

@sanscas @nic-kolas @hobby27 @pizzagirlxnsfwx @malindacath @brujaporfavor @torchbearerkyle @rominaszh @sleepyqueerenergy @melancholictearz @harleycao @tabsluvsu @jad3djay @iwishiwas-sleeping @angelbabyyy99 @jackles010378 @idiotdyslexic @chriszgirl92

[rk-tmblr]

WHAT IF THEY HAD GIVEN UP?

From the top of the skyscraper, Yokohama shone in the night for miles down there, extending over the horizon. It was impossible to tell the ocean from the starry sky, and it felt like being swallow whole from the city.

“I won’t follow you this time.”

His words flew into the same breeze that had his red locks escaping under the hat he wore. He didn't turn to challenge his gaze, to scream at his face like he was used to. No, he stayed still with heavy feet on the pavement, gravity grounding him in a place where it had heads spinning.

“This shit’s old and I got tired of all of this… nothing! ‘Cause this is nothing you give me while I always spend everything I own,” at least anger remained in his voice, “And it’s not fair.”

“Whenever is it?”, he questioned with his eyes fixed on his petit figure, hands balled into fist inside the pocket of his trench coat and a red and white, half empty package of cigarettes crumpling between fingers.

“Never, but I won’t hold onto it anymore, Dazai.”

He hid the crawling feeling running under the bandages against his skin with the lame excuse of circumstances. From that height, summer turned out to be incredibly chilly.

“Finally I obtained to find the limit of a dog's loyalty, huh?”, he couldn't help but jab him just to get one of his normal reaction back.

But he looked at him by the corner of his eye, the electric blue iris seizing him up with finality.

“Goodbye then, Chuuya.”

It always came easy the fake cheeky grin on his lips, the little tilt of head on the side that made his brown wavy locks hide one of his eyes -like he used to do with bandages back then- and a mocking hand shaking in a salute gesture.

As if it still was friendly. As if it was a see ya soon instead.

It always has been so fucking easy to pretend until everything around him just became his own play-act to have fun with.

And now both parties did have enough of this cat and mouse game.

It was over.

“Goodbye.”

I hope you liked this Soukoku one shot for the "What if they had given up?" prompt, @chris-da1265!! If any of you have other requests, I leave you here the link of the writing prompts list and I'll be happy to write for you! <3

[mlmxreader]

Soldiers and Scouts | Alfie Solomons x m!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ "I came over because I was fucking worried" + “What the fuck have you done?” + “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot”

[Either partner is in danger or Alfie is and the other is pretty much ready to burn the whole of London down OR during war time and one of them tries to pull something really stupid in the trenches to try to get to the other after they're seperated] ❞

: ̗̀➛ No Man's Land in Winter is a treacherous, dangerous territory to cross, especially when you go over enemy lines to get back the one thing worth dying for.

: ̗̀➛ swearing, general war talk, POWs

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

The cold had truly swept through No Man’s Land.

Mud turned to slick ice and harsh snow. Hailstorms were common. It was impossible to get warm, you could see it on the faces and hands of so many men. Red and raw knuckles, swollen fingers that refused to bend. Runny and red noses. Constant shaking limbs.

Even sat around the small fires, it was impossible to get warm, and the hailstorms would often kill whatever heat there was to be had. Some men had taken to sleeping in groups, big puddles of uniforms forming in the trenches as men did their best to keep warm.

But it was impossible.

Once a day, one man would be nominated to go and collect firewood from the nearby forest, and although you didn’t want him to go, it had been Alfie’s turn; although he had not returned, and when you checked your pocket watch, you could see that he had been gone for nearly two hours.

That wasn’t normal. It took half an hour at most.

You were getting worried, although you knew that the Major would not let you go so easily; he was determined to keep you all in the trenches, it was safer in numbers. But when the scouts came back, you knew you had to do something. 

One of them pulled you aside, the Canadian patch on his arm covered in dirt and snow. “They said I should tell you alone… said you’d act out.”

“Is he dead?” You asked softly.

He shook his head, adjusting the bayonet in his arms as he cleared his throat. “Captured, Sir.”

You nodded slowly, licking your lips and taking a look around; the Major would never allow such a thing, but you knew what you had to do. “You’re Squamish, right?”

He nodded again. “Yessir.”

“You ever had to walk on ice in the middle of the night?” You asked.

He gave you a funny look, raising his brow. “No, why?”

“You wanna give it a go?”

He sighed, licking his lips as he took a look around and lowered his voice. “You’re not seriously thinking about going out there, are you? It’s fucking suicide.”

You shrugged. “Alfie means a lot to me, Sergeant… he’d do it for me.”

“This is a fucking death trap,” he insisted, speaking through his teeth. “And what about the Major? If he finds out-”

“I will handle the Major,” you reassured, shaking your head. “Are you in or not, Sergeant?”

He put his bayonet against the side of the trench, and saluted you as he nodded. “This is the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever agreed to… I’m in.”

You extended your hand for him, and when he shook it, you patted him on the shoulder gently. “You ready to be a ghost, scout?”

“Please,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “Francis.”

You nodded curtly, tapping his hand as you took a step back. “Francis… anyone ever call you Frankie?”

“Sometimes,” he shrugged. “Yeah.”

“You’re with me, Frankie,” you told him, gesturing for him to follow. “You know the land better than I do… think you can get around Jerry?”

“I’ve managed to get around Ivan and Tommy,” he admitted. “Jerry is usually difficult, given the lack of friendly, but… it’s doable, yeah.”

You invited him to sit with you near the very end of the trench. “You got a gas mask?”

Francis nodded, patting the messenger bag on his hip. “Always, Sir.”

“Solomons,” you said quietly. “My surname is Solomons.”

He looked at you, then furrowed his brows. “You and Alfie… companions?”

You nodded slowly. “So you understand why I need to go.”

He extended his hand, and when you gave him yours, he held it tightly. “A lot more than you might think… my companion is… he’s at home, medical exemption, thankfully… look, if you wanna do this… we best go in at night. If anything, we go in, we attack the rear and the weaker defences - split them up into smaller fractions. We avoid what strong points we can.”

You nodded in agreement, daring to smile at him as you raised your brows slightly. “Shock troop?”

Francis smiled back. “For a short while.”

“So we attack at midnight,” you said quietly. “Wait until both sides are asleep… we go in through the rear, we avoid what strong points we can, get Alfie and the other POWs out.”

“This is fucking suicide,” he laughed, shaking his head. “But yes.”

“Good,” you whispered. “Wait for me near the edge of our trench on the West, ten to midnight?”

Francis shook your hand as he hummed. “Absolutely, Solomons.”

Midnight.

You and Francis had your gas masks on as you climbed down into the German trench, keeping close together with your bayonets fixed and ready; he was two steps behind you as he signalled to where the prisoners were being kept.

Just behind the German trench, behind a large fence of barbed wire.

They would be deported in the morning, taken to the actual prisoner of war camps; you had to get to them before that, and although you were nervous, although you were anxious, you trusted Francis to keep you on the straight and narrow until you got to the fence.

He handed you a pair of wire cutters, keeping an eye out as you worked on cutting the fence open; his bayonet fixed and ready to be set off as he scanned the horizon. 

“Take the prisoners,” you whispered to him, opening the fence. “Get them to ours.”

Francis nodded, daring to shake your hand one final time. “It was an honour, Sir.”

“Likewise,” you gave him a quick salute as you went into the small camp, nudging the first sleeping soldier you found. “English?”

He groaned, turning over onto his side. “Unfortunately fluent.”

“Get the others,” you whispered, turning him onto his back. “There’s a man just outside the fence, Canuck, he’ll get you back to allied territory.”

The soldier slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes. “And who are you?”

You shrugged. “Just a soldier. Go, get the others.”

He nodded, shaky on his legs as he started to go around the camp with you and wake the others; Francis stood just outside of the fence, ushering them aside and hushing them quietly. If the plan was going to work, there could be no disruption that might wake Jerry.

There was one soldier left, and you perked up at the sound of his snoring. You turned to the prisoner beside you, shaking your head as you removed your gas mask, hanging it limply on your belt.

“Go, I’ll get him, don’t worry.”

He nodded, making a quick and fleeting exit; you knelt down next to the final prisoner, trying not to laugh at how he snored. You knew it anywhere.

You could still remember the first time you had heard it and had woken up with a start thinking that there was a plane flying overhead; gently, you shook his shoulder.

“Alfie!” You whispered. “Alfie, get up!”

He grumbled, swatting your hand away. “Five more minutes…”

You laughed softly, turning him onto his back and straddling his waist. “Alfie, it’s me. Get up.”

Slowly, he opened his eyes, and glared at you. “Oh, for fuck’s sake  - what the fuck have you done?”

You grinned, taking a quick look around. “I’m here to rescue you, la.”

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he muttered, resisting the urge to grab your thighs. “You are fuckin’ daft… do you have any fuckin’ idea what the Major-”

“Alfie,” you growled, rolling your eyes. “C’mon.”

“Why?”

“I came over because I was fucking worried,” you told him sarcastically.

“Alright, alright,” he huffed, waiting for you to stand before he followed suit. “I’m comin’, no need to get snarky.”

You smiled, taking his hand in yours and leading the way; to his credit, Francis had marked certain trees to show you where to go, the path he had taken, and you soon enough followed with Alfie in tow.

But in the middle of both axis and allied trenches, you paused, and grinned as you brought Alfie down into the ice and snow with you. He raised a brow, removing his cap and letting out a soft huff.

“What the fuck are you doin’?”

You smiled, putting your hands on his face as you hummed. “Taking a moment to realise you ain’t dead.”

He rolled his eyes, putting his hands on your face and humming softly. “Shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

You did as your Captain ordered, all too giddy to feel his lips on yours as you leaned in. It was quick, rushed and hasty, but even still, you both smiled when you pulled away.

“I think you ought to thank me,” you said softly. “I did save your arse.”

Alfie huffed, licking his lips. “You could get fuckin’ shot for this.”

“So?” You scoffed. “At least I’ll know I got shot for something worth dying for.”

He frowned a little, shaking his head. “Wish this fuckin’ war had never made it to us, I really fuckin’ do… we should back home with me mum, talkin’ about the weddin’.”

You sighed, something caught in your throat and making it seem like cotton had piled up within it. “We don’t have a choice, Alf… a ceasefire ain’t gonna happen - George and Asquith won’t let it, and you know that.”

“That’s because they’re cunts,” he whispered, but then he smiled, and he dared to laugh softly. “How’d you know I was in that camp?”

You shrugged, daring to grin and laugh quietly. “I heard you snoring… knew immediately it was you.”

Alfie grinned back, taking a quick look around. “Of fuckin’ course you would… c’mon, we best get back before anyone realises you’ve gotten into deep, deep shit.”

[aaaaaaaaaaashes]

The Bad Batch: Specter

Episode 1: Aftermath

Here begins the first season of the Bad Batch with my OC Specter! Hope you stick around! Edited by @ryleeeeeenn *osi'kyr: strong exclamation of surprise or dismay *kark: strong expletive (Star Wars version of fuck, I guess) *adla’vod: roughly translates to “twin”, directly translates to “same brother/sister” *di'kut: idiot warnings: canonical Star Wars violence

The conflict had left the Republic’s forces on Kaller severely depleted. The troopers desperately attempted to hold their position, awaiting the arrival of promised reinforcements. Right now, it looked like they’d never arrive, and if they did, there might just be nothing to reinforce.

“Not to be a pessimist, but if the commander isn’t back soon with those reinforcements…” Captain Grey trailed off.

“My Padawan will be here,” Jedi General Depa Billaba insisted before Grey could finish his thought. She continued to dodge the barrage of blaster fire as she searched for her apprentice.

“Master! Here,” he shouted, appearing as if just on cue, sliding down the snowy hill. “I’m here!” 

“Caleb, where are the reinforcements?” The boy seemed too distracted to answer his Master, watching the battlefield in what could only be described as anticipation.  

“Don’t worry. They’re right behind me,” the boy insisted. The captain and general glanced at each other, confused, then back in the direction Caleb had come from. 

“Uh, where are they?” Captain Grey asked.

“Caleb,” Billaba pressed. 

“Trust me,” he affirmed.

“Well, how many are there?” said the clone.

“Six of them.”

“Six?” he repeated incredulously. “We’re done,” he shook his head. 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, but you gotta see these clones. They’re… different,” the boy said just as a rumbling from the overlooking mountain caught the attention of the droids. The army came to a halt. A giant boulder rolled out and smashed a large number of battle droids in its path. Tech, Echo, Specter, Hunter, and Wrecker charged out of the woods, blasting at the droids in their path. Crosshair sat high above, using his vantage point to snipe away. Wrecker practically barrelled through the droids while Hunter skillfully used his blaster and knife to destroy them. Tech wove through the platoon and planted EMPs, activating them once he was out of harm’s way; Echo used his blaster, and Crosshair provided Specter with cover fire while she took a knee and blasted droids with her shotgun. A few droids got close, so she simply used her blaster to swing and dismantle them before reconfiguring her weapon into its rifle form.

“Crosshair, let’s get these tanks moving,” Hunter ordered. 

“Sir, yes, sir,” Crosshair hissed before shooting canisters containing grappling lines to connect the tanks. Once they were connected, Wrecker went to the farthest one and started pushing it off the cliff; Tech went up to the tank in the middle and called out to the command droid.

“Hey, clanker! Catch,” he said before tossing it an EMP. The droids inside the tank sparked out, losing control of the vehicle and falling over the cliff with the rest of the tanks. With the odds evened out, they were able to easily pick off the rest of the droids. 

“Hey, Cross, what’s your count?” Specter asked the sniper as he joined the group, heading towards the Jedi General and Commander.

“More than you, adla’vod,” he sneered, elbowing her side. She shoved him back before straightening up before the regs. Hunter sheathed his knife and took off his helmet

“If you’re done hiding down there, I suggest you launch a counterattack. Another droid battalion’s approaching,” he said.

“The General is the one who gives the orders around here,” the clone captain spoke up. Depa Billaba gestured with a gentle, calming hand.

“He’s right, Captain. This is our chance. Launch the counterattack,” she ordered.

“Yes, General,” he saluted. “All right, men. Let’s go!” Captain Grey and his men ran out of the trench and went to advance. 

“There you are, little Jedi,” Wrecker said with a smile, “you missed all the fun.” Caleb smiled and stepped forward.

“Watching your team in action was the fun.”

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

“Yes, Master. This is Wrecker, Hunter, Specter, Echo, Tech, and Crosshair.” Billaba smiled and nodded at each of them.

“While I’m not sure ‘fun’ is the sentiment I would express, I agree with my Padawan. Your exploits were quite impressive.”

“Exploits?” Wrecker muttered, confused.

“Don’t overthink it, Wrecker,” Crosshair said, passing by and sticking a toothpick in between his teeth. 

“Thank you, General,” Echo said, circling back to the point. 

“Now, would one of you please explain where my actual reinforcements are?” the General said. 

“Rerouted to the capital. We’re all you’re getting,” Hunter reported. 

“Ha! We’re all you need,” Wrecker exclaimed, hoisting up his blaster. 

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

“You hear that, clankers?” Specter shouted over her shoulder to the distant droids, “the war is almost over!” Crosshair snickered.

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

“If he captures or kills Grievous, the Separatist command structure will collapse; and most likely the droid armies along with them,” Echo theorized.

“A fascinating theory, yet unfortunately not something we can control from here. I suggest we focus on the task at hand,” the Jedi Master continued. 

“Any orders? Or shall we do what we do?” Hunter asked with a smirk before replacing his helmet; the rest of the group followed suit.

“Let’s blow something up! Yeah!” Wrecker cheered. The General looked at the Commander.

“Well, Caleb, shall we let them do what they do?” she asked, coyly.

“Only if I can go with them.”

“Very well,” she nodded.

“You ready for this?” Hunter asked. 

“We move fast,” Specter chimed in. 

“Good. That’s the only way I know,” the kid said with a mischievous smile before dashing off past the Batch.

“I like him,” Wrecker said with a laugh, chasing after him. 

The group hardly noticed the sudden increase in blaster fire until Caleb slowed to a stop and turned to watch his master deflecting blasts from the same clones she’d commanded only moments ago. 

“Master!” he shouted, running back to his master with his lightsaber ignited. The Bad Batch stopped and turned at the commotion. The regs had surrounded General Billaba and opened fire on her, she did her best to redirect the shots while shouting for her Padawan to run. 

One lucky shot brought her down, the ones that followed only sealed her fate.

What the hell? Specter thought to herself as they retraced their steps to meet the Padawan as he ran away from the danger of the other clones. Hunter held up his pistol, signaling the group to halt. “Stay away from me!” Caleb shouted, holding up his saber in a defensive position against them. Specter watched in confusion as he ran off toward the woods, a bitter taste filled her mouth.

“Kid, wait!” Hunter shouted after him. Caleb had already disappeared when she caught up with the team. “What… what just happened?” 

“The comm channel is repeating one directive, ‘Execute Order 66’,” Tech reported.

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

“I am not certain,” Tech admitted. Specter was surprised; her heart was racing for reasons she couldn’t explain, but something in the air had changed. Hunter began to give commands.

“Echo. Tech. Talk to the reg Captain. Find out what you can.” The two nodded and went off to find Captain Grey. “Crosshair, you and I will track down the kid and make sure nothing happens to him. Wrecker, Specter, stall anyone who tries to follow us.” Wrecker nodded but Specter went to grab Hunter’s wrist.

“Wait, Sergeant. I should come with you,” she said, “I can catch up with him if need be.”

“No, I need you to stay with Wrecker,” he denied her request. 

“We’ll be fine. Quit fussing,” Crosshair sneered, already marching off after the Jedi.

When he was out of earshot, Hunter leaned in and murmured “something is very wrong here, and I’d rather none of us be singled out.” Specter huffed but stepped back, allowing him to catch up with Crosshair. 

“You okay?” Wrecker carefully asked.

“Yeah, just a little uneasy,” she replied simply. Though she could have verily easily dumped all her inner thoughts and troubles out onto him, she refrained, knowing it would do little good for either of them.

“I’m sure we’ll be fine,” he said, rolling his shoulders, though he didn’t sound so convinced.

Time seemed to drag on as the pair kept watch in tense silence. Mere moments had passed when a group of regs, shiny ones at that, crested over the hill towards them. 

“Where’s the Padawan?” the leader asked.

“Being taken care of. We have a team working on it,” Specter answered, instinctively deepening her voice and adding distortion to her modulator.

“Yeah, don’t worry. Hunter’s handling it,” Wrecker chimed in.

“We have orders from the Supreme Chancellor himself,” the reg pushed, almost robotically. 

“That’s great, but like I said, Hunter’s handling it,” Wrecker insisted.

“Step aside, Trooper,” the reg ordered, getting in Wrecker’s face before running off with his group.

“Sure thing, boss,” Wrecker mocked them. Specter sighed.

“Hunter, you’ve got regs inbound,” she reported.

“Copy that,” Hunter replied.

“We have a situation,” Tech chimed in on the comm. Specter and Wrecker looked and nodded at each other, confirming they could hear him. “It appears the regs have been ordered to execute the Jedi.”

“What? Which Jedi?” Hunter asked incredulously. 

“All of them.” A chill made its way down Specter’s spine. “They’re saying the Jedi have committed treason.”

“Against who? The Chancellor?” she asked. She wracked her brain to formulate some sort of logical explanation. Even if the Jedi had committed treason, their mass execution without a fair trial made no sense. At the very least, General Billaba made no direct offense to the Chancellor. 

“I’m not sure. I suggest you all get back here.” Wrecker and Specter shrugged at each other before starting the trek back toward the Marauder.

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

Reuniting with her team did little to ease her anxious spirit. Whatever had happened between Hunter and Crosshair had them in a tense and peculiar mood. Neither of them spoke, and they seemed to be avoiding each other for the entire journey. Specter stood behind Wrecker in his seat, watching as their home planet slowly grew closer.

“We’re coming up on Kamino,” Tech reported.

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

“One hundred and eighty rotations in a standard cycle, but galactic zone changes but the adjusted figure at around two hundred and five,” Tech, of course answered. A moment of silence passed, Specter tried to hide her smile, knowing that Wrecker was still trying to calculate.

“What?” he finally asked. Echo sighed and shook his head.

“A long time.”

“You got that right!” Wrecker laughed. Hunter came up behind them as they flew through the stormy clouds. Out of the corner of her eye, Specter watched her twin turn away from the Sergeant, helmet still on, shoulders stiff. Curious. 

[What’s wrong?] she signed.

[Nothing.] 

[Don’t give me that. I’m your twin and I can tell something else is bothering you.] He didn’t reply, crossing his arms and hiding his hands. She sighed in annoyance and turned back to the viewport.

“Unidentified transport, transmit your clearance code,” a voice over the intercom said. Specter looked up in confusion.

“Clearance code? Did they suddenly forget who we are?” she scoffed.

“Must be a protocol drill,” Tech said, shaking his head. “Transmitting clearance code.”

“Authorization confirmed. Proceed to landing bay one-tac-one.” Tech directed the ship towards Tipoca City, guiding it to land. It was then Specter pulled Hunter and Crosshair aside; the two knew they were in trouble or least in for a scolding.

“Look,” she said, “whatever happened between you two on Kaller, whatever that animosity is, I want it to stop.” The boys looked at each other, scowling. “See? That! Leave whatever that is on the ship because I do not want to have to deal with that on top of whatever else we’re going to have to deal with once we step off this ship. Got it?” she pointed at both of them.

“Yes, ma’am,” they both grumbled. She nodded and exited the ship, cautiously looking around the hangar and waiting to follow Hunter. Troopers with red painted armor walked by, Specter bit her tongue to keep her expression neutral.

“Shock troopers? What’s the Coruscant guard doing here?” Hunter questioned. 

“As cool as it is to see them, I’m not liking the circumstances,” Specter commented.

“Level five lockdown remains in effect. Security teams, rapport to the command center,” the voice of the PA announced. 

“This isn’t a drill,” Tech said, surprised.

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

“The end of the war,” a passing shock trooper answered. Hunter turned toward him.

“Say again, Trooper?”

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

“Just like I said,” Tech mumbled. 

“It is just like you said,” Wrecker gasped, nudging him. Heading their way, a few troopers were carrying a body, covered by a sheet; a lightsaber fell out from under it, but the shock trooper picked it up casually. Specter felt the chill in her spine again. 

“Is there a problem?” he asked.

“No problem,” Hunter slowly answered. “We’ll just head to our barracks then.” He nodded for the Batch to start following him to their room.

“Best hurry. There’s a mandatory general assembly at 1500,” the clone called after them. 

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

Specter’s unease only increased as the group walked through the corridors, passing units of clones marching in mechanical formation. Everything down to the air they were breathing seemed different, and Specter was itching to know why. Clone Force 99 rarely went unnoticed in the halls, though it was hardly ever positive chatter. Specter certainly didn’t miss the stares and comments from other troops, but the silence made the knot in her stomach twist tighter. 

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

“Yeah… something’s really wrong, I don't like this” Specter mused. 

“Let’s test that theory,” Tech said, stepping out of line towards an oncoming soldier. “Excuse me, Trooper. What division are you from?” 

“Step aside,” the reg elbowed him out of the way.

“Oh. Well they seem the same to me.” Tech shrugged and walked with the rest of the group.

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

When they finally made it to their room, Wrecker stood a few feet from the doorway and stretched.

“Ah! Good to be back,” he said.

“The smell’s getting worse,” Echo commented as he entered the room, wrinkling his nose. 

“You’re still new. You’ll get used to it,” Hunter patted his shoulder as he passed by into the room. Specter was right behind him, already undoing her hair while Crosshair held her helmet.

“Yeah, because if you don’t, you will die,” she jeered. 

“Speak for yourself,” Crosshair mumbled, pushing them out of the way. Specter rolled her eyes, finally letting her hair down and massaging her scalp, combing through any tangles with her fingers. She flopped onto Hunter’s bunk rather than her own.

“Eleven more successful missions,” Wrecker cheered, adding eleven more tallies to their board. “Like there was any doubt.”

“Kaller wasn’t a win,” Echo shook his head. 

“Says who? We completed our objective,” Wrecker argued, grabbing his stuffed Tooka when he finished. 

“Not every objective,” Crosshair hissed. They all turned to look at him. Specter felt her stomach drop, sensing where her twin was going with this, “Hunter let that Jedi kid escape. Or do you want to keep lying to us?” 

Hunter abruptly got up from the table and went to the window; Specter huffed, knowing her request from earlier was going to be ignored. 

“I don’t like to think of executing our commanders as a mission objective,” he replied, gruffly. 

“An order is an order,” Crosshair insisted, taking a few steps.

“Crosshair, when have we ever–”

“Since when?” Hunter narrowed his eyes, interrupting Specter as the sniper shifted his toothpick.

“None of this makes sense!” Echo interjected. “Those clones served alongside General Billaba for years. How could they turn on her like that?” he asked incredulously. 

“Even if the Jedi did commit treason it still doesn’t make sense!” Specter added to his point. 

“Easy, its because of the regs programming,” Tech answered nonchalantly. 

“What programming?” Hunter growled.

“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 came around and punched the back of Crosshair’s shoulder before bringing him close, Lula still in hand. 

“Obviously, we are different,” Tech tilted his head in self agreement. “They manipulated preexisting aberrations in our DNA, resulting in your brute strength, Crosshair’s sharp shooting skills,” the sniper pushed Wrecker off of him, but not before he caught a few hits from the brute’s stuffed tooka, “Hunter’s enhanced senses, my exceptional mind, and Specter.”

“Wow, really feeling the love, Tech,” Specter deadpanned.

“Fine then, I’ll rephrase. My exceptional mind and your accelerated mental and physical capabilities,” Tech rolled his eyes as Specter smiled smugly to herself. “My guess is we are immune to the effects of the programming. Though I can’t be 100% certain of it.” “What about Echo? He was a reg before he joined us,” Hunter brought up. 

“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 of your preset behavioral modifications. You are more machine than man… percentage wise at least,” Tech explained.

“Either that or you’ve hung around us for too long,” Specter chuckled, bringing a leg up to her chest and resting her head on her knee. 

“Lucky me,” Echo sighed. A voice over the PA system spoke again. 

“All personnel report to the staging area for a briefing on the state of the Republic.”

“This is one meeting I don’t want to miss,” Hunter said, heading for the door.

“First time for everything,” Tech shrugged. Specter threw her head back and groaned.

“I just undid my hair,” she complained, already gathering it once again into a tight ponytail as she followed her squad. 

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

Specter knew that what the Supreme Chancellor— Emperor— had said was important, but it all just made her tired and unfocussed, and the discontentment in her team did not help.

“Galactic Empire?” Echo questioned once more, “We’re soldiers of the Republic.”

“Republic, Empire… what’s the difference?” Crosshair drawled. Specter noticed Hunter tilt his head and slow his pace: he was sensing something.

“The systematic termination of the Jedi is a big one for me,” Tech said. Hunter suddenly held up his hand, stopping the group.

“Lads, we’ve got company.” They turned around and found a young, blond-haired girl behind them, smiling and waving.

“Hello,” she said sweetly. Wrecker peered at her.

“What’s that?” he asked aloud. Specter flicked the back of his head.

“Di'kut, you don’t just call someone a ‘that’,” she scolded.

“Adolescent human female,” Tech analyzed. Specter put a hand to her face. “Origins… uncertain.”

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

“You know who we are?” Hunter asked, stepping forward. She looked at each of them.

“Hunter, Specter, Echo, Tech, Wrecker, and Crosshair. You’re Clone Force 99,” she said with a smile.

“What are you doing on Kamino, hun?” Specter gently asked, bending down a little.

“Her job, of course,” a voice answered before the girl could do so herself. Specter stood back up in the presence of Nala Se, the primary clone engineer. “She is my medical assistant, one with a curious mind that causes her to wander,” the Kaminoan chided. She gave a curious glance at Specter—who squirmed under the uncanny gaze—before putting her long hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Come, Omega. There is work to do.” The girl slowly followed her away, giving one last wave to the Bad Batch before she disappeared.

“This day keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Hunter muttered, shaking his head.

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

Specter quietly ate her food, listening to the chatter around her and to the conversation at the Batch’s lonely table. She sat across from Crosshair, her feet under her on the bench as she mindlessly balanced a spoon on her finger. Wrecker once again brought up Tech’s programming theory. 

“Clones being programmed. Nothing controls me,” he insisted, standing up from his seat with his hands on the table, jutting a thumb at himself. 

“Wrecker, it is a logical conclusion that your affinity for destruction stems from your conditioning,” Tech argued.

“You take that back,” Wrecker growled, pointing.

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

“Well, I got a fact for you. I like to blow things up because I like to blow things up!” Wrecker yelled, slamming his fists on the table and silencing the room for a moment. Specter shot him a glare as the spoon fell off her finger. “Got it?”

“Well, I’m convinced,” Crosshair teased as the chatter continued. Specter snickered. Hunter sat down with his food tray next to Tech. 

“An Imperial’s been sent to evaluate the clones. Everybody’s talking about it,” he reported.

“What kind of evaluation?” Echo asked.

“Hopefully not mental. Clearly we’d never pass that,” Tech commented. Specter gave him a glare as well, until a familiar face, for some reason, appeared next to Hunter with their food tray.

“Hello again,” she waved; the girl was met with silent, curious looks. “Omega. From earlier?” They all glanced at each other, Specter’s mouth pressed into a line. “In the corridor?” Omega tried again.

“Uh, yeah, kid. We remember. Don’t you have someplace to be?” Hunter asked.

“No. I’ll stay.” She had already started picking at the food on her tray.

“You want to sit with us?” Tech asked. Omega nodded. “That’s never happened before.”

“Wow,” Wrecker gasped. Specter was just as surprised as he was.

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

“We don’t fit in? Cross, why didn’t you tell me?” Specter teased, feigning surprise and poking at Crosshair who couldn’t hide a smirk. 

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

“Parents?” the girl repeated.

“Check it out,” a passing reg said from his group, “the defect squad’s got themselves a new recruit.” He chuckled with his friends.

“Another member added to the Sad Batch,” another teased. Specter ignored the comment; any encounter with regs led to more trouble than it was worth. 

The regs’ laughter was immediately stopped when a piece of their rations hit the closest one in the back of the head. Specter swiveled her head to see which of her squad had been foolish enough to instigate the fight.

“What the… who threw that?” he shouted.

“I did.” Omega was standing on the table, tossing another piece in her hand. Specter smiled, admiring her adorable tenacity. “Now apologize to my friends,” she insisted, pointing to the others at the table.

“I like this kid!” Wrecker cheered, elbowing Echo next to him. 

“What did you say to me?” The clone angrily approached Omega, but Hunter stopped him. 

“Woah, woah, woah. Back off. I suggest you keep moving,” he warned. Wrecker stood up behind Omega, ready for a fight. The clone scoffed.

“Know your place, lab scrapper,” he said before walking away. Specter and Crosshair shared a look, knowing a fight was coming, especially when Wrecker threw a whole tray at the reg.

“Oops,” he said with a grin and more trays in hand.

“That’s it!” the reg shouted.

“Oh, yeah!” Wrecker cheered, throwing the other trays. Chaos erupted as Hunter punched a nearby reg and dodged another.

“Oh, not again,” Echo groaned, a hand running down his face. Crosshair and Specter tried to ignore them all and continue eating. Wrecker landed atop a group, Echo kicked, Omega threw, Echo punched but got kicked back onto the table, knocking over Crosshair’s tray; the sniper angrily joined the fight too, throwing his tray and hitting multiple regs. A few made their way over to Specter, looking for a fight.

“Really, boys?” she glared at them, daring one of them to make the first move. Instead they scurried off like a tooka with its tail between its legs. She smirked to herself. 

“Echo, watch out!” she heard Tech call out. Specter turned just in time to see Echo get knocked out. 

“Told you he’s alive!” Wrecker cheered as they entered the room, where Echo was indeed sitting up.

“No, I told you he was alive because I really doubt that you can kill someone with a lunch tray,” Specter recalled as they came around to his bed. 

“You owe me two credits,” Wrecker pointed at Crosshair, who only shook his head. 

“CT-1409’s condition is stable,” the little medical droid reported. “But I have some distressing news for the rest of you. According to your test results, you all appear to be genetically defective clones,” it whispered, as though it were some secret. Specter merely raised her eyebrow. “I will leave you to process the shock of this revelation.” The little droid hovered out of the room.

“We’ve got a problem,” Echo said once the droid left.

“We all have problems; take Cross for example,” Specter teased, jutting into the sniper with her elbow, who nudged her back.

“Not that,” Echo said, “a different problem.”

“We’re more deviant than we are defective,” Tech chimed in.

“Admiral Tarkin’s here,” Echo cut to the point. “He’s the one evaluating the clones.”

“The same Tarkin from the Citadel rescue when you, uh,” Tech searched for the right words, “how shall I put this?”

“Blew up?” Wrecker finished for him.

“And turned into that?” Crosshair added with a smile. 

“See, now there was an appropriate setting of calling someone a ‘that’,” Specter said. Echo rolled his eyes.

“Yes. And he’s not a big supporter of clones.”

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

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

“Come on. Let’s get this over with,” Hunter nodded his head toward the door. Echo hopped off the bed and followed the rest of his grip towards the exit. However, Omega ran out in front to stop them.

“Wait. The fight was my fault. I’m going too,” she insisted.

“Not happening,” Hunter said, brushing past her.

“We’ll handle this,” Specter assured, walking by as well.

“But I…” Omega tried, but Hunter turned around to face her. 

“Listen, kid. Our squad’s nothing but trouble. For your sake, keep your distance,” the Sergeant warned. “Got it?” He left the room with the rest of his group before she could even answer.

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

It turned out to be that the Bad Batch was not about to be reprimanded, but rather tested on their skills. Admiral Tarkin was apparently impressed with their “performance” in the mess hall and wanted to see more of the squad in action.

The team rose up for the floor into the training room, fully geared up and ready to go; Specter had resorted to keeping her ponytail under her helmet. Tarkin and Prime Minister Lama Su were in the observation deck.

“The value of all clone troopers is being challenged by the Empire. To demonstrate your effectiveness, a combat-proficiency test is in order. Take your positions,” the Admiral announced. 

“We’ve done these a thousand times, boys,” Hunter said to his team. “You know what to do.”

“A battle simulation? Give us a real challenge,” Wrecker said, banging his fists together before moving to take cover with the team. The training droids and towers activated and began to fire. 

“Crosshair, take the towers,” Hunter ordered. The sniper nodded and snuck around the side, climbing up to the tower and disabling all of them. “Move in,” he said next. Wrecker and Tech advanced first.

“I’ll cover you,” Echo assured Hunter. 

“And I’ll cover you,” Specter replied. They each made their way towards cover, trying to shoot down more droids as they went. 

“This is taking way too long,” Wrecker groaned.

“Hey, if you’re gonna go barrelling out there, at least give me a boost,” Specter called out. Wrecker laughed and nodded before they both leapt out from their cover; she ran at him, stepping into his intertwined hands and letting him launch her across the training area, shooting at the droids as she flew over them. When Specter landed, she disabled the rest of the droids in her proximity while Wrecker fired relentlessly at the ones near him, finishing the battle. 

“What else ya got? Give me more!” he yelled excitedly, shaking his fist up at Tarkin and the Prime Minister. Specter shook her head at his antics and went back to regroup, crouching by Tech. However, Wrecker got his wish when two large droids were brought into the facility. “New toys. Now we’re talking,” he cheered, running and firing at them; yet when he attempted to punch one of them, the droid didn’t budge. Instead, it pushed him off and shot at him, and Wrecker fell to the floor.

“Live rounds,” Specter shouted into the arena to Crosshair, firing at the droids even though her stun bolts would be ineffective. 

“Get Wrecker,” Hunter said to Tech, “we’ll cover you.” He and Echo joined Specter in shooting the droids while Tech made his way over to where Wrecker had crawled out of the way. 

“I’m starting to think Tarkin just wanted to give us a glorious death,” Specter said, taking cover next to Hunter. She glanced over at Crosshair, who had made a shot at the droids but was now climbing down from the tower to avoid their fire, as well as dodging the other droids that appeared. He took cover with her, Hunter, and Echo.

“This is going well,” he drawled.

“Shut up, will you?” Specter hissed, firing again.

“These training blasters are useless on them,” Echo complained.

“Then we improvise,” Hunter said, “If Tarkin wants to test us, let’s not disappoint him.” He lifted his helmet and whistled, getting Tech and Wrecker’s attention, before signaling with his hands. Wrecker eventually gave a thumbs up before moving to execute the plan. Specter, Hunter, and Crosshair acted as a diversion and provided cover for Echo as he ran to support Tech and Wrecker. The brute wrestled down one of the droids while Echo used his scomp to disable another, allowing for Tech to reprogram and control the downed droid. Up on its shoulders, Tech used the droid to fire at the others, distracting them enough for the batch to deliver finishing blows. 

“Spec, heads up!” Hunter shouted; his knife cut through the arms of a droid, flying by her head and landing on the ground near her. She attached it to the end of her rifle and used it to stab and swing.

“I cannot sustain the connection,” Tech announced before the droid threw him off. He lay on the ground, groaning and unmoving. 

“Tech!” Specter shouted after him before throwing the knife at the wayward droid. The blade stuck into its arm, but was ineffective. “Kark,” she hissed, ducking for cover as the droid turned to fire at her. 

“Crosshair, we need more coverfire,” Hunter shouted. 

“Tech, hang in there, buddy!” Wrecker called out.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he grunted in reply. Crosshair continued to assess the situation, looking for a solution, until he caught sight of Wrecker in the droid’s firing line. 

“Wrecker, knife!” he shouted. Wrecker threw his knife at the sniper, who shot it mid-air, sending it into the droid’s head and shutting it down. Specter couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

“Nice work, adla’vod,” she said as they all emerged from their cover, clapping her hand tightly with his. Wrecker and Echo went to check on Tech and helped him to his feet. Specter sighed, the test had been simple enough, but she was more than glad it was over. She only hoped the Admiral had seen what he needed to. 

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

Tarkin peered at the embryo floating in the tube, still mulling over what he had seen in the training room.

“Extraordinary, aren’t they?” Nala Se’s soothing, yet monotone, voice spoke a few steps behind the governor. 

“That remains to be seen,” he replied curtly. “Tell me about Clone Force 99.”

“They are medically defective clones whose cellular mutations enhanced traits desirable in a soldier,” the Kaminoan answered. Tarkin gazed at the young girl by her side, analyzing her.

“How many of these clones do you possess?”

“Six are all that remain.”

“This includes the female, yes?” Tarkin inquired. Nala Se hesitated, but nodded nonetheless. “Tell me about her.”

“CT-9905, as she has been redesignated, is the only clone that was produced from Project Valkyrie before it was terminated due to a corruption of the DNA sample,” Lama Su answered this time. “She possesses increased reactivity in both her physical and mental attributes, and charts higher in endurance and speed tests than the average specimen.”

“It’s unfortunate the project was scrapped. She would have been a lucrative asset to the Empire,” Tarkin mused.

“And she still can be, with Clone Force 99,” Lama Su said. 

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

“A side effect of their mutation. Yet one that has never hindered the completion of their missions,” Nala Se gently reminded.

“Then they executed Order 66?”

“Since both the Jedi General and Padawan on Kaller were eliminated, one would assume,” Lama Su argued.

“Assume nothing,” Tarkin snapped, “Only the general’s death is confirmed. A counter-report, filed by one of their own, says the Padawan escaped.” The Kaminoans glanced at each other, surprised. “Let us see where the loyalty of these clones truly lies.”

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

“Live rounds? They used live rounds on us?” Wrecker said, incredulously, throwing his helmet off as they entered their room. 

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

“I tried to warn you about Tarkin,” Echo reminded. 

“Who’s that Imperial snake think he is?” Wrecker pounded his fist on the table. 

“Stow it, already. You got shot. It happens all the time,” Crosshair hissed.

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

“Exactly! We’re not dummy droids,” Wrecker said. 

Specter walked in after them all, holding herself and looking deflated and disappointed. Hunter wordlessly pulled her aside.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, quietly. 

“If I’d just thrown that knife straight, I would’ve hit that droid. I’m better than that,” she said, not meeting his eyes and tightening her arms, “Someone could’ve gotten hurt. Well… even more so.” 

“Hey, you did fine. We did what we could given the circumstances. I’m sure we can work on your knife skills some more,” he assured, putting his hand on her shoulder. A shadow eclipsed the light in the doorway. It was Tarkin, with two guards standing behind him. The man stood, observing each of them. Specter shifted under his scrutinous gaze but stood at attention next to Crosshair.

“That was quite an impressive display,” he said, walking into the group. 

“Didn’t have much choice,” Hunter replied. 

“Our new empire may have methods which seem a bit unorthodox, but so does this squadron. Both certainly have their merits.” The Governor eyed Wrecker, who towered over him. “Nala Se speaks quite highly of her six enhanced clones. She claims you’re more capable than an army.”

“You have a mission for us, sir?” Hunter asked, side-eyeing him but quickly sharing a look with Specter. 

“Indeed,” he affirmed, turning back toward the Sergeant. “We have tracked a group of insurgents to the Onderon sector. They must be dealt with.”

“What sort of insurgents?” Echo went to clarify.

“Separatist forces intent on keeping the galaxy at war. If you neutralize this grave threat, you will be looked upon most favorably as I assess the needs of the Imperial Army,” Tarkin explained before leaving the room. 

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

“I’ll say this for the Empire,” Wrecker announced to Tech as he, Crosshair, and Specter returned from the armory, “they know their firepower. You should see the new armory!” Specter sat on the crate of weapons Wrecker pushed toward the ship, her hair once again weaved back into a braided coronet. 

“He actually cried,” Crosshair remarked.

“Hey, we both did,” Wrecker reminded. “And Specter is still crying.” 

“Tech… I’m in love,” Specter sighed dreamily as she hopped off the crate, seemingly dazed in a weapon-fueled fantasy. 

“There’s no room on board for that,” Tech warned. 

“For love or the crate?”

“Both.”

“Yeah? Well I’ll make room.” Wrecker grunted as he lifted up the crate and headed towards the ship. “A new mission and unlimited explosives. Things are back to normal.”

“That is not going near my rack. I refuse to sleep by a projectile again,” Tech rambled, following the brute inside. Specter went to follow Crosshair up the stairs, but he suddenly stopped in front of her, causing her to bump into him and slip on the step.

“Hey! What-”

“It’s the kid again,” Crosshair interrupted, nodding toward Hunter kneeling by Omega. Specter couldn’t hear what she was saying, but the little girl looked very concerned as she talked to their leader.

“How is it looking?” she asked, knowing her brother’s sight would benefit.

“I don’t know,” he drawled, shifting his toothpick. Specter thought back to the food fight. Sure, Omega looked innocent and sweet, and of course she was a child. But in times like this, even a child could be untrustworthy. Working so close to Nala Se, Specter couldn’t help but wonder what types of secrets the girl had to hide. She shook her head—the anxiety would do no good for this new mission.

“Well, I’d rather get this mission over with. Hunt! Let’s go!” she shouted. The Sergeant turned to acknowledge her, standing up to leave. Crosshair shoved past Specter to the bottom of the steps, waiting for their leader to come return. 

“Problem?” Crosshair asked as he came close, putting a hand on his hip.

“Uh, something about her I can’t figure out,” Hunter explained.

“Well, I guess kids aren’t your area of expertise,” Crosshair said, patting his shoulder.

“Or maybe it’s just that girls aren’t,” Specter teased, already stepping into the Marauder.

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

She held her blaster tightly as the group exited the ship to the dark night of Onderon.  Ambience of the forest filled her ears, she flinched at the sound of a roar in the distance.

“What was that?” Echo wondered apprehensively.

“You don’t want to know,” Tech answered.

“Well, at least it’s not a swamp,” Wrecker replied. 

“Close enough,” Crosshair said.

“I think I would have preferred mud in my boots than critters in my face,” Specter shivered at the thought.

“The Separatist encampment’s two klicks south. We’ll continue on foot and do a full perimeter scan,” Hunter said, kneeling towards a path before stopping an eager Wrecker, “covertly.”

“Oh, come on! It’s been days since I’ve blown something up,” he whined while the team passed by him.

“Easy, Wrecker. Your programming’s kicking in,” Tech teased. Specter couldn’t help but laugh aloud as they made their way into the jungle. 

While Tech led the group with his scanner, Specter kept an eye on the rear, walking backward and letting Crosshair guide her.

“How many droids are we talking about, Tech?” Hunter asked.

“I can’t tell from this distance. Something’s blocking my scan,” Tech reported, smacking his device a few times and stopping the group. “Anything back there?” he shouted towards Specter. She flipped down the antennae on her helmet, switching to a thermal readout and finding-

“Nothing.”

“Clankers always travel in packs. Let’s get a closer look at what we’re walking into,” Hunter advised leading them forward. They kept walking until they made it to a rocky outcropping that overlooked the dimly lit encampment. Crosshair and Tech lay on their stomachs while Echo and Specter kneeled beside them; Crosshair and Specter peered through their rifle sights while Tech and Echo looked through their binocs. “Tell me what you see, Tech,” Hunter said. 

“I’m clocking heat signatures ahead but zero droids,” he replied.

“Tarkin said insurgents, not droids,” Crosshair recalled.

“I’m not sure they’re either,” Echo said. Specter swept through the area again, just to make sure she was seeing clearly.

“Sarge, there are children down there,” she reported, quickly and urgently. 

“Children? Out here?” he wondered, taking Echo’s binocs. 

“Children. Elderly. Medical supplies, personal items… they look more like refugees.”

“Something’s not right,” the Sergeant mumbled.

“What are you waiting for? Give the order,” Crosshair said, keeping his weapon ready, and although she was apprehensive, so did Specter. 

“Negative. Stand down” Hunter ordered instead. 

“What?” Crosshair and Specter cried at the same time, pulling away from their scopes.

“You mean, we’re not blasting any droids?” asked Wrecker disappointedly.

“There aren’t any droids, Wrecker,” Tech reminded him.

“Well, so what do we do?”

“We finish the mission,” Crosshair answered Wrecker’s question. “Make the call, Hunter.”

“Cross,” Specter said slowly in warning, having already lowered her rifle.  

“We’re not alone. Now stand down,” Hunter ordered again. A rustling was heard seconds before the “insurgents” appeared, surrounding them with their blasters ready. The Batch reflexively raised their weapons too.

“You heard him. Stand down,” one of them said. Hunter slowly stood up and put a hand on Wrecker’s gun.

“Let’s hear them out,” he advised, putting his hands up in surrender, “trust me.” One by one the squad holstered their weapons and did the same, including Crosshair who groaned in frustration. 

Echo observed as the soldiers led them down to the camp.

“These aren’t Separatists. They’re Republic fighters,” he said.

“Why would Tarkin send us to attack our own forces?” Tech wondered. Specter caught the gaze of a few of the children. She tried to give them a reassuring smile but they only hid themselves away. 

“Because we refuse to fight for an Empire,” a voice answered. A man stepped forward, Specter recognized him.

“You’re Saw Gerrera. Trained by Captain Rex and General Skywalker to fight for the Republic,” Tech said, also recognizing him. 

“I based some of my combat tactics off of you,” Specter rambled excitedly. The man only scoffed, looking over the group.

“So, the newly declared empire sent you to wipe us out?” he accused, taking one of Hunter’s pistols and examining it. 

“Well, we’re here to neutralize a group of insurgents,” Hunter explained. Gerrera chuckled grimly.

“Well… here we are.” He held his arms out, indicating the group of people around him. “What are you gonna do? Strike us down like you did the Jedi?”

“Is that a request?” Crosshair hissed. 

“Quit it,” Specter scolded, kicking his leg a little. 

“We expected to find battle droids, not…” Hunter tried to find the words.

“Civilians?” Gerrera finished for him. “Times change, targets change. Why don’t you take a look at the insurgents you were sent to destroy. Makes you wonder what else they’re lying about.” The Batch looked guiltily at the gathered group of refugees. “Let’s mobilize. Pack up the camp,” he ordered, walking toward the children to check on them while the other fighters prepared to move out. Hunter and Echo stepped forward.

“What’s going on here? Who are these people?” Hunter asked, almost desperately.

“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 spoke up. Gerrera scoffed again, smiling woefully. 

“And I figured you for the smart one.” Tech flinched at the remark. “With the Jedi decimated and the clone army under his command, Palpatine will have control over the entire galaxy. Unless we stop him,” he said, determined.

“The war is over,” Crosshair said. Specter didn’t stop him this time. 

“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.”

“With a handful of fighters and limited firepower? You may have lost a lot but there’s still so much to lose. You don’t stand a chance,” Specter spoke up against their tenacity.

“Not alone we don’t,” argued Gerrera. 

“We should leave if we’re gonna make the rendezvous,” one of the fighters came up to him. “What do we do with them?” he nodded towards the clones. Saw Gerrera thought for a moment, eyeing them.

“The clones once helped us free Onderon, so we’ll give them a choice. The old ways are done. You can either adapt and survive, or die with the past. The choice is yours.” He handed Hunter his pistol back and powered down the camp’s light source, following the refugees and fighters into the forest, leaving the Bad Batch among themselves. Wrecker handed everyone’s helmets back before they went to leave. Hunter went to follow but turned back once again, scanning their surroundings. 

“At least with the Republic we knew where we stood,” Tech mentioned. The hike back to the Marauder was tense enough. “Tarkin and this Empire are a whole different story.” Crosshair suddenly shove Tech.

“Why are we debating this? We need to complete the mission,” he argued.

“Wake up, Crosshair,” Echo intervened, “they sent us to eliminate innocent civilians.”

“Who said they’re innocent?” Crosshair sneered. Hunter responded before Specter could.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“Me? I’m following orders,” the sniper defended.

“Exactly!”

“Those insurgents are plotting against the Emperor. If you don’t have the stomach to do what needs to be done, then you’re not fit to lead this squad.” The silence rang loud as their eyes bore into each other’s. A branch snapped and in a split second, Hunter’s gaze shifted to a probe droid over Crosshair’s shoulder. He shot it down easily. 

“We’re being followed,” was all Hunter said. Specter shot the sniper a glare before following the Sergeant to investigate.

“It’s a probe droid,” Tech identified, surprised.

“Tarkin’s spying on us now?” Wrecker asked. “The Jedi never did that.”

“Not that you know of,” Crosshair mumbled, walking up to the group. They all glared at him, Hunter seemed to be thinking as he looked over the droid once more. 

“Omega,” he suddenly remembered, turning back towards the ship.

“What about her?” Specter wondered. 

“She warned me about the mission. And Tarkin. She said not to return to Kamino, that it’s not safe for us anymore,” he explained.

“Maybe she’s right,” Wrecker grunted.

“We’re taking the word of a child now?” Crosshair grumbled.

“We take your words, don’t we?” Specter teased, passing him by and stepping up into the ship’s entryway next to Tech.

“I would not discount Omega’s insight,” Tech interjected, “a state of heightened awareness is not unusual for an enhanced clone such as herself.” Wrecker laughed and pointed.

“Good one, Tech. You almost had me.” He sat himself down on the steps of the ship.

“When Nala Se spoke of six clones, Tarkin assumed that meant us, but Echo’s a reg. The sixth is Omega. I confirmed my suspicions after analyzing her DNA while we were in the infirmary,” he explained, casually adjusting his goggles. 

“I like how you just decided to analyze her DNA without prompt,” Specter couldn’t help but chuckle, despite the tension. 

“You waited until now to mention it?” chided Echo.

“Well, I thought it was obvious,” Tech shrugged.

“How is it obvious?” yelled Wrecker, standing up and turning around. 

“We’re going back for her,” Hunter decided. Crosshair scowled and stood in front of him, blocking him from stepping into the ship. 

“Disobeying orders again over a kid? Bad play, Hunter,” he warned, poking the Sergeant’s chest. Hunter shoved his hand away. 

“She’s one of us.” He started to walk up the ramp before turning around to face the sniper again. “We’re not leaving her there.” They boarded the ship; Specter gave one last pained look at Crosshair before she boarded, and as much as she loved her brother, she couldn’t force herself to be on his side this time. He reluctantly followed behind her. 

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

“I’m getting no response from com-scan. This is unusual,” Tech cautiously reported as they flew through the clouds of Kamino. 

“Bring us in. We’ll find out what’s going on,” Hunter assured. Specter still hadn’t released the tension she held from Onderon; she was aware it would do her teeth no good to keep her jaw so tight, but she couldn’t help but feel that everything was wrong… and that things were about to get worse. She was itching to ask Crosshair what he truly thought, what he felt, what he had planned. She’d finally caved and approached her brother just as Tech touched down on the landing dock. The squad exited the ship and led themselves through the empty dock to the closed bay doors. 

“Stick to the plan. Split up, find Omega, meet back here at the ship,” Hunter said before allowing Tech to open the door. They cautiously walked through the dark hangar, only making it several meters before Hunter sensed something and held up his hand, stopping them. A second later, the Coruscant Guard appeared and had them surrounded, blasters raised. Specter crouched in a defensive position but didn’t bother reaching for her gun.

“As expected,” Crosshair hissed. Governor Tarkin came forward.

“The Empire does not tolerate failure, Sergeant.”

“There were complications,” tried Hunter, completely sheathing his blade.

“Yes, the probe droid’s report was quite detailed. Conspiring with Saw Gerrera.” The Bad Batch stood up straight, shocked at the accusation. “I assume you know the punishment for treason,” the Governor drawled, almost gloating.

“Treason?” Hunter scoffed, shocked. 

“Throw them in the brig,” Tarkin ordered. The Batch complied, not wanting to worsen their situation. They were shoved towards the brig with the ends of blasters and unsympathetic clones surrounding them.

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

Stripped of their armor down to their blacks, the squad was roughly shoved into the cell. Specter grunted and stumbled inside, nearly falling before her twin helped her to right herself. 

“Smells weird,” Wrecker commented, snoozing the air.

“Because it’s clean,” Echo said. 

“Well, the plan wasn’t a total failure,” Tech observed, finding Omega sitting in the corner of the cell, waving sheepishly.

“Convenient,” Specter deadpanned.

“Goody,” Crosshair rolled his eyes, earning a light smack from Specter. Hunter made his way through, kneeling in front of the girl.

“I warned you not to come back,” scolded Omega.

“Had to. We were looking for you,” Hunter explained with a smile.

“Me?” she asked, almost in disbelief.

“What do you say, kid? You wanna come with us, or did we get captured for nothing?”

“You came back for me?” she asked again, even more excited.

“That’s right,” Hunter nodded. Specter stepped forward to chime in.

“Or you can stay on Kamino if-”

“No, it’s like I said before. I want to go with you,” Omega stood up, interrupting Specter’s sarcastic remark.

“How touching,” Crosshair sneered from the other side of the cell. Hunter clenched his jaw, but Wrecker cleared his throat, stopping anything else from happening. 

“Uh Hunter, how are we breaking outta here?” he asked.

“I’m working on it,” Hunter practically growled, maintaining eye contact with Crosshair. 

“You know what you should work on? Explaining when you went soft,” Crosshair accused, pointing at Hunter. 

“Here we go,” Specter grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Stow it, Crosshair,” Echo held back the sniper.

“Don’t you see we’re locked up in here because of him? He had us disobey orders,” he argued. 

“Since when has disobeying orders become such a problem for you? We do it all the time, Cross! “ Specter fought back, getting into his face. 

“Good soldiers follow orders. Every choice he’s made since Kaller has been wrong. First the Padawan, then Gerrera. He’s becoming a liability.” The eyes burned into each other as he pointed at Hunter over her shoulder.

“Since when have you ever cared about being a ‘good soldier’?” Specter scoffed, “You know what they call ‘good soldiers’? Regs. You’ve never been worried about going off the book before! But, oh no, sparing children and innocent civilians is where we draw the line? C’mon, adla’vod.”  The rest of the Batch watched as Specter went off on her brother. “What if that Jedi was General Skywalker? What if it was Cody or Rex, instead of Gerrera? What happened to your humanity?” she pushed. Crosshair’s nostrils flared and teeth bared.

“Don’t you dare question me.”

“What, like how you question Hunter? I’ll dare if I want to!”

“We can debate this later,” Hunter pushed them apart. “For now, let’s focus on getting out of here.” The two separated and went to opposite sides of the room. Specter crossed her arms and turned away from Crosshair, watching as Tech examined the walls.

“CT-9904, you’re coming with us,” she heard a voice say. The shield was open and one of the guards walked toward Crosshair. Hunter stood in between.

“Oh, no, no, no. We stay together,” he protested. The guard rammed his blaster into Hunter’s stomach; Specter gasped and rushed to his side as he keeled over. Without any other fuss, Crosshair stood up and followed the guard out of the cell while the rest of the Batch watched him go. 

Time passed excruciatingly slowly; the Bad Batch sat, waiting for something to happen or for a plan to formulate. Specter eyed Omega from her corner of the cell until the girl eventually decided to sit beside her. The two sat in silence as the young one rested her head against Specter’s arm. Though unexpected, the comforting gesture was not unwelcome.

“I’ve got it. Why didn’t I think of it before?” Tech startled Specter out of her thoughts. He went to sit more in the center of the group. “This is not a prison.” 

“Yeah, well, I beg to differ,” Echo grumbled.

“This is a Kaminoan facility,” Tech continued. “It was built prior to the Clone Wars. there were no barracks or prisons when it was constructed.”

“Well, how does that help us?” Hunter asked, leaning in.

“Because while these cells were retrofitted to hold normal individuals, they could not possibly account for someone like Wrecker,” he explained. 

“Oh! You mean I could punch our way out?” Wrecker exclaimed, standing up. Hunter and Omega simultaneously shushed him. He winced and whispered instead. “You mean I could punch our way out?”

“If you punch the correct spot,” Tech nodded.

“Right. Show me where,” Wrecker said, cracking his knuckles. 

“If this is gonna work, we’ll need some cover. Form a wall,” Hunter instructed. He, Omega, Echo, and Specter stood up, forming a barrier to hide Tech. 

“Hit this. Here,” Tech whispered to Wrecker, indicating towards a spot in the wall.

“Right. Tell me when,” he said to the others. Hunter waited a moment, watching for when all the guards would be distracted, engrossed in their conversation.

“Now.” Wrecker punched the wall and quickly sat on the bench. They hadn’t been spotted. Wrecker inspected the spot on the wall; it had sustained no damage.

“Nothing happened,” he reported.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” Hunter questioned.

“Try it again. A little harder,” Tech said, determined. 

“You’re all clear. Make it count,” Specter said over her shoulder. Wrecker nodded and drew his fist back, striking the wall with more force. Specter flinched at the noise, noticing Wrecker once again take a seat on the bench. They waited until the guards turned their gazes away before glancing at the wall. 

“Oh, it still didn’t work,” Wrecker grumbled. Tech went to look. 

“Oh, yes it did. Look,” he said, pulling away the now damaged sheet of metal to reveal a hole in the wall. 

“I’ll never fit through that,” Wrecker complained. Specter glanced too.

“I could try but the guards would notice my absence.”

“I’ll do it,” volunteered Omega.

“Are you sure, kid?” Hunter asked.

“I’m sure,” she nodded, looking up at him.

“Okay. Get to the console and hit the lever to lower the ray shield,” he instructed. Omega squeezed into the crevice, Wrecker and Tech replaced the sheet of metal behind her.

“Incoming,” Echo announced as the guards made their way over.

“Wait, where’s the girl?” the leader asked.

“Hey, fellas,” Specter said, resting a hand on her hip and winking.

“Not you. The child.”

“You tell us,” Hunter shrugged.

“Harm her and you’re a dead man,” Echo threatened. 

“Operations, we need a status report on prisoner 0219,” one of the guards relayed into his comm. A creak sounded above them. “What was that?”

“Sorry,” Wrecker spoke up, covering for Omega, and leaning up against the wall, “these floors don’t hold me so well on account of them not being designed for abnormal individuals such as myself.” Hunter and Tech shook their heads at the absurdity. 

“What’s behind you?” the guard asked, peering closer, causing the other guards to ready their blasters.

“Nothing,” Wrecker said, bringing up his hands behind his head in defiance.

“Move away from the wall. Now.”

“Why don’t you come here and make me?” the brute challenged. One of the guard’s comm beeped.

“Copy that. The girl’s still registered in lockdown,” he reported before aiming his blaster at Wrecker. “Tell us where she is,” he ordered. 

As if on cue, Omega fell down from the ceiling on top of the ventilation panel.

“Hit the switch, Omega!” Hunter said. She scrambled to pull the switch before one of the guards went to grab her. She struggled in his grasp.

“Get off!” she cried, swinging her legs and arms.

“Hey, Red,” a voice said behind him. He turned, just as Wrecker punched him across the room. Another guard tried to get up, but Tech simply stunned him with his own blaster, grabbing it for himself. 

“Not bad,” Wrecker complimented the girl.

“We need to find out where they took Cross,” Specter said, stepping over the downed troopers. A pang of worry shot through her. With the entirety of Kamino against them, there was a chance they wouldn’t find him, or if they did, they wouldn’t escape unscathed. Hunter tossed her a blaster, bringing her back to herself. 

“Let’s go,” he said, leading the group out of the room. The squad carefully made their way through the facility.

“We’re not going to get very far without our gear,” Tech said once they had moved to a quiet area in the pristine halls.

“They started moving all your things to the hangar. Your gear might be there too,” Omega said. Hunter nodded.

“This way.”

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

They had made it to the hangar without being detected; Omega was right, the Marauder and their gear were there. 

“Alright, boys, suit up. Let’s make this quick,” Hunter said. Specter found her things and quickly dressed in her armor before gathering her weapons and other belongings she deemed important: which, given their lifestyle, wasn’t much. She wasn’t as attached to items as some of the others were. She overheard Wrecker rustling through his things, no doubt looking for Lula. 

“Tech, power up the ship. The rest of us will go after Crosshair,” Hunter instructed. Specter readied her interchangeable rifle, uneasy about retrieving Crosshair. So much was going wrong already, and she couldn’t predict if he would come willingly.

“I don’t think we’ll have to go far,” Omega said, however. The bay doors opened and the Batch ducked down, peeking over the crates at the troops that entered, blasters raised. Specter gasped.

“Is that Crosshair?” asked Wrecker. Hunter looked over at Specter, who watched with a broken heart as her brother appeared from the squad, dawning new Imperial armor. Her grip on her rifle faltered and her hands trembled. Hunter took a breath and went to stand in the center of the room, facing him. 

“Best stand down, Sergeant. Make it easy on yourself,” Crosshair said.

“Have you lost your mind?” Hunter asked angrily.

“We should’ve killed that Jedi. You disobeyed orders.”

“I did what I thought was right.” 

“You never could see the bigger picture. Now surrender.” Hunter glanced at the others; Wrecker had put his helmet on and Echo took aim with his pistols, although Specter was still in shock. 

“Is that an order?” asked Hunter. Crosshair smirked a little.

“Heh. I guess it is.”

“Well. I guess I’m disobeying that one too.” Thunder clapped and rumbled as the two stared each other down, Crosshair spat out his toothpick. 

His gaze flickered to Specter, who flinched; she was screaming in her head to get a grip and take aim, only to be contradicted by pleas to surrender and stay with her brother. Tears pricked in the corners of her eyes. Too much was happening and too fast. She watched her brother’s finger itch over the trigger of his rifle, and knew there would be no easy way out. Even if she gave herself up, what was the likelihood Hunter or even Omega would get caught in the crossfire that would certainly follow? Specter steadied her breathing and regained the strength in her hands to grip her blaster. 

The first shot was fired by Crosshair, who let his rifle fall onto his arm as a mount. Hunter ducked in time and took cover next to Omega as the other troops began to fire. The Batch fired back, Specter opting for her sniper-rifle configuration to try and disable the soldiers. One of Crosshair’s soldiers threw a smoke bomb, filling the room and disrupting everyone’s line of fire; Specter switched to thermals, knowing her brother would too. She unleashed rapid fire through her rifle but knew it would have little to no effect.

“Hunt, they outnumber us. Even if we fired blindly into the smoke, it’s no guarantee,” she reported into a private channel, one without Crosshair. She heard him growl and swear under his breath. 

“Tech, we gotta move. Now,” Hunter said into the comm. 

“I’m working on it,” he replied.

“Wrecker, clear the smoke on three,” Hunter ordered. 

“You got it, boss.” Wrecker lowered his blaster and grabbed two crate lids, ready to clear the smoke.

“Omega, stay low,” Hunter instructed the girl before slowly counting down. When he got to three, Wrecker emerged from his cover and slammed the crate lids together, blowing the smoke away; he even threw one of the lids, knocking down most of the troops. He threw the other at Crosshair, who rolled out of the way and shot Wrecker in the shoulder, knocking him out.

“Osi’kyr!” Specter swore, angrily firing.

“Echo, we go for Wrecker,” she heard Hunter instruct. “Spec, Plan 4: Star Shower.” Specter nodded, shoving her helmet on and quietly reconfiguring her blaster to its shotgun form in the silence of the ceasefire.

“Only one way out, Hunter. Your move,” Crosshair drawled. 

“Go!” Hunter shouted. Specter emerged and fired her rounds at the other clones and the ceiling. Miniature explosions peppered them and fell with debris from above, no doubt confusing Crosshair’s thermals. Echo and Hunter struggled to get Wrecker towards the Marauder by the time her cover had dissipated.

“I’m out,” she announced, grabbing for her pistol as Crosshair took aim again. But another shot rang out, knocking the rifle out of his hand. It was Omega, doing her best to hold a blaster that was most likely too heavy for her. A beat of surprised stillness passed before Crosshair made a move for his pistol— this time, Specter was ready. The two fired furiously at each other, some of their shots even collided and ricocheted off each other. Even when Wrecker and Omega had made it on the ship, Specter didn’t stop firing; she was angry—beyond angry— at Crosshair and everything that tore them apart. 

“Specter, recall!” Hunter shouted from the ship’s entryway over the noise. She growled, running to hop on board just as they took off. 

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

“Ouch!” Wrecker cried as Specter injected the needle into his arm. She had put herself to work on taking care of him, distracting herself.

“Quit whining,” she teased, ruffling through the med-pack until she found the syringe she was looking for. 

“What’s that gonna do?” he cried as she held it up.

“You’ll be okay. Just hold still.”

“Is this what you were looking for?” Omega said, holding up the stuffed Tooka. Wrecker gasped and grabbed it.

“You found my Lula! Ow!” he cried again. Specter had injected him while he was distracted. Omega giggled as Tech came in with his scanner.

“Let’s see here,” he said before kneeling in front of him, “hold still.

“Don’t examine me. I’m not a computer,” Wrecker shied away, holding onto Lula. 

“Would you rather get shot again?” Specter mused. Wrecker whimpered in response.

“This will take just a second.” Tech held the scanner closer to Wrecker's arm, who grunted at the contact. Specter laughed but watched as Hunter slowly followed Omega, who had wandered into the cockpit. 

Specter stepped back from Wrecker, glancing toward the cockpit where Omega stood, awestruck at the view before her. Her mind wandered back to her own first time in space. She’d refused to admit her fear as the old ship took off. Crosshair had known better, and hadn’t let go of her hand the whole ascension. 

She missed her brother now, as reality struck her with a sickening pang. Had he chosen to stay with them, she could imagine his sarcastic hiss teasing Wrecker for being clumsy and her for becoming a ‘nurse.’ Never in a thousand star-systems had she even imagined her brother, her twin, would betray them like this. It hurt far too much to think about.

“Spec, you alright?” asked Echo, bringing her back. She nodded and stepped back as he helped Wrecker into the cockpit, following them. 

“It’ll take more than a blaster shot to take me down,” Wrecker announced as he entered.

“You were down,” Echo argued.

“Yeah, well, not for long,” he cheered, squeezing Echo, but groaning in pain again. Specter squeezed in between them, pushing Wrecker to sit down.

“You are out of commission until further notice, big guy,” she said, placing a hand on his shoulder before going to sit in the co-pilot’s seat next to Tech.

“What’s the plan, Hunter?” he asked. 

“I thought we could go off on our own. Lay low. But with Crosshair gunning for us, I’m not so sure,” Hunter explained.

“What about your friends? Could any of them help us?” Omega asked. 

“That would be a short list,” said Tech.

“Yeah, we could count them on one hand,” Specter followed. 

“I can think of one. Plot a course for J-19,” Hunter said. Specter smiled and plotted the course while Tech brought the system online.

“J-19?” Echo questioned.

“We know a guy,” was all Hunter explained.

“Hold tight, hun. You’re not gonna wanna miss this view,” Specter said to Omega. She could see the stars glimmering in the girl’s wide eyes; she looked up at Hunter and smirked, who winked in response. Omega held tightly onto the arm rest but smiled wide as they shot into hyperspace to their new destination, and hopefully, a safe one.

[skymaiden32]

Mariana Trench

AO3 link here

Fandom: Stingray

Tagging: @dragonoffantasyandreality @thundergeek59 @janetm74 @katblu42 @liseylou @amistrio @uniwolfcorn (Please ask if you would like to be updated when I update or write new stories)

The battle for Pacifica has begun...

Hi *waves in no update for eight months*

I have no words for how late this is honestly. Big life stuff happened, I went to ComicCon (which was a blast; I went as Marina and met some awesome new people >:3), exams came and went, and then I got hit by the combined forces of a whopper of writer's block and burnout from aforementioned exams.

I would say the update times will get better from here, but I'm heading into the last year of university and will get very busy from September. Fingers crossed though ^^

Anyway, on with the chapter! >:D

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9: Battle of Pacifica

------

Phones examined the bars across the large windows carefully, humming worriedly as he did so. They were too narrow to squeeze between, so escaping that way was out of the question. The doors were locked and bolted from the outside. If they ever did get out, it wouldn’t be for a long time, and the Titanican attack on Pacifica may well be over. Phones groaned, jiggling the door handle in frustration in a last ditch hope it would come loose somehow. No luck…

He stole a glance over at Fisher, who was also looking for a way out. They caught each other’s eyes, and the younger aquanaut slumped his shoulders in defeat. It looked like they’d be here for quite some time. 

------

“And you are certain they cannot escape?” X20’s screen showed his King and his immediate superior, standing side by side as the battle raged on behind them. From the looks of it, the Titanicans had their enemies on the run.

“Positive, Captain.” X20 confirmed. “I made sure of it. And even if they do get away, I removed anything from my personal files relevant to the plan…”

“I applaud you for your foresight… For once.” Titan hummed, muttering the last part under his breath. “Losing Lemoy as a base of operations is not ideal, but it is necessary.”

Trench nodded in agreement. “Well done, X20. Return to Titanica and await further instructions.” He looked back at the chaos behind him. “The battle is almost over from the looks of it, so your assistance will likely not be required.”

X20 saluted, and the video winked off. Titan turned to his second-in-command. “Return to the battlefield. I realise you might have…” the tyrant frowned, “hesitations about it, but the Princess is a force to be reckoned with. If we are to win, she must be taken care of.”

Trench couldn’t help the proud smile that spread across his face. Of course Marina was carving her path through the enemy. He’d seen her in action before. Pacificans were pacifists by nature, but the rivalry with Titanica had changed that, and their Princess had WASP training under her belt, in addition to the combat lessons Aphony had insisted she take after returning from her capture. She was a worthy opponent.

Of course he had doubts about fighting the mermaid. She had once been like a sister to him. But if his King were to get any further in his goal, it was necessary. “I will not fail, O’ Mighty One…”

“See that you don’t…” Titan turned his attention back to the window, overlooking the battle. The sea-green blur that was Princess Marina, cutting down Aquaphibian after Aquaphibian, taunted him. “You know better than anyone, I am not merciful to those who fail me.”

Trench saluted, turning on his heel, and headed into battle against his former allies.

------

“You got any paper and a pen?” Fisher asked, beyond bored. The aquanauts were sat at the small table, watching the sun set on the horizon. All they could really do was wait. The beauty of the sunset currently meant nothing. “I wanna write something…”

Phones gave him a look. “Really?”

Fisher shrugged. “Hey, it’s not like we have anything better to do.”

“Good point.” Phones stood up. “Well, to answer your question, yes, I have a pen,” he took the item out his pocket, placing it on the table in front of Fisher, “I don’t have any paper, but I might be able to grab a blank page from a book over there…” He pointed towards the small bookshelf, getting up and walking over to grab a book, when a thought crossed his mind. “Wait a minute…” Fisher looked at him quizzically as he bent down to look through the keyhole of the door. Phones smirked when he realised he couldn’t see through the small hole. The key was still in there! X20 must’ve forgotten to take it out. “Of course!”

The younger Lieutenant raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

Phones hushed him, getting more and more excited by the minute. “Never mind that, just gimme that pen back.” Fisher gave Phones a look, but did so anyway. The older man knelt down, judging the space under the door. Good. It was just big enough for this to work…

Grabbing a larger book, Phones tore a page out, slipping it under the door so it would be under the outside keyhole. He left a small slither of paper so he could pull it back towards him. Fisher’s eyes widened when he realised what his friend was up to. 

Phones took apart the pen, grabbing ahold of the ink cartridge inside, and gently threaded it through the keyhole. Soon enough, a thud was heard on the other side of the door as the key fell. Fisher gave him a hopeful look. “Think it fell where we want it to?”

“Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” Phones knelt down, and gently pulled the piece of paper towards the aquanauts. The silver gleam of the key was their reward. Phones picked it up with a flourish, exchanging a smirk with Fisher. Next stop, Pacifica.

------

Marina twirled through the water with grace as she exchanged blows with her friend turned enemy. When Trench had first appeared on the battlefield, he had muttered out an apology to Marina, heard only by her. The Princess had shuddered at the robotic voice. It was hard to forget the way she’d heard Troy’s dulcet tones behind it, now she knew it was him wearing the mask. Silently, she had given orders to the soldiers under her command, both Pacifican and WASP alike, to keep away from them as they fought. They’d obeyed, making a move to guard the throne room, where her father was anxiously awaiting the conclusion of the battle, and the return of his only child.

Blades clashed, Marina giving Trench a pleading look. If any part of him was still Tempest, it would at least stir something in him. She wished she knew what was going on his head. She wished she could see the emotions on his face.

On the other side of the watertight mask, Troy was struggling to keep the tears at bay. He hadn’t expected it to be so hard to face Marina in combat. Physically, they were almost evenly matched, with him just outclassing her, but there was something in the Princess’s pleading gaze that gave him pause everytime he went in for what should be the final strike. She was part of the reason why he’d left WASP, wasn’t she? So, why was it so hard to fight her?

“Stingray!” The panicked exclamation from one of the Aquaphibians caught everyone’s attention. Every faction involved looked up as the silver super-sub sped towards the greater WASP fleet. Marina and her people on the field grinned as it lead an attack on the Aquaphibian ships. Their enemy looked on in fear, knowing instantly that they would lose the battle. The Princess was certain she could Titan growl from wherever he was watching.

“Captain Trench.” The King’s cold voice caught his attention. “Issue a full retreat. We’ll never win with Stingray on their side. I’ll discuss both your and X20’s failures once we are safe behind Titanican walls…”

The human nodded, even though he knew his superior wouldn’t see it, and shivered. “Yes, sire.” Making a subtle gesture toward the closest Aquaphibian, the order quickly spread, and soon, the invaders were on the run. As they watched them leave, the Pacificans silently cheered, embracing each other in celebration. Marina smiled gently as her gaze swept along her people, never prouder to call herself a Pacifican. She was taken aback when she was pulled into a tight hug, although her grin widened when she realised who it was, holding her father just as tight.

On board Stingray, Phones and Fisher sadly watched as their once friend retreated with the enemy, even as the sounds of their colleagues on the comms and the sight of the Pacificans celebrating flooded their senses. Fisher cleared his throat. “I forgot to ask…” Phones turned to look his friend in the eye, grateful for the distraction. “How’d you know how to get the key?”

Phones smiled sadly at Fisher. “Troy taught me.” Phones sighed as he remembered that day. They’d been so excited to work on the same crew. Where had it all gone wrong? “It was on our first mission together.”

Fisher took note of the older man’s downcast face. “We’ll get him back, Phones.”

Phones sighed, turning Stingray’s nose back in the direction of Marineville. “I hope you’re right…”

[disorganizedkitten]

Gifts Between Girls

Miraculous Ladybug & Jackie Chan Adventures | 2018 | 1,542 | Ao3 

Neither Miraculous hero were expecting a visit from Captain Black, especially not right after a an Akuma attack.

“Ladybug, Chat Noir!”

The two heroes turned at the shout, expecting to see a new reporter or something trying for an interview. Instead they were greeted by a bald man in a turtleneck and a trench coat.

He was wearing both. In summer. In Paris.

Chat Noir was about to comment on the pure impracticality of it all, when Ladybug saluted the man. Chat stopped to look between them, unsure of what to do now. He was well versed on most of the other superheroes who were currently active, in case one decided to come help them with Hawkmoth, but he had no idea who this guy was. These two actually, Chat mentally corrected himself, taking note of the teen to the man’s side. Who was wearing an orange hoodie.

Did these guys have insulation problems?

“Captain Black. Agent Chan.” Ladybug’s hand fell and she frowned. Red flags shot up in Chat Noir’s head. If Ladybug wasn’t happy- “Please tell me this is a social call.”

“Ooh she can see an agent where there is one. I like this girl! She’s not Viper of course-”

“Jade.”

“Sorry.”

“No Ladybug, I’m afraid it isn’t. We have some things to discuss with you and your part-” Beep Beep Beep! “Tner. What was that?”

“That’s our timers saying we can’t stay,” Chat cut in, moving to stand at Ladybug’s shoulder.

“Can you meet us two roofs over in five?” Ladybug suggested.

“Yep.” The teen answered quickly.

“Jade.” Her companion hissed, but didn’t move to do anything else.

“Chat, will you be able to make it too?”

“Yeah, I don’t need to meet up with anyone for another half hour.”

“Alright, see you there.” Ladybug grabbed his waist and threw her yo-yo up and out, swinging them both a ways away.

Chat took the opportunity to interrogate her. “Bugaboo, what was that?”

“Someone I know from my civilian life. Be extra careful when detransforming, Jade is a superspy. Also, they have teammates that can turn invisible, so again, extra careful. And they can fly. And move faster than the speed of light. And turn into animals. Keep your fist closed if possible. I’ll see you as soon as I’m recharged.”

Chat caught her arm as she moved to leave. “Promise you’ll explain?”

“Later Chat. I promise.” And then she was gone.

Chat Noir bounded another few roofs over and ducked into the subway. He released his transformation, keeping in mind what Ladybug had said. Invisibly, flight, shape shifting, superspeed. Who the heck were these people and how did Ladybug know them as a civilian? Was his Lady a spy herself?

That- It didn’t completely fit, but it didn’t not either. That was a scary thought.

“Kid, we’re fine. I don’t feel any active talismans anywhere near us. Mind you, Sugarcube and Herbs are more receptive than I am, but I doubt they’ve figured out how to cloak Talismans yet.”

Adrien turned to his Kwami, who swallowed another piece of cheese instead of continuing.

“What? I know stuff.”

“What do you mean, Talismans?”

Plagg shrugged. “Didn’t Ladybug say she’d explain?”

“Yeah,” Adrien sighed. Was he not trustworthy? Why did Ladybug know all this stuff first? “Are you done eating?”

“Adrien, I can never have enough of my precious Camembert.” Plagg deadpanned, taking another triangle and shoving it in his mouth. “But I suppose I can last for one more transformation.”

“Plagg, Claws out!”

*****

“She’s my cousin, Tikki.”

“Oh. So then why are you worried?”

“Because, they deal with magical Chinese artefacts. And what are the Miraculous?”

“O-oh,” Tikki breathed around a bite of Macaroon. “Which other Magical Chinese artefacts have they messed with?”

“Um, I think last year it was masks, the first year Jade was in America it was Talismans, there were demon spirits and portals somewhere in the mix, um, I’m not sure for the others.”

Tikki nodded. “Alright! I don’t sense any of those active right now, but the Rooster was active a couple of minutes ago. I agree you should be careful. Don’t you trust your family though?”

“My family, yes. Captain Black and Jade when they don’t know that I’m trustworthy with magic and know full well what implications it can have? Not so much.” Marinette peeked out of her hiding place, her forehead scrunched in thought.

Tikki nodded. Technically it made sense. “I’m ready to transform if that makes you feel safer.”

“I need to meet up with the others anyways. Tikki, Spots on!”

Ladybug wasn’t the first to the rooftop, not that she actually expected to be. She landed on an adjacent rooftop to wait for Chat Noir and assess the situation. She didn’t really think they’d try to seize the Miraculous while she and Chat Noir were fighting Hawkmoth, but Section 13 could be unpredictable.

****

Chat Noir reached the area, looking around for Ladybug. She wasn’t with the others on the suggested roof, instead crouching on a nearby rooftop.

“Why aren’t you over there yet?”

“Because Chat, I’m waiting for you. I don’t want to leave you out, again.” Ladybug shrugged. “Ready to go?”

“Yep.”

They shot across the small distance in sync, landing gracefully but not silently. Chat Noir noticed, rather belatedly, that the teenager wasn’t up here. For one reason or another, it put him on edge.

“Ladybug. Chat Noir.”

“Captain Black,”  Ladybug replied promptly, saluting again. Chat half-imitated her. “You needed to speak to us about something?”

“Yes. You are the keepers of most of the Miraculous, correct?”

“Well we aren-”

“ Are, of course. However their location, much like the location of your own assets, is a secret.” Ladybug cut him off, making a ‘cut it’ motion with her fingers against his wrist.

“Good.”

“Is there a reason for this inquiry Captain? Has Section 13 discovered something in our jurisdiction?” Chat was lost, and they were only two sentences in. Ladybug had better explain everything on Patrol tonight.

“Straight to the point I see. Yes. We’re going through our archives and found what has been confirmed to be a Miraculous. The Rabbit Miraculous, I believe.”

Ladybug nodded. “Are you alerting us to it’s location or handing it over?”

“Handing it over.” Captain Black held out a small black and red box. “I’m trusting you to keep it in the correct hands.”

“Of course Sir. Thank you. Anything else?” Ladybug accepted the box and moved her hands to behind her back.

The Captain shook his head. “No. Good day, Heroes.”

“Would you like a ride down?” Chat offered suddenly. He wasn’t sure how Captain Black had gotten up in the first place, so he didn’t see a way down.

“No thank you.”

“He’s using the Rooster Talisman,” Ladybug whispered to him, leaning over.

“The what now?” Chat looked over at Captain Black, but he was already gone.

“The Rooster Talisman. I think it’s first in the lineup of the Talismans of Shendu? I know it’s one of them. Grants the power of levitation.”

“How involved in this are you?”

“I have cousins in the business,” Ladybug explain sheepishly. She shot into a fighting stance. “Do you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Chat listened. He could hear something moving through the air, but he couldn’t pinpoint where. Wait, did Ladybug mean the sudden tingling in his hand?

“There’s a Talisman active. Not the Rooster. I, I’m not sure which one, but it’s not the one Captain Black had.”

“Oh.” Chat joined her, back to back. If someone was using one, well, he didn’t know what they were, but they seemed dangerous enough.

“I come in peace!” Suddenly the teenager was in front of him, hands up and palms out.

“Agent Chan, right?” Chat guessed.

“Yeah. Look, I know you probably don’t have any reason to trust me and all, but that’s not a real Miraculous. It’s a tracking device.” She pointed. “Or, one of them is. The other wasn’t on him, so I’m hoping he gave it to you?”

Ladybug scowled. “Of course it is. Why else would he have two?” She tossed two black and red boxes at Jade. “Okay, Jade, how do you tell which is which?”

“He gave you both? But why-”

Ladybug snorted. “He didn’t. I may or may not have pulled a Viper.”

Chat raised an eyebrow at her. He’d never heard that saying before. Jade however, reacted positively to it.

“Oh my gosh! How do you- That’s awesome! I didn’t know anyone else did that!” Jade flicked the lids of the boxes open. One shot out a light that spun around her. She snapped the other closed and pocketed it. “Hi Kwami, bye Kwami. You need to go with Ladybug now.” Jade closed the first one and tossed it back to Ladybug. “I don’t know how you know that term, but if you do you’re pretty trustworthy, all things considered. Don’t let anyone rewrite history or anything, okay?”

“Yes Ma’am!” Ladybug saluted again. “Take good care of your stuff to, Agent Chan.”

"Me? When do I not?”

Ladybug shook her head. “You don’t want me to answer that.”

The teen shrugged in response, then vanished again. “Good luck you two!”

“Tell Jackie and Uncle hello from me!” Ladybug shrugged at Chat’s raised eyebrow as she stopped waving. “What? I said I had cousins.”

[honeyypotato]

The Girl in the Woods, Chapter 14: War

It's that time of the week again >:3 hehehe

Here's the link to the rest of the chapters!

Word Count: 3,384

Warnings/Tags: smut (m/f), oral (f! receiving), Reiner's a little jealous + grumpy

🔞MINORS DNI pls and thank u🔞

AN:

Y'all, here it is! They fuck! Have fun!

I didn't want to ruin the surprise, but the content warnings are more important!

I'll admit it, I did not like Gabi when she was introduced, but I love her now, esp after writing her. She's just a little bit of a demon child and I love it

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

One year later, you stand in the trenches with the Warrior candidates. It was Reiner’s idea that you stayed with them, and you think he’s trying to protect his little cousin, Gabi. He knows she adores you, and if you weren’t by her side in battle she’d go stir crazy. Reiner knew that you’d be ready to charge forward at his side when the time came to invade.

The gunfire hadn’t ceased for hours, and you were peering just over the edge of the front trench at the armored train that was ready to gun down any titan that appeared. Franz’s words echoed in your mind for a brief moment. “Seems these men can’t look forward into a world where titans are no longer our biggest threat.” They would have to soon enough.

You drop back down into the trench from your perch and stare at the Warrior candidates with your hands on your hips. Falco was trying to bandage an enemy soldier whilst arguing with Gabi. The kid’s got a good heart, you think to yourself. You hoped it wouldn’t get soiled by war. 

You turn to Commander Magath. “How’s it looking out there, Sir?” You ask, but you know the answer from the look in his eyes.

“If we can’t take out that train, we can’t bring Reiner and Zeke in.” He’s worried. Your entire victory is riding on that train. 

“Hey, Commander Magath! Sir! Sirrrrrr!” The two of you turn around to see Gabi waving around what looks like a bunch of hand grenades tied together.

“Gabi, what did you make?” You ask her affectionately, noting the lightly horrified expression on the Commander’s face and not wanting to extinguish the spark in the little girl’s eyes.

“I can get close enough to the train and blow it up! I have an idea! Let me take my armband off!” She sounds pretty confident, and you look at the Commander.

Gabi was the best Warrior candidate by far, and she was insanely bright, so it wasn’t abnormal for her to suggest things like this.

“Alright, but if anything goes wrong I get to send Miss y/n after you.” The Commander sighs, watching her remove her outer uniform, effectively disguising herself as just a little girl.

Gabi climbs over the edge of the trench and you tense, ready to leap out and grab her at the first sound of gunfire. You and Commander Magath exchange a glance.

“I’ve got her, don’t worry.” You try and reassure him. Gabi meant as much to you as she did to Reiner; you had watched her grow during your visits to Reiner’s house throughout your time in Marley.

Suddenly, you hear an explosion, and gunfire begins. You launch yourself out of the trench, but Porco is faster, and by the time your arms are around the young girl, his titan’s hand is in front of you, shielding the two of you. 

Despite the carnage around you, you place your hand on his palm. “Thanks, Porco!” You call up at him, and he huffs once. Yes.

He darts off to distract the enemy soldiers, allowing you and Gabi to dart back to the trenches. When you are safe, you smile down at her. “That was an awesome move, kid! You’ll make a great Warrior.”

“Y/n!” You hear Commander Magath’s call and your head snaps up to where his voice came from. “The train is down, which means you’re up.”

You nod, and flash a smile and a salute at Gabi and the other Warrior candidates, before launching yourself out of the trench and switching to your titan form with a flash of light. You locate Pieck’s cart titan in midair and aim your ODM gear at her back, feeling a successful thud as the grapple hooks bury themselves in the metal plate of the turret on her back. You allow the gear to carry you further into enemy lines, blades slicing through the men who had slaughtered the soldiers you fought alongside.

From an airship high above the battlefield, Reiner watches you in anticipation as you slice through everything in your path. He wanted to be down there already, as your armor.

Suddenly, there was a shout, and it was his turn. They sent prisoners out of the airship first, and then with a roar, Zeke jumped into the battle below as the catalyst that would change the doomed Eldians falling around him into Pure Titans that would eat the people in the fort below. Reiner takes a deep breath as he steps towards the edge of the airship. Then, he jumps. 

You look up to see the flashes of light and you know it’s time. Adrenaline rushes through you as you, Porco, and Pieck begin to run towards the fort in front of you. You see one last flash of light, and Reiner’s Armored Titan lands at the heart of the fort with a roar, causing the buildings around him to collapse.

This is it, you think. This is the battle that will end the war! You were tired of fighting, having been on the front lines for months leading up to this moment, and you had been holed up with Porco and Pieck, unable to see Reiner for that whole time. Not that your other two friends weren’t good company, you just missed the man that had changed your whole life.

Finally, your gear digs into the armor on Reiner’s shoulder and you zip forwards to his side, clearing out the enemy soldiers that had begun to aim their weapons at him. Blood splatters across your face and hands as the men in front of you are sliced to pieces. You hear a familiar BOOM echo through the air and you knew Zeke had begun his assault on the ships in the port of the city below you.

You land on Reiner’s shoulder for a second, throwing a couple shards of bone at the remaining men standing on the fort–BANG–you’re suddenly thrown off Reiner as something explosive hits him, shattering the armor on the left side of his face. You anchor yourself in a nearby building and turn to see a second armored train that you hadn’t noticed earlier. The four of you immediately turn your attention on the train as it begins to aim its turret at Zeke’s nape. Porco rushes forward, just in time to swat at the turret, sending the next shot barreling into the ground near Zeke’s foot. But, the train chugs on; Porco’s attack wasn’t enough to knock it off its track. Your eyes widen in fear as you realize that the turret had reoriented itself and was aiming straight for Reiner’s exposed head, and with every ounce of strength you leap into the path of the cannon, sending all strength to the blade on your right arm and slicing clean through the ammunition. Pain sears through your right hand and then the back of your head as an explosion knocks you out of the air and sends you flying into Reiner’s chest. You feel blood trickling down your face and you try to stand, and as the world fades to black, you swear you hear Reiner calling your name.

—-----------------------

You wake slowly to the harsh lights of the infirmary back in the military base. You sit up, blinking slowly, adjusting to your surroundings. 

“Look who’s awake.” A deep voice sounds next to you. “I haven’t seen you in at least six months, and you go and get yourself almost killed in the last battle of the fucking war.”

You turn your head slowly to meet Reiner’s usually stern gaze, but your stomach drops when you realize that he’s pissed. 

“I guess this is how you felt in Shiganshina.” He shakes his head a little, looking down. You look down at your lap, and jump slightly when you realize your right hand is gone. Steam rises from the wound, and you know you’re healing. 

“What…happened?” You ask Reiner.

“You, a dumbass, planted yourself in between me and a round of heavy anti-titan artillery, which you have been educated on how destructive it is. Somehow you won. Cost you most of your arm, though.” He’s still mad.

The door to your room flies open before you can say another word, and your eyes widen in surprise to see Porco, Pieck, and Zeke walk in.

“Y/n! You’re okay!” Pieck moves to give you a tight hug, and Porco darts around her to sit next to you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you as well. You reach your left hand up to pat his arm and lean your head on his chest. If Reiner was going to pout, you’d let him. When Porco finally lets go, Zeke walks up to you and gives you a high five. 

“Nice one out there, y/n. We’d have lost Reiner if it wasn’t for you.” He smirks a little, knowing he hit Reiner where it hurt.

You wanted to go with your friends as they left, but when you tried to get up a hand grabbed your wrist. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Reiner growls.

“I can’t spend time with my friends, Reiner? I’ll be fully healed soon enough.” You try to play innocent, but you know that your affection towards Porco combined with Zeke’s comments had only further angered him.

“You’re missing a fucking hand, y/n. You’re not going anywhere.”

“Damn, this really is payback for Shiganshina.” You laugh a little. “I don’t recall ever getting my three punches to your face.”

“You’ll get your three punches, but they’ll be to your face instead of mine.” Reiner’s voice is still gravelly. 

“How long was I out for?” You try to change the subject, hoping you can get on a topic that will lighten his mood instead of sour it further.

“Two days.” He retorts. 

You sigh. This was going nowhere. “I wasn’t about to let you die, Reiner.” 

“There was a better way to not let me die than blowing your arm off.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest.

“How long have you been sitting here?” Your voice gets suddenly quiet.

“How long do you think? Two days.” 

You shift on the bed, patting the mattress in the empty spot you had just created next to you. “Lay here with me for a bit, will you? At least keep me company if I can’t hang out with everyone else.” 

He tilts his head back, resting it against the wall, eyes closed. For a minute, you think he’s ignoring your invitation and your pleasant expression drops. You close your eyes, you might as well try and get some sleep if Reiner was putting you on house arrest. Then, the bed shifts as the tall man slides in next to you. 

“How was traveling with Porco and Pieck?” He asks softly.

“Oh, they’re great traveling partners. Pieck is as wonderful as usual. Porco and I would stay up late playing card games as we moved between cities. Gabi always stuck by, too. She beat me in Uno a few times.” You murmur, opening your eyes. Maybe mentioning his cousin would calm him down.

“I bet you and Porco had a great time during all your chats.” He replies curtly, skirting right around your bait.

“Is that what this is about?” You raise an eyebrow at him. Reiner and Porco were competitive, but you hadn’t pegged Reiner as the super jealous type. 

“What what’s about?” He huffs. You shift a little to stare at him curiously. This man was seriously dumber than a pile of rocks.

“You’re jealous!” You poke him in the shoulder, grinning.

He’s on top of you in an instant. “I AM NOT JEALOUS–

You press your lips against his, surprising both of you, pulling him in by the collar of his shirt with your good hand. After a moment, you pull away, opening your eyes and meeting his wide, golden eyes, a slack expression on his face. 

“Okay, maybe I am a little jealous…” His expression softens. 

Your stomach ties itself into knots in the heartbeat that you’re staring at each other, but his mouth is back on yours in a flash. He’s all sweet, soft warmth and you snake your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. He’s kissing you hungrily, like he thinks you’re going to fade away into the bed any second; warm, rough hands gliding over your skin, strong arms holding all the pieces of you together. You melt into each other for a few moments, enjoying the feeling of finally being completely enveloped by the man you had grown to know and love. Eventually, he pulls away, trailing a row of kisses down your neck, causing you to let out a soft moan. You feel him smile against your skin at the sound, and he pulls from you completely, tugging at the collar of your shirt lightly.

“Can I–can I take this off?” His voice is all smooth and soft in a way you’d never heard before, and you nod. He gives you a small smirk and rips your shirt clean in half, the rough tearing sound of fabric is a stark contrast to the gentleness of his voice and the soft press of his hands against your waist. He leans down to capture you in another kiss and you gasp quietly against his lips. He pulls away for a brief second once more to let you wiggle out of what’s left of the shirt, and his eyes slowly move down your form, hands tracing circles into your hips.

“You’re so beautiful, y/n. Holy shit. Why did I wait this long?” He moves to lift his shirt over his head and heat rushes to your face. You’d only seen him shirtless a couple times back on Paradis, and he had been strikingly attractive then, but what you remembered was nothing compared to the man in front of you. Well-formed muscle ripples under smooth skin peppered with scars here and there, and you lift your hand to trace a finger along a particularly large one just above his hip. His hand moves to intertwine his fingers with yours, his other arm planted next to your head as he leans over you. 

Your eyes flutter closed when he touches his forehead against yours, pressing your noses together. “Reiner…” Your voice wouldn’t go past a whisper, but you were gripping his bicep hard enough that he understood what you were asking. But he wanted to hear you say it. 

“What is it, baby?” He murmurs. “Tell me what you want.” He kisses your neck again, this time hard enough to leave marks, teeth grazing your skin. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning, but your efforts are unsuccessful and a small sound escapes your mouth.

 Reiner continues planting kisses across your skin, moving down your chest, tugging your bra off as he went. “What was that, sweetheart? I couldn’t hear you.” He says between kisses. You squirm a little under him, and he releases his hold on your hand, moving it to thumb over your left nipple, his lips attaching to the other. At the feeling of the warmth of his mouth on your nipple you gasp “Shit! Reiner!” Your hand flies to the back of his head, tangling fingers in his hair and tugging it softly. He chuckles and leaves another mark on your breast before moving back to land a kiss on your lips yet again. 

“Fuck me, Reiner. Please.” 

He grins at your consent and shifts so the two of you can wiggle out of your pants and underwear, returning afterwards to kiss down the center of your stomach. Your breath hitches as he doesn’t stop when he reaches your lower stomach and he glances up at you with a small smirk before diving into your core. You run your fingers through his hair as his tongue swipes over your folds and then finds your clit, and the soft wetness of his mouth against you causes you to squeeze your thighs around his head a little.

“Shit…Reiner. Fuck. That’s so good.” You don’t think more curses had ever come out of your mouth than before these past few minutes, but you weren’t about to hold yourself back when it felt this amazing. He chuckles at how needy you are, and the feeling of his voice causing vibrations against your heat made your toes curl.

Just as you were starting to feel the beginning of your climax, he pulls away from you, and you let out a whimper. “Reinerrr pleaseeee!”

“I can’t let you have all the fun, babygirl.” Reiner smiles, dipping down to kiss you, and you can taste yourself on his lips. His tongue pushes against your lips and you part them against his mouth, letting him take over and explore you while he lines himself up with your entrance. He pushes into you gently, and you can’t hold back your moans any longer, your kiss breaking as he bottoms out inside you.

“Fuck, oh fuck, you feel like heaven, princess.” He growls in your ear as you cling to his shoulders, pulling him close. He begins to rut into you, slowly at first, and the long-awaited movement causes you to dig your nails into his back.

“Reiner! Ahh~!” You cry out; his pace quickens and he bites into the other side of your neck as one of his hands slides between you, finding your clit again between your folds. You tighten around him at his touch and he knows neither of you are going to last much longer. The combined motion of his thumb rubbing circles against your clit and the friction of his dick pumping in and out of your wet heat pushes you over the edge and he fucks you through your orgasm until he can’t hold back anymore, pulling out of you quickly before spilling cum all over your stomach. 

He hovers over you for a moment as the two of you catch your breath, brushing stray hairs away from your face with a soft smile on his lips. His cheeks are flushed pink and his hazel eyes look a little watery, and you pull him in for another kiss, relishing in the warm, fuzzy feeling that blooms in your chest when his lips meet yours. He pulls away to grab a rag and a change of clothes from a nearby dresser, suddenly thankful the two of you had fucked in the infirmary that was stocked with extra supplies. He tosses the clothes at you, since earlier he had torn your shirt to the point where it was unwearable.

“Hah, you owe me a shirt, Mr. Braun.” You grin at him, looking him up and down as he walks back over to you and wipes the cum off your stomach.

He laughs a little. “You can steal one of mine later, how’s that?” You wiggle back into your underwear and the clothes he threw at you. He wanted to leave his clothes off and crawl into the bed with you, but the worry that one of the nurses could burst into the room at any moment stuck in the back of his mind, and he begrudgingly got dressed. 

You grab his wrist as he’s about to sit back down in the chair next to your bed, the thought of a nurse or even worse your friends walking in on the two of you. “Lay down with me, please.” You give him your best puppy eyes.

“What if someone comes in?” He murmurs, but he’s already halfway in the bed.

“I don’t care, I’ll fight them.” You bury your head in his chest, muffling your voice, and wrap an arm around his waist as he pulls you against him.

He bends to kiss the top of your head. “Heh, I bet you would if I didn’t get to them first.”

“You gonna protect me from the big bad nurses?” He can feel you smiling against him. 

He’s already drifting off. “Mhm, no one can get you while I’m here.” He mumbles. Sighing, you settle in his arms, letting the beat of his heart lull you to sleep.

[stillness-in-green]

Spinaraki Week Round 3, Day Three: Bear | Grief

Shigaraki says he's fine. But then, Shigaraki doesn't carry grief the same way other people do.

(Warning for a brief moment of internalized homophobia on Spinner's part.)

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

The hand was found by Juniper, who brought it to the staging area for remains, where it was almost burned before Levy recognized it by the base.  He bought it to Coda, who sent Nomad to drive it and Glory over to the villa, since there were too many news crews around Deika right now for Glory to be helping out without attracting attention.  So then Glory went to bring it to the Grand Commander directly, but he wasn’t out of the hospital yet, so then she tried Re-Destro, but he wasn’t out of the hospital yet either, but finally she tried Trumpet and he told her to bring it to Spinner.

“And so here I am,” the girl wound down.  She held up a linen-wrapped object of suspicious dimensions.  When Spinner didn’t immediately take it, she added helpfully, “Lord Trumpet made a face at it, too.  I hope the Grand Commander hasn’t been missing it too much?”

Spinner coughed and tried to straighten out his expression as he gingerly took the recovered hand.  It was heavy—not really heavy, but heavier than he’d been expecting.  Shigaraki being more toned than he’d always looked under that trench coat made more sense now, if all the hands had weighed this much.  He’d worn like twenty of them.

“I’ll make sure it gets back to him,” Spinner managed, then tacked on, “Are you sure you should be out of the hospital?”  The girl had a bandage across the whole left side of her face and one arm in a sling.  Also, she was wearing a school uniform and it definitely wasn’t late enough in December for high schoolers to be out on winter break yet.  Not that not being in school stops Toga.

She looked briefly surprised, blinking, then grinned at him, a bit lopsided from the medical tape.  She flashed him a V-sign that turned into one of their Liberation salutes.  “I’m good to run errands!  Gotta do my part!”

“Right…”

After she’d left—excusing herself, loping out of the room, and then sticking her head back around the doorframe to belatedly ask if she was dismissed—Spinner looked down at the wrapped lump he was still holding.  Part of him definitely wanted to get it out of his hands as quickly as possible, maybe by stashing it in a desk drawer, maybe by sending it off to some priest to deal with however loose body parts got dealt with.  If he could at least find a bag or something, so he didn’t have to be touching it directly…

“I also kinda feel at peace…” Shigaraki had told Ujiko back in the lab, an expression on his face Spinner hadn’t entirely been able to read—smiling, but with his brows lowered, eyes narrowed.  “It’s weird!”

It is weird, Spinner thought, grimacing.  But it’s not my weird.  Anyway, it’s the only one anyone’s found so far.  If he’s that attached to it, I gotta get it back to him safe.

Shigaraki was with Ujiko, not at a hospital, but according to the doctor, he was already awake and complaining about it, so the plan was to send him back tomorrow.  And then, everyone seemed to think, things would start coming together.

Spinner couldn’t see it yet, couldn’t even feel the shape of it, but even he could feel it moving—the future Shigaraki was going to make.

-

The Liberation guys wanted one of their number to be there when Shigaraki got back, to talk about plans for what they’d started calling “the merger,” like this was all some kind of business arrangement instead of the result of Shigaraki beating their leader in single combat.  The League definitely didn’t want any of the people that had been trying to kill them four days ago there for Shigaraki’s return; finally, Dabi sighed dramatically and announced that if they’d give Shigaraki the night off, he’d let them have the first crack at talking to his new recruit.

Announcing who that new recruit was had changed the topic real fast, and Dabi wound up following a hectoring Skeptic out of the room at a languid stroll with a faintly smug look in his eyes, waving dismissively at Twice when the latter promised to tell Shigaraki hello for him.

It took most of the next two hours to wind down from Shigaraki actually getting warped in.  Toga and Twice had a hundred different things between them to tell Shigaraki about, and then Mr. Compress wanted to talk about all the resources and influence the League could command now, and every so often Ujiko would chime in with some historical tidbit about the Liberation Army or weird anecdote about All For One.

Spinner spent the time acutely aware of the hand sitting like a boulder in his pocket, watching Shigaraki’s eyes and the way the corners of his mouth would curl up or pull down as the topics came and went.  Sometimes Shigaraki would look over at him and grin a little, looking even more pleased with himself than Dabi had, and Spinner had to resist the urge to throw something at him—a pillow, a bottle of pills, the hand.

Finally, Toga stood up and, bouncing on her feet, announced, “I heard this place has a cafeteria.  I wanna see what they’ve got for dessert.”  She gave Shigaraki an unselfconscious pat on the hand then twirled around to face the door.  “Be back later~~”

Twice knocked a chair over in his haste to follow her, protesting, “Toga-chan, you shouldn’t go alone!” and, “Enjoy getting ambushed!”  Toga just caught one of his hands and tucked it around her elbow.

She caught Spinner’s eye and shot him what he thought was a wink and was definitely a flash of her fangs, then she was gone, tugging Twice along in her wake.

“Better hurry, Mister,” Shigaraki drawled.  “Or Toga will get all the good stuff.”

“I,” responded Compress with dignity, “don’t see the point in eating cafeteria food when the room service is free of charge.  But someone ought to go check on Dabi and see if his—'good ally' has turned up yet.  Any words to share?”

“See if his Top Ten bonus is enough to make up the losses on my precious Hood-chan,” Ujiko suggested through the earpiece, to which Shigaraki didn’t respond because he’d taken his out and dropped it on the bedside table the second he got done hacking up warp gunk.

“Tell him if he tries to pull a no-casualties villain attack again, we’ll put Toga in charge of his public appearances from now on,” he said instead, flashing a spiteful grin.

“Hah!  Of course.  Then I’ll see myself out.”  Compress bowed with a flourish.  “Make sure to run Spinner out too before you go to sleep, otherwise he’ll just stay and fret.”

“I’m right here,” Spinner complained, but half-heartedly, because the hand was weighing more and more, and he was starting to wonder if he should get a bucket or something, in case the hand made Shigaraki want to throw up again.  As Compress exited, Spinner pulled off his own earpiece and slid it into his pocket.  If Shigaraki did throw up, Spinner didn’t want to hear anything Ujiko might have to say about it.

Shigaraki watched him do it, then raised his brows at him.  “When’s the funeral, Spinner?”

“Huh?” Spinner stared at him, caught off-guard.

“You’ve been quiet, and everyone wanted to leave us alone, and you don’t want the Doc listening in.”  Shigaraki counted off the observations reasonably.  “But if it was good news, you wouldn’t look so much like someone just told you you’ve got a week to live.  So what’s the problem?”

“It’s not a problem, it’s just—”  Spinner caught himself before he could finish the snapped-off retort.  Then he sighed and looked away.  “I…”

Shigaraki watched him for a few seconds, then rolled his eyes and leaned back against the raised back of the bed, crossing his arms low over his stomach.  Over half his left hand was gone, the remainder crisscrossed with medical tape holding on packed gauze; his right hand was wrapped fastidiously in bandages past his wrist.  But still, he kept one finger of each curled in against his palm.

Spinner tore his eyes away and swallowed.

“I’m glad you’re back okay,” he said, and even if the words were true, they felt fake, too normal, too surface.  But he couldn’t figure out a way to say, “Your horizon was so beautiful,” without it feeling so—so gay he wanted to shove himself in a locker.  Might as well start writing love poems while I’m in there.

Ugh.  I’ll at least get the hand out of the way.  And then get these pants washed later.

“One of the Liberation guys found something during the clean-up.”  He forced his mouth through the sentence.  Shigaraki tilted his head as Spinner pulled the lump out of his pocket and held it out.  “Thought I should get it back to you.”

Shigaraki took it without hesitation.  As soon as he had the weight of it in his hand, though, his eyes widened, every other hint of expression falling off his face like knickknacks rattled off a shelf by an earthquake.

Mutely, he pulled it closer, sitting back up as he slowly unwound the cloth strips some on-the-job priest had probably bundled it in.  It—was a hand alright, gray and waxy, and even just looking at it, Spinner could still feel the weight.

“Which one is it?” Spinner asked, not quite registering the question before it was out in the air, at which point he cringed, wishing he could snatch it back and ball it up and then throw it out the window, never to be heard of again.  “I mean—”

“Don’t know,” Shigaraki answered, the roundedness of his eyes gradually slipping back towards a flat stare.  He turned the hand over in his lap, rubbing a clumsy, jerky touch over it before frowning faintly and curling his bandaged hand into a fist.

Expertly wrapped cloth fell away into pale white dust, which Shiaraki absently brushed away while Spinner bit his tongue against saying anything about the scabs and angry red abrasions and mottled bruising the bandages had been protecting.  Freed to the air, Shigaraki’s fingertips pressed against those of the dead hand, his thumb twitching down then stopping, hovering just shy of making the touch complete.

It was intimate in a way that left Spinner wanting to squirm away from how intrusive just watching felt.  But he couldn’t make himself look away.

“You said you—don’t remember?” he whispered.

“Hmm?  No, I remember all that now,” Shigaraki said, lightly like it didn’t mean a thing.  He still didn’t look up, flattening his and the hand’s palms together.  “I just don’t know who this one is.  It was the bonus.  S-rank clear,” he added, voice lilting.

He’s not throwing up, at least? part of Spinner’s brain offered; he squelched the thought and frowned at Shigaraki uncertainly.

“You remembered?  When?”

“During the last part.”  Shigaraki waved his other hand vaguely.  “Fighting Detnerat.  Aaaall the pieces came together.”

“Are you—okay?”  It was a dumb question, even dumber than assuming he’d been okay when he got back.  Still, it finally made Shigaraki look up, his fingertips sliding down to knit together loosely with the gray hand’s.

He stared at Spinner for a few long seconds, then smiled, the expression cracking his mouth into an uneven line that cut Spinner open like a broken edge of glass.

“Yeah,” he replied, and dragged the hand in to rest against his side.  “I’m over it.”

“…Really?”  Hesitantly, Spinner picked up the chair Twice had vacated and sat down in it, resting his own hand on the mattress.

Shigaraki regarded it for a moment longer, then slid his mangled left hand across the blanket to hook his pinky finger around Spinner’s own.

“Really. I don't care about that stuff anymore.”

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

Have a number of ideas for tomorrow, one of which is just a direct continuation of this. We'll see.

[natsumigirl100]

Chp 2: That’s Entertainment (Part 2)

The logo for 666 News is shown on a black background, which is followed by the day's newscast.

"Good afternoon, I'm Katie Killjoy." The News lady introduces herself with a big smile on her face.

"And I'm Tom Trench! Chaos out at Pentagram City today as a turf war is raging on the west side!"

An image of Sir Pentious trying to be hip,

followed by a drawing of Cherri flipping the bird is shown.

"Between notable kingpin, Sir Pentious, and self-proclaimed spunky powerhouse, Cherri Bomb!" Tom Trench says.

"That's right, Tom! After the recent Extermination, many areas are now up for grabs! Demons all over Hell are already duking it out to gain new territory!" Katie Killjoy says, agreeing with him.

A live clip of Cherri and Sir Pentious's clash is shown.

"Those two seem to be really going at it, huh?" Tom Trench says, seeing the scene unfold.

"Looks like they're fighting tooth and nail"

Fishes out a tooth and a nail respectively from her mug of coffee.

"For that hot spot!" Katie Killjoy finishes.

She proceeds to swallow said tooth and nail.

Tom Trench looks over at the live broadcast focusing on Cherri. "And I'd sure like to nail her hot spot!" While wiggling his eyebrows. "Hoohoo!"

"Haha, you are a limp-dick jackass, Tom! Or should I say" She pours scalding hot coffee onto his crotch. "no dick?"

Tom Trench curls over in pain. "Ugh...not again!"

Screen shows a picture of Charlie as Tom can still be heard whimpering in pain in the background.

"Coming up next, we have an exclusive interview with the daughter of Hell's own head honcho who's here to discuss her brand new passion project! All that and more, after the break!" Katie Killjoy than crushes her mug in her hand and turns to Trench who's still in pain.

"Suck it up, you little bi-!"

The news cast cuts off and goes on a commercial break. The camera pans out from a nearby screen, focusing on Charlie and her girlfriend as she fixes Charlie's bow.

"Okay! You remember what to say?" Vaggie asks with a exhale.

"Yes! Let's do this!" Charlie says after inhale.

Vaggie states in a serious tone, "Just, look at me and I'll mouth it to you."

"Come on, Vaggie!" Charlie bends backwards "| know what to say! I just feel like we need to.../ don't know," she  grabs and throws a doughnut away. "make things sound more exciting!" She than gasps, "Hooo! What if I si-"

Vaggie cuts Charlie off, "-Sing a song about it?"

"You knew I was gonna say that" Charlie boops Vaggie on the nose.

"Because I know you" Vaggie fixes her bow again. "But, please don't sing!" She than shakes Charlie. "This is serious!"

"Well, you know, I'm better at expressing myself and my goals through song!" Charlie tells Vaggie.

Charlie stands on the table where Razzle and Dazzle are happily munching on doughnuts, watching her.

"But, life isn't a musical, hon." Vaggie says and places her hands on her hips.

"Fine. But. I have these other ideas of what to say!" She starts bouncing a bit as she shows Vaggie a piece of paper. "The highlighted bits are the best part!" Charlie exclaims to Vaggie.

"Uh, it's all highlighted." Vaggie states to Charlie. She than squints at something. "Is this a drawing...?" Vaggie asks.

"Yes! That's the happy ending, see?!" Charlie than begins to fantasize. "Everyone smiling and happy in Heaven!"

Vaggie pinches the bridge of her nose. "I don't think it's that simple. Just please follow the talking points we went over. And"  Vaggie grabs Charlie to face her. "do not sing!" Vaggie instructed.

"Okay, filine." Charlie than uses a manly voice. "I'll just have to resort to my impeccable improve skills!"

Charlie salutes Vaggie as she walks over to Katie Killjoy.

Charlie nervously says, "Hiii I'm Charlie." She tries to go for a handshake with Katie Killjoy.

"Katie Killjoy." She introduces herself, she blows out the smoke of her cigarette. "I'd say it's a pleasure to meet you, but that would be a lie." She throws away her cigarette. "And you can put that away."

Katie Killjoy gestures to Charlie's hand. "I don't touch the gays. I have standards!" She bluntly states.

"Yeah? How's uh... how's that working out for ya?" Charlie asks. She turns to look around nervously.

"Look, my time is money. So, I'll keep this short." She proceeds to poke Charlie. "You're not here because we wanted you here. "You're here because Jeffrey couldn't make it for his cannibal cooking segment."

A billboard of Jeffrey's cannibalism cooking show titled "It's Dahm Good!"can be seen in the background.

"You might be some royal big shot" She fluffs her hair. "but that doesn't mean shit to me. I'm too rich and too influential to give a flying fuck about what some tux-wearing demon" Katie Killjoy does air quotes with her fingers. "'princess' 'wants to advertise."

Tom can be seen shaking his head in disapproval as Katie boasts about her wealth and influence to Charlie.

"But. I-"

Katie Killjoy continues to poke her chest. "So, don't get cute with me, honey, or I will fucking bury you!"

"And we're live!" The News Staff states.

Katie Killjoy rushes back to her desk, holding papers while cracking her neck.

"Welcome back! So, Charlotte!" Katie Killjoy states.

"It's... Charlie." Charlie mutters to Katie Killjoy.

She smiles nervously as a spotlight flashes her way.

"Whatever. Tell us about this new passion project you've been insistently pestering our news station about!" Katie Killjoy states to Charlie. She tries to hold in her outburst by clenching her pen.

Charlie looks around as Vaggie motions her to go on. "Well," Charlie clears throat her and exhales. "as most of you know, I was born here in Hell and growing up, I always tried to see the good in everyone around me."

Katie Killjoy spots a slug and stabs it with her pen, the slug's blood bursts all over.

"Hell is my home and-" she gets slug blood splattered across her cheek which she then wipes off. "you are my people. We... we just went through another Extermination."

Vaggie is seen giving Charlie two thumbs up as Killjoy quickly starts to lose interest.

"We lost so many souls, and it breaks my heart to see my people being slaughtered every year. No one is even given" She slams fist on table, waking Killjoy up. "a chance!" She walks up from Killioy's desk. "I can't stand idly by while the place I live is subjected to such violence! So, I've been thinking: Isn't there a more humane way to hinder overpopulation here in Hell?" She than walks around the audience. "Perhaps we can create an alternative way to change souls through.. redemption?" She throws her arm around one of the News Cast's staff members. "Well, I think yes! So, that's what this project aims to achieve!"

She returns to Killjoy's desk. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm opening the first of its kind! A hotel that rehabilitates sinners!"

She broadcast is being shown at The Radio Shack, which many other demons are also watching by the streets and everywhere else in Hell.

Charlie starts to lose her confidence. "Y'know? Cause hotels are for people passin' through..temporarily..."

"Ahahaha! IS this girl for real?! She thinks" The Lizard Demon tries to hold in his laughter. "You hear what she thinks?! She thi- HAHA! Ah, she's nuts."

He walks out of The Kaiju Klub with his friends, Zeezi and another demon.

"I think it'll serve a purpose... a place to work toward redemption... yay...!" Charlie says awkwardly.

The scene cuts back to the demons watching her broadcast from The Radio Shack. A mysterious fiqure walks up to see her broadcast alongside a bunch of other demons watching such as Crymini and a handful of others. I

"Stupid bitch." Cameraman Demon mutters out with a snicker.

Vaggie punches the cameraman square in the face.

Charlie looks around, saddened. "Look, every single one of you has something good, deep down inside. I know you do! Maybe I'm not getting through to you."

Razzle and Dazzle are then alerted that Charlie's about to sing and that she may need their back-up vocals.

Vaggie facepalms. "Oh, no...Charlie snaps her fingers as the room turns dark and a spotlight is shown over a piano that Charlie, Razzle and Dazzle start performing on.

Meanwhile, back at The Radio Shack, Alastor and his shadow can be seen tilting their heads curiously as their smiles widen.

"I have a dream, I'm here to tell!" Charlie walks away from the piano as two news staff look at each other. "About a wonderful fantastic new" She takes out a drawing of 'The Happy Hotel'. "hotel!"

"Yes, it's one-of-a-kind! Right here in Hell, catering to a specific clientele" Charlie boops Dazzle's nose.

"Oooh, ooh, ooh~" Razzle and Dazzle sings.

Killjoy is in shock as Trench looks around, confused.

"Inside of every demon is a rainbow" She throws her arm around the necks of two bird demons. "Inside every sinner is a shiny smile" She passes underneath a hellhound's tail. "Inside of every creepy hatchet-wielding maniac is a jolly, happy cupcake-loving child" Charlie hands the masked demon a sparkling cupcake and pats his head.

"We can turn them 'round!" Charlie turns to Killjoy and Trench. "They'll be Heaven-bound! With just a little time, down at The Happy Hotel"

The camera pans to the audience where Vaggie stands with a disappointed expression.

"So, all you junkies" Charlie takes out syringe from a doll demon's head. "freaks" takes a pic with a Siamese twin demon in its cage, "and weirdos" She fends off a several-eved blob demon. "Creepers" She stares at a snail demon out the window. "fuck-ups" She boops a couch demon on the nose, “crooks, and zeroes" she returns the stolen money to charity.

"and down-fallen superheroes"

Charlie throws her hands behind the necks of two supervillain demons, "help is here!" "All of you cretins" She dips her hair into the water by the pier, "sluts" She holds out a pair of panties in disgust*, "and losers" Charlie calls her rival a loser. "sexual deviants" She backs away from the sex offenders. "and boozers" She turns to face a depressed demon. "and prescription drug abusers"

Charlie than throws away the drugs a blue demon is taking into a burning trash can. “need not fear!"

"Forever again" A demon lands on a wheelchair and is pushed by Razzle towards Charlie and Dazzle. "we'll cure your sin" Charlie shows the demon her clipboard. "We'll make you well"

Dazzle injects a happiness serum into the patient, "you'll feel so swell! Right here in Hell" She briefly turns to her full demonic form, "at the Happy Hotel!"

Razzle continues to aggressively play the piano.

Charlie slides over to Killjoy's right. "There'll be no more fire," she slides over to Trench's left. "and no more screams. Just puppy dog kisses"

She holds a dog close to her face, "and cotton candy dreams" Charlie holds out a stick of cotton candy, "and puffy-wuffy clouds" She cuddles both the dog and cotton candy, "you're gonna be like 'Wow!'"

The camera pans out showing the clouds forming the word "Wow!". "Once you check in with meee" She shows a check-in chart.

Vaggie is seen with both her hands covering her face.

"So, all your cartoon p*** addictions" Charlie confiscates a neckbeard demon's cartoon p*** magazine, "vegan rants"

She confiscates a vegan demon's Hellphone and takes a selfie with it. “psychic predictions"

She confiscates the spell books and crystal ball of a psychic demon, ancient “Roman crucifixions" She avoids running into a crucifed demon and knocks over two other crucifed demons, "end right here"  Charlie throws away all the confiscated items off a cliff.

"All you monsters" Charlie clenches the hands of two monstrous demons, "thieves, and crazies" She points finger guns over a dog demon trying to steal baguettes from an insect demon whose hood flares open. "cannibals" She tempts the cannibals with a severed arm on a plate, "and crying babies" Charlie looks at a possum mother and her rabid babies, annoyed, "frothing mouths that's full of rabies filled with cheer" She pulls a hellhound with rabies close to her.

"You'll be complete" Charlie completes a puzzle demon as the camera pans out. "It'll be so neat"

A wrecking ball demon destroys the puzzle demon as Charlie gives two thumbs up. "Our service can't be beat" In her doorman uniform. You'll be on easy street, yes"

Charlie hugs three demons, which include Mimzy. "Life will be sweet"

Charlie turns to her demonic form. "at The Happy Hoteeel"

She twirls happily in flames as she jumps up, revealing a land made of candies and sweets behind her. "Yeah!"

Charlie ends her singing, she seemed rather exhausted as everyone in the news station looks at her with disgust and disbelief.

"Wow! ...That was shit!" The Top Hat Demon states out-loud.

Everyone in the audience including Killjoy and Trench begin to laugh at Charlie.

Charlie looks crushed and devastated and slumps back down to her seat. There was a boo section in the news and the demons look uninterested.

"Booooo!" Blue Flame Demon spoke, giving a deadpan look.

"What in the Nine Circles makes you think a single denizen of Hell would give two shits about becoming a better person?! You have no proof that this little experiment even works! You want people to be good?! Just... because?!"Katie Killjoy says and continues to laugh.

"Well, we have a patron already, who believes in our cause and he's shown incredible progress!" Charlie announces.

Katie Killjoy feigns in shock. "Oh? And who might that be?" Katie Killjoy ask.

Charlie tries to look smug and confident. "Oh, just someone named... Angel Dust!"

"The p*** star?" Tom Trench asks.

Katie Killjoy turns to him menacingly. "You fucking would, Tom!" She than  turns back to Charlie. "In any case, that's not even an accomplishment. I'm sure you could get that hooker to do anything with enough booger sugar and lube" She starts doing a motion doing a hand***.

"Oh, I beg to differ!" Charlie begins to count on her fingers. "He's been behaved, clean, and out of trouble for two weeks now." Charlie states.

Katie Killjoy than shoves Charlie off her desk once hearing the New Staff saying, "Breaking News!"

"We are receiving word that a new player has entered the ongoing turf war! Let's go to the live feed." Katie Killjoy says.

The live feed shows Angel Dust stepping on an Egg Boy and throwing a grenade over at Sir Pentious with visible laughter in the background as Charlie stares at the screen in defeat.

"Oh shit." Charlie mutters out.

Angel Dust in the background than says, "I'm a bad person!"

"'Oh, shit' indeed! It looks like the one who just joined the battle is none other than" She feigns a gasp. "p*** actor, Angel Dust!"

It turns to Charlie as she shakes her fist.

"What a juicy coincidence! You must feel really stupid, right now." Katie Killjoy says to Charlie with a happy smile on her lips.

Killjoy and Trench proceed to laugh at Charlie. Killjoy and Trench does Jazz hands. "Ratings!" They both exclaimed happily.

Charlie stares at the live feed in distress and attempts to block it from the audience's view.

"Don't look at this!" Charlie states to the audience.

"Well, it sure looks like your little project is dead on arrival." Katie Killjoy says to Charlie.

She than looms over Charlie.

"Tell us, how does it feel to be a total failure?" She asks.

Everyone in the room starts bursting into fits of laughter.

Charlie tries to think of a comeback.

"Yeah, well..." Charlie looks around. "How does it feel that I got your pen, huh?" Charlie asks in anger. She grabs Katie Killjoy's ballpen. "Bitch!"

Everybody instantly stops laughing while Katie Killjoy and Tom Trench give her the death stare.

Charlie nervously chuckles. "Ehehe..."

She quickly puts pen back down. “OopS." Charlie says with a sheepish grin.

Tom Trench runs off set. Katie Killjoy's demonic form reveals itself as she looms over Charlie,

from the shadows...

[officialscaramouche]

Three is company— a gift for @ambers-glider ‘s fic here! I told y’all I’d get to writing today!!!!

EDIT: Tomo is the friend (Tomo is short for tomodachi which is friend in japanese)

pairing: Kazuha x Gorou x reader

tw: a couple curse words

wc: 2,178

You squatted around the fire with your colleagues, eating your food straight from the can. “[Y/N]!” You hear your squad leader call out from his tent. You turn to look at what he wanted and note him standing with a messenger from the base of operations you just left. He waved what looked like a white flag. It piqued your interest, you had to admit, stretching out your legs with your can in hand.

“Yes, sir!” You salute, slapping your ankles together in form.

Your squad leader extended his hand, exchanging an open letter with you. “A letter. From the resistance,” he says simply. “From the second in command himself.”

It didn’t take the second sentence for you to know who it was. Of course, Kokomi was the leader of your resistance— all of you worked for her. But her second in command was none other than the tricky Gorou, known for his sly and mischievous ploys. “Thank you, sir,” you salute once more before dipping to tear into the letter.

It sucked that none of your mail could go through unopened, but it made sense considering that any one of you could be shogunate spies. It was a small price to pay for your cause, even if the letter was a bit personal.

[Y/N], it read. I hope this letter finds you well. After yours and Kazuha’s leave, I dove into my work to try and distract myself from the aching in my heart. Seeing many of my comrades fall in the recent ambush made me long for you more. I cannot ignore it much longer, so I have written to both you and dearest Kazuha in hopes that we may once again be reunited. We should all be returning to base in two weeks for the monthly review. Please find me there. I look forward to seeing you. Gorou.

“Oh?” A voice came behind you. “Everyone wondered what was going on between you and the shiba boy. I guess this proves true?”

You pulled the letter to your chest, scowling at the man who sat beside you. “Do you need something, sir? Why is my business important to you?”

He smiled, throwing an arm around you. “Damn, I was just curious!” You shook his arm off of you and turned your back to him. “I’m sorry that we have to go through your letters. But I’m sure you understand.”

You frowned as your eyes scanned the letter again. “I do,” you sigh. Bringing the letter to your nose and breathing in the scent. It smelled like otogi wood. It smelled like him. “But it does suck that everyone in command knows about my affairs.”

“What happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

You peer over your shoulder and glare. “I do mind you asking.” You hissed.

The two weeks went by painfully slow. Your team was sent to do reconnaissance once more after the ambush that Gorou mentioned in his letter. While it wasn’t your team that was tasked with scouting that area prior to his arrival, it was your command team that got in trouble for it. Everyone was expected to do seamless work and the weight was on your team’s shoulders.

You double checked your field of observation; replacing your traps, checking the knots, and notating all of your activities. Signing off and turning in your report, you packed all of your equipment and belongings and darted out of the camp.

It was good to finally be back on base. All you wanted to do was get into your room and hop into the shower. You weren’t about to meet your exes sweaty and covered in dirt. You step inside and stop at the front desk. “Welcome back [Y/N],” the receptionist greets. “What number did you reserve?”

“Twenty three,” you slide over the key, lugging your duffel bag onto the table. You unzip the bag and fish for your personal belongings as the receptionist grabs your locker key. “I’m returning the reconnaissance pack and some gear.”

The receptionist scratches out your name on the clipboard and pulls the bag across the desk. “I heard you’re meeting with Master Gorou and Lord Kazuha.”

You slap your forehead with a groan. “Ugh, does everyone know?”

“Not everyone. I heard from Master Gorou himself. He told me to tell you he’d be in his office.”

“He’s here already?”

“Since seven this morning. He seemed rather eager to meet you.” The receptionist hands you the forms you signed to borrow the equipment. “Sign and date, please.”

You take the pen off the desk and begin to scribble on the document when the door slides open with a ding. “Oh, [Y/N],” a calm and melodious voice says. “What great timing!”

You shudder at the voice, turning slowly to confirm your suspicions. “O-Oh, hi Lord Kazuha…I just got back.”

The samurai walks up and places a hand on the small of your back. “Is Gorou here yet?”

“Yes,” the receptionist answers, taking the clipboard back from you. “He should be waiting in his office.”

“Great,” Kazuha smiles, grabbing your belongings off the desk and ushering you away with him. “Let’s go, shall we?”

You twiddle your fingers nervously as you walk. “I haven’t showered yet, my lord.”

“Oh that’s alright. I haven’t either.”

That wasn’t the point, you thought, reaching the elevator. “Well, I was hoping I could stop at my room and shower.”

Kazuha pushed one of the buttons on the elevator panel. “We’re already here, though.” You scratch your head and frown. “It’s okay,” he continues. “Master Gorou won’t mind.”

“Why do you smell like incontinence?”

You bury your face in your palms as you listen to Gorou and Kazuha speak. “Because I’ve been hiding in the trenches,” Kazuha laughs, opening his arms for a hug.

“You know I have a strong sense of smell,” Gorou whined as he embraced the samurai. “And [Y/N],” you look from between your fingers and notice the warm smile and faint blush on Gorou’s face. “It’s so good to see you too.”

The shiba boy walks up to you and pulls you into a tight embrace, his face nuzzled into your neck. “You’re stinky too.”

“Hey!” You shout, your hands reaching to wrap around him. “Kazuha didn’t want to stop at my room.”

Gorou pulls back and gazes into your eyes, his hand coming to cup your cheek. “That’s okay. I’ve been waiting around anxiously for both of you. Come,” he gestured, extending his arm out. “Please sit with me. I’ve got cookies and tea.”

Kazuha tucked his hands into his sleeves and grinned. He knelt down on the tatami pillow, sitting down on his knees and reaching for a cookie. You followed suit next to him, sitting back on your heels and taking the teacup from Gorou after he poured some tea. It was nice and light until Kazuha took a sip from his cup. “Why did you ask us to come here?” He said with a smile.

You stiffened at the question, your hair standing on end at the suddenly uncomfortable mood. You thought it was obvious why he arranged this meeting, but you guess that Kazuha wanted to hear it from his own mouth.

Gorou rubbed the back of his neck. “I mostly wanted to apologize,” he explained. “Whether or not you accept my apology is not my concern. But I do hope that we can agree to reconcile.”

“It’s very uncomfortable walking around after my superiors have gone through my mail,” Kazuha continued, closing his eyes as he sipped on his tea. “You could’ve at least been a bit more subtle with the delivery.”

“That was part of the problem, though.” The two of you watched and listened closely as Gorou spoke. When the three of you parted ways, it wasn’t on the best of terms. Being in each other’s presence was awkward enough as a result, but hearing him explain his side wasn't something that either you or Kazuha cared to understand. “Keeping both you and [Y/N] a secret was a problem to me. I understood that it would become a hindrance if people knew, but I couldn’t even hold your hand in public.”

Kazuha was silent as he spoke. Gorou and Kazuha had been a thing before you were introduced. But from the beginning you felt that things were tense between them. Being an outsider, the problem was more obvious than it was to them but it was something you felt they needed to work out. That’s why you left.

“And while it was okay for a bit,” Gorou continued, looking away as his words began to choke in his throat. “It was painful to love someone who didn’t even want to be called my ‘boyfriend.’ I don’t think you realize how embarrassing it is to say ‘oh, Kazuha’s my not-boyfriend because he doesn’t want to be tied down by titles.’ I understand that you don’t want a serious relationship but it felt like you didn’t care.”

“I was grieving,” Kazuha kind of snapped, his fingers curled into a fist. “Do you not understand that? My real boyfriend killed himself!”

“Am I not real to you?! Am I just your rebound to fuck and forget?! We are all grieving, Kazuha! We all loved Tomo! What about [Y/N], huh?! Is [Y/N] not real to you either?!”

Kazuha slammed his fist on the table. “Neither of you give a shit! Neither of you care about how I feel!”

Gorou stood on his feet, looking down at the man across from him. “Who was the person that begged you to stay, huh?! Throwing yourself into battle at every chance you got and then turning your back on me!! How dare you say I don’t give a shit!”

The three of you sat in uncomfortable silence after both men refused to say anything else. All you did was sit there and listen, not really feeling as if your opinion mattered. You weren’t in the relationship for very long anyway, why would you have anything to say?

Kazuha looked away from the both of you, while Gorou’s eyes focused on him. You sat with your hands in your lap, waiting for someone to say something. “What do you think, [Y/N]?” Kazuha said finally, not looking at you.

“Me?” You pointed to yourself. “Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters,” Gorou said, sitting back down and reaching for your hands. “You were a part of the relationship too.”

“I’m not sure though…it didn’t feel like I was.” Kazuha looked over his shoulder, his cheeks wet from tears he had been hiding. “I wasn’t even a part of the conversation. You left—” you said, pointing to Kazuha. “—and you ignored me.” Then pointing to Gorou.

You crossed your arms with a huff. “Kazuha didn’t even try to talk it out, and Gorou wasn’t patient enough. Neither of you had any care about how I felt. I don’t even think you guys care now! All you want is for me to agree with you and argue with the other! But you’re both wrong! We all loved Tomo, Kazuha. It’s not fair that you shut all of us out. And it’s also not fair to Kazuha to try and force him to get over it so quickly! Everyone grieves at different paces. Just because you’re more used to your friends dying doesn’t mean he has to!”

They were both silent again as your words soaked in. You were right, of course. Gorou thought about the things he said and how he could’ve done it differently. How he had pushed Kazuha away instead of helping. And Kazuha thought about how selfish he was being. He wasn’t Tomo’s only friend and he wasn’t the only one who cared about him.

Then the silence was broken. “I’m sorry.”

Both of the men turned to look at you with confused expressions. “Why are you sorry?” Kazuha asked, grabbing your hands and pulling you close to him. “It’s not your fault.”

Gorou came around and joined in the hug, wrapping his arms around both of you. “Yeah, [Y/N] it’s not your fault. We’re the ones who fucked up.”

“Yeah,” Kazuha pulled back, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“No,” Gorou shook his finger. “I said I was going to apologize first.”

“Well too bad!” Kazuha shoved a finger into Gorou’s chest. “I said it first!”

Gorou laughed, pinching Kazuha’s cheek. “No, [Y/N] said it first!”

You pushed them away from you and chuckled. “Now that you’re both feeling better, I was going to say ‘I’m sorry is what you should say to each other.’”

Kazuha tucked your hair behind your ear with a soft expression, before Gorou swooped in and peppered your cheeks with kisses. “Promise you’ll work on it?” You asked.

Gorou and Kazuha looked at each other lovingly, leaning in to kiss for the first time in a long time. “We promise.” They said at the same time.

[songbirdsingingthings]

Warmth - Levi Ackerman x Reader

(can we take a minute to appreciate this gif omfg he’s too pretty)

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, they belong to Hajime Isayama

AOT Masterlist - Main Masterlist

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.4K

To put it lightly, working as a scout in the winter absolutely blows. The wind would bluster relentlessly, causing chills to go down your spine, it would be snowing more often than not, and the winter uniforms that were parceled out to everyone didn’t do enough to block the cold temperatures. But, of course, since you were a captain you needed to block out all of the shivers that claimed your body, clench your teeth to stop their chattering, and stand strong in front of the cadets that were at your mercy for the day.

“Attention!” You shouted, causing all of the scouts in front of you to step into a salute, standing completely still like statues. You sigh before you start to give out instructions for their workout, which did include some heavy conditioning, but was shorter than normal. Honestly though, you would’ve preferred to be in their place. While they were going to be enduring hell for about an hour and a half, the movement from their bodies would generate heat, the thing you were currently lacking. You tried to nestle yourself further into the fur trimmed trench coat you were wearing and pulled up the burgundy scarf, grasping for any form of warmth that you could get. 

“You look like an idiot.” You turned around quickly, instantly recognizing the speaker's voice, and shot him an unamused expression. Bundled up and sat atop his horse, your boyfriend, Levi, looked down at you with indifference in his eyes.

“I can accept that insult if my looking like this keeps me warm,” you huff, turning back around to look at the cadets. Some of them even began to shed their layers opting to simply wear their white button ups. You dig your mittened hands further into your coat pockets, feeling even colder just from looking at them. You hear a crunch of boots behind you, signaling that Levi hopped off his horse, and came to stand beside you.

“Shouldn’t have done that Levi, now you’re gonna have to have me help you back up.” You quip, earning a glare from the captain. He simply scoffs and elbows you, hard, in the side. “Ouch, what the hell.” you grumble.

“How much longer do you have to be out here,” he asks, his eyes on the tired cadets in front of him. You begrudgingly take out your hand to check your pocket watch, but end up reveling in the fact that they only had about ten more minutes left. You tell Levi about the time and he nods, making no effort to move.

“Are you waiting for me?” You inquire, a small smile spreading across your face. The raven-haired captain says nothing but stays put. Your smile widens into a grin and you step closer to him, your hips almost touching. “Thank you.” Levi hums in response and the two of you settle into a comfortable silence as you watch the scouts finish up. When it’s finally time, you make every cadet put their coats back on (you’d be damned if they caught a cold due to negligence) and ushered them back into the main building to grab some dinner before they could retire to the shower houses and then to their barracks. As they begin to wander off, Levi swiftly grabs onto your arm and leads you towards the captains’ quarters. “Hey I haven’t eaten yet!” You complain, tugging your body back towards the direction of the dining hall.

“I’ll get some delivered to your quarters, you need to warm yourself up.” He says, a definitive tone to his voice.

“I’m perfectly fine, it’ll only take a few minutes,” you protest, still hell-bent on getting food for yourself. You were a captain, for heaven’s sake, you were surely capable of getting food for yourself. Levi pauses to grab both of your arms, somewhat forcing you to look at him.

“You need to warm up. You get cold way too easily and then I have to hear an earful about it later. So get you and your red ass nose into your personal quarters and take a damn bath.” Levi states. You eventually give in under his ‘don’t test me’ gaze and grumble all the way back to the captains’ quarters with him by your side. The two of you part ways when you enter and you follow his directions and immediately fill up a bath with the warmest water you could get. While you hated the cold weather with a burning passion, the feeling of your shivering body being enveloped by warm bath water will never cease to be one of your favorite feelings. You close your eyes and lean back, soaking up the warmth when you hear a door open. You panic for a second and try to cover yourself with a towel in fear that a higher up, or worse, a cadet has managed to make their way into your quarters.

“I-I’m not decent! Please wait outside!” You say, sounding a little strangled, but the door opens anyways. Thankfully it reveals Levi.

“Nothing I haven’t seen before,” He says, closing the door with his foot. You give him a glare, but your expression instantly lightens when you see a tray of food in his hands. He takes you in and lets a small chuckle escape his mouth. “Warmer?” He asks, setting down the tray on the little side table next to you. You sit up a bit in the bath and snatch the spoon from his hands, sinking it into the soup and bringing it to your mouth. You hum at the taste - for some reason, today they had splurged on the scout regiment and supplied them with beef and barley soup instead of the usual bean soup.

“Warmer.” you confirm, digging back into the soup and dipping some of your bread into it. “Good.” Levi says, standing up to press a kiss onto your head and exiting the bathroom, giving you a bit more time to yourself. When you were done with both your dinner and your bath, you drained the tub and gingerly stepped out of it, wrapping a towel snug around your body. You step out to see Levi in your bed, donned in his sleepwear, and a book in his hands. You smile as you make your way over to the wardrobe stationed in the corner of your room and take out the warmest pair of sleepwear you could find - a wool long sleeve that you used to wear before you became a scout, and a pair of long pants that just covered your ankles. You pad your way over to your side of the bed and climb in, quickly covering yourself in the blankets. Levi spares you a glance, gives a small smile, and returns his gaze to his book; not before he lifts his arm closest to you, giving you the signal that you could come close to him. You take the opportunity immediately and glom onto his side. For some weird reason, Levi’s bodily temperature always seemed to run hot while yours was consistently colder, making him just that more wantable to you. “Y’know sometimes I think you just use me as a personal heater and nothing else.” He remarks, setting his book down on the side table and blowing out the candle next to him.

“Yeah, and what if I do.” You mumble back to him, your eyes drooping closed, exhaustion seemingly taking over your body. You feel his body shift as he slides down to rest his head on the pillow and pulls you closer to him. His chin finds purchase on top of your head, his other arm wrapping around your waist.

“Then fine.” He says, making you laugh a bit.

“You’d be fine if I was just using you for your warmth?” You quip back, snuggling your head further into the crick of his neck. He hums and rubs circles into your hip with his thumb.

“Anything to get you to stop complaining. It’s annoying when you do that.” He says, his own eyes closing now. The two of you didn’t say anything else, it wasn’t really necessary to. You understood everything Levi said and picked out its meanings through his own special language that you’d grown accustomed to throughout the years of dating him. His responses and remarks that sounded condescending in speech could easily be interpreted into a much simpler meaning. ‘I love you and I don’t want you to be cold.’

[warmau]

☆ [nostalgic] summer romance!au jungwoo another late birthday au....but happy snoopy day <3 find others here: johnny | haechan | taeil | taeyong | mark | jaemin | yangyang | yuta | sicheng | chenle | kun | yukhei | doyoung | jaehyun

"congratulations and welcome to the team!"

the overly peppy voice that comes out of the body of the middle-aged man somehow doesn't match the soulless look in his eyes

he hands you a whistle and a t-shirt, which when you unfold greets you with the name of the water park you've been cursed to work at all summer

the font is big and bubbly and very, very, very yellow - it's almost nauseating

you turn the shirt around and on the back, in that same childish font, is the word staff

"jungwoo, glad to see you here again!"

you turn your head to see the man, who is your shift manager, patting a rather thin and tall looking boy on the back

he makes a gagging noise which the manager just laughs heartily at before dropping the same shirt and whistle in jungwoo's palm

"hey wait - which ride am i on this year?"

"um let me see - you're on ........ ah, the log flume with the new employee."

you motion to yourself because it seems like you're the only new face at the orientation

everyone else has cliqued up and is already mumbling about how much this is going to suck with each other

jungwoo slinks over and throws the shirt over his shoulder

"log flume kinda sucks, just so you know."

"really? i can't imagine getting sprayed by residual dirty water isn't a thrilling experience - especially when it happens a hundred times a day."

there's a pause and then a large grin forms of jungwoo's features

"oh - i like you."

you affirm the notion with a little bit of a prideful shrug and smile yourself

good, i think i like you too.

of course - when you and jungwoo first exchange these sentiments, it's nothing more than an employee-to-employee relationship

jungwoo has a sense of humor that either tends to fly over peoples heads or offend them (sometimes both)

but you catch on quickly and sometimes even beat him in a game of his own wits

during an opening shift where you two are testing the ride and cleaning up the waiting area, jungwoo confides that when he was in middle school someone had pointed out that he's "eccentric"

you scrunch your nose up as you tie a knot around the garbage bag in your hand

"eccentric is a polite way of saying fucking weird, you know that right jungwoo?"

"do you think im 'fucking weird' then?"

he does a pose and you shake your head with a little laugh

"no i think you're just....you."

he relaxes his limbs and tilts his head to the side, without a verbal answer you somehow sense that that was the one thing jungwoo really wanted to hear

working the log flume though - is as hellish as expected

most of your days are spent standing in those hot, cheap plastic ponchos and waving at families with screaming children or rowdy teenagers who barely fit in the ride with their bony knees

despite your efforts to keep dry, you and jungwoo always end up soaked

he's forgetful and clumsy so half the time you have to share the towel you bring with him, not to mention your lunch gets gobbled up by him too

you ask at some point why jungwoo just doesn't bring his own stuff - you are not a one-stop 7/11 shop

he laughs and takes a bite into the huge soft pretzel sold in the water park

"why should i bring anything, you've always got everything we need!"

a pang like the toll of a bell vibrates through the cavity of your chest

we - what about "we", there's no "we", there's just......."friends"

a sour taste in your mouth accompanies the thought and so you push it to the back of your mind

"still - at least start bringing your own change of clothes, you're too tall for any of my shirts."

"crop-tops are in though!"

you stare down at the switchboard that operates the log flume - the buttons with scraping labels, the emergency stop button, the little cubbies below where people leave their phones

the park is closing in thirty minutes and jungwoo has scampered off to hand in your ticket collection to the manager

the summer evening is hovering between the last beams of light and suddenly - alone at the top of the ride - something shifts

you unfile the thought you had before, the idea of what 'we' means to you and jungwoo

and you come to a daunting realization that, after only a couple of weeks of laughter and grueling minimum wage work, the statement "i think i like you too" is starting to take a new shape in your heart

"hey - did you drown up there?"

you lean over the side and see jungwoo below waving

even with the distance the essence of his warm shine floats up and tickles at your cheeks.

you swat it away, but it doesn't work.

"no - the log flume ghost caught me, i can't come down."

you joke back and he salutes

"wait there, i will come save you - i have fought that ghost once before!"

he's joking, but something flutters its wings when you hear him rush up the steps with all the seriousness of coming to get you. to save you.

when he reaches you - you mask the weird flush climbing up your spine - and pretend to be flailing

jungwoo gives you a kindergarten laugh as he joins in on the fun - a fake punch to the face of a fake ghost

he grabs you around the waist and tugs you toward him, and inches from his face, you see something behind the childish glint in the brown of his eyes.

he's so handsome.

"saved you! let's get out of here or the manager will accuse us of trying to sneak in overtime."

the weight of his hands on you is only described as comforting, easy. so very easy.

so even when he lets go and you are trailing behind him and the rest of the park employees after closing you miss it, you miss the touch of a friend who is becoming a lot more than just that.

"jungwoo's being switched to the lazy river starting today, that place is such a cease pool of idiocy that i need more coverage on it."

a groan escapes jungwoo before you can even process what the manager is saying

"what? but i hate that place most of all - do you know how many random dads get into fights on that thing?"

"am i going to be on log flume alone?"

your voice is way calmer than you expect it to be and the manager makes a passive motion with his hand, "yep - and i trust you'll handle it fine."

jungwoo's look is apologetic and slightly bitter, you reach out to give him a pat on the shoulder, but your palm hovers above the fabric of his shirt before pulling embarrassingly back to your side

either he doesn't notice or he chooses not to say anything because jungwoo turns and trudges over to the other three people assigned to the river

without jungwoo, the weird gnawing feeling of a summer crush only gets stronger, because now that he's not glued to your side

you miss him so terribly it almost makes you feel sick

coupled with the boredom of being alone the entire day with strangers seems to just worsen the symptoms

a week into the switch, you make the choice to visit jungwoo on your lunch break

you arrive just in time to see the aftermath of one of those dad fights he had mentioned

jungwoo is waist-deep in the water with two of those inflatable tubes on either side. he looks like he's negotiating a war truce between two disgruntled generals and he hands the tubes back as the men disperse to their respective families with scowls on their faces

jungwoo is also not wearing a shirt

"lazy river is much more hands-on then log flume"

the line of his back is lean and there are some healing bruises under his ribs which you can only assume are from his rather clumsy nature, the other thought of what could have caused them makes your head spin

"hey - i see you're literally in the trenches"

jungwoo turns and runs a hand through his wet bangs to get a better look at you. the action shouldn't make your knees feel like jelly.

"i hate this place, come over here and dunk my head underwater please."

you squat down near the edge and jungwoo wades closer to you

you place a brown paper bag beside you and motion to it

"im assuming you still aren't bringing your own lunches and are surviving off scraps from everyone else?"

he grins, "you know me so well"

i know i do - you think to say, but keep the words in your throat - i know i do, which is weird because we've been friends for a little over a month.

"hows log flume?"

"boring without you."

jungwoo whistles and you catch the way the sun makes every little drop of water on him glisten

"ill stop by on my break since you stopped by on yours"

a second of comfortable silence passes and jungwoo jumps up and out of the river with an ease

he grabs the lunch you've brought and is about to say something when a whistle from the other side of the river catches your attentions

"ugh this place is supposed to be lazy."

he complains and before he turns to the direction of the sound, he touches your cheek with the slightly wet palm of his hand

"thanks for lunch, see you later."

the gesture haunts you.

you even ask someone in the line for log flume what it means and she gives you a side glare that can only be conjured by a specific breed of mom.

you try to google it, but nearly drop your phone into the water.

jungwoo doesn't come by that day - he actually only manages to visit you the next day.

he shows up in his trunks, no shirt, and the towel he never gave back to you after he borrowed it over his shoulder

"sorry, do you know how many kids get food poisoning and decide the riv-"

you put up a hand to stop him from divulging details and jungwoo leans against the post that controls the ride as you wave off the next bunch of people

you feel him watch you before he joins you and helps start lowering the bar for the next log that splashes its way into the starting point

as you two go through the rows with practiced repetition

you meet in the middle

your hands both reach out to touch the bar, bringing it down over the laps of two young-looking middle schoolers who are pretending not to be holding hands

one of them giggles as you and jungwoo's fingers brush

the slight pass of skin on skin feels like a burst of electricity

stepping back to wave the group off - jungwoo slips in beside you and asks with a kind of strained sarcasm

"who takes their date on the log flume?"

"i think it's cute."

jungwoo doesn't miss a beat and that's what nearly knocks you backwards

"wanna go with me on our day off?"

jungwoo asks you on a date.

that you're sure off. but why - that's the part that does not click for you.

so is it a friend thing - are the 'we' on this 'date' just two friends running around the water park they work at with the freedom of having to not do their jobs? are the 'we' on this 'date' something completely different?

the nervousness makes you jump when jungwoo meets up with you at the bust stop and he doesn't look or feel any different than usual

you start to accept that your first thought is correct - this is a platonic date - nothing more

until you get to the waterpark and put your things away and jungwoo pulls a small container from his bag

"what's that?"

"you're always taking care of me, i want to take care of you for once too."

he opens it and inside are some lopsided looking cookies

"did you- jungwoo did you bake this?"

he poke his tongue out, but nods

"well, a friend who is a better cook than me helped."

they taste better than you could have imagined, you take a bite and understand that no something is definitely

different

friends don't hold their other friends hand the entire day

friends don't lean into their other friends shoulder while waiting in the line for one of the rides and then biting softly down on the skin, kissing it after like an apologetic kitten

and friends don't kiss their other friends in the dark, shady corner where a line of vending machines have been abandoned behind the pretzel stand

the infamous makeout spot that every water park employee buzzes about

when your date comes to an end and you and jungwoo are waiting for the bus back, you keep touching your lips.

jungwoo tastes like citrus when he kisses

there are some things i don't know about him

you smile to yourself when his pinkie brushes yours and hooks up with it as the bus approaches

i can't wait to learn all of them

it takes the manager exactly forty-eight hours to figure out you and jungwoo are dating.

everyone else in the park gets the memo the minute you two step into the staff room.

there's a little pushback against it, just because there is some stupid company policy, but the manager claps you both on your backs and whispers that whatever - it is summer - kids should have fun during the summer.

maybe the fun means sneaking kisses on lunch breaks, visiting each other on your off days, swapping shifts so you two can arrive and leave together

the fun of having jungwoo nuzzle his wet face into the back of your neck as he complains about work

the fun of having you trace patterns on his arm as you two wait for the bus home

the fun of seeing each other outside of work, sprawling across his bedroom floor and talking about nonsense

the fun of jungwoo's features shifting from languid and sleepy to acute as you shift your weight ontop of him and let your hands flirt with the hem of his shirt

"cover those up jungwoo, we are a family-friendly establishment"

the manager mumbles, motioning to jungwoo's neck with his pen

you thin your lips and jungwoo huffs, slapping a bandage or two on the slightly puffed skin

when the days get a little colder and the droves of families dwindle slowly, you know that your summer job is coming to an end

on your last days, you have back your uniforms and whistles and the manager makes a speech about how much good work has been done and how he's holding back his tears, but he's sure he'll see you next year

jungwoo mutters that you two can't come back here next year - you two should look into summer jobs at the mall or something

your last walk from the park gates to the bus stop home is calm, even a little chilly. jungwoo drapes a hand around your shoulder and pulls you into him for the warmth.

"we never got to go on the log flume together"

you suddenly muse and jungwoo coaxes his mouth into a frown

"you really want to go together on that contraption? it's not even fun."

"it's sentimental to us."

"that's a weird thing to say."

he looks at you and you poke his cheek

"it's an eccentric thing to say."

a number of summers pass until you and jungwoo ever follow up on the notion

actually, the one summer you two end up sitting together on the log flume, is not even at the water park from your memories

it's somewhere abroad

you're on vacation together and jungwoo claims you dragged him onto this thing

but you see the little smile he tries to hide when the bar comes down

the two teenagers working the ride brush their fingers as they do so, catching the look of shyness that passes from one to the other you giggle and take jungwoo's hand in your own

"what's funny?"

he asks and you tell him oh, nothing.

the ride starts and just as the log reaches the end of the dip - you let out a small shout of excitement

jungwoo joins you, but he doesn't just make a sound. he says something.

"i love you!"

oh, i think i like you too - the sweet taste comes back.

"i thin- i know i love you too!"

[wkemeup]

Heal Me, Baby

summary: Bucky Barnes can’t seem to keep away from your med tent no matter how many times you fix him up. // challenge prompt: bed sharing  pairing: 1940s bucky x reader word count: 5k warnings: a very charming bucky 😉 a/n: This was written for @cake-writes​ 1940s challenge! Congrats on the 3.5 milestone!! The title of this fic comes from the song Heal Me by Snow Patrol 

There was blood on the white of your dress; slow and steady seeping into the fabric and staining the cotton blend fibers. Red and as deep and bold as the cross sewn into the chest of your uniform, the blood became part of the design because no matter how many times you scrubbed it clean, more would find its way back to the hip of your skirt, the sleeve of your shoulder, the hem of your apron by morning’s end. Sometimes you wondered why they’d bothered dressing you in white at all. Might as well make it red with the number of wounded soldiers they dragged through your tent; most halfway towards the shiny bright light and others inches away from their last breath.

The chaos was constant, a given, and despite the noise and clutter, it was where you felt most at home. It was better than the lull, the calm before the inevitable storm, where you’d be swarmed with men on stretchers, bleeding out onto the dirt and tossed into overcrowded beds. The steady stream was easier than the rapids, easier than assigning ten men to a single nurse where injuries could be missed, vital tears overlooked.

You were at the end of your shift for the night, dirt on your forehead, sweat damping the carefully curled ringlets at your neck. A file in your hand of the man at the end of the room, thicker than most, and you kept your eyes down as you pushed your way through the crowd of nurses and visiting soldiers, heels sinking slightly into the grass with every step.

When you came upon him, you finally noticed the name etched into the top right corner of the folder; the cheesy grin as he propped himself up on his elbows, blood and dirt coating most of his face, though still as annoying handsome as ever.

“Hiya, doll.”

“Oh, not you again.”

Bucky chuckled to himself as he plopped back down against the pillow, hands clasping behind his neck as he watched you work around his bedside. You huffed the hairs from your eyes, brushed the sweat from your hands as you slipped on a pair of gloves, careful to avoid the urge to smile at the way Bucky was so obviously studying your every move.

You’d seen him about a dozen times since you’d been transferred to the Italian warfront along with the 107th. He’d found a habit of stumbling into the medical tent after a night in the trenches, covered head to toe in what looked to be a dried mixture of mud and blood that didn’t always turn out to be his own. 

He’d flash that smile of his like he couldn’t smell the retch of sweat and grim on his skin, sweet talk you like he wasn’t thrown head first to the middle of a war he didn’t sign up for, and get your stomach twisted all up in knots, hands fumbling with the IV bag, a nervous flutter in your chest – though you’d never let him see that.

Sergeant Bucky Barnes was the kind of man the nurses talked about when he walked by. A tip of his cap, a slight salute in their direction, and they’d giggle themselves into a mess, clinging onto one another as they waved at him. 

But then, across the courtyard, his eyes would catch yours, a softer tone about him and he’d simply wink, something subtle and barely noticeable, but enough for it to be personal, almost intimate, because it wasn’t for others to see.

“Not happy to see me, huh?” Bucky drawled, crossing his ankles as he stretched back on the worn-down cot like he was sitting at home on the couch, waiting on a beer as he read the evening paper.

You pursed your lips, shooting him a narrowed look as you glanced over the intake file. “I’m never happy to see men in this tent, Sergeant Barnes. Did you forget where you are?”

You gestured down to the series of beds filled with men, some waiting as they hung off the edge of crutches or slumped over in chairs, with bandages wrapped around exposed chests, blood seeping through, broken limbs exposed, the quiet whimpers of pain muffled by forearms and pillows.

“Oh, come on, doll. You know I’m just teasing ya,” Bucky smirked, sitting up in the bed because he knew the routine well enough by this point. 

You held a single finger pointed up in front of his eyes and he followed it without instruction as you moved it across his line of sight. No sign of abnormal dilation. Ruled out a concussion, at least.  

“You should be more careful out there,” you warned, gathering the first aid kit from the bedside table. “You’re in here almost every day, you know.”

“Maybe I like the company,” he shrugged, blue eyes piercing straight through you and you tried to ignore the way your heart skipped a full beat.

Your hands trembled slightly as you cleaned the wound on his forehead, a hit from a fall by the looks of it, though it wasn’t deep enough to require stitches. He winced a little, a slight hiss in his tongue as you applied the alcohol.

“You shouldn’t be taking the bed from someone who needs it.”

“Hell, I do need it, doll,” Bucky whined, a little dramatically. “Look at me. I’m in pieces. I’m fallin’ apart at the seams and you’re the only one that can save me, sweetheart. I need ya.”

You paused with a tight pout of your lips, sitting back on the cot beside him long enough to roll your eyes. “You need a band-aid and stern warning, Sergeant Barnes. You’re fine.”

“Oh, call me Bucky, won’t you?”

You pressed the bandage to his forehead, a little firmer that you would have for most any other patient and he grunted under his breath, trying to steady himself against the thin mattress.

“Time for you to go, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky grinned, nodding to himself as he stood. “Been a pleasure, doll, as always. I’ll see you tomorrow!”

“You better not!” you called back, arms folded over your chest as he snickered to himself, walking through the mess of chaos to the exit on the other end. He glanced back over his shoulder as he pulled up a flap of canvas and winked at you.

You clenched your jaw and got back to work.

***

Sure enough as the tides rolled in, so did Bucky Barnes to your med tent a few nights later.

You found him waiting for you on the last bed in the aisle, one leg tucked under him, the other hung over the side of the cot as he nursed his right hand in his lap. He was humming to himself through pursed lips, a tune that you recognized from the radio station your father often played back home; head bouncing a bit to the rhythm, massaging gently at the palm of his hand, completely unfazed by the chaos around him.

Stepping up to the edge of the bed, you supposed he caught sight of your shoes because he started to smile before he so much as lifted his head.

Slowly, like he was taking his time, he glanced up at you with that sheepish smile of his, a light chuckle under his breath, and he ran his left hand through the mess of hair atop his head.

“Hiya, doll.”

“What is it this time?”

Your arms were folded, toe tapping against the ground, but there was something in the way he couldn’t stop smiling at you, even as you scolded him, that tugged a bit on the tight strains in your chest. It pushed at the walls you’d built, poked at the cement layers between bricks until they started to fall one by one and you fought against the urge to smile back at him.

He was too sweet on you, too handsome and charming, and you were almost certain it was an act, so you clenched your jaw and forced a frown.

Bucky held up his hand and for you, showing off a rather nasty burn in the underside of his palm, just along his thumb; red and seared, bubbling a bit on the edges. Your resolve took a bit of a hit because he winced a little in the motion, like the chill of the air was enough to cause him pain.

“How did you manage to do that?” you asked, tone still a little tense, though you took a seat on the side of his mattress, the lumps of the worn-down cot pressing against your thighs.

You reached for the medical cart near the bedside table, though it was just an inch from reach, and Bucky took the liberty of wheeling it over for you. You paused, watching him as he casually slid the cart in front of you, careful of your shoes and the dips in the ground.

“It was my shift in the kitchens,” he shrugged.

His hand slipped into yours as you gestured for it; rough and calloused though still untouched in places, soft and tender. You wondered what he did before he was drafted, if he worked in factories or in a garage, if his hands had seen hard labor before he was handled a weapon and a battalion, or if they were a blank page, yet to be filled by the scars and abrasive markings of a man at war.

You turned it over gently, easing the back of his hand to sit cradled in your palm as you examined the burn. It looked like he’d singed it on the side of the stove. The ring of the plate visible on the edge of his palm.

“Didn’t think you were required take shifts in the kitchens, Sergeant,” you commented, raising an eyebrow, though you kept your focus on his hand.

“Helps with morale,” Bucky replied simply. “Doing the same grunt work together does something for when we’re out in the trenches, you know? I’m not any better than them because the higher-ups threw some title in front of my name. We’re all stuck here, aren’t we?”

There was a chuckle in his voice, a lightness, and it surprised you as you looked up to see that it didn’t quite touch his eyes. How often did that happen and you didn’t notice because you were so caught up in holding up walls to keep from his games? How often had it not been a game at all and rather a mask he wore, to protect the most vulnerable parts of himself from giving into the horrors he saw on the front lines?

He took a deep breath, focused on the grip of your hand around his as you slowly started to apply aloe along the burn. Cautious eyes glancing up to him, you watched as his shoulders slumped a little, a weight lifting from the tension he carried as the cooling of the gel started to take effect. The hardened lines on his face softened, his breaths coming in a bit steadier, the sigh that left his lips light and sweet.

“I’m sure they appreciate what you do for them,” you said, softer this time, in hopes of distracting yourself from the way his lips parted ever so slightly in relief the longer you soothed the gel along his hand.

“Eh, keeps me busy,” he said, brushing it off, almost like the praise was uncomfortable for him, like it didn’t feel warranted or necessary. He smiled to himself, pulling his lower lip between his teeth as you started to wrap his hand, gentle touches delicately easing the bandage around the burn. “Brought me back to you, didn’t it? I call that a win.”

You laughed a bit at that despite yourself as you clipped the edges of the bandages and secured it properly. “I’m sure you would have found an excuse to come bother me all on your own, Sergeant Barnes.”

“Bucky,” he reminded you again, grinning so wide it must have hurt.

“I don’t want to see you in this tent for at least a week,” you warned, placing his hand back into his own lap. You stood, brushing the wrinkles from the edges of your dress. Though you were stern with him, you were smiling. He certainly took notice of it.

“That’s a lot to ask of me, sweetheart. I’m a clumsy guy.”

“You’re the best sharpshooter we have!”

“I’m a mess, honey. Look at me! You’re my only hope.”

“Oh, get out of here!” you laughed, pushing on his shoulders though you were met with significant resistance; a playful game of cat and mouse, and damn if you weren’t completely falling for it.

He finally gave in when your laughter started to draw the attention of the nurses gathered around the bedsides of injured soldiers, and you swatted him on the shoulder, heat flushing to your cheeks in embarrassment, though you were unsuccessfully biting back a smile.

As he made his way to the exit, he turned back for a final look, surprised to find you still watching him, and he winked; cool and collected, confident. You shook your head at him, arms folded over your chest, but he saw the way the corners of your lips pushed up high into your cheeks, the brightness in your eyes, the whisper of a laugh still in your breath.

If this was all a game, he was certainly winning.

***

A few weeks later and the nurses had resorted to reserving a spot for Bucky in the back of the tent; the same cot in your assigned row because he all out refused to be seen by anyone else. He’d duck through the canvas flaps at the entrance, smile politely at the nurses and wait patiently for you to notice him.

His injuries varied anywhere from a paper cut along his palm to a splitting headache to simple heartburn. He knew better than to take your attention away from soldiers who really needed it, but he’d come to consume the moments in between, whether you liked it or not.

But a funny thing started to happen.

You started to look forward to the days when he’d peep his head into the tent, checking to make sure you were on shift before he’d saunter his way inside and take his seat on his favorite cot. You’d find disappointment burning like jealousy in your chest on the days he didn’t, and your mind would wonder where he was or if he was alright.

He’d once waited hours before you were able to step away from the gunshot wounds of a soldier two beds down and though the scrape on his knee had all but scabbed over by then, he stuck around until the kid stabilized. 

You were exhausted by the time you made it over to Bucky, losing hope that you’d be able to keep the injured soldier alive through the night and trying to mask the utter helplessness you felt.

But Bucky made his light-hearted jokes, he teased you for the dirt on your forehead, whined and complained dramatically about his knee though you both knew he’d sleep it off my morning, and it brought back a smile to your face before you realized it. He managed to push through even the darkest parts of your days.  

***

Bucky’s regiment was out on assignment for over a week and you would have been lying to yourself if you said you didn’t miss him. You found yourself glancing down at the entrance every few minutes, feeling like something was missing when you finished your checklist, stabilized your patients, and finally had a free moment for yourself. There was something else you would have been attending to.

It wasn’t until you realized it was Bucky you were searching for, waiting to see his smile light up at he caught your eye, that it hit you just how easily you’d fallen for him.

At the end of a very long week, he stumbled into the med tent on a rolled ankle, leaning off the shoulder of Captain America himself, complaining of a pain in his left arm. You were relieved to see him, like a weight lifted from your chest that was holding you underwater for days, but you couldn’t let him see that.

“Been a while, honey,” he smirked. “Miss me?”

“Watch yourself, Barnes,” you warned, though it was light and airy. You eased his arm over your shoulders and excused Steve as he was still supporting his weight. You tried not to focus on how nice it felt to have Bucky this close, his arm draped over your shoulders, his side pressed up tight to yours as he hobbled in support of his injured ankle.

“Got real lonely out there on the front without you,” Bucky teased as you helped him down to the cot. “Stevie had to fix me up. Wasn’t pretty.”

“I can see that,” you laughed, gesturing to the mess of bandages circling around his arm. “What did you do? Bump into the corner of the tank?”

“Not exactly,” he chuckled awkwardly, pulling his arm from what remained of his sleeve to give you better coverage. He curled his shirt up in his hands, shivering as the cold touched exposed skin and you tried to ignore the taunt lines of his muscles and the placement of freckles down his back, the shadows over his abdomen.

Slowly, you pulled back the bandages, wrapped about a dozen times over, until red started to appear in the white of the cloth, soaking through the layers thicker and darker until you found the source. Your smile had long fallen by the time you saw the wound on his arm, a bullet grazing on the outer stretch of muscle; ripped and raw on the edges, a piece of your heart torn along with it.

“You were shot?”

“Oh, come on, doll, it ain’t so bad,” Bucky chuckled. “It’s just a little graze.”

You shook your head, quickly tending to the open wound with alcohol swipes that left him hissing from the sting of it. Your hands were shaking slightly, but you held your breath in hopes he wouldn’t notice.

“Why is it that you feel the need to come in here with senseless injuries and waste my time but when you're actually hurt, you brush it off like it’s nothing?” 

You weren’t angry despite the tone of your voice. No, it was fear that took over, marred through the tension of your words and the frantic thumping inside your chest. The idea of him never walking into your tent again ripped the heart straight from you. 

“We’re at war, honey,” Bucky replied gently and though he still wore that beautiful smile on his face, it was softer. “This kind of stuff happens all the time.”

“Not to you,” you whispered, voice low and heavy.

Your fingers were trembling as you attempted to thread the needle for the third time, though it was no use. It kept missing the eye, your hand was shaking too much for a steady grip. You couldn’t protect him when he was out in the trenches, couldn’t heal his wounds and tend to his injuries. You couldn’t save him if something happened out there, leaving him stranded. 

A few inches to the right and the bullet could have torn through a major artery and maybe Steve Rogers would have showed up in your tent with his helmet held at his chest and a solemn look in his eye when he told you that Bucky fought valiantly until his last breath.

The thread missed the needle again and you let out a groan, a wave of frustration and anger and fear and suddenly Bucky’s hands were on yours, slowly lowering them back to your lap. He smiled sweetly at you as he gently took the needle and thread from your hands and slipped it through the eye. He knotted it at the end and handed it back to you, adjusting his position on the cot to give you better leverage.

“I should get someone else to do this,” you said quietly.

“No deal, honey. You’re the only one for me.”

“Bucky, my hands are shaking. I should ask one of the girls to--”

“It’s you or I walk.” 

Bucky smirked, winking at you over his shoulder before he settled in again. Determined and stubborn as you’d ever seen him. 

You sighed, pushing out a deep breath as you steadied your hand. “Okay, well, no complaining if you end up with a scar.”

“Me? Never.”

***

Bucky wasn’t the only soldier in the tent that night and you were worn thin; running on startling lack of caffeine and frequent cold bursts of air outside, you hadn’t slept in nearly two days as you attended to the influx of injured men.

Half of your girls were out sick from the bug that was floating around camp, though you were almost certain it wasn’t airborne as they insisted and they’d contracted it by getting cozy with the soldiers. You couldn’t blame them for seeking comfort amongst the harsh conditions of the war, but being down two girls in an overcrowded, busy tent full of men in terrible pain wasn’t easy to manage on your own.

Bucky’s presence seemed to help, though. He’d smile at you whenever you looked in his direction and you started to wonder if he was watching you as you worked, as opposed to the book in his lap. He always seemed to be looking at you when you turned over your shoulder to check in on him, anyway. The pages of the book sitting in his hand remained unturned for too long, even as he fought against the heaviness of his lids, sleeping threatening to pull him under though he resisted.

He gave in after you’d swiped the book from his hands and ordered him to close his eyes.

“Anything for you, doll,” he said, yawning through every syllable.

You watched as he settled into the sheets, bare chest exposed and the heavy bandage wrapped around his arm. His eyes fluttered shut, nose scrunching as he sniffled in a tight breath, and his whole body seemed to relax, finding sleep rather quickly.

It was nearly two in the morning by the time the med tent quieted down.

Most of the men were asleep, the others too doped up on pain medications to notice much of anything going on around them, their eyes softly gazing out ahead of them, heavy eyelids falling shut. You let the remaining girls go back to their own tents until dawn, given that the worst of it all had subsided.

With a tired yawn, you dragged your feet down to Bucky’s bed. He was snoring softly in his sleep, lips parted just slightly, and you realized gazing down at him, that he looked years younger like this; the innocence he often masked amongst the perils of war rising fresh to the surface, unobstructed.

With a cautious hand, you reached out and grazed your fingertips along his arm; his whole body sighing in response, a slight curve of his lips, his head lulling to the side closest to the touch.

But you couldn’t stand there and watch him sleep all night. The bandage had started to bleed through and it needed a rewrapping.

You pulled up a chair next to his cot, carefully beginning to unwrap the cloth from around the tight muscle of his arm. Smooth skin under pebbled goosebumps from the chill outside, you gently released the bandage to the mattress. The wound didn’t look so bad underneath, but you cleaned it up a bit to be safe. With a quick dab to his arm with the disinfectant, you glanced up at his face in search of a hitch in his breath or a hiss on his tongue, but he remained fast asleep.

Even men like Bucky Barnes needed a break. He looked so sweet sleeping like that, the slight pout on his lips as you cleaned the wound, the sniffle through the beginnings of a head cold. 

You yawned, struggling to keep your eyes open and quickly rebandaged his arm. There were more men in this tent that needed your attention.

A few beds down and an hour later, you began to switch out the IV drip of a man with a severed leg; a young, baby faced kid who didn’t look old enough to graduate school, let alone be given a gun in the middle of wartime. He scrunched his nose in his sleep, his thigh twitching like he might still think something was there. There was sweat beading on his face, dripping damp into the pillow. You didn’t know how much longer he had.

Your legs wobbled slightly under you and you gripped onto the bedside table. The exhaustion was starting to reel you in, pull you under to the warm embrace of sleep, but you had a job to do, men to care for. Pressing the heel of your palms to your eyes, you tried to push the tiredness from you, though a yawn broke through again anyway.

“Looking like you might need some rest, doll.”

You froze at the sound of his voice, like ice and fire, relief and panic.

A heavy sigh sat in your chest before you turned around, only to find Bucky brushing at his eyes, sleepily smiling up at you from his cot. He propped himself him on his elbows, as you quickly made yourself busy, simply watching as you continued about your work.

“Someone has to attend to these men, Bucky,” you replied, a little tenser than you usually were with him, but the exhaustion had taken hold of you and it took effort just to keep your eyes open.

“Doll,” he called, softer this time, “you’re going to pass out. Where'd everyone go?”

“Sent them off. No need for a crowd to watch over sleeping men.” You checked the vitals of a man across the aisle from Bucky; steady rhythm, even pulse. He’d make it until morning, at least.

“When’s the last time you slept?” he asked slowly and you could feel his eyes following you around the tent, watching intently as you tended to each of the men, assuring yourself that they were as restful as they appeared. There was a concern in his voice, a sincerity, and it tensed in your shoulders.

You released a heavy breath, keeping focused on replenishing the infusion bag of a soldier who was hanging on by a thread. One quick glance back at Bucky proved to be a mistake as he was still watching you, though it was under kind, worried eyes. He was still waiting on an answer.

“You don’t need to be worrying about how much I’m sleeping,” you said, turning your back to him because your eyes were falling heavy and it was near impossible to keep them open. You leaned onto the frame of another soldier’s bed for support, pretending to be busy for Bucky’s sake.

“No?” Bucky questioned with an embellished sigh. “Someone has to, don't you think?”

“Bucky, I’m fine,” you yawned, covering your mouth with your wrist as you turned back to face him. 

He chuckled a bit under his breath, chin falling to his chest, before he smiled up at you like you’d missed out on some kind of inside joke.

“Oh, ‘course you are, doll. Must have been someone else who put the same bloody bandage back on my arm after cleaning it then, huh?” he shrugged teasingly, gesturing to his arm where a dark red bandage circled around his bicep.

Your eyes blew wide, a gasp in your throat and you rushed over to him. Hands fumbling for the chair, missing several times and resorting to falling at your knees, you made quick work of trying to peel away the red bindings.

“Shit! Shit, I’m-- shit,” you panted, shaking, “that’s never happened before and I—oh God, I’m so sorry, Bucky—I’ll fix it, just—just give me a second and—”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright, honey,” Bucky cooed sweetly, helping to unfasten the bandage because your hands were fumbling too long with the clasps. His right hand encased your shaking fingers, holding them tightly long enough to pull your attention away from his arm. “It happens, okay? No harm done. I’m aces, alright?”

“No, no, it’s wildly...” you sucked in a sharp breath, tingling in the back of your jaw, stretching at your cheeks, “...unacceptable and I...” another yawn broke through, “...should report myself because...” and a third.

“Jesus, doll, listen to you. You’re exhausted,” Bucky eased, reaching for the clean bandages on the bedside table. He grabbed a fresh one and put one end between his teeth for leverage as he began to wrap his own arm.

You sat back on your heels, kneeling next to his bed and certainly getting dirt along the end of your dress. You watched as he wove the clean cloth in and around his arm, concentration etched into his facial features to mask the slight wince of pain as the fabric touched the wound.

Guilt was fresh in your chest as Bucky wrapped his arm himself, pulled it tight and gestured for you to fasten it. He could have done it himself, you were sure. There was a smile on his face as he looked at you, like he was trying to make you feel better.

“I’m sorry, Bucky. It won’t happen again,” you mumbled, defeated and you rose to your feet, beginning to walk away.

“Wait, honey, don’t go--”

You froze, surprised by a sudden grip at your hand before you could take a step away from his bedside, and when your eyes shot back to his, he let go immediately, his cheeks flushing red as he began to laugh nervously. It was a kind of embarrassment you never expected to see in him.

“You don’t gotta apologize to me, doll,” he started, scratching at the back of his head.

“I can’t afford to make mistakes,” you retorted, voice a little more somber. “You can’t afford it either.”

“Then, make it up to me.”

You narrowed your eyes, fighting off the urge to yawn again. “What would you have me do?”

“Get some rest?” he asked sheepishly, scooting to the far edge of the tiny, twin size cot. He took up most of the space himself and you swore you may have seen him swallow nervously as he pulled down the covers, gesturing to the open space.

“No, I... I can’t,” you said flatly, though your heart was racing.

“You’re going to pass out where you stand and you said yourself you can’t afford to make more mistakes,” he argued gently. “Just a few hours. Then you’ll be good as new. No more dirty bandages.”

“Bucky, I...” you shook your head, stepping back and folding your arms over your chest. “I-- I have to look after these men. I can’t fall asleep. What if something happens?”

“I’ll wake you up,” he responded with a shrug. “I got my hours in. Anyone starts throwing a coughing fit, monitors start going haywire, I’ll let you know. I promise.”

“People will talk,” you whispered, excuses lined up but Bucky didn’t let them break his smile for even a moment.

“No one's around, sweetheart.”

“It’s inappropriate.”

“So is half my guys sleeping with your girls and yet...”

You laughed a bit at that, chewing on the edge of your lip, the rouge long faded of color. A heavy silence passed, a slight sway in your stance as your body fought tirelessly against the urge to close your eyes. Glancing down the rows of cots, it seemed quiet. Not a peep for hours and everyone was stable.

You turned back to Bucky. He was waiting patiently.

“You’ll wake me?”

You didn’t think it was possible for him to smile wider, but – God – it was blinding.

“Cross my heart.”

Stepping out of your shoes, you slowly made your way to the edge of his bed. You stared down at the open space and the slim line of mattress available to you. You must have taken too long because he started shifted a bit more to the edge, to the point where he was nearly falling off.

“Promise I’ll be a complete gentleman,” he chuckled lightly, cheeks pink and rosy. It was damn near impossible to say no to him when he looked at you like that, with a sincerity you hadn’t known since you left the States, draped under ocean blue.

“One hour,” you warned him as you slowly lowered yourself into the cot beside him. It squeaked as you let your weight fall to its uneven springs, the lumps evident against your back, the frame prominent through the thin cushion.

“One hour,” he agreed, giving you space as you rested your head against the pillow if you wanted it, though you heard his breath hitch as you tugged his arm down a little to lean against his shoulder, his right arm curling around your back to keep you steady on the bed.

Laying on your side, curled up next to him, you rested your left arm against his chest, tracing your fingers along the exposed lines of his stomach, the dip at his sternum, the scars littering smooth stretches of beautifully tanned skin. He shivered under your touch, his breath slightly uneven, though he didn’t say anything. His hold on you tightened as he suppressed a gasp under the bite of his teeth, like a reflex, pulling you tighter as his toes curled and his spine lightened.

“This okay?” you asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper and you watched as your breath touched his chest, goosebumps in its wake.

“Perfect, honey,” Bucky replied sweetly, his fingers drawing patterns along your back, tracing along the zipper of your dress and the seams in the shoulders. “Close your eyes, will you?”

A sleep heavy laugh pulled up at your cheeks, resting on his chest, as you let your hand fall flat against his stomach. You nodded, curling up as close against him as you could manage, losing yourself in the gentle waves of his touch along your spine.

“Thank you,” you whispered as your eyes began fluttering shut. You could hear the pulse of his heart beating gently under your ear, the steady rhythm lulling you a warm embrace. The slip of consciousness tugging you kindly to the ease of temporary darkness.

There was a slight touch on your forehead, something warm and sweet, lingering as your breaths became longer, steadier, drawn out and even; the heat of breath to your skin, the slight hum of a content sigh. A kiss as gentle and kind and tender as the man behind it.

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[mnemosyne-musing]

Double date (River/11)

(So this prompt link is very tenuous and has basically turned into pwp for which I at least partially blame sonic for encouraging me. This version is rated T but the link for the slightly smuttier version is here)

“So!” the Doctor leaps up the stairs to the console and grabs the monitor, spinning around on his heel before typing rapidly into the keyboard, “I was thinking, once River arrives, maybe, a trip to the Amazzi waterfalls. They have these wonderful pools filled with algae. Only, it’s not really algae, it’s this kind of-“

“Doctor,” Rory interrupts, somewhat tentatively, “We were thinking tonight. If you don’t mind that is. That we could just stay in? Maybe have dinner and, you know, just talk to River, and you of course?”

“Yes,” Amy pipes up quickly, “Only if you don’t mind of course,”

He looks up from the console at the two of them standing by the railing. Amy folding her hands slightly nervously in front of her and Rory biting his lip anxiously.

He beams at them. “Of course!”

Amy gives a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank you! It’s not that we don’t want to go anywhere, it’s just, it’s been a lot the last few weeks and we haven’t really had much of a chance to process or talk to River or-“

“Ooh, it can be like a double date!” he cuts in and claps his hands together, “We can cook dinner here. I’ve got this wonderful recipe from Escoffier. Fabulous chap. I worked in his restaurant once actually and-“

“Doctor, are you sure?”

He waves a hand at them as he types. “Pond, it’s fine. I’ll be fine. It doesn’t always have to be running and excitement. I can do an evening in. Now, off you pop and get your cooking clothes on! I’ll pick up River and we’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

Amy and Rory grin at each other before bounding towards the stairs and out of the console room.

“Thank you, Doctor!” Amy calls as they scarper down the corridor.

It had been just over a month since leaving River in the hospital after Berlin. They’d seen her once since then. He’d taken the Ponds to a planet with a fantastic seventeen hour meteor shower and they’d bumped into her on the viewing deck. They’d also run into a gang of high-end jewel smugglers whose presence there River swore was a complete coincidence to hers. He had his serious doubts about that but, honestly, he’d been quite distracted by all the running and excitement and then afterwards River had had to dash off very quickly. Well, not so quickly that she hadn’t grabbed him and snogged him against the door of the TARDIS but. Anyway.

He sighs and shakes his head to clear of it of those thoughts before returning to the monitor. He’s just about to pull the lever to let the TARDIS dematerialise when there’s a familiar noise of someone appearing by vortex manipulator behind him.

“Hello sweetie,”

He turns around, a grin already on his face and leans back against the console. River is standing a few feet away, wearing a dark trench coat that’s cinched in and tied at the waist, a pair of dazzlingly high blue heels on her feet that do funny things to his insides.

She begins to stalk towards him, a little bit like a predator approaching its prey.

“I thought I’d bring you a birthday present,” she practically purrs, stopping just out of arm’s reach.

He quirks an eyebrow. “But, it’s not my birthday?”

She simply smiles. A slow smirk that spreads across her face and now she really does look like she’s sizing him up for the kill. That thought really shouldn’t thrill him as much as it does he briefly ponders.

She brings a hand to the belt on her coat and slowly pulls it loose. “Care to reconsider?” she asks, her voice low and throaty as the coat falls open.

The Doctor opens his mouth but all words and possible replies immediately evaporate as he catches sight of what she’s wearing beneath the coat. Or rather, what she’s mostly not wearing beneath the coat. He hardly thinks that the plunging bra and skimpy pair of knickers, both made of flimsy lace in a deep blue colour to match her heels, really count as clothes. In fact, he can think of several planets on which that is most definitely not considered an outfit and would probably be illegal and really- hang on, why is he thinking about other planets when River is here and-

He licks his lips and swallows. “I think,” he manages to croak out, “I think it might be my birthday after all.”

River grins wickedly at him and lets the coat fall to the floor with a soft thud. She steps in towards him and grasps his shirt front, pulling him off the console and steering him backwards towards the jump seat. She pushes him down willingly into the seat and his hands automatically drift to grasp her hips, his fingers splaying across her back and stroking the soft skin there.

As she leans down to kiss him, there’s a small flicker of a thought at the back of his mind that there was something he was supposed to be doing. Something he was doing just before River arrived and-

A little while later, she levers herself off his lap as gracefully as she can before turning to look for her knickers. He watches unashamedly as she bends down to retrieve them, arse in the air and wearing nothing but those heels. She frowns down at them before shrugging, kicking her heels off and slipping her underwear back on. Turning back towards him she leans down and nabs his shirt, slipping it on before he can protest and carelessly doing up less than half the buttons.

She looks so utterly delectable, all beautifully dishevelled and ravished that he reaches for her again but she dances out of his reach.

“River!” he complains, as she sashays away from him and towards the corridor, “Where are you going?”

“We need to toast your birthday!” she calls over her shoulder as she disappears around the corner.

“But, it’s not really-,” he sighs and stops as he realises he’s talking to an empty room. He shakes his head and pulls up his boxers and trousers before sitting back in the jumpseat and waiting for River to reappear. He still hasn’t really caught his breath back since River first appeared in the console room.

He must’ve closed his eyes very briefly because he nearly jumps out of his skin a few minutes later when River’s voice suddenly crackles in the air.

“Sweetie, do we have any of the 1976 Krug? I’m sure we do but I can only find the ’77 and it just isn’t as good.”

He looks around wildly but he’s still alone in the console room.

“River?” he exclaims, “What? How are you doing- Where-“

“I’m in the kitchen, sweetie,” she says in that infinitely patient tone that she seems to reserve for when she’s telling him something extremely obvious, “I’m speaking over the intercom.”

“But. The TARDIS doesn’t have an intercom?” he objects, still looking frantically around the room as if River might suddenly pop up from behind the furniture somewhere. Her silence in response to his comment tells him she is probably rolling her eyes at him.

He’s about to come up with something very cutting and witty when over the intercom he suddenly hears a gasp and a very Scottish ‘Oh my god!’

The Ponds! Oh gods indeed! He had totally forgotten them and their date! He leaps up, spinning around to look for his shirt and then remembers River had purloined it just minutes ago. He swears in Gallifreyan under his breath, running a hand desperately through his hair before dashing out the door.

He sprints down the corridor which is rather longer than he remembers it being, cursing the TARDIS under his breath as he does do. He careens to a halt just before the kitchen and vainly tries to slow his breathing as he attempts to nonchalantly stroll inside.

He stops in the doorway and swallows nervously. River is leaning back against the kitchen counter, still clad in only his shirt and her knickers. She’s clutching a bottle of champagne in one hand and a couple of glasses in the other and looking exceptionally amused.

There’s another doorway into the kitchen on the opposite side to him and standing there are both Ponds. Amy is looking mildly embarrassed but still faintly amused whereas Rory has a shocked and slightly horrified expression on his face.

“Ah, there you are, sweetie!” River calls out cheerfully, “Did you want a glass of fizz?”

“Doctor?” Amy simply puts her hands on her hips and cocks her head at him expectantly.

“Ponds!” he exclaims as he looks wild-eyed between them, “River just arrived and- she- Well, we were going to celebrate because-“

“I think we know how you two were ‘celebrating’,” Amy snorts, folding her arms in front of her, “You’re only wearing one outfit between the two of you!”

“Ah, no, no,” the Doctor shakes his head frantically, “I know what this looks like but actually I had to give River my shirt as she only had a coat and some underwear that, well, really wasn’t much of an outfit to begin with and after-“

“Not. Helping, Doctor,” Rory mutters from between gritted teeth as he scrubs a hand over his eyes as if trying to erase that particular mental picture.

The Doctor gulps and attempts to salute the other man. “Sorry, centurion.”

“I suppose I should have asked earlier but when are we, Doctor?” River asks, still looking far too entertained with the whole situation.

“We’ve only just done Berlin a few weeks ago,” he mumbles as her eyes widen.

“Oh! Early days then,” River nods in understanding, a grin still playing around her lips, “So, this is the first time you’ve caught us like this?” she asks Amy and Rory as they nod.

“Hang on!” the Doctor says in a panicked voice, her words suddenly sinking in, “What do you mean ‘first time’?”

River simply gives him that knowing smirk again. “Believe me, none of you want to know about those times in advance.”

He puts that rather worrying thought to the back of his mind, ignoring the way Rory blanches and Amy gives a small shudder. Pasting a smile on his face, he claps his hands. “Well, we’re all here now! We can have that double date!”

“Double date?” River raises an eyebrow as she looks at him.

Amy shakes her head. “Sorry Raggedy-Man. Seeing you two half-dressed has kind of ruined my appetite.”

The Doctor glares at her and pulls his braces up self-consciously over his bare-chest, ignoring River’s soft snort of laughter. “Oi. Rude, Amelia.

“Don’t you Amelia me!” she retorts and wags a finger at him, “I know exactly what you’ve been doing with my daughter!” she adds as the Doctor blushes bright red and avoids her gaze. She turns on her heel and heads towards the door, dragging Rory along with her. “We’ll see you in the morning,” she calls over her shoulder, “If you could try and keep it out of the communal areas that would be lovely!”

The Doctor splutters in protest and turns an even deeper shade of red. He turns to River who is still leaning against the countertop. “You,” he points his finger accusingly at her, “This is all your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yes,” he nods emphatically, crossing his arms across his bare chest and trying to look foreboding as it was possible to look when only half dressed, “We had a nice evening planned. The four of us. A double date. And then, you arrived with-,” he gestures vaguely at her, “Well. With all-. Looking like that and now here we are.”

River ignores his attempts at glaring and simply laughs. She puts the champagne and glasses down on the side and slinks towards him, her hips swaying. She runs her hands up his chest and winds them around his neck.

“I’m sorry, my love,” she coos in a tone that suggests she isn’t really very sorry at all. She leans in closer and whispers in his ear. “Shall I make it up you?”

He swallows heavily, his arms having already uncrossed themselves and somehow found themselves settling on her hips. “Well,” he mumbles, “It is my birthday after all.”

Her answering laugh is muffled as he kisses her once more.

--

[alecmagnuslwb]

If I Didn’t Love Him, I’d Kill Him

Read on AO3

“He did what?” Zatanna says through gritted teeth. Andrew, Boston, Swamp Thing, Xanadu and Etrigan all physically recoil at her rage.

“He said he knew how to stop this, but it was dangerous. We tried to stop him from leaving but he made the house trap us all in,” Xanadu explains. The only reason they’re not trapped now is the house likes Zatanna better than anyone and had let her back in with no question.

She was gone for no more than twenty minutes following a lead that might stop the demon Trigon from rising, she has a plan. An actual plan that will keep Raven safe from Trigon’s wrath and that isn’t even all that dangerous.

But of course John’s decided to follow the dangerous plan, the plan that involves going straight to the source and likely getting killed in the process.

“I’m going to kill him,” she says brushing past everyone and rushing into the study. She pulls a map down from the wall and hovers her hand over it.

“Dnif nhoJ enitnatsnoC,” she says a shower of golden light falling down from her fingers. It circles once, twice then settles onto the map a 3D shape of the motel he’s seemingly hold up in growing up from the map.

“Eduig em ot mih,” she says the light settling into a ball and hovering before her heading for the door. She stomps after it. “Found him, be right back,” she says to the group pulling up a portal and stepping through it.

She spots Andrew from the corner of her eye an arm reaching out and grabbing her wrist. She comes through on the other side to a motel lit up bright and neon in the night Andrew right beside her. The glowing ball shimmers away and goes up into the sky its job done.

“I got this,” she says making her way to the main entrance.

Andrew nods. “I know you do, but I’m just here to prevent bloodshed.”

Zatanna shoots a look over her shoulder at him, a look he reads correctly.

“Yeah I know vampire, bloodshed, irony,” he grumbles pulling open the door for her the bell jingling as he does.

The woman at the front desk barely spares them a glance a severe look on her face that says she hasn’t known joy in many years.

“How many rooms?” she drones.

“We don’t need any rooms,” Zatanna says and the woman loses complete interest turning her head back down to a magazine flipping through it idly.

“I need to find my partner, he’s a little over 6 ft, sandy blonde hair, trench coat, absolute idiot,” Zatanna explains.

“I can’t give out guest information,” she says blandly.

“Okay, I get that, but it’s an emergen-”

“Don’t care, I can’t give out guest information.”

“Just one check-”

“I cannot give out guest information,” the woman stresses one last time looking up at Zatanna and Andrew with an endlessly annoyed expression.

Zatanna sighs pushing back from the front desk running a frustrated hand through her hair. She understands this woman’s position, but she just really needs her to break the rules right now. She looks her over trying to find something, some sort of weak spot she could use to appeal to this woman’s sensitive side or even if it comes to it bribe her.

She notices the untanned portion of her ring finger where clearly for many years a wedding ring used to rest. She takes a gamble, guessing it didn’t end well in the hopes to appeal to this severe woman’s scorned wife side.

“Play along with it,” she whispers to Andrew before working her not literal, but hopefully just as successful magic on this woman. “Miss can I just-”

She pauses choking on her words a bit, trying her damndest to build up some crocodile tears. The woman turns back around that seemingly perpetually annoyed look on her face still.

“I know he’s in there with another one. First my best friend and now,” she chokes up again a little tear escaping her right eye. “Who knows, some girl from a bar, another guy from work.”

The woman’s face softens just a bit for the first time. Zatanna drops her head in her hands.

“I was so stupid, to believe him after the first time,” she hiccups. “But I trusted him and here I am again, begging someone to let me into a room to catch him in the act.”

“I feel so stupid,” she says faux angry at herself. She manages to force another single tear from her eye as she looks back up at the front desk woman, who now looks wholly sympathetic. Bingo.

“You’re not stupid sweetheart, you just wanted to see the best in the person you love. I’ve been there,” the woman says rubbing a hand comfortingly up and down Zatanna’s bicep. She gives her arm one last pat then turns to the wall of keys pulling one down.

“He was way too much of a smooth talker, should have known,” she says turning Zatanna’s hand over and placing the key in her palm. “Go get the son of a bitch,” she says fierce and determined handing Zatanna a tissue and what looks like a gymnast’s baton.

“What’s this for?” she asks wiping the fake tears from beneath her eyes.

The woman leans in conspiratorially, giving Andrew the stink eye. He backs away from the desk hands up in innocence.

“If you end up hittin’ him with this a few times, well you won’t hear a cop siren because of me,” she says with a wink pushing the baton towards Zatanna.

Zatanna has to physically hold back her laughter to keep herself in the role of the sad scorned partner. She almost feels bad for this woman’s ex-husband who no doubt is familiar with this baton or some variation of it.

“Thank you,” she says with a sad smile taking the baton in hand. She pushes off the desk and makes her way to the door, Andrew in step alongside her. She looks at the room number on the key and makes a beeline directly for the odd numbered rooms.

“You’re holding that baton quite tightly,” Andrew observes as he keeps up with her rapid pace. “Are you thinking about using it despite the fact John is not the cheating son of a bitch the front desk woman believes him to be?”

“It’s crossed my mind,” she says loosening her grip on the weapon. She stops at the door marked seventeen and flips the key in her hand. She holds the baton out for Andrew to take, he does so holding onto it just in case.

She slips the key into the lock and pushes open the door startling John to stand from where he’s carving sigils into his chest. He looks up at her, a bit of genuine fear in his eyes.

“Oh, fuck, you found me,” he sighs dropping the runed magically enhanced blade in his hand.

“Yeah, I found you dumbass,” she says walking up to him. She pokes him once right on the fresh sigil.

“Ouch,” he says putting a hand over the sigil to protect it from her.

“Just be glad she didn’t use the baton,” Andrew says from behind them waving it in the air. John eyes it warily then looks back at Zatanna that fear still present in his eyes.

“Look, Zee, I can explain,” he says holding up his hands.

“You don’t need to explain that you’re a self-sacrificing idiot who acts first and thinks second,” she says with an almost forgiving looking smile that makes John drops his arms to the side. She makes good use of John dropping his defenses and pokes him in the chest again. He curls back covering his chest protectively again.

“I have an actual plan, one that won’t involve your death at the hands of a thousand-foot-tall demon so,” she turns to Andrew and points at him. “You go return that baton to the nice lady upfront and tell her I used it well, that should make her smile.”

He salutes her backing out of the door.

“And you,” she says pointing directly at John’s face. “Never come back here, because the woman at the front desk thinks you’re a serial two timer,” she says pausing at John’s look of offence.

“Hey, you run off to be an idiot and I have to swindle my way into a room key you don’t get a good backstory,” she says with shrug.

John sighs in defeat accepting it.

“Now, put on your shirt and prepare whatever apology you’re absolutely going to give me shortly so we can go home and actually deal with the situation at hand in a smart, thought-out way. Got it?” she says raising her eyebrows and crossing her arms.

“Got it, luv,” John says swallowing hard once.

“Make sure the apology is damn good, I had to fake cry to get a key to this room and I hate doing that,” she says pointedly stepping back out of the room waiting for what she hopes will be just a little bit of groveling.