#somewhere between bad batch and bury a body

[aggravatetheaxe]

FINDERS KEEPERS - Chapter 1: In the Woods Somewhere

Murderer. Monster. Serial killer. Abuser. Freak. These are words you would be well within your rights to use when describing Bo Sinclair. But when a trip to dispose of a body doesn't end up quite as planned and a nameless waif enters the picture, he might have to add one more label to the list: protector. How long can Bo justify the presence of a child who so critically throws off the tenuous balance of life in Ambrose? How long can he stand it?

CW for this chapter: murder and disposing of bodies, lost children, children in peril, traumatized and/or abused children (non-graphic), brief descriptions of injury and infected injuries, lice infestation

This title is SAFE FOR WORK.

Soundtrack: In the Woods Somewhere, Ambience

Words: 2,967

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***

The woods were still. Serene. The rumbling of the old Chevy over gravel was the only man-made noise in a symphony of frogs and cicadas. And it set Bo Sinclair on edge, made him clench the filter of his cigarette harder between his teeth.

On edge. Yeah, he was on edge, but when wasn't he? His whole damn life was a balancing act. Wrong against right, truths against lies, nice against real ... life against death. At least he knew to mind the drop.

But he couldn't deny it got tiring every once in a while.

The last batch had been rough. A couple bikers and their girlfriends. Big guys. If he hadn't liked the look of one of the girls so much, he'd have just let them move on, but ... well. Times he couldn't deny his weakness.

Now, big guys weren't immune to being tricked, and when you brought 'em down, they fell farther and harder than the smaller ones. But one of the girls had accidentally cracked open a sculpture early on, and they'd figured out the game too soon.

It had been a hell of a job to hunt 'em all before they could leave town. The girl Bo had wanted in the first place had managed to make it up the road quite a ways before he'd run her down. Too bad she hadn't survived. All that trouble and for what? A little blood and hair on his truck's grille.

Wasn't much left of her and her friends. She, the other girl, and one of the guys were salvageable—Vincent would work his magic—but the biggest guy ... all the wax in the world wouldn't fix a close-range shotgun to the brain, and the thought of having incomplete trophies on display irked Bo.

So, the woods it was.

The Chevy's engine cut, leaving only the deafening forest stillness. Bo took a final puff on his cig before chucking it out the window and sliding from the truck. The stench of Lester's roadkill pit was overpowering downwind, so he'd come from the north side instead. Still stunk like shit, though. As he rounded the pickup, he fought the urge to pull the collar of his shirt over his nose.

The biker's body was wrapped in tarp in the truck bed, covered with loose plywood and tools. It'd taken both him and Vincent to haul this guy up into the back, but grabbing the dead weight by the ankles and sliding it to the ground was a one-man job.

Thud.

Bo looked at the tarp-covered mass a moment, then reached for a shovel. Time to get to work.

He lit up another cigarette, gnawing the filter as he began to dig. It wasn't enough to just throw the bastard in the pile—it'd be way too visible, and his DNA was all over the body, for Christ's sake. But burying it near the roadkill, now, that would ensure no bloodhound would ever sniff it out. Again and again, he plunged his shovel into the soil, until his huffs and grunts nearly drowned out the crickets.

The hole was small, just enough to fit the guy vertically. Bo's biceps burned slightly as he lifted himself out of the grave and grabbed the body. Another grunt, a hard tug, and it slid easily out of the tarp, crumpling into the hole like garbage.

Bo spat, flicked the cigarette on top of the grave, and took to shoveling again. Shoulda killed me first, you sorry son of a bitch.

That was the thing, wasn't it? If you weren't living on edge, you were taking up too much space.

By the time he was finished, the sun was most of the way down the sky, and sweat and dirt covered him like a second skin. He tossed the tarp and the shovel in the bed of the truck again and lit up a third cigarette.

This one—thank Christ—he could actually stop and savor. He took a long draw, filling his lungs and holding ... then exhaling all the tension from his body. His sore muscles prickled and burned as they relaxed. A light breeze kissed the itchy sweat on his brow, and he raised a hand to wipe at it.

Another long day fuckin' over. He couldn't wait to take a scalding shower and a nap. Maybe he'd celebrate another brush with death by cracking open some of Daddy's whiskey, or maybe Momma's ruby port. Vincent would like that.

The direction of the wind shifted, and Bo grimaced as he got a whiff of roadkill. It was about time he got a move on and headed back home. Couldn't linger here for long or someone might come along, and he'd have a lot of explaining to do, standing next to freshly turned soil.

As he put his final cigarette out, he scanned the treeline. One last sweep of his territory.

His gaze caught on something. He did a double take.

At first, it didn't seem real. Was it the slant of the light, a trick of the eye? But no, there was a figure shuffling through the woods toward him. Small, off-kilter.

What in the fuck?

As it crept between the trees, out into the open, Bo had a hard time making sense of what it was. It was skinny and covered head to toe in grime, hair matted like an animal's. Its eyes were big and glassy in its tiny head, staring at him as it made its unsteady, plodding way closer.

The hair at the nape of his neck stood up. It looked like a monster ... a demon. It took a few seconds for Bo to realize the reality was worse.

A child.

Didn't seem quite right to call what he was looking at a kid, but it was definitely a child. Bo's chest grew ice cold, limbs stiff, as the creature continued to toddle toward him.

What in the fuck?

The creature wasn't stopping its advance, each step slow but deliberate. Bo could sense there wasn't much fight left in it. Uncertain what else he could do, he hitched his Dickies up at the thigh and crouched.

"Uh ... hey, kid. What're you doin' out here?"

The creature didn't respond. It simply walked into him, giving him no choice but to open his arms and let it sink into him.

A tangle formed in Bo's chest, emotions wrestling: disgust, confusion, concern, fear. Each battled for dominance, and as the seconds crawled by, each won out only to be replaced with a new champion a beat later.

The child had buried its face into the crook of his neck, making no noise, completely unmoving. It simply clung to him, squeezing tight and grasping his shirt with hands that could more appropriately be called claws.

At length, Bo pulled his head back stiffly, forcing the little thing to look at him. He couldn't make out much beneath the dirt other than it was a kid and it was human. "Hey. Where are your mommy and daddy, huh? Where're your parents?"

When it didn't respond, Bo craned his neck, searching to his right and left and peering into the treeline like he might spot them running after their kid any second. But the woods were still.

A shiver licked his back. Suddenly, he was very aware that it was about to turn dusk. The horrible sense that something was watching him from the woods, judging him, made him want to hop in his truck and speed back to Ambrose.

"What's your name, honey?"

It was no fuckin' use. The miserable thing wasn't going to answer. It simply squeezed tighter until not only its arms but its legs, too, were clenched around Bo's middle.

Come on, you li'l brat. Irritation came out on top briefly, and he forcibly distanced the child from himself, giving it a proper once-over. He had to hold it firmly in place to keep it from walking back into his arms as he patted it down, checking for injuries. Couple cuts, lot of bruises ... its feet were busted to shit, and its ribs were sticking out like a junkyard dog's.

More to himself, he mumbled, "What in the gaddamn happened ta you?"

Finally, a little noise. Just a tiny one. The small mouth parted, making an o shape, and pushed out a sharp breath of air: "Pchhhew."

The noise reminded him of the quiet sighs and chuffs Vincent sometimes made. Not a brat ... mute. Either because something had happened or just 'cause. Lucky him. Bo stared into those big eyes, contemplating his next move.

Well, shit ... he may be a monster, but he couldn't leave it out here to die. Not a human kid. Anyway, there had to be someone looking for it.

He pursed his lips, then spoke, forcing the child to look at him. "Come on now, let's find your momma and daddy."

A leery look entered the pitiful creature's eyes for just a moment, though it didn't pull away.

Bo sighed. Nothin's ever simple. "You want a pop?"

That won it over. It clutched itself close again, and Bo put a hand under its bottom, hoisting it as he stood. He struggled to open the truck with the child clinging to him, and struggled even more to disentangle it from him.

"Sit down now. There ya go." He slid in after, watching the child from the corner of his eye as he backed out and headed down the road to Ambrose. It sat with its knees pulled to its chest, nibbling at the dirt beneath its fingernails.

Death out, life in—if you could call the thing sitting in the passenger side life. Vincent and Lester were in for quite the surprise.

***

Ambrose was quiet and dark by the time Bo pulled up to the garage. He slid out of the truck and headed to the old soda machine, kicking it until it submitted and dispensed a Sprite. Stupid piece of shit.

As he grabbed it, he glanced over his shoulder, eyeing the top of the small head through his passenger side window. The child simply sat, straining to watch him.

Hell of a week this was turning out to be.

He returned to the truck, cracking the pop can open as he scooted back into place. "Here ya go."

The child clutched the can with both hands and threw its head back, chugging the Sprite with unabashed greed.

Bo couldn't help but laugh uncertainly. It was a pretty funny sight, this little creature scrambling to drink as fast as it could, but more than a little concerning. "Take it easy, kid. Gonna give yourself the hiccups or somethin'."

The child either didn't hear him or didn't want to listen, and he was too tired to argue with the damn thing. With a huff, he pulled up to the house. No lights on. Vincent would be hard at work in his warrens below, creating the newest additions to the town.

Bo didn't say much as he cut the engine and went to open the passenger side door. The child clung to him again, holding the now-empty Sprite can in one hand, then clenched so tight it hurt when he slammed the door.

"Ow, fuck, ease up," he mumbled, loosening the uncut claws digging into his arm on his way up the front steps. He never bothered to keep the house locked—he simply stepped in and bumped the door closed behind them.

As soon as he was able to get free of the child, it was sitting on the couch. Bo stood over it, staring down.

What now?

He couldn't call the sheriff. Even if he wanted cops around here, he wasn't in any state to see them, covered in dirt and blood and blowflies. He couldn't drive around asking the "neighbors" for similar reasons. His stomach turned as he went down his ever-shrinking list of options.

Finally, he pulled a chair up in front of the couch, straddling it backwards as he and the child stared each other down. "What's your name, huh?" The edge of fear in his own voice surprised him as much as it frustrated him.

The child didn't respond, simply sucked on the rim of the Sprite can, running the aluminum against the ridges of its teeth.

Bo studied the grime-caked little face. For starters, he guessed he could run a bath. He didn't pretend to be the pinnacle of hygiene, but he'd been raised to always clean behind his ears. Plus, if the kid was gonna stay, it couldn't stay like this, getting shit all over everything.

And deep down, seeing it like this was ... frankly disturbing. He'd killed dozens of people, perverted humanity in ways that would've made the Devil himself shudder, but even he couldn't deny there was something so acutely unnatural about seeing a baby in this state.

"Let's wash up. I'll getchu somethin' to eat after, how's that sound?" He stood and shoved the chair aside, and the child readily climbed back into his arms, no questions asked.

Weird feeling.

He trudged up the stairs. Fuck, his knees weren't what they used to be, but at least his extra load was light. Too light. The child buried its face in his neck again as he pulled the hall light on and entered the bathroom.

It was a sorry old excuse for a bathroom: claw-foot tub with a rusty shower head, pull chain toilet, stupid seafoam paint and tile Momma had always been crazy about. It'd done for the last few decades, though, and it'd do now, too. Bo stood the kid next to the tub and turned the tap, holding his hand under to gauge the temperature. Chances were his charge didn't like it as hot as he did.

He popped the plug into the drain, then looked over at the child. It was basically naked already, wearing one hell of a leaky diaper and the remnants of a T-shirt. Bo swallowed. Fuckin' pitiful. Lord.

"Come on, let's get you outta those." The shirt went first, then the diaper. The kid's skin was so red and swollen from diaper rash that Bo's whole body cringed. "Jesus Christ." She—a girl—must have been out there for days and days.

Tears rolled down the child's cheeks now, leaving little streaks in the dirt, and she whimpered softly. The rash must hurt like a bitch.

"Don't you cry now." Bo shifted awkwardly, rubbing a thumb against her cheek. Damn, she was running a fever, too. He turned the cold tap on the tub up higher. No wonder she'd fallen into the arms of the first adult she'd come across.

Once the tub was full enough, he offered his hands. She stepped closer, and he lifted her by the armpits, lowering her into the lukewarm water.

"You wanna give that to me?" He gestured to the Sprite can still clutched in her hands.

She burped quietly and held it closer.

"A'right." Kids were fuckin' weird.

Bo knelt beside the tub, taking a washcloth and scrubbing his bar of soap against it. She'd come out smelling like him, but there were worse things she could smell like, that was for damn sure.

He hesitated before beginning to lather her up, chest and shoulders first. His parents had always scrubbed him and Vincent down pretty rough, but even he could see this required a gentler touch. It wasn't long till the soap cut through all the dirt, revealing sallow skin.

By the time her body was completely clean, he'd gone through three washcloths and half a bar of soap. The bath water was opaque brown. They were both utterly silent as he drained it, then refilled it again to start in on her hair.

It didn't take him long to realize shampoo and a brush weren't going to cut it. She was crawling with lice, and a cut on her scalp had become home to a handful of maggots. Bo picked them out with tweezers and washed the cut, but the hair would have to go.

Poor kid. Ah, well.

Bo made her hair a ponytail in one hand and snipped it off with scissors, then discarded the matted locks.

"Now stay still," he murmured, draining the tub again and plugging in his electric clippers. "It makes a loud noise, but it's gonna make it so your hair ain't sick no more, m'kay?"

She remained mute, sucking her Sprite can.

Thankfully, she sat good for the clippers. He let the clumps of hair fall into the tub, shaving as close as he could until she was completely bald. "No more bugs," he said, pasting on a smile as he gave her shaven head one last pass with soap and water. "Don't that feel better?"

"Pchhheww."

"Right." With a sigh, he unplugged the clippers, then hoisted her out of the tub.

She stood by and watched, wrapped in a towel much too big for her, as he cleaned the tub and put things away. When he was done, he stopped and considered her. She had—or had had, a few minutes ago—brown hair, eyes of the same color. She had to be ... three, maybe a small four? Her face carried the unmistakable hallmarks of fetal alcohol syndrome.

Some drunk's kid, maybe. One more try. "Where're your momma and daddy? Hm? Where you live?"

She said nothing. Of course.

Bo pushed out a sigh. He couldn't have cops poking around here and asking questions. Looked like he'd have to either cut her loose or take care of her till he could find the people she belonged to. Hopefully that was sooner than later. Last thing this town needed was a fuckin' kid running around.

"Okay," he mumbled to himself, picking her up again. "Water. Food. Medicine. In that order."

Looked like his long fucking day wasn't over yet.

***

Chapter 2

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[teletraan-meets-jarvis]

What I Want

AO3 Link

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Jedi Reader

Summary: While running for you lives on the lower levels of Coruscant, you and Crosshair find yourself in a compromising position. Not that you're complaining.

Click here for Part 2

Warnings: 18+, Lil bit of frisky business but not full on so rated 18 just to be safe, slight angst at the end.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Notes: Finally got round to finishing this bad boi. It's one of the first fic ideas I had since getting into TCW/TBB and I finally had a spark of inspiration to finish the ending so yay! As always, feedback/comments are massively appreciated along with reblogs. Fic is below the cut off, thanks for reading!!

Your legs were on fire as you sprinted through the busy streets of the lower levels of Coruscant. The party sector was packed tonight with the citizens of the planet trying to forget their war worries and enjoy themselves. You pushed people out the way as you continued running away from the threat, your brown Jedi robe catching on a passerby, knocking the hood from your head as you kept up your pace. Crosshair was still behind you, following closely as you both evaded the danger on your heels. Normally you’d both face it head on, but there were too many civilians, it wasn’t safe.

You were supposed to be doing a standard recon and intel gathering mission. Apparently there’d been some traders in the lower levels who were getting tight with the crime syndicates. They were getting a big enough name for themselves to fear that they’d soon partner with the Separatists, so the bad batch and their Jedi had been called to check things out while they were in-between missions. Wrecker was keeping an eye on the ship while Hunter and Tech covered half the sector, you and Cross handled the rest, which was mostly made up of nightclubs.

You’d been making your way through sweaty crowds of people dancing the night away. The pulsing beat of the music and the low lighting made it easy for you both to maintain cover as you scouted out the areas.

That was until club number three which was a different type of establishment, with deep red lighting and a smoky hue from the patrons who were puffing away on their tabac. Sections of circular leather booths filled with people who were donned in expensive, revealing clothing. Everyone had their hands all over each other, flirting, kissing, moving to the sensual music that filled the venue.

It became very clear very quickly that you two weren’t regulars and were clearly republic operatives. Cross being in full trooper armour and your Jedi robe definitely wasn’t helping.

There was a man at the back of the club, he was lounging on a ridiculously extravagant chair, an air of superiority about him. His black, clingy shirt was unbuttoned exposing his toned upper body as two people ran their hands across him. Despite the friendly attention he had, the man was staring directly at you and Crosshair, a small smirk on his face as he waved his bodyguard over who was previously standing a few meters off to his side, and whispered something to him.

“I think we’ve overstayed our welcome” Crosshair said while still locking eyes with the owner through his helmet.

Suddenly there was a loud burst, two doors swung open from either side of the owner, revealing two bounty hunters who began marching towards you both. You felt Crosshair reach for his weapon and placed your hand on his. “Too many civilians.” He just huffed, grabbed your wrist and sprinted out of the place, the hunters making an effort to keep up with you.

Which brings you back to your current predicament of sprinting for you life in an attempt to keep people out of harms way.

You managed to spot an alley way and dragged Crosshair along without warning, no time for apologies as you kept running. You seemed to be behind the strip of night clubs on this level, smoke pouring out the back of the buildings and into the upper levels of Coruscant. Cross spotted what looked to be a storage door and slid to a stop, making you do the same. He shoulder barged his way in and thankfully it was empty. You both rushed in and shut the door behind you. You were safe for now, but the bounty hunters won’t take long to figure out where you went.

You were both breathing heavily from all the running. “What now?” Cross asked as he removed his helmet. “They’re going to figure out what route we took”

You were looking around, waiting for an idea to hit you. Thankfully, one did. From the room you could hear some heavy bass music coming from the club it was connected to. You remember all the drunk people dancing and moving together, there were hundreds of people getting it on out in the city tonight, the bounty hunters wouldn’t bat an eyelid at one more. They’d potentially seen your face under your hood, but not Cross’s, you could use this to your advantage.

You looked over at the sniper “I’ve got a plan, but it involves us getting to know each other a little better” he raised an eyebrow at that, distorting his face tattoo. He very quickly connected the dots and smirked at you.

“If you wanted to sleep with me General, all you had to do was ask” you huffed and rolled your eyes at him.

“Cute. Now get rid of your armour and stash it somewhere.” You ordered while throwing off your brown robe and lightsaber into one of the open storage boxes, covering it back up with the lid.

When you turned back, Crosshair was out of his armour and standing in his blacks. You shut your eyes and used the force to sense your surroundings. You felt two life forces gaining on your position and snapped your eyes open again.

“Kiss me” you said bluntly. Cross was about to make a snide remark but he sensed that time was of the essence from your reaction. So he quickly strode over and placed two hands on your face as he brought his lips to yours.

It suddenly dawned on you that this was your first kiss. Despite being into your twenties, you never really tried anything. The Jedi order was very clear on attachments and well, if you don’t get physical you don’t get attached right? That’s what you told yourself. Except that was a complete lie since every single one of the Jedi in this bloody war was attached to their clone battalions and squads.

You were pulled from your thoughts as Cross moved closer, flush against you as he crowded you backwards until your back hit the wall. He stroked his tongue across your lower lip and you granted him access to deepen things further. They had to be believable right? That’s what you told yourself as you melted further into the sniper’s embrace.

You moved your hands around his neck as his went to brace himself on the wall, hands either side of your head.

Things got heated quite quickly. You’re not sure which of you sent things in that direction. All you knew is that your right leg was now firmly around his waist, his gloveless hand moving further and further up that leg until he was gripping your ass. You rolled your hips into his, looking for some sort of satisfying contact. Your enthusiasm caused him to groan as you ground yourself against his now prominent erection.

The door swung open, making you yelp. Kriff, right, the mission. You at least remembered to bury your face in Crosshair’s neck in feigned embarrassment so the bounty hunters didn’t recognise you

Still pressed firmly against you, Crosshair turned his head slightly, careful to keep his tattoo out of view. He spoke, his voice low, sending a shiver down your spine. “Can I help you?”

The bounty Hunter, Bossk, took in the scene and couldn’t help but chuckle at what he assumed was a drunk couple looking for a quick relief. He hissed out a quick “Apologies-sss” before leaving and shutting the door beyond him.

You and Crosshair stared at each other for a couple seconds, chests still heaving from both the running and the make out session. You should probably get back, you haven’t checked in with the others due to all the commotion.

Except, neither of you moved. You both continued to search each other’s eyes while your bodies remained pressed close.

You’re not entirely sure what made you do it, the adrenaline, the moment, the way that, despite your compromising position, Cross made you feel safe. You brought your hands up to his face and pulled him back down into a searing kiss. Full of heat and want.

Kriff this was so wrong, you shouldn’t be doing this. You’re his General for crying out loud. Not to mention a Jedi. But that logically voice in your head was swiftly overruled by the larger part drowning in pure desire as Crosshair kissed down your exposed neck. You ran your hands up into his cropped grey hair, lightly dragging your nails across his scalp causing the sniper to groan against your neck.

Your hands drifted to the bottom half of the top of his blacks, teasing the skin of his midriff beneath it. He took the hint and stepped back, peeling the item of clothing off his toned body and chucking it carelessly onto the ground before immediately pressing back against you. Maker he was attractive. Lean, toned, battle hardened. Various scars littered his chest and back and you wanted nothing more than to give each one the attention and care it deserved.

It was strange really, you’d never thought of Crosshair like this before. The two of you always had a slightly strained relationship as he didn’t enjoy being under the control of a Jedi. He was always quiet and then when he did speak it was usually to throw a jab or snide remark.

You were brought back to the present moment when he reached up and cupped one of your breasts, causing you to moan as you dropped your head back against the wall. He leaned up and whispered in your ear, his teasing breath making you shiver with want. “What do you want, General?”

“Cross… I-“ he cut you off as he ground down against you, finally providing some of that friction you so desperately craved.

“Use your words” he teased, fully aware of the effect he was having on you.

“Gods Cross, I want you. I want all of you” you blurted out as he continued to move against you.

“See, That wasn’t too hard”

“You’re such an asshole” he let out a dark chuckle at your words which went straight to your aching core. He positioned his lips back against your ear as your hips continued to roll together.

“You don’t seem to mind” he whispered and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. He had no right to be this hot. It was driving you insane and you were loving every moment of it.

A sudden light beeping pulled you both out of your haze, it was coming from the comm link in your belt.

“General, Crosshair, you two alright? Haven’t heard from you in a while” Hunter’s voice sounded through the device, effectively killing the moment. You reached between your bodies to grab the offending device and reply.

“Yes Hunter, we’re fine. Just had to outrun some bounty hunters but we managed to lose them. Heading back to the checkpoint now.” He sounded back a confirmation before the line went silent once again.

Crosshair pulled away from you, giving you both some space to breathe again.

“We should probably go” you didn’t meet his gaze as you spoke, decidedly looking anywhere else but him as the guilt of what you’d done suddenly washed over you. Gods this was such a stupid idea.

He didn’t say anything as he picked up the top half of his blacks and started to get his armour back on.

You’d been walking back through the streets of Coruscant in complete silence. Still on the lookout for those bounty hunters just in case they hadn’t called off their search.

Once you’d finally cleared the crowds you decided to speak.

“Cross I-“ you met his visor with a sadness in your eyes before he cut you off abruptly.

“Save it. I know all about your Jedi code. You’ve told us enough” his voice was tense and harsh. You held back a flinch at his words. “I don’t need any lectures about attachments or I’m sorrys or whatever else you’re planning. Let’s get back to the ship” you stood there for a moment, watching him stalk off back towards the Marauder.

The guilt continued to wash over you in waves as you followed behind him. Fuming at yourself for being such an idiot. You’d just started to get to a good place with Crosshair and you’d thrown it all away for five seconds of teenage-like desire.

You finally stepped back on the ship, a few paces behind Crosshair, where Hunter went to greet you with a raised eyebrow at their sniper’s sour mood and your apparent awkwardness. The next few days were going to be a right bundle of laughs. You groaned internally at the thought and pushed past the rest of the Batch to the fresher, needing to wash away the emotions and lower level grime off your skin.

Continue to Part 2

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[elysiadjarin]

Sword and Shield 10

Tags: Bad Batch x reader (you), fem!coded, poly!relationship, multi-part series, nonhuman!reader, Echo later on

Part 9: Shatter

Warnings: very much 18+, minors DNI you have been warned, TW for trauma and PTSD, PIV unprotected sex (irl please be safe and use protection), everything is consensual, overstimulation, oral, cockwarming, dom/sub interactions, choking, subspace mentions, poly relationship. Also I swear Wrecker will get a chapter too, don’t come at me!!

I know it’s been a while but I hope this long chapter makes up for it!

10: Recover, Relive

Two more smaller missions later, the Bad Batch had been given a break. You’d pushed through the healing and the expected night of nightmares just fine thanks to being able to curl up to the warmth of Tech and Wrecker. The entire team had been pretty careful with you for the past couple of days, letting you have your space to recover while you continued to work alongside them for missions.

Crosshair hadn’t said anything, really, but his willingness to just let you quietly sit in his presence or in the back of his mind and polish your Rifle form was his way of showing support that you appreciated.

You'd been relieved for the break, knowing that you needed a moment to reset and devote everything to recovering. While you'd started to get over the worst nightmares and the last of your injuries had completely healed, you were still struggling with flashbacks and keeping your focus.

Sitting curled up on Hunter's bunk, you leaned your chin against your knees pulled up to your chest and sighed. Everytime you closed your eyes, you could see Skarla's maniacal eyes and bloodstained grin as she reached into your body and reveled in your pain. You could still hear your own screams echoing through your memories. You'd buried them so deep, the inhibitor chips having contributed to the suppression, and now... well, it was coming back and demanding to be dealt with.

The 501st had already helped you deal with so much of your past. But not everything. And this... these memories had been ones that you’d barely disclosed to even them.

“Shiv.”

You looked up to see Hunter standing in front of the bunk, carefully sitting down on the edge. “Oh... hi.” You smiled faintly.

He observed you carefully. “Are you doing okay?”

For a moment, the temptation to just say “I’m fine” hovered on your lips. But you remembered how disappointed all your Vod’ika had been when they discovered you’d been suffering and hadn’t told them. And the Bad Batch... the ones you loved, deserved better. You knew that.

So you looked down at your knees, then back up at him. “A memory for a memory?” you offered.

Surprise flickered through his eyes, then he scooted backward and leaned against the wall. “I guess that’s fair,” he admitted. Eyebrows furrowing, he thought for a minute before finally answering. “There was one mission,” he said slowly. “It was pretty early on. Everything... almost went wrong to the point of failure. In the end, it was my fault that I didn’t listen and got Tech nearly killed.” His chest heaved with a sigh, his head shaking. “It taught me a valuable lesson, and made me a better leader. Tech forgave me. But sometimes... I still hate myself for it.” Bitterness laced his tone. “I can still hear him screaming in pain, and remember how I felt when I realized what I’d done. I’ll never forget how my own stupidity and pride allowed me to fail the team. In some ways... what happened to you on our first mission reminded me of that.”

You sat in silence for a minute, mulling over his story. In retrospect, it would make sense why Hunter had seemed to loathe himself overmuch and take too much blame for your injury on that mission. Still, you knew that most of it had been your own fault for getting distracted and allowing yourself to get sidetracked from the mission.

“Skarla,” you said abruptly. You felt his surprise over the Bond before it faded away. “She...” Your lips twisted. “She is who she is for a reason. But she’s also... extremely cruel. I... I can survive and heal from wounds that most can’t, because of what I am,” you said, feeling a bit uncomfortable. “So my wounds sometimes— they seem a lot worse to others than to me because my scale of survival is different. Skarla has... well,” you said, shifting, “she’s well aware of that fact. Every time I would fail to defeat the Guardian, she would be allowed to punish me for fifteen minutes in whatever way she pleased.”

Fifteen minutes of Nine Corellian Hells. Fifteen minutes of begging for death.

“I don’t know how many times I’ve been torn open, ribs cracked, my guts rearranged,” you said, exhaustion lining your voice. “Honestly, I’ve forgotten a lot of it. My brain... couldn’t handle keeping the memories and still staying sane, I was told. I guess it’s better I don’t. What I do still remember... it haunts me. Just the memory of the pain, wishing for death. Staring up at the ceiling of the chamber and hearing my own blood splatter against the walls, hearing myself scream like a stranger. They’re some of my worst memories. Being back there... it was hard but...” You looked down thoughtfully at your hands.

“As hard as it was... it wasn’t unbearable. Not anymore. Knowing that- that all of you were there, and that— that you believed in me, trusted me... Even Tech: he trusted me. It gave me a strength to face not just my past but my nightmares and memories now because... because I have all of you.” You gave Hunter a small but genuine smile. “Being able to feel that strength... it helped me to defeat my past.”

Hunter met your gaze with a softness in his eyes that warmed you. He held out his hand, and you took it gratefully. “We’re here for you, Shiv. In whatever way you need.”

You nodded, then scooted closer to him and leaned into his side. “I’m here, too. I want... I want to return the strength you’ve given me.”

He pressed a kiss to the side of your head, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you into him. “You do already. In more ways than you know.”

Despite yourself, you had to duck your head as heat rose to your face. Your mind wouldn’t stop supplying you with memories of Hunter thrusting into you, his hands gripped around your waist and siding down your back, pulling you into his hips. His face buried between your legs, fingers sliding into you— Crosshair’s lithe fingers wrapping around your throat as Hunter came inside you, moaning—

Hunter let out a quiet chuckle. “Oh, did you remember something else in particular, Shiv?”

Thoroughly embarrassed, you buried your face in your hands with a whimper, knowing he could feel the heat coming from you and probably even smell you at this point. But for some reason... the memories wouldn’t stop. You.... wanted it. Wanted him.

Hunter’s mouth brushed against your throat, even as he pulled you back and into his chest. “If you want to make new memories, I’d be glad to help with that.”

You whined, biting your lips. “I...”

He kissed your neck, sliding up to your jaw. His hand reached up and gently tilted your chin to his face. “Is this what you want, Shiv?” he asked it in a low, husky tone, his dark eyes darting down to your mouth with a flare of desire.

You swallowed, then nodded. Yes. You wanted Hunter.

He bent and kissed you. His kiss this time was a bit different. Maybe because this time you were alone, you didn’t know, but... there was something about his kiss that was more tender, more... slow, as though he were savoring you, memorizing the feel of your lips against his.

“Come here,” Hunter rasped, turning you towards himself. Reaching up, he pulled his shirt off and dragged you close again, his hands sliding down your back as he kissed you. His mouth was hungry, his hands taking yours and placing them against his chest. His fingers gently slid under your top, and he pulled back for a moment.

“Can I?”

You nodded shyly, letting him slide your shirt and bra off. His hands slid up, cupping your breasts in his hands and admiring them for a moment.

“Can’t blame Tech for being obsessed,” Hunter admitted after a moment, teasing your nipples with his fingers.

You whimpered, shivering under the touch as you bit your lip. His calloused hands were warm and firm, and the deft confidence in the way he touched you brought back memories of his hands effortlessly wielding you as a blaster. Hunter’s touch was one of a leader, confident and respectful of the power he held, knowing its limits and its capacities and treating it accordingly.

“So you feel that, too,” Hunter murmured, making you realize that his Bond with you was alight with shared sensation.

His hand moved down, splaying over your bared stomach. He paused, his eyes curious as he simply gazed at his fingers, his palm covering your navel. Your chest heaved with breath as you wondered what he was thinking. A little embarrassed at the intensity that had crept into his gaze, your fingers twitched on the waist of his trousers.

Hunter bent forward, then, and caught your mouth in a long, languid kiss that brimmed with appreciation. His hands swept down to your waist, settling on your hips. “You’re beautiful, Shiv,” he murmured against your mouth.

A little surprised, you pulled back to blink up at him. Hunter had never really struck you as one to pay attention to that sort of thing, so his soft, earnest comment surprised you.

He reached up, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear. “I know all of us love all of you, and admittedly some of us might be especially appreciative of specific things. But whenever I see you, all I think of is... you,” he said slowly, eyes trailing over your face. “Watching you interact with the team, seeing you get excited when you’re successful in Transference, or even just... sitting on a bunk somewhere. I think just your astral form is enough for me to know it’s you, mesh’la.” He leaned his forehead against yours.

Your heart skipped a beat, and you had to smile and close your eyes. The warmth curled in you, and you let your happiness spill over the Bond.

“Mm. Although I do think that you’re a different kind of pretty when you’re clearly enjoying getting fucked,” Hunter chuckled, his voice deepening as he leaned closer to your ear.

The filthy words accompanied by the way Hunter’s hands sensually trailed up your front made you bite your lip and flush, looking down. Despite yourself, a thought popped into your head and you suddenly giggled, reaching up to press your fingers against your lips.

“Something funny?” Hunter asked, amusement lacing his own voice.

“My Vod’ika,” you giggled. “They’d all be losing their minds if they knew that I—“ you burst into a fresh wave of laughter, leaning your head against his shoulder. “Maker, Kix is protective enough, he’d want to kill all of you- and Fives, oh, Fives—“ Tears of laughter welled in your eyes as you thought about it. Fives wouldn’t know whether to tease you or want to fight the Bad Batch. Hawk and Dogma would be in shock that you were with four people.

Hunter laughed with you, shaking his head. “Not sure if I should laugh or be offended that you’re thinking of other men while I’m touching you,” he teased.

You suppressed your laughter, grinning up at him. “Sorry, Hunter,” you managed. “I promise I’m paying attention to you.” You lifted his hand to your face, leaning your cheek into his palm with a smile.

His eyes darkened, and he tipped you back. Catching you gently, he lowered you onto the bunk and pulled the pillow under your head. Shifting himself above you, he bent to kiss you and pull your body against his. His fingers played against your shorts, and you had to squirm a little at the way your body sparked at the friction. Letting out a little noise into his mouth, you canted your hips up as he ground against you.

Hunter let out a quiet grunt into your mouth, nipping at your lips. “You want these off, mesh’la?” His hands tugged at your shorts.

You lifted your hips, letting him slide them off. To your vague surprise, he left your underwear on. He started to kiss down your neck and chest. His fingers slid around the thin underwear, and he grunted as he felt how slick you’d already gotten. His fingers found barely any friction as they slid into your core.

You gasped, back arching as he pressed his fingers up into you. He worked you in a way that had you whining, entirely at his mercy as he proved how diligent he’d been in exploring your body and leaning your curves and edges. He traveled down your body, kissing your thigh as he continued to work his fingers and stretch you. The way he stared at your drooling core sent a flush of heat through you.

Then his thumb pushed aside more of the underwear, and his face lowered.

You let out a strangled gasp, back arching as your hands flew down and found purchase in his hair. His breath was hot against your core, his tongue dizzyingly familiar with your body. He grunted as your fingers tightened and twisted in his hair, his fingers finding that spot that had you arching into his mouth with a moan.

“Hunter,” you moaned, trembling against him as you felt that coil tighten in your abdomen.

After one last, long lick, Hunter lifted his mouth and licked you off of his lips with a satisfied look. Shifting himself back up your body, he slid his fingers out of you and instead brought them to your mouth.

You let him slide his fingers between your lips, the flavor bursting in your mouth. His fingers pushed against your tongue, and he surveyed you with dark eyes and a lazy smile. After a moment, he pulled his hand away and slid his trousers off, bending to kiss you again. He settled himself between your legs, his cock resting heavily against your core and up your lower belly. Something slick dripped onto your skin, warm and thick.

“Is this okay, Shiv?” Hunter asked, his voice strained.

You nodded, reaching up to slide your hands up his shoulders. Over the Bond, you could feel the way his utter desperation to be inside you heightened. His mind, as he lost control of the Bond, kept focusing on the way your body melted into his hands, the way his body burned as he pressed against you, the way he gravitated towards you. He let out a quiet gasp as his cock slipped against you, his eyes squeezing shut above you.

He slowly, ever so slowly, eased into you. Every inch earned you another low groan, and you had to stare up at his face in awe. Hunter’s face twisted in pleasure, his jaw clenched and his eyelashes fluttering.

“Maker, mesh’la,” he choked, shuddering above you as he completely bottomed out, buried deep inside you. “I can’t— you’re so kriffing tight.” His eyes, when he opened them to stare down at you, looked practically drugged.

You abruptly remembered Hunter’s enhanced senses, especially as a wave came over his side of the Bond of his overwhelmed pleasure. Reaching up, you cupped his face in your hands, trying to make sure he wouldn’t overdo himself.

“Just relax,” you whispered, feeling the way he trembled against you. You knew that the moment he started moving you’d be dangerously close to the edge thanks to his own pleasure he was sharing across the Bond. Not to mention the way Hunter was practically collapsed on top of you, his body pressed against yours, his low groans spilling into your ear as his mouth pressed against your skin. His arms braced himself on either side of you, your legs propped up against his hips.

“Gonna— gonna move,” he hissed, slowly pulling back out so only his tip stayed in you. “Kriff,” he mumbled under his breath.

You were already making sloppy sounds, and you whimpered as he pushed back into you. The way his movements were so precise and sure, the way his mouth pressed against yours with a burning need made that tightness in you start to snap. You whined, already so close to coming.

“You gonna cum, Shiv?” Hunter chuckled, his voice raspy. “You’re so kriffing wet around me.”

You moaned, eyes fluttering as he started to thrust, pitching into you smoothly. His hand reached down between you, and his thumb found your clit.

“You feel so good, so hot and wet and tight,” he murmured, beginning to praise you even as his hips started to stutter. “Kriff, mesh’la, you take me so well. So pretty, under me like this.”

You whimpered, reveling in the soft praises and touches that he showered on you. You could feel him starting to get close himself, his movements a little more erratic as he lost control.

“So lucky to have you, that you love us,” Hunter rasped against your neck, his kiss almost reverent. “Gonna— gonna cum, mesh’la—“

His finger twitched against your clit and you were arching, crying out his name as the heat washed through you, white hot. Pleasure burst behind your eyelids as you came, just as he slammed into you and ground, groaning your name. He spilled into you, filling you up, then shuddered and collapsed against you. His body leaned against yours, his face burying into the crook of your shoulder.

The heat that pooled in your belly as Hunter kept you plugged made your eyelashes flutter. Letting out a soft sigh of contentment, you reached up and gently drew your fingers through his hair.

His chest heaved for breath, and his hands ran down your sides appreciatively. “I love you, so much,” he whispered, his voice getting heavy.

You reached up and pressed a shy kiss to the corner of his lips. “I love you too, Hunter. Thank you for taking care of me.”

He fell asleep rather quickly, though you guessed it was in part due to the overstimulation. You waited until he was asleep before carefully sliding out from underneath him. You quickly adjusted your underwear to catch Hunter’s cum starting to run down your leg. You needed to make it to the fresher, but had to lean against the wall halfway there as your knees almost gave out.

You finally managed to go get yourself cleaned up, and went to go change underwear and fetch your bra. You made rounds to collect laundry, putting in a load and blowing out a breath. Pushing hair away from your face, you went to the common area to go find a T-shirt you knew you’d left in there.

Looking around, you finally caught sight of the large shirt and perked up, going to go grab it and slide it over yourself. Tech was the only other one in the common room, and you made a quick decision as you walked over to him.

“Tech?” you asked softly.

He looked up at you, blinking owlishly as he registered your presence. “Ah, Shiv.” He readjusted his goggles. “Can I assist you with something?”

You tilted your head, clasping the edge of the shirt in your fingers. “If... if you’re not busy, can I— can I talk with you?” you asked, suddenly a bit nervous.

He turned fully toward you. “Sure, Shiv. I was just working on a few odds and ends anyway.”

You glanced down at his legs. “Um, can I— can I sit?”

Some confusion flickered across his face. “Of course-“

You got closer to him and slid into his lap, facing him with your legs on either side of him and your hands twisted in the hem of your shirt. He let out a small noise of surprise, his hands coming up to your hips to steady you.

“I wanted to thank you,” you said softly, still not looking up at his face.

“Thank me? For what, Shiv?” Tech asked curiously. His hands tugged at you, bringing you a little closer to him.

“I know I said it before, but— but I really wanted to thank you properly,” you said, scrambling for words. “For how you trusted me, back during the... the ritual.” You made a little, nervous gesture. “I mean— it means more to me than I think you realize. It’s— the ritual is one that’s... that’s fueled by blood, whether yourself or your Champion. Skarla— she’s always been very powerful and- and she... she was very cruel to me, a long time ago. Going back there was...” your face twisted in misery as you looked down. “It was really difficult, and I— it brought back a lot of fear.”

Taking a breath, you made yourself look up at him. “But you trusted me, believed in me. You didn’t even question me when I led you towards dangerous places, and did everything I asked without hesitating. You trusted me to the point that when faced with something unusual... you readily gave your blood for me.” Your heart was in your throat even as you said it. “It— it meant so much to me, Tech,” your voice wavered, your eyes welling with tears. “The only reason I actually won that match... is because of you.” You met his eyes, trying to convey how much it truly meant.

Tech’s eyes widened as he gazed at you with surprise, his fingers tightening around your waist.

“You gave me the strength I needed to push through, and the way you believed in me...” You reached up and wiped away the grateful tears that had sprang to your eyes. “I fought a battle against my fear and the memories of my failure, too,” you whispered. “But your faith in me was what really gave me the power to win. And I wanted— I needed to thank you. So you know... know what it means to me.”

Tech leaned forward. Your eyes widened as he kissed you, taken a bit aback by the suddenness. But it felt so good, the way his mouth pressed against yours and the way his emotions started to spill over the Bond to you. Tech was... his kiss always made you lean into him, eyes fluttering closed as you melted into the gentle, desperate affection. His precise, clinical nature softened whenever he kissed and touched you.

“I am glad that you are all right,” Tech said, his voice quiet and earnest. “It was... frightening, to see you fight alone. I am pleased to know that I could give you strength in any way I could.”

You leaned forwards and hugged him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Thank you, Tech.”

“You’re welcome, cyar’ika,” he murmured back. He let out a sigh as you shifted, his hands gripping around your hips. “Shiv— could I ask a favor?”

You blinked, pulling back to look up at him.

He glanced down at the hem of your shirt, and an image flashed across the Bond. You, leaning against Wrecker’s chest, fast asleep, Wrecker’s thick cock buried inside you as your chest rose and fell with breath and your face flushed with the arousal. Color crept up Tech’s neck.

“I— um—“

You looked up at him with a shy smile, a bit embarrassed but also flattered that he seemed to be so enamored with your body as well. Leaning down, you grasped his hand and brought it up to the hem of your shirt, pushing his fingers up under it.

Tech swallowed, his hand trailing upward, sliding to the edge of your bra. He glanced at you for permission, and you answered by reaching down and unzipping his trousers. His breath hitched as you began to slowly pump him, your fingers playing a little with his tip. His hand slid under your bra, brushing over your nipple as you bit your lips at the stimulation. Your body was still a little sensitive after Hunter, and you were starting to feel the tiredness pluck at your eyelids.

Tech slid his fingers around your underwear, only to feel you dripping wet and still leaking a bit of Hunter. He brought his fingers up and didn’t seem to be surprised at the white, simply sticking it in his mouth.

“Shiv,” Tech murmured, bending to press a kiss to your throat.

You scooted forwards, letting him guide himself into you. Squeezing your eyes shut, you had to let out a soft moan as he sank fully into you, stuffing you so perfectly. Tech really was the perfect girth for this, you thought dizzily. He just hit every spot inside you as he stuffed you full and kept you sitting still on his cock. It almost made you feel torn between wanting to move and wanting it to stay there, resting perfectly inside you, lighting you up in the best way possible.

He let out a groan against your ear, his hands keeping your hips pressed against his, keeping you completely pressed into his chest, every curve of your body melting against his. Letting out a shuddering breath, he shifted and scooted forwards, beginning to resume his work.

Despite yourself, you had to open your mouth against the crook of his neck and shoulder, biting down gently and beginning to absently suckle. His skin had a hint of salt, but just the warmth of his skin comforted you, your eyes fluttering closed as you suckled a mark into his neck.

Eventually you fell asleep, happily cradled against him and stuffed completely full.

~

“Oh, hey, there’s Shiv! I was wondering where she was.”

Stirring, you started to wake up. Reaching up, you rubbed at your eye and felt the yawn build in your mouth.

“You woke her up, Wrecker,” Tech sounded a bit morose.

“Huh? Oh— sorry, Shiv.” Wrecker’s voice sounded closer.

You sat up a little, arms still flung across Tech’s shoulders. Stretching, you let the yawn stretch your mouth and your eyes flutter open. Sleep still sticking in your eyes, you blinked up at Wrecker, lips parted.

Wrecker grinned. “Did you have a good nap?”

You nodded belatedly, reaching up to rub the sleep out of your eyes. For a moment, you just blankly stared at Tech’s collar as you woke up more fully. Then shaking your head, you looked up at his face. He gazed back down at you, his hand lightly resting on your thigh. He brushed his thumb across your skin, and you suddenly realized why your lower body felt warm with a pulsing heat. He was still buried hilt deep inside you, his cock thick and hard as it pressed up inside you.

“You’ve been asleep for a chron,” Tech said, his voice surprisingly even.

Your mind fizzled for a moment. He hadn’t moved for a whole chron? He hadn’t cum, obviously, so... Then your lips parted, and you tilted your head at him. But your breath caught in your throat, and you instead shivered and looked down, your face blooming with warmth. Reaching up, you pressed the back of your hand against your mouth to suppress your whimper.

“Ah— th-thank you, I— I think I needed that nap,” you admitted, trying to scrape yourself together. “Um-“ You glanced up to see Tech’s knowing, little smile that he gave you. His hand slid down to your inner thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin. His eyes glittered with the knowledge that at the moment, the T-shirt was the only thing hiding the way your body was clenching around him, making a wet spot against his trousers, drooling all over him, coating your thighs in slick. Every time he pulsed, you felt his cock press up against your g-spot.

“Wrecker, can you hand Shiv her datapad? I think it’s still on the table,” Tech said, his voice still frustratingly calm considering how clearly desperate his body was.

You glanced up at him in a bit of despair, wondering if he was really going to still not move. Though it didn’t surprise you that Tech’s patience and endurance were so high, still. This was on the verge of being cruel. Your body clearly had been frustrated this whole time you’d been asleep, denied movement and friction.

Wrecker handed you the datapad, and you took it with a weak smile. “Thank you,” you murmured.

Tech’s hand squeezed a handful of your thigh. Stay still for me, cyar’ika. And because it was Tech, somehow the order was still coated with that enamored desperation that made you want to obey, just to give him whatever he wanted.

Leaning forward again, you rested your chin against Tech’s shoulder and propped your arms over his shoulders, opening up the datapad. You also realized that Tech had taken off your bra, though you wondered where he’d put it. Not that you cared, particularly. He leaned forward a little as well, reaching for a tool, and pressed your breasts against his chest.

You whined across the Bond, pouting at how mean he was.

He just chuckled, the loving affection pouring across the Bond a satisfactory compensation.

Wrecker sat across from you, beginning to chatter about how he’d been training. You listened, humming and nodding as you pulled up the schematics that Tech had uploaded to your datapad for Wrecker’s combat gloves. You’d been studying and modifying them so that hopefully Wrecker would be able to have them by the next mission.

Just then, Crosshair strolled in. “Hunter says there’s a bit of turbulence ahead,” he drawled, just as the ship jolted.

You let out a choked gasp as it made you rise a little and slam back down on Tech’s cock. Eyes widening, you tried to keep your composure as you gripped onto your datapad. Tech’s grunt had been lost, but the way he throbbedinside you was a sweet sort of revenge.

“Whoa.” Wrecker grabbed onto his seat. “What is it?”

“Asteroid belt,” Cross said, grabbing onto the nearest steady surface. “We have to manually fly through some of it.”

Your mind was already short circuiting. Tech had somehow gotten bigger inside of you, and you were almost on the verge of tears thanks to the way he was pressing into all your sensitive spots. At this point, you were just desperately trying to hold still while your body clamped down on his cock and inched so much closer to the edge. Tech’s hand on your lower back still somehow kept you grounded, reminding you not to move. You didn’t want to disobey. You wanted to make Tech happy.

“Hey Shiv, what’re you working on?” Wrecker asked, turning to you. The ship still dipped and swerved once in a while.

You fumbled with your datapad, connecting it to the holoscreen and transferring the data. “Your- your gloves,” you managed, trying to keep yourself at least coherent. But it was so hard when Tech’s warmth was engulfing you, his hand sweeping down your back, across your thigh, pressing your chest into his.

“I’m trying to modify them before our next mission,” you continued, highlighting the list of mods you’d created off to the side of the schematic. “These are the ones that have already been done, and these are the ones that I’d like to try to do-“

The ship jolted, taking a sharp turn up before coming straight back down and banking. This time, you barely managed to keep yourself from letting out a filthy, desperate moan. Tech had slid his hand down as though to brace you, but his thumb slid under the hem of the shirt and instead slicked up your clit.

You’re doing very well, Shiv, Tech’s voice puddled in your mind. You already came twice while you were asleep. You were so good for Hunter, do you think you could be good for me just a little longer?

So you bit back your sob and instead sank your teeth into your lip so hard you swore you’d leave a mark. You weren’t surprised that Tech knew about you and Hunter’s earlier session: Hunter always projected unconsciously once he was on sensory overload.

“That looks super cool, Shiv! I can’t wait to test it out.” Wrecker was grinning.

“Ah— sorry, Shiv. I need to grab this for a moment,” Tech said, just before moving forward and pressing his hand against your lower back. He grabbed something, then leaned back again and trailed his hand up your back.

Crosshair met your gaze across the room, his lips tilting up in a knowing smirk. His eyes swept over you, a hint of appreciation buried in his dark eyes. He said nothing, but you knew that he’d figured out exactly what was happening. You were past the point of embarrassment. Not only because your body was desperate, but also because the boys all quite clearly appreciated the projections over the Bonds and the sight of you being made a mess over and over.

The final jolt back into hyperspace proved to be too much for you. The way it pressed you wholly into Tech’s front and caused your clit to grind against his hip. The way your body clenched even wrenched a grunt from him.

The datapad fell from your weak fingers, clattering to the floor. Your head dropped down, your breaths quick and shallow as your entire face flushed, eyes fluttering closed. Lips parted, you peeled open drugged and teary eyes.

“Shiv? You okay?” Wrecker asked, looking at you in some surprise.

“Cruel, Tech,” Hunter’s amused voice came from the doorway. He jerked his head. “I’m going to go get some more shut-eye. Take care of her.” He disappeared down the hall.

“Huh?” Wrecker looked thoroughly confused.

Crosshair rolled his eyes. “Wrecker, she’s been sitting there for over a chron.”

Tech turned the chair to give Wrecker the full view. His hand slid up your thigh, bringing the edge of the shirt up as his hand traveled further up your hip and waist. “She’s been cockwarming me,” Tech said almost casually. “I wanted to see how sensitive she could get. A... pleasant experiment, if you will.”

You were shivering at that point, your mouth watering as tears slipped down your cheeks. The overstimulation was a pleasure you simultaneously wished would end and yet never stop. Your entire body felt like you were trying to completely melt into Tech, legs trembling.

Wrecker laughed, eyes lighting up. “Whoa Tech, I guess you really must have wanted it. A whole chron?” He shook his head, but his eyes trailed over you. “I mean, Shiv does look really pretty like that, though,” he admitted.

Crosshair approached, bending to tilt your chin up to his face with his finger. “Well, it looks like our little kitten is rather happy about your experiment. But also getting... desperate.” A smirk curled the corner of his lips as he stared at you through half-lidded eyes. “How... appealing.” He brushed a tear off of your chin, then straightened and walked back toward the door. “Take care of her, Tech. I’ll be back to talk to her once she’s... available.”

“Good luck, Shiv. I’m gonna go get a snack,” Wrecker said cheerfully, following Cross out the door with a wave.

“It seems as though we all liked the results of this experiment,” Tech remarked, sounding satisfied.

Your fingers curled in his shirt, nails scraping across his back. Lips parting, you breathed his name in a soft, half-drunk voice that dripped with pleasure. You wanted to cum, yes, but more than that, you wanted the satisfaction of hearing Tech praise you for not moving, for being good. Just his hand on your back and the steady affection that poured over the Bond was enough to make you seek more, whatever the means.

Tech shivered under you at the sound of his name spilling from your lips, and his fingers tightened on your waist. “You’ve done so well, cyar’ika,” he murmured, kissing your ear. “Thank you for being patient. Can I make it up to you, now?”

Your mouth watered at the idea, and you pulled back a little to be able to look up at his face. You knew you were a wreck, lips trembling and tear streaks down your face, but you wanted it. Wanted to ask.

“Can I-“ You swallowed thickly, feeling your face flush. “Can you...” You licked your lips. “In my mouth?”

Surprise flickered in his eyes for a moment, then he reached forward and cupped your face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tear-tracks, and his eyes softened. “If that’s what you want, of course. But I’d like to make you feel good, first.”

Your mind fuzzed with confusion. Make you feel good? But that’s literally all you’d been feeling the whole time, wasn’t it? He was the one that hadn’t cum yet.

All remaining coherent thought flew out of your head the moment Tech’s fingers found your clit. He leaned forward, drawing you into a tender kiss that sharply contrasted the way he dragged his fingers against you. His hips snapped up into you once, and you broke.

You wailed.

The pent-up release that had been building as he edged you over and over had you seeing stars, fireworks, whole galaxies. It burst inside you with a heat that washed over you and stole your breath, searing into your bones and wrenching a shattered sob from your mouth. You hardly registered that Tech’s name was spilling from your lips in a litany of prayer, too wrecked to even remember your own name.

You slowly wound down from the devastating high, trembling, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your body sparked and shuddered, humming in the aftermath in a way that left a glowing ember of satisfied warmth deep inside you. Coming undone had never so intensely walked the line of pleasure just this side of pain.

Tech’s arms were wrapping around your waist, one hand coming up to cup your face as he pulled you to lean against him. You started to register his steady stream of praise as he kissed your cheek and trailed his lips down your neck and shoulder.

“You did so well, cyar’ika. You deserve to feel good. So pretty, cumming for me.”

Your eyelashes fluttered as you slowly recovered, your body all but boneless against his chest. Snuggling into him, you tucked your face into his neck and sighed softly. You just... wanted a moment. To just press against Tech and feel his presence, his hands gently skimming over you, soothing you.

“Are you okay?” Tech checked, his voice low and inquisitive.

You hummed and nodded against his shoulder, basking in the glow of the high. “Thank you, Tech,” you murmured shyly.

He coaxed your head back so he could press a soft kiss to your lips. “For what? You’re the one who had to put up with my experiment.” The words were half-teasing, but his thumb stroked over your cheek with a tenderness that showed his mild concern.

You shook your head, reaching up to delicately brush your fingers across his face, peering up from under your lashes. “You take really good care of me, even though you’re feeling it a lot too...”

He had to be almost on the verge of pain. The way he was still buried inside you at the moment gave you an acute knowledge of how much his cock was throbbing, straining inside you.

His breath came out a bit shaky. “You come first, cyar’ika.”

Reaching up, you pulled him into a grateful kiss. Before the 501st, and even then rarely, no one had ever put you first in anything. The way the Bad Batch had taken care of you even in the middle of war had been a first in so many ways. And even now, Tech had put your wellbeing and comfort first, before his own. You wanted to return the favor.

Tech leaned into the kiss, clearly growing desperate for relief. Still, the kiss was tender for all its hunger, and his hands smoothed over your waist gently.

Pulling back, you slid out of his lap and all but puddled to the floor, your knees completely weak after the force of your orgasm. Still, that’s all you needed. Scooting forward a little, you reached out and brushed your fingers against the swollen, almost purpled head of his weeping cock. He was straining, and he let out a hiss as your fingers dragged across him. A thought struck you, and you tilted your head.

“What do you want, Tech?” you asked, your fingers smearing with your own slick coating his cock. You looked up at him, wanting to please him in the way he wanted.

He lurched forward a little, then looked down at you and panted. “I— wh-what... I...”

You paused in your stroking, your thumb rubbing on the underside. “I want you to feel good, too.”

Before he could quite help himself or stop it, a thought rocketed across the Bond. Color burst in his neck, creeping up to the tips of his ears. Despite yourself, you had to stifle a giggle and instead smile a little, wholly unsurprised even if his reaction did amuse you.

Shuffling forward, you pulled your shirt up and over your head. You had to think about it for a moment, but you decided to just give it your best shot regardless of the potential awkwardness. For Tech... you’d try your best. You pushed yourself closer to his lap, letting his straining cock fall between your breasts. Reaching up, you pushed your chest together and felt the slick slide against your skin.

Tech let out a low, tortured groan that made your already-battered body pulse with appreciation. He shuddered, eyes squeezing shut as pure pleasure flashed across his face. His eyes peeled open in time to see you kitten lick the tip of his cock just peeking from between your breasts.

Readjusting yourself, you found a position that let you move a little bit while still having access for your mouth. Sliding lower, you took the whole head into your mouth. It had swollen to the point that it was almost a struggle to get it in your mouth. The moment the heat of your mouth hit his cock, he let out a strangled moan and lurched, shuddering.

“I’m not— not going to last, Shiv,” he gasped, his whole body starting to tremble.

You lifted your mouth. “S’okay, Tech,” you said shyly. “You can use me.”

You knew that he was close, but you really had underestimated the effect the visual was having on him. You’d just stretched your mouth open around him again when he let out a half-choked cry. It took you by surprise, not expecting it that quickly.

Taken off guard, the first burst into your mouth made you squeak. Every spurt of his cum kept gathering in your mouth faster than you could swallow, and soon your mouth was completely full. It started to trickle out of the corners of your mouth, while you braced yourself for balance by splaying your palm against Tech’s stomach. His hand reached down and tangled in your hair, twitching weakly as he groaned.

He was gasping for breath by the time he rode out his high. His fingers loosened, and your mouth popped off of his cock as you fell back onto the floor. Mouth still full, you whined in protest as it started to drip out of your mouth. Some splashed onto your chest, and you lifted your fingers to your lips as you swallowed. You still hadn’t swallowed all of it by the time you opened your mouth for breath, so more of it ended up on your chest.

You pouted a little, wishing you hadn’t wasted so much. Tech’s cum, for some reason, was just enough of that tangy-sweet flavor with a hint of salt to make you not hate it. Besides, now you’d have to clean yourself off more than you’d normally have to otherwise. Looking down, you smeared a bit over your chest with your slick fingers, sticking them in your mouth.

Tech had slumped over in his chair, getting his breath back.

You crawled up closer to him again, getting his attention. “Are you okay, Tech?” you asked, a little concerned.

Tech looked at you, and his eyes riveted on your mouth, trailing down to your chest. Swallowing thickly, he nodded. “Maker, yes,” he murmured, dragging a hand through his hair.

You smiled up at him. “I’m glad.” Looking back down at yourself, you hummed. “I should go clean up again...”

“Sorry,” Tech blurted.

You looked up, surprised. “F-for what?”

“I— I made a mess...” He glanced down at you. “Didn’t get to warn you.”

You giggled. “It’s okay, Tech. I don’t mind.” You gave him a smile, standing slowly to make sure your knees would get you to the fresher. Scooping up the T-shirt, you headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”

You cleaned up, pulling the T-shirt back over yourself before heading back to the common area. Finding your poor datapad, you picked it up from where you’d dropped it. Tech came up to you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Thank you, Shiv. I’m going to go get cleaned up.”

You nodded back, giving him a smile. Turning back to your datapad, you decided to resume a bit of work you’d been doing. Taking a break from Wrecker’s gloves, you pulled up a series of footage you’d meant to assess from a recent mission. Hooking up the datapad to the holoscreen, you started to scrutinize the footage.

You’d wanted to see if you could better understand Crosshair’s personal preferences as far as vantage point and strengths went in order to better accommodate for him. Though you did know a few of his tells as a sniper, you still felt a little in the dark when it came to any patterns he had. You wanted to try to see if you could learn anything more, also wanting to see how he handled you as a weapon from an outsider’s perspective. Sometimes, it helped you adjust better.

As usual, you lost yourself in the familiar work and completely lost track of your surroundings. Hands wrapped around your waist, settling on your hips and bringing you out of your focused haze.

“Well, it looks like I found our little kitten doing something interesting,” a voice hummed into your ear, low and smooth.

Color leaped into your face as you gasped, pulled back into his chest. “O-oh, Crosshair...”

One hand anchoring your hip to him, his other hand started to trail up your front. “And what exactly were you doing, Shiv?” he drawled, lazy but not displeased.

You swallowed. “I— I was trying to analyze footage a little more,” you answered, voice pitching a little higher. “I just— I feel like I don’t know your preferences enough, and- and I wanted to see if I could do— do better for you—“

Crosshair’s fingers came up to your neck, tracing the side of your throat down to your shoulder. “Is that right? Don’t you think we should be the ones analyzing you a little more?”

The comment had something.... else to it. An edge that made you pause, tilting your head to look up into his face. Was he upset about something?

A soft sigh blew over your skin, the only way you even knew he’d done it at all. “We stood by and watched as you fought the Guardian and weren’t able to do anything. Didn’t even know you could fight like that. What’s the point in having you be our weapon if we don’t even know anything about you?”

You closed your eyes. “It’s not your fault if I didn’t tell you,” you pointed out quietly. “And I... I should have, I know. That’s on me, not you.”

Cross grunted. “You blame yourself too much,” he grumbled.

You gasped as his teeth sank into the crook of your neck, not hard enough to bruise but definitely enough for you to feel it. Your back arched automatically, though his fingers tightened around your throat and held your head back and neck accessible.

Your eyes squeezed shut as your fingers grappled against his trousers for some sort of stability. Everything seemed to be spinning, Crosshair’s mouth hot against your skin. His hand on your hip pulled you into him, and he ground against your ass in a way that left you squirming on the verge of embarrassment. He chuckled.

“Is my little kitten going to be good for me?” A hint of stubble rasped against your neck, leaving you shuddering.

“Yes,” you whimpered, already trembling. Cross may not have been physically as large or intimidating as Wrecker, but the lithe strength in his arms and the deft confidence of his thin, calloused fingers did something to you that left you utterly weak.

“That’s a good girl,” he murmured, voice slick. His hand slid under the oversized T-shirt, trailing up your hip. His fingers hooked on your underwear, playing with the fabric. His mouth moved lazily over the back of your neck as he tilted your head forward a little for access.

“Next time we make a stop, I think we’re going to have go get you some... things, hmm?” he remarked casually, just as his hand twisted.

The underwear snapped, slipping off of your hips and leaving you feeling oddly... vulnerable. You trusted Crosshair with your life, of course. But somehow... you felt so much more self-conscious around him than the others. Maybe it was the way you couldn’t read him as easily as the others? Or just the way he tended to not be as expressive as the others toward you? What was it that made you cherish his affection in such a different way compared to the others?

Crosshair nudged you forward, letting your hands land against the holotable for support. His other hand let go of your hip, only to slide your shirt up over your back before reaching back to unzip his trousers.

“You seemed to enjoy Tech’s experiments,” he noted, fingers sliding around your hip. His fingers spread you open, revealing how slick you were already. “And do you think you can take me too?”

You nodded faintly, then gasped as his cock slid against you. “I don’t think I heard you, kitten,” he drawled.

“Y-yes, I-I can,” you stammered, already shivering. Your body felt hypersensitive, both from your previous session with Tech as well as the way Cross somehow knew exactly how to touch you in every sensitive spot. Had he really observed you that much-?

He slid two fingers into your mouth, letting you suck on them as he kept a vise-like grip on your jaw. The movement was simple, but the way it made you feel so completely controlled, trapped between him and the table, made you go pliant. He handled your body as confidently as he did your Rifle form, tracing over you with a sort of muted reverence that you began to recognize as your memory drew parallels. The confidence was reassuring, as though he were subconsciously saying that you could trust him, that he knew how to handle you expertly, that you could leave it in his capable hands.

You whimpered around his fingers as your mind fully leaned into the reassurance, leaving you open and pliant to him.

“That’s right, Shiv.” Crosshair’s voice slid around you, through you. “Bend over.”

You obeyed almost without thinking, sliding down onto your elbows and then completely collapsing against the table. The cool metal pressed against your cheek, and your eyes fluttered closed as your breath shallowed. Your lips parted in a soft moan as you felt Cross start to slide into you.

For a moment, he only kept the tip in you, letting you flutter around him and adjust. Then he reached down and pulled both of your legs up, pushing them up on the table so you looked like you were in a sitting position, your legs both on one side and pulled against his hip. His fingers wrapped around your ankle like a vise, just as he thrust up into you.

Your fingers curled around the edge of the table as you choked.

It was the first time Cross had actually penetrated you, and it was already about to drive you over the edge. His cock was long, and while not as thick as Tech, it definitely stretched you in different ways. He pressed up inside you in depths you didn’t know were possible. You swore you could taste him in your throat, he was so far inside you.

Bending over you, Cross started to mercilessly fuck up into you, barely giving you a moment to breathe. The way he had your legs together and bent up put a pressure on your clit that spiked every time he bottomed out; and at the pace he’d set, you could feel yourself careening closer to the edge. He grunted, his iron grasp on your hips definitely about to leave bruises littered over your skin.

His hand tangled in your hair, pulling so he could lower his mouth back onto your throat. Every other thrust was punctuated with a sloppy kiss to your neck, a contrast that only made you moan louder. Your body rocked with the brutal pace, and you could swear that Cross was molding you around his cock.

Somewhere in the jumble of your mind, his name managed to slur off of your tongue. You weren’t sure how or why, but your mind was starting to blur and fuzz, focusing solely on the way Crosshair’s body was hunched over yours, his hands controlling you so deftly, taking control over your body, your pleasure. Everything else faded into the background, until all you knew was him, and the way his fingers wrapped around your throat as he fucked you into the table.

You weren’t sure how long you drifted in the haze, but when you managed to focus, you found yourself gazing up into Crosshair’s dark eyes. His thin lips tilted in a smug smile as he noticed.

“Looks like someone’s back.” He raised an eyebrow. “Well then. How about you cum for me, hmm?” a hint of amused indulgence laced his tone. “You want it Shiv, don’t you? To cum all over me like the cock-dumb kitten you are?”

You whined, the pressure around your throat grounding you just enough to keep you present. The pleasure kept flowing through your body like a steady, unrelenting stream, smothering you. You did want it. Wanted to please him.

He leaned closer, not letting up his pace as his hips continued to snap up into you. “Such a good kitten,” he murmured, “with my fingers wrapped around your pretty little throat. Cum for me, Shiv. Show me how good I make you feel.”

It drove you off the cliff. Your orgasm seemed to burst from inside you, rippling up through your veins, your limbs, arching your body. It sent a wave of white heat washing through you, leaving you weak and completely lax in its wake. A sob spilled weakly from your lips as you opened tear-filled eyes to focus on him through the pleasure.

Crosshair let go of your throat, his jaw clenching as he stared down at your face. His hips started to stutter, his chest heaving with breath.

Swallowing thickly, you reached up and traced the tattoo that ringed his eye and trailed down his cheek. “Please, Cross,” you murmured dreamily. “Please, cum inside me.”

His shoulders locked as he snapped his hips into you one last time. A low groan hissed between his gritted teeth as he came, still buried deep inside you.

The liquid heat pooled inside you, and your eyelashes fluttered with contentment.

Crosshair's breath washed over your ear. "You're ours, Shiv," he murmured, voice husky with the high.

"Yours," you repeated obediently, your fingers tangling in the front of his shirt. Sleepiness plucked heavily at your eyes, the aftermath of three sessions tugging insistently at your consciousness.

"Mmm, fresher first, kitten," Cross chided. His arms slid around you, lifting you up as he slid out of you.

You whined in protest, leaning against his shoulder, even though you knew he was right. Everything was too comfortable, the sleepiness heavy and warm.

"I'll take you to Wrecker's bunk once you're done. Clean up." Cross stayed unmovable, his voice dry as he set you down on your feet in front of the fresher.

But you still clung to his shirt for another moment, looking up at his angled face and dark eyes. A wistfulness flitted through you as you wished that you could stay with him for a little while longer. But you didn't want to ask, didn't want to bother him.

He raised an eyebrow, his hand on your waist steadying your weak legs. "Unless you want to start dripping everywhere, Shiv," he glanced pointedly down at you, "though I wouldn't complain." He smirked.

You swallowed, then looked down. "O-okay," you mumbled, shuffling into the fresher. Even as you sluggishly cleaned yourself though, you had to swallow back a few tears. You weren't entirely sure why, but something in you so desperately craved to be near Cross, to just receive some form of quiet reassurance from him through just a touch or word that he... he cared.

Shaking your head and smearing away the tears, you sucked in a steadying breath and walked back out of the fresher. You'd slowly lost some article of clothing to each of them along the way, so now all you had was the oversized T-shirt. Wobbling back out, you found yourself a bit startled to see Cross still standing there by the doorway, a toothpick clenched between his teeth.

He jacked himself off of the wall and approached you. Bending a little, he picked you up effortlessly and began walking down the hallway of the ship. Ducking into a room, he walked over to the bed.

Wrecker looked up in surprise. "Oh, Cross, Shiv." He grinned. His head tilted as he observed you. "You alright, Shiv?"

You nodded faintly, not trusting your voice not to break. Cross set you down on the bed, while Wrecker shifted over to make room. Then Cross rolled his eyes.

"Move, Wrecker."

"Alright, alright, I'm moving," Wrecker whined, shuffling to the back of his bunk. Lying down next to you, he reached out and gently pulled your back to his chest, wrapping his large arm around your waist. His warmth pressed up behind you, easing some of the pain that curled in your chest.

Then, to your surprise, Crosshair slid into the bunk in front of you. Wordlessly, eyes half-lidded, he scooted closer and ran his hand down your side.

Hesitantly, you squirmed closer, tangling your fingers in the chest of his shirt again. You could feel the warmth of his body under your fingertips, and you bit your lip and glanced up at him tentatively.

Something flickered through his eyes as he gazed down at you, his hand gripping your thigh. "Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Your eyes widened, and you immediately shook your head adamantly. "No!" you blurted, your face crumpling despite yourself. "No-" your voice cracked.

Cross sighed, his thumb stroking over your bare skin. "You seem hesitant around me."

Tears welled in your eyes. "No— I-I'm just never sure if... if I'm bothering you, and-" You sniffled, the ache in your chest deepening. "I—I look up to you so much, Cross," you confessed. "Every time you let me Transfer with you and- and I can be near you or with you, I... it makes me feel so safe. I just-" your shoulders hitched, "I want to make you happy, but I feel like... like I never know if it's okay to get close to you. I don't want to bother you..."

Crosshair pulled you closer, tucking your leg up over his hip so you fit against him like a puzzle piece. "You don't bother me, Shiv," he said, voice low. "We've all been... worried about you."

You nodded, pushing your face into his chest. You decided to take the risk and reached out over the Bond, asking for attention. The Bond lit with acknowledgement, more subdued than the others' but still undeniably there. Crosshair's attention was quietly intense, making up for its more subtle nature.

Shyly, you pushed across your feelings. The way you felt safe around him, the way you looked up to his stern concentration of his craft, his diligence in working, his attention to keeping his teammates safe. The way whenever his lithe fingers handled you, whether weapon or body, it soothed and comforted you regardless of what was happening. The way you wanted his approval, his attention.

Cheeks flushing, you peeked up at him from where you'd buried your face into his chest. A hint of a smile crossed his thin lips, and his dark eyes softened as they observed you.

Reaching up, he brushed his thumb across your cheek. "Good girl, cod'ika," he murmured.

Relief burst through you as he accepted your feelings. Even though all you felt over the Bond was a soft pulse of acknowledgement and a hint of pleased affection, it was more than enough. Cross didn't need to say much to make his point, and you realized better than before that every word he spoke to you was deliberate, honest. None of his words even in the heat of pleasure were idle or empty. You clung to the knowledge, soothed with the reassurance that Cross did care, in his own unique way.

"Thank you," you whispered shyly, knowing that he didn't have to reassure you. But he cared enough about you to listen, to answer.

Wrecker grumbled behind you, scooting forward so he pressed more tightly against your back. "Share a little, Cross," he groaned, "Shiv is soft and warm and I wanna feel."

Cross rolled his eyes, the moment broken. "Selfish."

"Hey!" Wrecker protested, leaning his chin against the top of your head. "You're the selfish one here-"

You giggled, tugging at Wrecker's hand to drape over both you and Crosshair. "Let me take a nap, Wrecker, and then I'll let you cuddle more," you promised. Letting out a wide yawn, you snuggled into both of them. "Love you," you murmured sleepily.

"Love you too, Shiv!" Wrecker squeezed you.

"Kar'taylir darasuum, cod'ika," Crosshair murmured in your ear.

You fell asleep to warmth, content.

Taglist:

@subbing-for-clones

@darkangel4121

@mo-i-ra

@dolphincommander

@alis-gore

@ladydiomede

@spp2011

@the-sad-batch

@anoushe01

@mavendeb

@cagrame

@makeup-n-turtles

@darkphoenix2332

@sunipostsstuff

@lady-aries

@gabile18

[waiting-for-motivation]

mud and blood

summary: War takes (Y/n)s best friend and breaks her. Fortunately, Hunter is there to soothe her pain.

pairings: Hunter x Reader, Bad Batch

warningst: pure angst

words: 1089

a/n: my requests are open for the clones so please hit me up with ideas :)

MASTERLIST REQUEST RULES

The hard fight is finally over but panic takes control of Hunters body. His legs carry him over the battlefield, over bodies as well as droid parts. Brown eyes search for someone special - for his beloved girlfriend.

After every other victory (Y/n) was at his side, holding his hand and keeping him from feeling overwhelmed. But not this time.

Hunter can hear his brothers screaming for him but he can‘t return to the ship. She has to be here somewhere. She has to be still alive.

From afar the sergeant hears muffled cries and because he has no other track of his girlfriend, he starts running. Under a tree he can make out a crouched person leaning on a dead body. The one still alive is covered in blood.

His boots stop in a puddle of mud and blood and that‘s when Hunter recognises the crying person as his lost love. At first the clone sergeant smiles but then he feels (Y/n)s dread and sorrow. So Hunter kneels next to his love and lays a hand on her shoulder.

(Y/n) doesn‘t move. He could be an enemy and try to kill her, but she wouldn‘t mind. Luckily he loves her and pulls her against his chest.

Deep down (Y/n) knows who is hugging her right now because only Hunter can make her feel safe when she feels like everything is falling apart. Her sobs and cries get muffled by his neck.

Hunters worried eyes wander from his love to the body she was clinging to. It‘s the commander of the clone force they were sent to help. Besides that he was (Y/n)s best friend too.

And now she lost him. And Hunter lost a brother.

Without exchanging one word, the sergeant stands up whilst also raising his girlfriend from the mud and starts walking to the ship. (Y/n) is covered in mud and blood but Hunter doesn‘t mind her dirtying his armor. Her feelings are more important than that.

His brothers await him in front of the ship and at the sight of their loyal companion they are at a loss of words. They watch Hunter carry the anxious female inside their ship and follow them after some time.

Their work here is done.

While Tech, Crosshair and Wrecker go to the cockpit and fly the ship away from this horrible planet, Hunter takes (Y/n) to their bathroom.

She has to bath, maybe drink and eat something and then sleep. They don‘t need to talk much because both know that would only overwhelm the other.

Carefully, the sergeant places his love on the closed toilet lid. Then takes off his helmet as well as upper armor because he has to move freely to get (Y/n) inside their tub.

The moment Hunter turns around again, his girlfriend is hugging her legs tightly and burying her face in between her knees. This sight breaks the clones heart.

“Hey, honey“, Hunter whispers as he kneels in front of (Y/n) and takes one of her hands in his, kissing it. While still close to his girlfriend, he reaches for the water tap of the bath tub and lets warm water fill it.

“Let me take care of you“, he adds and helps (Y/n) stand up so that he can take off her dirty clothes. The sergeant does this very careful and slow.

Then Hunter helps his girlfriend inside the warm water and kneels next to the bath tub, grabbing a cloth to wash away mud and blood. He starts with cleaning (Y/n)s face. To the sergeants surprise there is not a single injury. All the blood must be from others - from her best friend.

Gently, Hunter moves the cloth from (Y/n)s neck to her arms and finally to her hands. One of his own holds them and after they are clean again, the clone presses kisses to every knuckle.

But (Y/n) doesn‘t notice his loving touches. Her eyes are focused on the water which slowly turns red.

“Hey, honey“, the sergeant whispers and places a hand on his loves neck, high enough for his thumb to caress her cheek. (Y/n) doesn‘t move but Hunter forces her to face him. Her eyes look almost empty and the clone is pretty sure that she looks straight through him. She must be still with the dead clone commander.

“I‘m here. I‘m with you“, Hunter says with a shaking voice because he can feel (Y/n)s fear, sadness and distress. He closes his eyes for some time because him panicking right now wont help his girlfriend. After a few seconds he gets a grip on himself.

The sergeant scoops water in both his hands and lets it run over (Y/n)s hair. It needs some time but then her hair is clean again and before the water gets cold, Hunter lifts his love out of it. Carefully, he wraps a towel around her shaking form and dries her hair with another.

In her lovers protective arms, (Y/n) gets carried to their shared bedroom. Hunter places her on the bed and covers her with three blankets. Once again (Y/n) curls up tight and buries her face in the pillow.

With a sigh Hunter takes a seat next to her and holds her hand. He doesn‘t know what else to do. What could ease her pain? Probably nothing but time and love.

The moment the sergeant wants to undress and then lay next to his girlfriend, Crosshair stands in the doorframe. There is a steaming bowl in his hands and he looks almost worried. Hunter leaves the bed and takes the bowl from his brother.

“How is she doing?“, Crosshair asks and takes a step closer to have a better look at (Y/n)=. But he can only see the top of her head.

“Not good. But thanks for the soup although I don‘t think she wants to eat anything right now“, Hunter explains and sets the bowl of soup on his working table. His brother nods and leaves the room.

As quick as possible Hunter takes off the rest of his armor and lays down under the covers with only the bottom of his blacks. The moment his back touches the soft mattress, (Y/n) cuddles up to her beloved clone. She wraps her arms tightly around him and holds him close to remember that he is still with here.

“Good night, honey. I love you“, Hunter breathes and places a kiss on top of (Y/n)s head, wrapping his arms around her body and then closing his eyes.

star wars taglist: @shadowfoxey @luvzoria @remmyswritings @periwinklehoney @maximumcoffeeme

[chenziee]

There are sparks between us

First one for this batch of requests! (I really should stop pretending they’re going to be “drabbles”, I haven’t written a single one that could pass for a drabble)

Thank you so much @detective1412d​ for the prompt! This... might not be what you had in mind but I hope you like it! <33 (I absolutely love your username btw, just needed you to know that)

Requests are still open, please refer to this post for more info :)

[Read on AO3 or under the cut]

----------

Even when he was only just nearing the little house where he and the Straw Hats had taken shelter after the battle with Doflamingo, Law could tell it was noisy. That could only mean that Straw Hat was finally awake and a wave a relief washed over him. It wasn’t like Straw Hat sleeping the past few days away was unexpected after the strain on his body, and Law had checked his condition regularly to make sure everything was alright, but hearing his laughter was still a weight off of his shoulders.

He could do without the noise but he supposed that was just a part of the package with these pirates and their captain. Just couldn’t do the simplest of things quietly.

Law was surprised at the chuckle that had escaped him at the thought. When did he become so… fond of these people? He quickly wiped the smile off of his face, schooling his expression back to neutral as he reached out to open the door.

“Torao!” Straw Hat greeted him immediately. “Where did you go?”

Looking in the direction of the voice, Law was surprised to no find the other Straw Hats or the samurai sitting at the at the table but instead, Fire Fist Ace and the revolutionary army chief of staff were there with Straw Hat himself. What he wasn’t surprised about, however, was seeing his fellow pirate captain stuffing his face with food, his head barely visible behind the mountain in front of him. At least he swallowed his food before he tried to talk to Law.

“Just checking on the marines,” Law replied, leaning Kikoku against the wall and pushing his hood away from his face.

“Boring,” Straw Hat said in response.

“Someone has to do it since you people don’t seem to give a damn,” Law noted, raising a challenging eyebrow but Straw Hat only stuck his tongue out at him, making Law huff out a small laugh.

“The navy can suck it,” Fire Fist said as he stole a chicken leg right from under Straw Hat’s fingers, earning himself loud protests from his younger brother. A second later, a pipe came to land against the side of Ace’s head. The man clicked his tongue and dropped the chicken back on the pile with a huge pout.

Sabo smiled in approval, then finally reacted to Ace’s words, “Yeah, they don’t seem all too eager to catch us anyway.”

“That’s because gambler old man isn’t a bad guy,” Straw Hat said, nodding seriously to himself as he grabbed the chicken leg that Ace had tried to steal.

As if that made any difference. “He’s still an admiral. They’re going to move sooner or later,” Law sighed, ruffing Straw Hats hair on his way to grab some water.

The other pirate only snickered, letting his head fall so far back that Law’s neck hurt at the sight. “But Torao, it’s not like we can’t beat them.”

 Before Law could say anything, Sabo interrupted him, “You’re not fighting an admiral, Luffy. Not now when you’re still recovering.”

“Exactly, Luffy. I’m the one who’s going to fight him,” Ace agreed in a grave voice.

“Neither of you is fighting the admiral!” Sabo snapped, and Law was glad at least one of these brothers seemed to be remotely sane.

Is what he thought at least, before Luffy whined, “Not fair, you already fought him, Sabo!”

His words were closely followed by Ace rolling his eyes and huffing, “You just want to fight him yourself.”

“What can I say, it’s my job to pick fights with the government,” Sabo said with a grin, shrugging as if what he had said made perfect sense.

Law sighed. How and why did he get involved with these people? “How about no one is fighting the admiral,” he said, voice perfectly flat as he shot them all a glare.

“You’re no fun.” Straw Hat announced, sounding as sulky as Law had ever hear him and looking back at Law with a huge pout on his lips.

Law felt the corner of his mouth twitch upward. How was this idiot so cute? Moving away from the counter, Law took the two steps that separated them and leaned down, briefly pressing his lips to Luffy’s. It was just a quick peck, but only when the soft touch of skin sent jolts down his spine, making his heartbeat speed up like crazy, did Law realize what he had just done. He kissed Luffy.

He kissed Luffy.

They barely even had time to talk about this… thing between them—really only had a minute in the middle of the battle, back on the roof while Luffy’s haki recovered—just enough for some hurried confessions. Luffy was asleep the entire time after and Law wasn’t even entirely sure he felt the same way.

He was honestly starting to panic a little bit.

Taking a deep breath, Law finally stood up straight, moving as if on autopilot to drop into the last available chair at the table. Not like he could do much about it now except try to play it cool, after all. Especially when the silence suddenly hanging over the room was getting unbearable. He hoped his expression wasn’t betraying the battle that was raging in his mind but hell, he couldn’t even look anyone of them in the face. Mostly, he just didn’t want to know what expression Luffy was wearing right then so he only focused on the mug in his hands, taking a long sip of his water just to have an excuse to close his eyes.

He was brought back to reality when he felt something warm touch his cheek and his eyes shot open. It took him a second to realize what just happened. That Luffy had kissed him back. When he turned to look to the side, he came face to face with that bright, wide grin and he didn't bother stopping the small, soft smile that pulled on his own lips right then; the warm feeling in his chest and his stomach, the ghost of Luffy's touch on his lips and cheek… It was too much, too impossible to fight.

Plus, he didn't want to fight it anyway. Luffy reciprocating his feelings made him feel light, made him feel safe, made him happy, and Law was done running away from things that made him happy just because he was too scared to lose them.

He wasn't going to lose this one thing even if it killed him.

Suddenly, the comfortable warmth Law was feeling disappeared, only to be replaced by the unbearable heat coming from the wall of fire in his face. Law jerked back on reflex, nearly falling off of his chair in the process.

“Ace, stop!” came Luffy’s voice from somewhere on the other side of the fiery wall.

Law as well turned to look at him questioningly; the only possible suspect was glaring right back at him, an unspeakable fury written all over his face while his entire right arm was engulfed in flames. Even his hair was on fire.

“You touch my little brother again and I will burn your face off,” Ace growled, making the wall grow even larger to prove his point.

Law rolled his eyes. Talk about an overreaction.

Sabo’s hand landed on Ace’s shoulder a moment later. “Calm down, Ace, or you’re going to burn down the house,” he said, voice sounding soothing.

Law almost thanked him, but when he looked at the revolutionary’s face, there was a cold smile there and that was honestly a lot more terrifying than whatever Ace was show him.

“Just leave it to me, I’ll crush his head like an egg for robbing Luffy of his first kiss,” the man added, his hand already coated in Armament haki.

As if Law was about to stick around for that.

With a sigh, Law coated his own arm in haki and reached through the flames to grab at Straw Hat. “Shambles,” he said lazily and immediately, the two of them found themselves on the roof, the two enraged screams only a muffled echo from down below.

“Your power is always so cool,” Straw Hat breathed as soon as he found his footing after the sudden change of scenery.

“Thanks,” Law replied with a chuckle at the stars that were dancing in Luffy’s eyes. He was seriously too cute. However, his amusement soon died down when he remembered what Sabo had said and he frowned, his gaze turning to quizzical. “Was that really your first kiss?” he asked slowly.

Straw Hat cocked his head to the side, a confused expression finding its way on his face. “Yeah?”

A feeling of dread and shame washed over Law. He really fucked up there, didn’t he? “I’m sorry,” he said, trying to sound as sincere as he could.

“Why?”

Law paused, staring blankly at the honest, bemused frown on Luffy’s face that accompanied the simple question. Did he seriously not understand why Law was apologizing?

“For stealing your first kiss?” he tried, gesturing vaguely between them. “And without asking,” he added, making a face at his own stupidity. Why didn’t he realize what he was about to do until after it happened?

“Why?” Straw Hat asked again, pausing for a second before continuing, “I mean, it’s not a big deal, right? I don’t know why Ace and Sabo reacted like that. And I like you and I liked it so it’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

Law blinked. Luffy wasn’t wrong but it… sounded a little too simple. Looking into Luffy’s eyes, Law couldn’t see any hint of uncertainty or any sign that he didn’t mean every single word he had said and out of nowhere, Law felt like he was the stupid one.

He couldn’t help it. He laughed, suddenly feeling so light and calm. Maybe he really shouldn’t be thinking too hard about things, especially where this idiot was concerned. It wasn’t like he bothered to think anything through, after all.

With a crooked smile still on his face, Law leaned forward, his fingers gently brushing Luffy’s cheek before they buried in his soft hair. He ignored the shouts of his name and death threats coming from the two brothers who were now running all around the house looking for them, only focusing on the grin on Luffy’s face and the warmth of his gaze. “Then I better do it more often,” he whispered only a second before their lips connected once more.

The kiss was slower this time, soft and innocent and making those damn butterflies in Law’s stomach go crazy. He really was so gone for this man. He couldn’t help but remember the time after they had left the auction house on Sabaody two years ago, the one where he met Luffy for the first time. After all was said and done, Shachi had looked at him with this stupid grin on his face and called Law smitten.

Law had just rolled his eyes and told him not to be an idiot but he wondered, if the same conversation happened now, whether he would be able to say anything against the accusation. Hell, maybe Shachi was right even then. Maybe Law was taken in by his brightness, the life he was radiating, and his reckless willingness to fight the entire world for the people he cared about. He couldn’t deny he was drawn to him ever since they first met.

Finally, they pulled away from each other, both out of breath and with smiles on their faces, and Law thought to himself that it might have been unavoidable. Unavoidable for Luffy to save him, both metaphorically and literally, for Law to fall in love, for the two of them being here, kissing on the roof while Luffy’s brothers went through several stages of mental breakdown below them.

And Law would go through everything that had happened in the past week all over again just for this moment.

[dragonsareourfuture]

Light Yagami/GN! L’s Sibling!Reader — Protector

⚠️Warnings: Unhealthy relationships, manipulation, reader experiences grief, major character death, open ending.

requested by @darkrose33 ! sorry this took so long, I mostly finished writing it and then changed ideas halfway through, so I rewrote it all lol. I could not think of a way that the dynamic and story line that was requested could work in the context of a healthy relationship, so this isn't exactly a happy or romantic oneshot. I wanted to make this as realistic to Light's motivations and character as I could. I apologize if this isn’t what you wanted but you can always request something else if you would like :)

For as long as you can remember, your big brother was the person you looked up to the most. He was the brains, the one who had no trouble with the academics but every ounce of trouble with the social aspect of life. He wasn’t one to care what people thought about him socially, which in turn allowed him to behave however he wanted. He was an expert at leaving a room silent and stunned with just his words because of his lack of filter, telling only the brutal, honest truth when necessary. You couldn’t help but admire L Lawliet more than anything else in the world.

And because you held such admiration for the boy, you appointed yourself to be the role of his protector. Some kid called him a weirdo behind his back? Not to worry, with a little persuasion you can get them to apologize. He’s feeling overworked and you overhear one of the adults talking about a pile of paperwork they are about to drop off to L’s room? Huh, it seems that paperwork somehow ended up in the fireplace, nothing but a pile of ashes left of it. How strange. However you could protect him, you took on that challenge, even if it was simply being in the same room as him for emotional support. If you knew he needed to consume at least one vegetable that week, you were there to deliver, even if you had to hide it in a piece of cake. Whatever you could do, you did. Some told you that was what made you two so interesting – he was the brains, and you were the brawn, but you both needed each other to balance out. Like Yin and Yang.

So imagine your despair when, quite suddenly, L didn’t need you anymore. He was solving more cases, gaining in fame as the world’s greatest detective in his mere teenage years. He would, undoubtedly, need more protection than little ol’ you could provide once professional criminals found the desire to seek him out and kill him. And of course you wanted him to be safe, wanted him to thrive in the occupation that he excelled at, but…you missed your big brother with all of your heart. Not a day went by that you didn’t wish you could bring L his lunch or defend his honor out in the kickball field when some kid wouldn’t shut their big fat mouth. You missed those days.

You heard about the Kira case and how it was kicking everyone on the task force’s ass, including L’s. It only made you wish you could be there more. You kept up on the news, though. It was just about the only thing you could do. You tried to distract yourself with your own studies, but it was difficult to even try when you knew you could never in your wildest imagination come close to rising above your big brother.

You kept reminding yourself that you were grown now. You were fully capable of making a life for yourself that didn’t involve L – that didn’t include worrying about him every few moments. So you worked however pointless it may have seemed. You cooked, you did chores, even started taking up odd jobs to complete during the little free time you would have spent sleeping if you weren’t prone to dreams about the danger L could be in. Every moment in life was spent trying not to worry…only for you to realize that you had every right to worry all along.

The news itself was not particularly surprising. L and every single one of his runners up had to write out their will in advance – about a decade early. Death was to be expected in that line of work.

You had since moved out of Wammy’s house officially, but always stuck around to do the gardening, occasionally the cooking as well. Also the cleaning…you were basically the Wammy house maid, but you were grateful for the distractions.

When the news came, you were in the middle of planting a batch of bulbs you had bought at the store the previous day – white lilies. You had nearly passed them by in favor of a more colorful flower, but when your eyes caught the lack of pigment of the fully grown lily on the packaging, you couldn’t help but be reminded of your big brother’s pale as bone skin. You had chuckled at the memory, blinked away a few rising tears, and plucked the bulbs from the shelf. Now, with about half of the bulbs buried under the soil and half waiting to be planted, you listened to Roger’s words grow increasingly louder the closer he came to where you sat crouched in the dirt. You wished you hadn’t listened, though. For he only brought you sorrow.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe Roger when he had come to tell you of your brother’s passing, it was simply that it was near impossible for you to imagine a world without the eccentric boy you’d grown up alongside. Sure, you’d been separated for some time now, but you’d grown used to knowing that even if he wasn’t with you, he was still somewhere fighting for the justice he believed in. To be told that he suddenly wasn’t in this world anymore…? You had to see it for yourself. So, despite Roger’s warnings, you ran inside and booked a flight to Japan as soon as you could. In your blind panic, you must have trampled the remaining bulbs you had yet to give life to.

…

The flight was stressful, the landing equally so. The drive to the task force building – torture. By the time you made it out of the car and through the doors of the task force building, you swore your throat was closing up. A glass of water was offered to you and, gratefully accepting the offer, you glugged the water down in a matter of seconds before someone else was offering you a seat.

You sat, pulling your legs up and curling them in. The chair was then pushed into place at a table and the man who offered it to you…placed a hand on your shoulder…?

You jolted, the empty cup in your hands almost toppling out of your grip.

“I’m sorry…! I should have asked first. My apologies…and my condolences.”

He appeared younger than everyone else around you. Young enough to be just about your age. His apologetic smile shone down on you like a beacon of light in the dark and dreary times you had seemingly been trapped in for so long. After that thought, you had stared in disbelief when he told you his name. Light. Fitting, you thought.

Light placed a hand onto the chair next to you, looking at you as if for permission. You nodded vaguely, hoping to convey your silent gratitude for him being so considerate. It wasn’t as if no one else had been this kind to you since hearing about the news, it was more so that you got the sense Light actually cared rather than simply spouting out the usual ‘I’m sorry’s you’re supposed to when someone experiences a loss. His words were not empty; they were full of life and intent. What that intent was, you didn’t know, but you wanted to keep feeling it over the usual hollow atmosphere you and your brother grew up in. So, before you knew it, you were spending hours at a time talking with Light Yagami, the very man who would be taking over the Kira case since your brother’s death.

It was indeed shocking to you how someone so young, even young in comparison to L, could lead an entire investigation. Granted, he had the rest of the task force by his side, but after only one day of observing their dynamic, you could feel the disconnection between them. Light was multiple steps ahead of them; there was no question about it. At times you got the sense he was keeping things from them. But, then again, you were almost certain L had done the same thing while he was leading them. It was difficult to blame someone so intelligent when they wanted to save time and not explain to everyone what their plan is, but lead them all like sheep. It would be faster that way, easier too.

With that final thought, the pedestal you were putting Light on became visible to you. But it couldn’t be a bad thing. It was normal for you to look up to your brother, yes? With Light, it was a different sensation altogether, but the same idea. You admired him, and you couldn’t see the harm in that when he was rubbing your back in comforting circles as you cried, talking to you and telling stories when you wanted to focus on something else. He was helping you, and because he wanted to, no less.

…

It was a strange sensation to wake up and have everyone you know suddenly become cautious around you, treating you like glass that would break if they said the wrong thing. After just a few minutes of this, you knew exactly what day it was. It somewhat startled you, your brother’s funeral being so soon. You wondered if the date had been pushed up, but no. You had simply been…distracted. In a good way, that is. When you first arrived in Japan, you thought that nothing but dread would accompany your visit. You had no clue how you would make it through the couple of days leading up to the funeral, how you would occupy your time. Sightseeing felt disrespectful. Besides, how could you appreciate fine architecture or lush greenery with such a weight in your heart, spreading throughout your body like a disease? What you hadn’t expected was to find someone who seemingly made everything more bearable. Someone who made the days pass faster.

This special someone helped you into your outfit – all black, casual yet put together. Light was gentle with you that day. Not skittish or cautious like the others were, but soft and loving. He would touch you, hands on your shoulders and a brush of his fingers through your hair every now and then, but it would be feather light and comforting all the same. He knew exactly how to make you feel noticed and cared for, but not in the least bit overwhelmed with affection – a perfect medium.

Driving to the graveyard was not as stressful as your initial drive from the airport. You originally suspected this was the case because you had time to accept the reality of it all; you were able to let the information ferment and sink in. But, as you got steadily closer to your destination and all the grief you had avoided for the last few days began to bubble to the surface of your mind, you realized this was not the case. What you had time to do was ignore the truth, become distracted as you always did. It had always been your way of dealing with your own problems. It was L’s problems you could face head on. But anything personal to you? No sir. You desperately wished you’d taken the time to develop a better coping mechanism as the car pulled into the small patch of asphalt among a sea of grass and graves.

You hadn’t even realized how fast you were breathing until Light clasped your hand, his free hand reaching to turn your head to face him directly. “Are you okay? Can you hear me?” You nodded. “Good. Now, I want you to take slower, deeper breaths, alright?” you nodded again and followed his instructions – in then out at a slow pace, inhaling as deeply as you could before blowing the air from your mouth. You squeezed Light’s hand and sent him a weary smile when you had gathered your wits.

The fresh air did you good as you stepped out of the car, shoes crunching in the loose grains of asphalt and soon gliding through blades of grass. You started to calm down, internally congratulating yourself for not freaking out with each step. This was the continued routine until the gravestone came into view. The task force was heading toward it, so no doubt it was L’S. It was marked by a fairly large, golden cross that reflected the setting sun like a mirror. You ducked your head, pretending that it was indeed the sun in your eyes that caused you to stop and cover your face. You waved for Light to go on ahead and assured him you would meet him there in a bit. You were absolutely sure no one bought your excuse, but they still respected your wishes and left you behind to gather around your brother’s grave while you turned your back to it.

You walked back to the car almost on autopilot. You could barely see, so you trained your eyes on the ground as tears freely flowed down your cheeks, not a sound leaving your lips until you were safely beside the vehicle you arrived in. You stomped your foot in the asphalt, kicked the loose pebbles around, feeling just like the child you used to be. Throwing a tantrum was not on your funeral to-do list, but there you were. You just didn’t know if you could bear it, seeing your brother for the last time as nothing but a slab of stone. You could sit by it, protect it all you wanted but it would never need you. Not like he used to. You could plant those lilies you had abandoned by it. That wasn’t actually a terrible idea.

You didn’t know how long you were standing there, pacing in the middle of the parking lot. Mustn’t have been too long, as the sun hadn’t even passed over the horizon, but it felt like an eternity.

Until…what was that? Something caught your attention, causing your head to snap up in search for the source. The others were nowhere in sight, all that stirred were a couple of birds from a nearby tree. That could have been another family visiting a grave, which would make sense given that the noise sounded similar to hysterical crying. Or…was that laughter?

You began to grow worried, deciding on a whim to check up on the others. You wouldn’t approach the grave unless you had to, you decided. Yeah, good plan, you managed to convince yourself as you took steps toward the grave. With every few feet, the noises grew louder, and you were soon able to recognize words. You sped up your pace until you made it over the hill that separated the parking lot from the field only to find…

What was Light doing on the ground? No, a better question would be: what was Light – the person who was working his ass off to catch Kira – doing kneeling on your brother’s grave, shouting that he would get rid of the police? That this is his perfect victory? That he wins?

You felt…what? What could sum up that feeling that filled your chest when that sight was exposed to you? You felt confused, you felt unsure. Then, with the realization of what was going on, you felt betrayal. Then, in a sudden wave intense enough to make you feel as though you would fall over, you felt furious. You felt a sudden need to protect your older brother just like you had done for years with playground bullies and critics, but this time with someone you thought you could trust. Someone you loved who had apparently taken advantage of your care for him – someone who had lied to your face about who they truly were.

Before you knew it you were sprinting across the field. You had no clue what you were going to do until you got to the grave and quite literally kicked him off the soil your own flesh and blood was buried under. The move was so swift you wondered if it had actually happened or if this was all some sick nightmare. God, you hoped it was. Although you almost didn’t want to pray to god now, as there was a self-proclaimed god sitting with the wind knocked out of him at your feet.

“You…you GODDAMN FUCKING TRAITOR—” you couldn’t tell if Light was actually looking at you with eyes glinting with fear or if the sunset lighting was playing tricks on you. “THAT’S MY FUCKING BROTHER—YOU CAN’T—I SHOULD NEVER HAVE—” It was impossible to finish a sentence or even a thought in your own brain. There were so many things you wanted to say and kill him for but right now everything was jumbled together.

The way Light was staring at you didn’t exactly help. Eyes that now looked red in the setting sun bore into your own pupils from the ground. He looked dead serious, almost angry that you had the guts to knock him to the ground in your fit of rage. But although your words were coming out in screaming stutters your movements seemed swift and sure, as the moment Light moved to stand up your foot flew to action once more and planted right onto his chest. His back met the ground for a second time. He wasn’t even trying to contain his fury, clawing at your ankle and baring his teeth like a dog trying his best to be intimidating, but still eager to know what you were planning to do next. After all, he could have easily shoved you off. But he was curious.

You spoke calmly now, mind set on what you wanted to ask. “You never cared about me, did you?” Light’s mouth opened to answer but you went on without letting him speak. “No, you cared about me, but only because my brother was L, and I could give you information now that he’s gone. Am I right?” again, his mouth opened, but when your heel unexpectedly dug into his chest he let out a pained and irritated groan instead of coherent words. It was like you were teasing him, not to get a laugh out of his pain but…for what? You barely even knew yourself. It wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t make you less humiliated for being tricked and it certainly wouldn’t bring your brother back. Either way, Light definitely didn’t like it.

Before you had the chance to react you were thrown onto your back. Light had pushed you back by your leg and rose to his feet, now above you in every sense of the word. He – Kira – had carried out his plan. Meanwhile, you had nothing left.

“You don’t have to go against me,” Light seethed, “All you have to do is let the new world take its shape, and everything will fall into place.”

“That’s a shitty sales pitch.”

“It’s an offer. You’ve done nothing wrong, committed no crimes. You’d do well in my world.” The look on your face made it apparent that you had no interest in his words. Light furrowed his brows, then the ghost of a smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “I know you –”

“You don’t know anything about me. And I clearly didn’t know you.” You pushed yourself up onto your elbows.

“—you wouldn’t want your brother’s death to be in vain.”

“I—” you paused. “What?”

“L was an obstacle I had to pass to get to a world where less people would have to suffer the same loss you have. I expect you don’t want to just throw away his death and turn me in. you can make something out of his sacrifice—“

“He wasn’t TRYING to be sacrificed; he was TRYING to put a vigilante maniac to death.”

“But if his death could mean a better world for others, you would just throw that away for your own revenge?”

You blinked, once, twice, then rapidly, shaking your head as if trying to prevent dust from getting into your eyes, or Light’s siren song from getting into your head. “Stop. That’s not…Just stop.”

“You know I’m right.” He stepped towards you and for a second you thought he was about to repay you for crushing his lungs moments ago. All that followed was his hand shooting out, stopping in front of your face. You looked up at him in disbelief. “I’ll love and care for you as I did before. I can be the one you care for in his place. All I ask is that you help me create a better world, or at least don’t try and stop me.”

You nearly scoff, but some of his words actually catch your attention. He’d love and care for you…but it would all be fake. Still, what kind of person would you be to reject others a grief-less world just to avenge your brother? But who ever said Light would follow through, not become corrupt along the way if he wasn’t already? There were so many possibilities and so many possible outcomes, all influenced by this one decision that you had to make right now.

You choked on your words.

Familiar voices were approaching.

Time was ticking.

“I…”

[eyayah-oya]

My Brothers

66 FOLLOWERS!!! Thank you to everyone who has followed me and stuck around as I mess around with Star Wars and the Clone Wars.  This fic is for you all!

Also, I’ve had this story idea rattling around in my brain since last Saturday.  I hope you all enjoy and I’m sorry in advance.

Rating: T

Pairing: none (maybe Rex/Echo if you squint)

Warnings: canon typical violence and death (I’m sorry a named clone gets killed off screen ToT)

Ao3 link

           Echo let his blaster fall to the ground from his numb fingers.  The Empire had sent Crosshair after them again, with five full squads of troopers, trying to terminate the traitors.  They’d finally managed to subdue them all, including Crosshair, and had removed his chip.  All that was left was waiting for him to wake up and help him deal with being under the control of an evil regime.

           Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Omega gathered around Crosshair, just like they had done for Wrecker when his chip had activated, and waited.  And suddenly, Echo found he couldn’t stay there a second longer.  He had other duties to attend to.

           The small clearing the Empire had cornered them in was covered in the bodies of fallen stormtroopers.  If Echo blocked out the past year, he could even believe that these were squads of shinies and that the rest of his brothers would be at a camp nearby, mourning the loss of the ones killed in action.  But the Empire destroyed everything good left in the galaxy and left behind flimsy illusions of a perfect society.

           Rather than pay any kind of attention to his team—because they weren’t quite family, not really—Echo moved to the closest stormtrooper, clad in the new, weaker armor the Empire supplied its army with.  He knelt down in the blood-soaked dirt and pulled off the trooper’s helmet, needing to see their face.

           The clone that looked up at the starless sky with blank eyes couldn’t have been older than eight.  They had probably only just been deployed before the Order went out and the galaxy fell.  Echo brushed his fingers over their eyelids and closed them.  “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la, vod’ika,” he whispered.  Echo wished he knew their name.  Instead, he slipped the tags from around their neck, emblazoned with their CT number, and placed them in his hip pouch.  There wasn’t anything he needed in there at the moment, and it was more important that these brothers be remembered.

           Echo moved to the next one and repeated the process. Again.  And again.  Some clones were older, like Rex or even Echo himself.  Others were obviously shinies, sent to die for the new Empire.  Most fell somewhere in between.  All of them carried the face that Echo had spent his whole life looking at, a comforting familiar that he no longer could indulge in. None of the clones he had teamed up with shared a clone’s face.  The only one that Echo had seen since they’d left Kamino was Rex.

           Force, Echo missed Rex.  He wished Hunter had taken Rex up on his offer and they could have gone off and actually made a difference in this awful galaxy.  Maybe Echo could have helped save his brothers instead of slaughtering them.

           But.

           Standing among the bodies of his dead brothers, Echo felt like wailing.  Like crying. Like giving up for once in his short, pathetic life.  He hadn’t felt this way since Rex had told him exactly what had happened to Fives. And Hardcase.  And Kix.  And Jesse. And the rest of the brothers that Echo loved and fought beside.  They were all gone.

           When he’d been rescued from the Techno Union and realized the full extent of what they’d done to him, Echo had sworn he would never hurt another brother again as long as he lived.  He’d already been the weapon used to kill countless numbers of clone troopers (and Echo really didn’t know how many brothers had died because of the information the Techno Union had dug out of his brain), he refused to be used like that again.

           Echo stood in the middle of a clearing, surrounded on all sides by the bodies of the brothers he had helped kill to save one.  How many could he have saved if he’d just spoken up to the rest of the Bad Batch?  How many would still be alive if he’d had the courage to present his own tactics instead of relying on Hunter’s?

           The next bucket he pulled off revealed a face that was more familiar to him than all the others.  This was a vod he knew personally.  His hair had been shaved down, but from the tan lines on his head, it was obvious he had had a mohawk for years.  There was the cute scar on his lip from when he’d sparred Commander Cody and bitten through his lip.  Echo had laughed with Fives and congratulated the shiny on lasting longer than usual against Commander Cody.

           There wasn’t a speck of 212th gold on Wooley’s armor.

           They’d stolen his mind, his free-will, his identity, and Echo had stolen his life.  He’d killed the adorable floofy-haired kid with the most lethal tooka eyes in the entire GAR and a wicked right hook.  The one who loved stories and songs from far off planets and could weave the most incredible tales around the fires after a battle.  His sightless eyes gazed up at the stars he’d loved so much.

           With a silent sob, Echo fell to his knees and pressed his forehead against Wooley’s, cradling his body as best as he could without a hand. “Ni ceta, vod’ika,” he rasped as tears streaked down his cheeks.  “Ni ceta. I’m so sorry, Wooley.  I should have saved you.  I could have saved you.”

           There was nothing but the still-warm skin of Wooley’s forehead pressed against his own.  No shaky breaths or snarky comebacks or easy forgiveness.  Nothing but the soft murmur of Hunter’s voice as he assured the others that Crosshair would be alright.  Nothing but Echo’s own gasping sobs as he mourned the lives he had taken with his own hands.

           “Echo?”  Omega’s voice startled him, and he nearly reached for the blaster he’d dropped before he registered that she wasn’t a threat.  “What are you doing out here?”

           “It’s nothing, Omega,” Echo said, his voice rougher than usual.  “Just gathering intel.  You should go check on the others, make sure they’re holding up alright now that they have Crosshair back.”

           “I’m sure they’d all feel a lot better if you came and joined us,” Omega suggested.  She sounded worried.  Echo didn’t have the heart to turn around and comfort her, knowing she would see the tears on his face.

           “I’ll come back when I’m done.  He’ll probably be waking up soon anyway.”

           For a moment, there wasn’t any sound behind Echo, but he refused to turn and look.  Someone had to be the voice of reason for the Bad Batch, even if they didn’t listen very often, and he couldn’t do that if they saw how broken he really was.  Not even sweet Omega.

           A gentle, small hand settled briefly on his shoulder, and then Omega walked away, picking her way carefully through the dead bodies. Echo let out a shaky sigh and set Wooley down on the ground again.  As gently as he could, he closed Wooley’s eyes and ran a finger down his cheek.

           “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la, ner vod’ika.  I’m so sorry, Wooley.  I will do everything I can to free the rest of our brothers.  Haat, ijaa, haa’it,” Echo vowed softly.  He wore Wooley’s tags around his neck, rather than putting them in the pouch with the others.  Echo wanted—needed—the weight to keep him grounded even as he continued to mourn and honor the brothers he’d killed.  Dread and grief weighing down his every step, Echo moved through the remaining bodies, removing their helmets and collecting their ID tags so he could remember every one of them.  There were a few more brothers he recognized from the 212th and the 327th, though he hadn’t ever been as close to them as he had to Wooley.  It still hurt, looking at these men whom he’d loved and cherished, knowing that he was the one that had killed them. Knowing that he was responsible for them dying as slaves of the Empire.

           At some point, Echo heard Wrecker’s joyful yell, Tech’s babbling lectures, and Hunter’s quiet reassurances.  Even Omega chattered excitedly.  Crosshair must have woken up, then.  Echo didn’t move to greet him or welcome him back to the world of free-will. Instead, he focused on his task. There were only a few left, and then . . .

           And then what?  What would Echo do?  He had the commlink Rex had slipped him before he’d left them on Bracca, but could he really abandon the Bad Batch now that they were all reunited?

           Yes, Echo realized.  Omega was the only one that he would miss extensively.  He just didn’t belong with these off-color clones. He might not really belong anywhere, but he had a duty to his brothers and to Rex.  His last true brother.  Echo would try to contact him.

           But first, Echo couldn’t leave his brothers like this. Left rotting in some forgotten clearing on some forgotten forest moon in a forgotten sector of the galaxy.  It felt . . . wrong to leave them like this.  Echo knew there was a shovel among their gear on board the Havoc Marauder.  It would be difficult, but he could bury them.  Give them each a proper send-off.

           It was a good plan.  Echo knew that the others wouldn’t understand.  They’d be angry with him, probably try to make him change his mind.  Maybe even tell him that these “regs” weren’t worth the effort it would take Echo to bury each of them.  Especially since he only had one hand.  Handling a shovel would be difficult, but he would do it. For his brothers.  Regardless of what the squad said or complained about.

           With a final, murmured Remembrance, Echo stood and made his way back to the ship.  Tech probably kept the shovel in the cargo hold with the rest of the gear they didn’t use as frequently.  Most likely with the other survival gear he’d dubbed “unnecessary until necessary”. Echo knew that feeling very well.

           As cluttered as the cargo hold was, it actually didn’t take Echo very long to find the shovel, and soon, he walked back down the ramp to go find the best place for a mass burial site.

           “What are you doing?” Tech asked, and Echo stopped in his tracks.  “Why do you have our shovel?  Is there some kind of specimen that would be beneficial to take with us?”

           Echo’s grip on the shovel constricted and he very carefully didn’t look at the others.  “Just a little bit of maintenance and storage,” he answered, voice tight with anger. “Don’t worry about it.”

           “Is there something wrong with the ship?” Hunter asked.

           “No, there’s nothing wrong with the ship,” Echo answered, a bit shorter than he’d intended.  “Relax. I have everything under control.”

           “Oh, great,” Crosshair drawled, and Echo had to fight to keep his shoulders from climbing to his ears.  He’d forgotten how caustic the sniper could be.  “We’re taking orders from the reg now.”

           “What’re you talkin’ about?” Wrecker boomed.  “Hunter’s still our Sarge!”

           Echo decided it would be better just to walk away. Until a soft, sweet voice halted him in his tracks.

           “Echo, are you going to be digging holes for the stormtroopers?”

           “Don’t be ridiculous, Omega.  That would be illogical.  Echo wouldn’t spend time burying a bunch of stormtroopers, especially as he doesn’t have two hands and can’t hold the shovel properly,” Tech scoffed.

           More machine than man, Echo sighed heavily. He turned around and faced the Bad Batch for the first time since they’d managed to take down Crosshair without killing him.  They would see the red, sore eyes and the tear tracks down his grimy cheeks.  They’d see Wooley’s tags, standing out against the dark paint of his armor.  As much as he should be worrying about showing them that vulnerability, Echo had reached his breaking point.

           “Yes, Tech, I am going to bury them.  It’s the right thing to do,” he said slowly and evenly, desperately trying not to lose his temper.

           Tech heaved an annoyed sigh, like Echo had been placed on this team specifically to bother him.  “Again, that is illogical, Echo.  The Empire will send someone out to dispose of the corpses, or the wildlife will eat them before anyone else arrives.  We will need to move shortly to avoid detection, especially since they’ll know we have Crosshair once they see this failure.”

           Failure?  Echo swung the shovel off of his shoulder and dropped it to the ground.  “Is that what you see?  A bunch of failures that we merely disposed of?” he growled softly.

           Wrecker gulped and muttered a not-so-quiet “uh-oh” while Hunter’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  Omega looked like she wanted to hug someone, maybe somehow prevent this fight, and for a moment, Echo regretted starting anything.  She was the bright star left in his life, but he was fighting for all the other bright stars that he’d murdered.  He needed to say this.

           Crosshair didn’t actually say anything, and Echo couldn’t help but be relieved at that.  He only had to deal with Tech.

           “Well—yes,” Tech fumbled, clearly confused as to why Echo was clarifying anything.

           “You know what I see?” Echo asked.  He didn’t wait for an answer.  “I see my brothers that we killed to save yours.  I see my brothers that I swore to never harm again, murdered by my hand.  I see men who had as much choice in their actions as Wrecker or Crosshair, killed simply because they were in our way while we saved Crosshair.”

           “We didn’t have a way to save them all,” Tech argued back. “Besides, they’re just regs. Crosshair is a modified clone who would be more dangerous in the hands of the Empire than any other average clone. It was logical to rescue him above the others.”

           “Tech—” Hunter tried.

           But Echo snapped.

           He pulled Wooley’s tags from around his neck and held them out, a vicious snarl on his face.  “Do you know who these tags belong to?  Of course, you don’t.  These tags belonged to my little brother.  Wooley from the 212th.  I watched him grow up from when he was a just a little shiny, rescued from the Separatists who had been planning on selling him to the Trandoshans to be hunted down for sport.  I watched him learn how to fight from Commander Cody himself until he could hold his own for several minutes.  Wooley had a stupidly adorable, fluffy mohawk and the best tooka eyes in the GAR that he used liberally on General Kenobi to get him to go to medical.  He loves music and stories and the stars.  And I killed him.  I shot my little brother, my vod’ika, so you could save yours.

           “I’ve killed hundreds of my brothers, men that I served proudly beside for two years, to save your brother.  I swore to never harm another brother, and I broke that promise for you, just so you could save Crosshair.  And now, you want me to just leave them here to rot?  For the Empire to find?”  Echo shook his head with a sharp, bitter laugh.  “No, I’m done.  I refuse to turn my back on my brothers and if you can save yours, then I can save mine. Get Crosshair and Omega out of here and lie low so the Empire doesn’t find you, but leave me here.  I’m saving my brothers, this time.”

           He leaned down and picked up his shovel.  Really, he had no idea how he was going to dig fifty graves with only one hand, but he had to do it.  He had to try.

           “Echo,” Omega whimpered and he couldn’t help but drop to his knee and hold his arm out towards her.  She immediately rushed into his hug and Echo held her close for a moment, dropping his shovel back to the ground.  “Don’t go, please?”

           “Omega, I don’t want to leave you,” he said softly.  “But my purpose is elsewhere in the galaxy. Hunter and the others will keep you safe, but right now, I have a duty to save my brothers and I intend to do it. I can’t do my duty if I stay with the Bad Batch.”

           “What if we came with you?” Omega sniffled.

           Echo locked eyes with Hunter, and then Tech and Wrecker. Crosshair didn’t even bother looking up. “These guys are your family, Omega, and they need to do what’s best for you.  You shouldn’t have to experience war, and that’s exactly where I’m going. I’m a soldier and a weapon that any rebellion against the Empire could desperately use.  That’s what I was made for.”

           “You’re not—” Hunter started, and Echo could see the desperation and uncertainty in the Sergeant’s eyes.  “You’re not just a soldier or a weapon anymore, Echo.  You have a place with us.”

           “I’m a droid,” Echo said.  He gently nudged Omega back and pressed his forehead against hers for a second before giving her a little push towards the rest of the Bad Batch. He stood up and looked at the other clones, so unsure of what to do in this kind of situation.  “I was turned into the ultimate weapon against my brothers, and Tech said it himself.  I’m more machine than man now.  All I’m good for is doing menial repairs on the ship and being sold for credits.  I was “just a reg” before I became a prisoner of war, and you wouldn’t have even given me a second look if I wasn’t torn apart and put back together again.  I’m just a replacement that can be used when one of you isn’t able to fulfill your duties. A stand-in.

           Echo took a deep breath.  “I need to fight against this Empire the best way I can, and I need to save my brothers. That is my mission now.  I will fulfill my duty.”

           “But you can’t go,” Omega said, and there were tears glistening in her eyes.  “Echo, you’re a part of my family and I just got you.”

           “Omega, you’re a part of my family, too.  But you know that we’d do anything to save our family and I have a whole galaxy filled with my brothers who all need to be saved.”  Echo reached into one of the pockets on his belt and pulled out the secondary secure communicator he had built just in case.  “I’ll always be there for you, Omega.  I’m only one call away, and if you or the rest of the Batch get into trouble, I’ll come and help.  But I need to do this.”

           She took the comm in trembling hands, then with a sob, threw her arms around Echo’s legs and shook.  “I’ll miss you so much, Echo.”

           “I’ll miss you, too, Omega.  But don’t worry, I’ll keep in touch as much as I’m able to.  And we’ll see each other again.  I know it.”

           Echo let Omega hug him for as long as she needed as he ran his fingers through her hair soothingly.  He would miss her a lot.  In fact, she reminded him a lot of Ahsoka when she was a youngling at the beginning of the war.  Naïve and just wanting to prove her own worthiness.  Eventually she stepped back, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand.

           “I understand why you need to go,” Omega said with a watery voice.  “I’ll call you every day, okay?”

           He chuckled.  “Maybe not every day, but as often as we can both manage.  I promise.”

           Hunter stepped forward and put his hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Echo—“ he began, but Echo held up his hand.

           “It’s alright, Sarge.  Just—take care of her and each other.  And if you’re ever stuck in a situation, give me a call and I’ll come help.”

           “Are you sure we can’t convince you to come with us? There’s plenty of room for you.”

           Echo shook his head.  “You saved your brother.  It’s time I saved mine.  And you need to do what’s best for Omega.  Taking her into war zones would be a terrible idea.”

           Hunter stared at Echo for a long time, likely trying to figure out if there was any way he could convince him to stay, but Echo held firm. He didn’t belong with the Batch. Never really had.  They were good for a temporary posting, just to help readjust since Rex was busy with the war and dealing with the loss of so many brothers before everything went to hell.  Echo was ready to get back into the thick of the fighting.

           “Wrecker, go grab Echo’s gear and whatever rations and medical supplies we can spare,” Hunter ordered.  He turned back towards the rest of the Batch.  “Tech, get Crosshair on board and start up the engines. We need to get going as soon as possible in case the Empire returns.  Omega?  You should probably go get strapped in for takeoff.”

           The Batch scrambled to obey, though Echo noticed both Wrecker and Tech giving him uncertain looks.  Little brothers were always the same.  They always wanted to make sure they were doing the right thing and looked to their ori’vode for advice and help.  Hunter had filled that role for so long, but Echo had carved out a tiny space for himself, too.  As much as Echo wanted to help them, he had his duty.  And he could only really help them if they actually listened to his advice. But it didn’t hurt to leave them with a few last suggestions.

           “Hunter, don’t trust Cid.  They’re only looking out for themself and will likely betray you if it’s profitable enough.  Find someone you can really trust and have them teach you how the galaxy works so no one else can take advantage of you.  And take care of yourself and the others.  Especially Omega.”

           Hunter nodded and saluted Echo.  Echo gave a weak grin and returned the gesture before he picked up his shovel once again.  He had work to do.

           It didn’t take long for the Havoc Marauder to take off, and he watched the ship silently until he could no longer see them before turning back to the field of white, broken bodies.  His hand slipped into his belt pouch and removed the secure transmitter Rex had given him before they’d parted ways.  Without hesitation, Echo flicked it on and called the only saved frequency.

           “Rex?  Yeah, I’m gonna need a pickup.  Got room for one more in your little rebellion?”

             (Hours later, and after Echo had finally finished burying the last body, Rex’s ship touched down in the clearing.  The door slid open and five notes were whistled out of the opening.  It was a call Domino squad had come up with while on Rishi and one that he and Fives had continued to use in the 501st.  The only person left that would know that tune was Rex.  Echo grinned and returned the whistle.  Seconds later, a shape that was definitely not Rex barreled out of the ship and into Echo’s arms.  Ahsoka was taller than he remembered, and a lot more weary and sad.  But she was alive, and that’s what mattered most.

           Echo looked over her montrals and grinned at Rex, who leaned against the ship and just watched him reunite with his long-missed jetii’ka vod’ika.  The Empire may have taken everything good out of the galaxy, but a few small pockets persisted.  They had hope and they were willing to fight for it.

           “Let’s go save our brothers,” he said, arm wrapped around Ahsoka’s shoulders as they walked back to Rex.  Echo only paused once to look back at Wooley’s grave.  He would not be forgotten, and Echo would make sure that for every life he took, he’d save two more.  It’s what he owed them.  It’s what his brothers deserved.

           Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la.  Not gone, merely marching far away.)

[deans-baby-momma]

Seeking Mercy-Chapter 7

Summary: How will Dean react to Y/N’s news?

Previously:

Dean’s grunts and groans echo off the walls of the bedroom, along with her moans and breathless cries. The bed springs start squeaking but neither of them pay any attention, both of them trying to reach their end.

“I’m close Dean,” Y/N whispers. “I’m going to cum. Cum with me baby. Cum inside me.”

“I. can’t.” Dean objects with each thrust. “You’ll. Get. Pregnant. Again. But fuck if I don’t want to. I love filling you up.”

“Too late, baby. I’m already pregnant again.”

Dean’s release is accompanied with a long drawn out groan until his body collapses onto her.

“What?” Dean asks, propping himself on his elbows, his softening member still lodged deep. “What did you say?”

Y/N looks up at her husband and smiles. 

“I said, it’s too late. I’m already pregnant again.”

She watches the emotions play out across Dean’s face. From confusion to stunned to surprise until he finally smiles a genuine smile down at her.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Holy fuck!” he exclaims. “How is that even possible?”

“Well, you see...when a man and woman fuck-”

Dean laughs as he pulls out of her and rolls to the side. “Fuck you. I know that how. But we’ve been careful.”

“No we haven’t,” Y/N reminds him. “The night after Cas healed you. We screwed like rabbits and you were bareback.”

“So that means, I knocked you up what, 6 or 7 weeks ago?”

“Give or take,” Y/N says as she turns onto her side to look at her husband. “Are you mad?”

“What? Hell no I’m not mad. I’m just- I’m in shock I think,” he says. “I mean I know we talked about having more kids but I always figured it’d be down the road a bit. Not before Mav was even a year old yet.”

Dean quickly turns and looks at her. “Are you okay? I didn’t--I didn’t hurt you did I? I didn’t fuck you too hard?”

“No, Dean. If you ask me you didn’t fuck me hard enough. But don’t worry. Me and the baby are just fine. I have an appointment tomorrow, if you want to go. I’m sure Dr. Porter and her nurses would love to see you again.”

“Yea, yea. Shut up!” Dean says playfully. “Of course I’ll go with you. Can we tell the others?”

“If you want.”

“If I want,” Dean repeats, mockingly. “Get your fine ass up and get dressed and let’s go tell the family.”

Seeing Dean gush about the news to his mom and brothers is more than Y/N could ever imagine. 

He’s so excited and happy to be adding another addition to the Winchester family.

Y/N is, at first, worried that Adam will spill the beans about already knowing, but being the good actor he is, the youngest Winchester feigns surprise and delight when told by his oldest brother.

That night, Mary whips up a batch of Winchester surprise and a cherry pie for dessert in celebration.

The festivities last late into the night, with Y/N sitting on Dean’s lap at one of the library tables while Sam and Mary look on; Adam already retired for the night, along with Mavelin.

“So, were you two trying? Or was this a ‘oops’ pregnancy?” Mary inquires.

Dean and Y/N look at one another before Y/N answers. “Definitely an ‘oops’. But when your husband is miraculously healed of paralysis, the last thing you think of is protection.”

“Oh god! I don’t even want to think about that,” Sam whines. “Oh great, now I have those images in my head.”

Dean chuckles. “I knew you fantasized about my ass.”

Y/N slaps Dean on the shoulder as Sam groans behind her. 

“Dean be nice to your brother,” Mary chastises.

“He started it,” Dean counters.

“Children,” Y/N says laughing and shaking her head.

Dean wraps his arms around her middle and smiles, “Nah just your baby daddy,” he says with a bright smile on his face before pulling her down to kiss her.

Y/N watches Dean when he doesn’t know she is looking. He is so happy and carefree and just bounces around like he doesn’t have a care in the world.

The doctor appointment confirms that Y/N is indeed pregnant and gives them a due date of near Dean’s own birthday. The fact that he may get to share a birthday with his child makes Dean ecstatic.

The doctor’s appointment also confirms what Y/N was afraid of. There is no definite date of conception. The doctor explains that she couldn’t exactly establish a DOC but with the size of the fetus, guesses that Y/N is about 10 weeks along. Y/N knows that 10 weeks ago Dean was still incapacitated and unable to produce an erection so it is doubtful he is the father. 

Thankfully, Dean has yet to come to that realization.

While helping Mary cook one evening later in the week, Dean comes into the kitchen and picks Y/N up, swinging her around.

“Hello my gorgeous baby momma,” he laughs.

“Hi,” Y/N responds. The fact that seeing Dean this light and happy is not lost on her. She is loving the new and improved man.

“How about tonight after dinner and we put Mav down, we take a drive?”

“Okay.”

The wind whistles through the windows of the Impala as Y/N and Dean speed down the highway; one of Dean’s old cassettes playing through the speakers.

Y/N’s hand is wrapped in his on the seat between them. Her free hand settled on her slightly pudgy stomach as she watches the scenery through the windshield. Her conscious begins to get the better of her.

Seeing Dean so damn happy and excited about the new baby was something she just was not expecting. When she had taken the test and it came back positive, she’d been worried how he would react, but this was not at all what she was anticipating.

Not that she was expecting a bad outcome, but happy, worry-free Dean was not in her wheelhouse of thinking. And now with her worst fears settled, it broke her heart to see him like this.

Looking over to her husband, she watches as he drives along, humming to whatever song is playing. She loves him so much her heart feels like it is about to burst. And she knows she is going to have to break his. She can’t take it anymore; the guilt, the shame is just too much.

Letting go of his hand and reaching to turn the music off, Y/N speaks up.

“Dean we need to talk. I have something to tell you.”

“What is it?”

“Pull over.”

Dean quickly finds a spot and pulls off the road, putting the car in park and killing the engine.

“Baby, what is it?” he implores.

Deciding to just bite the bullet, Y/N blurts out. “I slept with Adam.” The tears start immediately and she looks down at her lap.

“Wha--what?”

“I slept with Adam,” she repeats through the tears.

The silence in the Impala is deafening. Y/N can’t take her eyes off her hands in her lap. She is terrified to look at her husband, doesn’t want to see the pain and agony her confession has caused.

“You- you slept with my brother?”

She nods, not trusting her voice at all.

“Was it while I was hurt?”

Again she just nods.

Another bout of silence fills the car until she can’t take it anymore and feels as if she is suffocating.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”

Still not able to look at him, Y/N nervously awaits the eruption, the barrage of questioning. But they never come. Steeling herself, she glances over at Dean to see him sitting still, staring at the steering wheel. He looks completely devastated. She watches his eyes close and sees a lone tear glide down his cheek.

“So,” he finally speaks after clearing his throat and wiping away the moisture on his face. He never takes his eyes off the center of the wheel. “While I was unable to fully satisfy you, you fucked Adam?”

“Yea,” she answers meekly.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” Y/N inquires, unsure of that response.

“Yea, okay,” Dean affirms. “I wasn’t able to please you, you found it in my brother. I understand.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Deans says as he finally turns to look at her. “I get it. I do. You’ve always had a voracious sexual appetite. I know this and I couldn’t do for you what needed to be done. So you found it somewhere else. Am I happy about it? Abso-fucking-lutely not! Do I like the idea that my half-brother now knows what it feels like to be inside you? Hell no. But I get it. I do. And I love you enough to overlook it. Just as long as you swear it won’t happen again.”

“It won’t. I promise.”

“How many times did he-- no you know what, never mind. I don’t want to know,” Dean says, shaking his head.

“Listen, Y/N. I love you and I can’t imagine life without you and Mav. I don’t want to lose you. It would kill me,” Dean says and then stops. He glances down to her stomach and then back up to her eyes. “Is the baby his?”

“No,” she lies. “This is your baby, Dean.” 

When they get back to the Bunker later, Dean takes her hand and they approach Adam’s room. 

Adam takes forever to open the door after Dean knocks.

“We gotta talk,” Dean says as he shoulders his way into his half-brother’s room.

“Uh,” Adam says as he looks from Dean to Y/N and back to Dean. “What’s up?”

Y/n stays quiet but Dean leans against the edge of the desk in the corner, crossing his arms. He looks menacing and threatening. 

Dean clears his throat before speaking. “I know about you and Y/N. I know the two of you had sex. Look, I see it like this…..you did what I couldn’t while I was broken. But if you ever try to touch my wife like that again I’ll break your dick. Is that clear? I’m back, my dick works again so she doesn’t need yours. Got it?”

“Crystal.” Adam says and watches Dean leave his room. Y/N looks at him pleadingly before following behind her husband. Adam is stunned and frozen in his spot. ‘What the hell was that about?’ 

As Adam lays in bed and thinks about what his brother said, it dawns on him. Y/N must have told his brother that they fucked! But the way Dean talked about it was like it only happened once and while he was injured and unable to fulfill his husbandly duties. 

Did Y/N lie and tell Dean that? Did she lead him to believe that it only happened once after the accident? That it hadn’t been going on for months before he and the rest of the family were in a wreck.  Did Dean not know that as he was being wounded, his youngest brother had been buried ball’s deep in his wife? 

Adam closed his eyes, wondering why she had even told Dean. And did she tell him that he was possibly the father and not Dean? 

To say he got a lousy night of sleep was an understatement. 

@lostinaseaoffictionalbliss @squirrelnotsam​ @sandlee44​  @internationalmusicteacher​ @kricketc29​ @natura1phenomenon​ @blacktithe7​ @spnbaby-67​ @travelingriversideblues-x​  @keymology​ @tftumblin​ @markofdean79​ @thevelvetseries​ @deanwanddamons​ @winchester-fantasies​ @akshi8278​ @michellethetvaddict​ @larajadeschmidt13​ @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid​ @hoboal87​ @atc74​ @maddiepants​ @delightfullykrispypeach​

[bangtann-bangdamn]

Nocturne

<Yoongi x Reader>

Part 7 - Bad Idea

It was supposed to be easy: confess your love for Park Jimin and spend the final moments of the year locked in his arms. Only one problem – he has a new girlfriend and now you need to save face. Good thing Yoongi is willing to play pretend. But how long until you catch feelings for the quiet music man?

January 2nd – 12:07pm

You were silently cursing as you jogged to the café. You were running late. You hated running late. It was something your mother had taught you and Jungkook, although he seemed to forget that lesson more often than he forgets to charge his phone. It wasn’t so much about being late that was the problem. It was that being late demonstrated that you cared very little about what you were late to. No matter how hard you tried, you could never seem to make yourself care any less. Every time the clocked ticked even a minute past the time you were supposed to be somewhere, it was like you had downed ten coffees. You could feel the blood pumping through your veins. You became more aware of the sound of your footsteps on the pavement; of conversations you drifted past. The feeling would stay with you for the rest of the day, reminding you that you had shown that you didn’t care enough.

At least this time, you argued to yourself, it wasn’t your fault. Hye-jin had walked out of her room ten minutes before you had wanted to leave. She took one look at the box of muffins on the counter and got a look on her face that made you regret even asking her when Yoongi was working. You knew you should have risked just turning up at the café and hoping for the best.

“Where are you going?” She slyly asked, moving to inspect the muffins closer.

You stepped in front of her, hoping to block her view of the muffins. You knew it was stupid. So what you made blueberry muffins? A lot of people liked blueberry muffins. They were Jungkook’s favourites after all… well, second favourite. Okay, so maybe Jungkook didn’t have a favourite muffin because he never took the time to actually taste them before devouring them, but that wasn’t the point. You just couldn’t shake the feeling from the pit of your stomach that as soon as Hye-jin saw the muffins she would put two and two together and come up with Yoongi. And you really didn’t want her coming up with that conclusion.

“The café,” you said slowly, watching as Hye-jin’s expression slowly lit up.

Okay, so it really didn’t matter whether she saw the muffins or not, she was still coming up Yoongi. You mentally slapped yourself for being so stupid. Why didn’t you just say you were meeting Jungkook for lunch?

She hit your arm with a grin. “Shut up! No way. I can’t believe this is happening.”

“It’s not.” You held out your hands to calm Hye-jin before she got carried away. Which was an occupational hazard with living with Hye-jin. She was prone to romantic fantasies and no matter how dire the situation, she always managed to find the romantic side. It was one of her traits that had drawn you to her in the first place. You remember the first time you met when she had dramatically flopped down beside you at a party and told you that she was going to marry Taehyung one day. It was why she kept going back to him after all these years, you mused. That every time he hurt her, every break-up, every argument, it was all leading to the romantic end. The moment she got her Prince Charming.

And now she’s got it into her head that Yoongi was your one. You couldn’t really blame her either. You had encouraged it by stupidly admitting that you had kissed him. And that one time you had accidentally confessed that you thought Yoongi was kind of cute…

“Give me five minutes, I’ll come with you.” She clapped her hands together, acting as if you hadn’t just spoken.

Your mind raced as you tried to find a way to stop her from joining you.

“No!” You grabbed her arm. “I’m not going there to see Yoongi. I’m just meeting Jungkook.”

“So, the muffins…” She pointed to the box behind you with her brow raised.

“For… Jungkook,” You said slowly, nodding your head with what you hoped was enough conviction. It was partially true, for the record. After he commented on your Instagram post, you had decided to be a nice sister and make him his own batch. Sure, they weren’t baked to perfection like the ones for Yoongi were, but Jungkook wouldn’t notice. You doubted he would notice or care if the muffins he received weren’t the perfect golden brown.

“Right. So why did you ask when Yoongi was working then?”

Damn it, she had you.

“Um… because I… was going to make him some, but then I realised that it was probably going to send the wrong message.”

Hye-jin narrowed her eyes. “Wrong message? What wrong message?” She folded her arms across her chest and you knew that no matter what you said, she would still come to the same conclusion.

“That I… like him?” You answered uncertainly. You cleared your throat. “Hye-jin, Yoongi’s nice and everything. But it’s not like that. It was just a kiss.” You wait for her reaction, watching as she continued to stare you down. You fold your arms behind your back, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Oh, I see.” Hye-jin nodded, a smile playing on her lips. You knew that whatever she had just discovered, it was likely to be the opposite of what you had said that had made her smile.

“You do?”

“Yeah.” She sighed dramatically, her smile still plastered on her face. “I see. I’ll let you go deliver your muffins to… Jungkook.”

You closed your eyes, knowing that you needed to set her straight and that there really was nothing going on with you and Yoongi before she started planning your wedding or something else equally lucrative. You glanced at the clock in hopes that you had time to sit her down and explain and realised that you were going to be late.

“Oh no.” You let go of the hem of your shirt, forgetting all about setting the record straight as you grabbed the box of muffins and shoved them in your bag.

“I’ll see you tonight!” Hye-jin called after you as you raced to put your shoes on. “And I want to hear everything about your lunch date with Jungkook.” She emphasised his name in such a way that you knew she wasn’t really talking about your brother.

You closed your eyes, burying the feeling of standing up for yourself. Denying that you had feelings for a guy you barely knew right now was only going to make Hye-jin think you did have feelings for him. Instead, you vowed to clear the air when you got home.

“Bye!” You called behind you as you made your way out the front door.

-

The bell rang out above you as you pushed open the café door. The café was busy as normal, if not a little busier, as you joined the end of the queue. Yoongi wasn’t alone behind the counter and, when he saw you in line, you could swear that you saw a small smile grace his lips before returning his blank stare to the customer he was serving. The other server, another male who you assumed to be Mark (considering that was the only other name you knew from the café), was running around behind Yoongi trying to fulfil orders as quickly as Yoongi was taking them. Slowly the queue moved until you were the one ordering.

“What can I get for you?” Yoongi asked. He looked at you like you were any other customer, but as you met his gaze, you noted that they looked a whole lot less blank than he had for every other customer. Or maybe that was all in your head.

You smiled at him. “It’s not what you can get for me, but what I can get for you.” You dug through your bag and presented the plastic container of muffins.

Yoongi hesitated as he stared down at the muffins. “I thought I told you I didn’t want muffins.”

“And I thought I told you that you were getting them regardless.” When he made no move to take them from you, you placed them on the counter.

Job done, you thought. You couldn’t help the smug smile as Yoongi continued to stare down at the container. You could see it in his face that he didn’t really want to object to the muffins, and you couldn’t blame him. You put your heart and soul into baking, so when a batch of muffins turned out as good as the ones in front of Yoongi, you couldn’t help but take a little pride in the way people reacted to them.

You smiled at Yoongi as you took a step away from the counter. You knew that this would be the worst place for Jungkook to find you. Him seeing you talk to Yoongi would cause more chaos than you were willing to endure. As is, the moment he saw that Hye-jin wasn’t working, you knew he would have questions. You hoped you could dodge any question about Yoongi until everyone could forget about your kiss.

Damn that kiss.

“Oh Yoongi, love. You can’t say no to muffins! Especially ones made by this lovely young lady.” A woman joined you by the counter, lightly placing her hand on your arm as she smiled at Yoongi.

“I wasn’t going to reject them.” Yoongi snatched the box and placed it beneath the counter before making his way around to the other side. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming until this evening?” He asked the woman. He looked between the woman and you and, for the first time that you could remember, you saw something on Yoongi’s face. His eyes widened, his lips were slightly parted as his gaze refused to settle. He was panicking.

“I was, but then I realised I missed my son terribly and I thought I would make the effort to get here sooner.” She cupped his cheeks for a moment before turning to you. “Now, are you going to introduce me to this wonderful young lady.” She smiled at you. It was a brilliant kind of smile, nothing half-assed about it. She smiled and her whole body radiated her happiness. You couldn’t help but smile back at her.

Yoongi sighed. “Mum, this is Yn. Yn, this is my mother.”

“Oh, so this is Yn!” Yoongi’s mother clapped her hands together as if you were her favourite celeb in the world.

You frowned at Yoongi before returning your attention back to his mother. “Hi.” You smiled. That was until she threw herself at you, wrapping you tightly in her arms. Over her shoulder, you looked at Yoongi. “Why is she hugging me?” you mouthed, but you knew he was going to be no help. He was staring at the pair of you like he had just seen a ghost.

“It’s so nice to finally meet Yoongi’s girlfriend!” His mother announced as she let go of you.

His what now?

“Oh I’m not-” You began to say, but were cut off by Yoongi.

“Yep, this is her! My girlfriend.” He stepped beside you, slinging his arm around your shoulder. You looked up at him, hoping your expression conveyed just how confused you were.

At least Jungkook wasn’t here for this.

“Girlfriend?!” Jungkook stood from where he was seated at the table directly behind you.

“No!” You pointed at Jungkook as Yoongi instantly announced “Yes!”

This was not good. This was so not good.

You turned your attention back to Yoongi and slapped his shoulder with the back of your hand.

“What is going on here?” Yoongi’s mother asked, glancing between the two of you. All her previous happiness had dropped from her face and she was looking between you like she wasn’t sure what she was seeing.

“That’s what I would like to know, Yn.” Jungkook frowned, crossing his arms as he stepped beside Yoongi’s mother.

You could feel the panic starting to set in, the way the world was starting to close in on you. You didn’t know what was going on, that was the truth.

How could a simple kiss on New Year’s be so confusing?

“Yn, a word?” Yoongi had the audacity to ask, nodding his head for you to follow him. He led you to the storage room, closing the door quickly behind you.

“Why are you introducing me to your mother as your girlfriend, Yoongi?” You rounded on him immediately, placing your hands on your hips in an attempt to seem more intimidating. At least, that’s what you hoped you looked like because you honestly felt like a toddler on the verge of a meltdown.

“Ha. Funny story. My mum has been harassing me about getting a girlfriend for years. At Christmas, I lied to her and told her that I had a girlfriend, but I didn’t tell her a name because, well, it was a lie. Then, yesterday she started questioning me about meeting my girlfriend and how she didn’t even know her name and I… gave your name. I’m sorry, please play along just for this afternoon.” He took your hands in his, even going as far as getting down on one knee so that you were gazing down at him.

You snatched your hands back. “Wha- no! My brother’s going to think I lied to him about this! Not to mention Hye-jin!”

“Please!” He rose to his feet again and clasped his hands together for a second. When it became clear that you weren’t going to budge, he rubbed his chin with both hands. “What if we make this mutually beneficial?”

“I don’t see how it’s going to be mutual. The only person benefitting here is you.”

“If you’re dating me, your brother won’t question your thing with Jimin.” Yoongi offered.

“I don’t have a thing with Jimin.” You pout. No, his stupid girlfriend had put an end to that dream. It was dumb anyway. Jimin was so far out of your league, it was unreal. He was so kind, and patient, and sweet, and funny. And the only sweet thing about you was the muffins you baked.

“Well, it will diffuse attention away from it, anyway.” Yoongi shrugged.

You frowned. “Why does your mum want you to have a girlfriend anyway?” It didn’t make sense to you. From the moment she found out about your kiss, Hye-jin had made the effort to tell you just how talented Yoongi was and how every major orchestra was already looking into hiring him after university. It didn’t make sense to you that his mum was focusing on his love life.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s not so much as she wants me to have a girlfriend, just… she thinks I’m too old to be single.”

“Because that makes sense. You’re what? Twenty-five?”

“Twenty-six and it does when you know she wants grandkids. She’s not getting any younger.” Yoongi muttered.

“Seriously?” You raised your brow at him.

“Look, I helped you on New Year’s Eve. Help me now. We can break up whenever you want, I promise.”

“So, if I wanted to break up now?”

“Well, no. Not now.”

“Relax, I’m kidding. Partially, anyway.”

Okay, Yn. Think. Pros and cons. Pros: it’s going to be a whole lot easier to convince Jungkook that there’s no issue between you and Jimin if you have a boyfriend. Hye-jin will stop talking Yoongi up. Jin will stop talking about your lack of a love life. Jimin might realise his feelings for you and break up with his girlfriend.

Okay, maybe not that one.

Cons: you have to fake date…which is pretty much dating. Which means you’re probably going to have to spend time with Yoongi. Which could mean that real feelings might... That’s the cliché, right? You fake date and then you fall in love? But you already know that you won’t fall in love with Yoongi. How could you when you’ve already met the one.

Oh god, you’re spiralling. Time to stop thinking. Just pick one.

“Fine. I’ll do it, I guess. I mean, I could tell Jungkook that it’s still new and when he asked the other day, we hadn’t really talked about things. Then I’m not really lying to him…” But even as you said the words, it sent a surge of panic through you. This was nuts. This was an insanely stupid idea. You obviously shouldn’t go through with this. The cons far out weighed the pros.

God, why were you so stupid?

“Thank you.” Yoongi pulled you into a hug. His arms wound around your waist and you settled your hands on his shoulder. “Thank you,” he said again, squeezing you slightly.

“You’re welcome,” you replied softly, closing your eyes as you wondered just how much trouble this was going to cause. You pulled away, not far enough to break the embrace, but enough that you could see his face. “But we need to talk about boundaries.”

“Of course.” Yoongi nodded his head, brown eyes never leaving yours.

You shivered when he shifted the position of his hands slightly. You stepped back completely, breaking his hold.

“Yeah, we should probably get back out there. Before they start thinking we’re doing more than talking.” Yoongi laughed, already moving towards the door.

You stood there, completely frozen as his words washed over you.

“Doing… more…?” You repeated softly as you stared at Yoongi’s back.

He opened the door, apparently unaware of your current shock, as he turned back to face you.

“You ready?” He held out his hand for you to leave first.

Yes, this was certainly a bad idea. But there was no way to back out of this now.

<Part 6 (x) Part 8>

Tag list: @salty-for-suga​ @lylanie12​ @agusttaegid​ @mochiteddybear​ @misscheesecakeee​ @thebluemoonlight​ @yourhoneymilkandtea​ @lidda​ @detectivebourbon @rjsmochii​ @taeshuworld​ @sessi03​ @alyssa20077​ @dreamcatcherjiah​ @shay-the-turtle​ @jisnuq​ @herosvillians87​@itiswhatitisnt88​ @meowmeowyoongles​ @lyndseygoregasmxo​ @bang-tan-fan​ @sunrisemcp​

If you want to be added to the tag list, send me an ask!

AN: It’s been a while, I know. But I’m back with this update. I don’t know when the next update will be, what with Christmas and everything right around the corner, but I’m hoping to get back onto a regular writing schedule soon. I’m not saying I’m going on hiatus, because I’m still going to be here. But my updates are going to take a hit. I’m sorry! 

As for the tag list, a couple of you didn’t come up when I tried tagging you. If you’ve changed usernames, please let me know. I’ve left you there for this update, but I’ll be removing you unless I hear from you. Sorry!

[artlessictoan]

ao3 req again, for any character watching butch!sak work out, which could not be more tailor-made for me specifically. decided to go with tenten since she hasn’t got any attention with this batch of reqs! also this might’ve gotten away with me and basically turned into teppu……… not that that’s ever a bad thing.

(requests open)

(ao3 mirror)

---

Tenten had many important things to be doing right now.

She had paperwork that had been waiting for several days now and if she didn’t get on it soon her boss was going to kill her with one of his trademark ‘casual’ exercise routines; she could also help out with the clean-down of her last class, but Neji was very particular and didn’t look fondly on her ‘get it done quick’ attitude; and she had promised Lee that she would poke her head into his junior judo class at some point today and help out.

But, why would she do any of that, when she could just keep casually leaning against a wall, watching in rapt fascination as muscles pulled and stretched.

“Do you mind?”

Tenten didn’t bother to look in the woman’s eyes, instead keeping her own fixed on the thick arms that were straining and completely uncovered for her viewing pleasure. “Nope,” she said with a wide grin.

There was a low grumble, but she apparently didn’t care enough to stop her push-ups. Tenten had seen her around quite a bit recently, ever since the Might Dojo officially joined with the Hatake Gym – nominally because only together could they afford the rent of the new, larger facilities they’d both been eyeing up, but really because Gai and Kakashi were both sick of trying to find an apartment with reasonably short commutes to both of their former work-places since deciding to finally move in together – but she hadn’t spoken to her outside of some idle greetings during staff meetings.

Honestly, she didn’t know why she hadn’t leapt on her sooner, Sakura was exactly her type; short, athletic, striking, handsome looks, a cute undercut and could probably easily throw her twenty feet in the air. Maybe not quite as butch as Tenten herself was, but pretty close.

“So-” she pushed herself off the wall and stepped closer, mostly just to get a better look at the back muscles tensing with each controlled descent “-you’re an instructor too, right?”

Green eyes briefly glanced over her wide, beautiful shoulders, before dropping back to the floor as she effortlessly pressed down and pushed herself back up. “Yes, and I’ve got a class starting in fifteen, so could you maybe let me warm up in peace?”

Tenten wasn’t one to be easily deterred. “Oh? What’re ya teaching?”

“You don’t know your own gym’s schedule?” Her voice wasn’t even a little strained, even at her fifteenth rep.

“Eh, as long as I know what I’m doing then I don’t see why I need to learn everything else that’s going on.” How much trouble would she get in if she tried sitting on her back right now? She could surely take the more extreme work out.

With a grunt, Sakura finished her push-ups and rose to her feet. Tenten wanted to pout at her lost opportunity, but her attention was quickly reclaimed when she stepped up to one of the punching bags lining the walls. “I’m teaching MMA,” the woman said, checking the tape on her fists before launching into a standard set of punches.

She could smell on opportunity here. Smirking, Tenten sauntered over and stood very pointedly within the woman’s sight. “That beginner level, sweetheart?”

The full-body twitch was more than worth having to dodge the bag sent flying toward her.

Ok, maybe she’d been asking for that. She let out a chuckle and moved closer again, coming up to her side and leaning down to whisper in her ear, “C’mon, you’re not getting anything out of this old thing, why don’t you give me a shot?”

“You want to spar?” Sakura asked, pausing in her set for a brief moment, before launching back full-force.

“Hell yes.”

Bright eyes gave her a quick once over, lingering on her arms – crossed and slightly tensed, to better show off her biceps – and legs – carefully positioned to give her a generous view of inner thigh – before returning to her face with a determined look. “Let me guess, muay thai?”

She shrugged as she said, “I’ve dabbled in most things, but I actually specialise in kali, arnis, y’know, FMA in general.” Her own eyes gave Sakura a lingering examination, trailing perfectly-defined muscles like the small beads of sweat slowly trailing down her golden skin. “And you look like a classic striker to me, bet you’ve trained as a boxer.”

“A little,” she said shortly, adding a few extra punches to her drill. Still playing coy? She could work with that.

With practised nonchalance, Tenten stepped just behind the other woman, hovering just out of range of the elbows that sharply drew back before each punch, then leaned forwards to whisper in her ear, “Sooo? You wanna do it?”

There was only the slightest shudder in response. Disappointing. “I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Hey, I’m dtf any time.”

The red bloomed across the back of her ears like a rose, the colour even reached her neck. Tenten could only imagine how hot her face must feel in that moment.

Aww, she’s shy, how cute.

Green eyes immediately narrowed on her as she spun in place to glare up at her. “Are you being serious right now?” she spluttered out, voice caught somewhere between disbelief and indignation, but Tenten definitely wasn’t imagining the hint of excitement lurking at the edges.

“Down to fight, babe,” she said, her most lascivious smirk spreading across her face. “Why, what did you think I meant?”

Tenten was about five seconds from getting a fist in her stomach, if the look on her face was anything to go by, but she just could not stop herself from leaning down to better meet the shorter woman’s eyes and fluttering her lashes with her best puppy-dog pout on her lips. “One spar won’t hurt, c’mon, first to ten points?”

Clearly she was still hesitant, but impatience was slowly growing in her eyes. Just a light nudge and she’d probably snap.

All it took was for Tenten to playfully knock their noses together.

“Make that first to submission and we have a deal.” She was now blazing with a dangerous mix of determination and excitement.

Is this what love felt like?

“Oho, confidence!” Tenten’s laughter was a little giddy, but she didn’t care, already skipping back and dropping into her preferred fighting stance; her hands held close to her face and knees slightly bent. “I like that, lets see how long it lasts.”

Sakura snorted, but quickly took her own stance, more open, and significantly lower.

They lightly tapped their leading fists together, before launching into a rapid flurry of movement, Tenten blocked the punch immediately aimed at her head, jumped back to avoid the knee following it, while Sakura stepped in after every attack, aiming to close distance and keep Tenten moving.

Was she wary of strikes? Kali was admittedly more suited to that than grappling, but if she really thought that Tenten didn't have some tricks up her sleeve she was gonna be in for a rough time.

Grinning, she ducked under a vicious left hook and launched herself into Sakura’s chest, knocking her back onto the padded floor. She didn't wait for her to recover, crawling up the woman's strong, beautiful body to try and get her right arm in a lock.

This close, it was so much easier to see the well-developed muscles fluttering under dark skin, glistening in a light sheen of sweat. Despite the familiar smell of much-borrowed boxing gloves – one that Tenten knew from experience would take much scrubbing and an entire bar of soap to fully wash out – there was a pleasant muskiness and a sharp, fresh scent that filled her entire head with thoughts of burying her face into that delicious skin and just dragging her tongue-

In her brief moment of distraction, Tenten’s right arm was tucked under Sakura’s elbow, one heavy leg draped over her shoulder, trapping her upper body close to Sakura’s stomach.

Oh? Tenten experimentally tried to shift her arm into a better position, Sakura responded by pushing it away, pulling her other leg until it could wrap around her neck to meet the other. She didn’t need to be able to see it to feel how both ankles crossed tightly against her back, thick muscles tensing against her face. A picture-perfect triangle choke; apparently the woman was more comfortable with grappling than she’d given her credit for.

“You know,” Tenten said, giving herself as much room to breathe as Sakura would allow – which wasn’t much, clearly she didn’t take it easy, even for a casual spar – and flashing a grin at her captor, “I always wanted to die with my head trapped between the magnificent thighs of a gorgeous woman.”

The speed at which her entire face went red was truly astounding and, judging by the look on her face, she was very seriously considering granting that wish.

Her arm was quickly grabbed and twisted back until Tenten was forced to submit, tapping her free hand against the nearest leg until she was released, she immediately rolled away and looked to the ceiling, chest heaving and arm aching as she tried to recover. So light-headed was she, that when the head of pink hair dropped into her sight, she immediately let out a winded giggle and raised a shaky hand to poke her nose.

“Best of three?”

---

[pcrfide]

He counts his days, counts his time. It’s about 76 days away til the holiday he takes to remember those he’s left behind. The irony is not lost on him as he plants the seeds in the small planter box. The soil is lovingly kneaded, the small bits of plant carefully covered. Black and white, black and white, gol

In five days, they will break free- and in ten, sprout. 

In twenty days, he’ll have a lush series of plants ready to be potted and begin to spread their little roots all over for nutrients and water. In thirty, they’ll strengthen and grow up until they’re only about eight inches high before they spread out. And in forty, they’ll flower- these zempasúchil.

Every year, Alejandra’s mother gives him the seeds to grow his own and every year- he comes to California to spend as many weeks here as he can to tend to these plants, watching them grow from seed to sprout, from sprout to flowering plant. 

And every year, the pots are brought down to the little bakery- the young girl laughingly teases him about his broken Spanish and godawful accent as she helps him decorates the baked clay. And every year, he stays those extra twenty days- putting in work at the bakery to help until it’s time to bring those bright gold and orange blossoms to where they belong. 

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

But this year- this year, he’s aching and hollow. 

His motions are slow, and tired- steps dragging a little as he makes his way down the sidewalk, a batch of sweetbreads in a bag dangling from his wrist. Brightly colored papel picado streaming banners loop everywhere, turning the normally adobe and brick city into something that looks festive and bright. There’s singing in some spots, hymns and catholic chanting in pulpits and by fountains. 

There’s guitars and accordions, drums and singers in others- a strangely mournful cacophony that manages to be cheerful despite it. The people here, like it’s city- tend to be a mix of the living and the dead, the mourning and the cheering, the bustling and the quiet. 

The space between the heart and the beat.

Every year they offer him a space on their own ofrenda for his loved ones, but every year he turns it down in lieu of the one he makes for himself out of broken wood and old cinderblocks in a forgotten cavern outside of the city. Gold and white candles with their flickering flames over photos long since turned sepia with age and bad ink. 

Flanked with those golden zempasúchil- reminding them how to find their way home. 

Ana and Reinhardt- Fareeha swinging on Gabriel’s shoulders. Jesse laughing with his hand on Genji’s shoulders, who glowers into a photo. A birthday party, a candid moment with Blackwatch half asleep from a long mission. 

The Strike Team in repose. 

Winston at his computer, lost in the beauty of an equation. Angela with a foam ring on her lips, savoring a coffee after an all-nighter. He smiles as he counts down the memories, a wrapped package beside him. There’s one more ghost he has to hunt down. One more thing he has to do, but it’ll wait until it’s time. His heart is a tired, bruised thing- beating despite the dents in it’s armor. 

The ghost is not his, never has been- but nevertheless has hooks somewhere in his ribs, despite the fact he wishes it wasn’t so.

And in the nest of it’s wrapping, the statuette with it’s black wings unfurled- the scales. 

A feather.

And a heart. 

And in the dimness of the cave, the silence of the dusty and dry wind outside- a soldier idly wonders just whose heart it might be. 

He’s tired of carrying these memories around, but he clings to them regardless because if he doesn’t- who will remember them? Who will make sure that they aren’t forgotten? Who will make sure that they have a way to cross over, that they can be back home for one more night. It’s silly to think of something that way, but these little moments- these little traditions he’s made for himself. Little rituals and little habits- they’re all he has left.

 Still, the heart on the scales beckons him, and he picks it up- feeling the weight of the sculpted stone. It warms in his palm, leeching from his body. So many things said, so many things he’ll never say. It’s easy to understand, he thinks- the point of burying your feelings until death. The heart is placed back within the bowl of the scale, and he touches the fine detail work. He only wishes his own were that sturdy. 

And that strong.

But he’s only human, and in the end- that’s all he ever was. 

He supposes that’ll have to do.

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

@quodmessorem

[monotonehell]

Cat Among Pigeons

“Why did I just get a text from you?” Jonah asked Gus.

“You said to text my friends,” Gus answered. He knew it wasn’t what Jonah meant him to do, but Gus had been trying to convince Jonah that he was his only friend for days.

“Your other friends! The ones who aren’t here,” Jonah said, frustration starting to creep in.

“They’re all here…” Gus said sadly, looking at the floor.

Jonah let out a frustrated sigh.

‘This again,’ Jonah thought.

Jonah didn’t understand why Gus was trying to convince him that he had no other friends. As far as Jonah was concerned, Gus was a likable guy. He just couldn’t believe that no one else would want to be Gus’ friend. He was sure Gus was just trying to make him feel sorry.

And it was working… but Jonah was the  Ultimate Frisbee team captain, he had responsibilities, and now wasn’t the time to get into this. They had pancakes to sell, money to raise.

Business time.

He forced himself to smile at Gus, and found that it wasn���t actually that difficult to do. Jonah liked Gus. When Gus’ voice broke if he was nervous (which was a lot) it made Jonah smile. It wasn’t that he found Gus funny, like you would a clown. He just found it… somehow endearing?

“It’s okay, Gus. We can do this! I’ll text some friends for help. Meantime, you go get people’s orders…”

“Go out there?” Gus asked in a panic as he indicated the serving area with most of his body.

Jonah put a calming hand on Gus’ shoulder and smiled his patented whole face smile.

“You got this Gus. Your team needs you. I need you,” he said as he looked straight into Gus’ eyes.

“Okay,” Gus squeaked before clearing his throat and repeating the affirmation more confidently.

“Great, you do that and I’ll start cooking pancakes,” Jonah said.

“...And bacon!” Gus said also smiling. He was a bit scared of the responsibility, not to mention all the work they’d have to do between just the two of them. But he preferred it being just Jonah and him. He liked it when he got all of Jonah’s attention.

“We need more pancakes, and bacon, those people are hungry,” Gus said hustling through the door to the community centre’s kitchen. Things were going okay but they were starting to fall behind.

“I just put some on, they’ll have to wait,” Jonah explained.

“Well, hurry up, a husky kid just growled at me,” Gus said, a little worried that the kid might take a bite out of him.

“I’m going as fast as I can,” Jonah was starting to stress out after cooking several batches of pancakes and bacon. The end wasn’t in sight and so far no Buffy and Cyrus.

“...And my feet hurt,” Gus continued to complain.

“Well suck it up, Gus,” Jonah said curtly.

Gus looked up at the admonishment. He’d upset Jonah again. He didn’t like himself much when he did that. He wanted Jonah to like him and acting out like he often did wasn’t helping. He was trying to think of something helpful to say or do when he noticed Cyrus and Buffy walk in.

“Cyrus, my hero, and Buffy, my saviour,” Jonah said warmly with a lot of relief.

“Do you still need me?” Gus asked crestfallen. Jonah never paid him much attention when Cyrus was around.

“Of course! We haven’t even started busting those tables,” Jonah said, although he meant “bussing”, he was under stress.

Gus didn’t want to be there anymore. He tried to think of some excuse as he wiped his nose. That gave him an idea.

“Oh no, I think I’m getting a nose bleed,” Gus cried as he ran from the building.

“Why am I like this?” Gus said to himself angrily, sat in a corner out the back of the community centre.

He held his glasses in one hand as he tried to wipe the tears that fell from his eyes with the other. He buried his face in his hands as he sniffed and dribbled.

He didn’t notice anyone approach until there was a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, startled to see Jonah sat next to him. Jonah said nothing, he just looked sadly into Gus’ eyes and slipped his hand from Gus’ shoulder, across his back and onto his far shoulder. He both lent into Gus and pulled Gus closer.

“Sorry,” Jonah said.

Gus sniffed up some mucus and asked, “Why are you sorry? I’m the one who ran out on you.”

“I dunno. I must have done something wrong to make you run out? Was it because I shouted at you?”

“You never shouted at me. Even when I was being dumb. You’re always nice.”

Jonah was confused, he remembered being angry with Gus when he asked if he was still needed. He was sure he had lost his cool somewhere then.

He squeezed Gus’ shoulder tighter, “Well if I did shout at you, I’m sorry. I like you a lot and it hurts that I made you cry.”

Gus perked up a little and attempted to fix his face before saying, “You’re my only friend and I like you a lot too.”

“I still don’t believe you. There’s no way a guy as docious as you has no friends,” Jonah turned to look at the redhead sitting next to him. Even with Gus’ eyes red and puffy from crying and his nose running, Jonah still thought Gus was very handsome.

“So did your heroes save the day? I bet SuperCyrus and MegaBuffy made a tonne of pancakes and bacon, fed the homeless and saved an orphanage from burning down,” Gus said saltily.

“Well,” Jonah started, “Actually, They were fighting the whole time, and I started to panic, real bad.”

Gus’ expression changed from bitter to surprised.

“It was a disaster, Gus! I don’t think we made any money and we sent away a load of people hungry…”

“Wait… did you have another panic attack?”

Jonah had talked with Gus about his previous panic attack, because he thought Gus might understand and for some reason he found Gus easy to talk to. Gus knew what Jonah had experienced, as he’d been suffering from panic attacks for some years. Gus’ empathy helped and had drawn their friendship closer.

“Almost, I think, Cyrus said I was being anxious about getting anxious. So now I have two things to worry about,” Jonah replied sadly.

Gus put his arm over Jonah’s shoulder and they sat in the half embrace for a while.

Jonah turned to look at Gus, causing Gus to turn to him. Their eyes searched each other’s faces as they sat with their bodies close. Gus moved his face a little closer to Jonah’s.

“Look at us… we’re both a mess,” Jonah said, breaking the spell, before they both laughed a little.

“Wan’a come over my place?” Jonah asked Gus, “I could use a friend tonight.”

Gus wanted to be anywhere Jonah was.

[shirewalker]

cresswell in a zero gravity room + i can't stay away from u

askdhakhsd ofc xD also omg cresswell smut xP

kay so this is in an AU but still a futuristic one where gravity rooms/chambers are cool and fun :D

Rated E ofc

CarswellThorne floated around the room, arms tucked behind his head as he hummed a songhe’d heard that morning on the radio. At this exact moment, his graduates wereofficially on the run to space. Well, officially official astronauts. To be onthe run would need a few more obstacles to be faced. Still, the ceremony wasprobably over by now and all his students were celebrating their new chapter inlife. He was proud of this batch. They were good and brilliant.

And somewere quite… A sigh escaped his lips as he thought about her. Curly blonde hair,beautiful blue eyes, a smile to die for. Oh, and that brain of hers. Top of theclass, brilliant student, and a hacker on the road to redemption. A half-smirktugged on his lips. Caught hacking the Government’s system for whatever reasonit was, Cress was offered a second chance. Thorne only knew this because he wasto keep an eye on her, make sure she didn’t slip up like he did. Just likethat, his smile faded a little.

Space.

It wasstill out of reach for him. Even if he was the best shuttle pilot NASA had.

“Captain?”Good heavens, he was starting to hear her voice as well! “What are you doing inthere, captain?”

Wait.

Crackingone eye open, Thorne looked to the window and sure enough, there she stood, inthe monitoring office, looking up at him. Stars above, she looked… Oh starshelp him. “Cress?” He coughed, clearing his throat of any signs of unprofessionalism.Get it together, Thorne!

“Yes!” Shebeamed and honestly, looked like a million bucks. “Why weren’t you at theceremony?”

He sighed,his mood shifting a little, “I’m not allowed, Miss Darnel. You got away withone crime, I still have to pay for my few too many ones.”

A pout, avery lovely pout, “Still, it was just a ceremony, not a trip to space.” Shepaused, “Can I join?”

Bad ideaswere his favourite hobby. Just because of how attractive they were, not becauseof how they always got him in not-so-fun-spaces. And Cress Darnel joining himright now was… a terrible idea. But she looked so hopeful and beautiful today…“Sure.” He watched as she left the office and entered the ante-chamber. Throughthe small round window that separated that room from his, Thorne noticed shewore a lovely sundress. The off-white fabric was decorated all over with starsand constellations, all in lovely golden and navy threads. He remembered thatdress very well. She had it the first day of classes. It was his favourite.

Cressdropped her shoes and pressed the button, giggling with excitement as theante-chamber began to lose gravity. The door opened and she floated inside,going straight at him.

Her tinyframe collided with his in one surprising impact, emptying his lungs of allair, “Stars, Miss Darnel! A whole room and you make an attempt on my life?” Hesaid, trying to hold her a little away from him. He was… Well, he really didn’twant her to feel how happy his bodywas with the “attack”.

Cressflashed a playful smirk, “Please… that was hardly an attack. And call me Cress.You used to…” Her voice dimmed a little. Guilt tugged at his heartstrings.

“Hum, yesbut… We can’t.”

Deflatedand with an embarrassed blush on her cheeks, Cress let go of him and floatedaway, “I thought… Now that I’m not your student anymore…” Was that a sniff?Stars above, not even five minutes had passed and he had already made her cry.“I’ll leave if that’s what you want…”

“What? No!I’m sorry, Cress. I didn’t meant to…” He felt pathetic, swimming in nothing butair, as he tried his best to get to her before his stupidity did any moredamage, “I just… You just graduated. And I’m still working.” He reached her,cupped her chin and searched for her eyes, “You understand, right?” She nodded,“Look Cress, you’re too good for me. Us together during your training would beseen as unprofessional and me trying to distract you from a better life.”

Shesniffed, “Yeah, but I’m not a trainee anymore. I’m a graduated astronaut. I’mjust like you now.”

“Yes but…You graduated less than an hour ago. How would that look?”

“Like wewaited for the right time? Carswell…” He shuddered, his name a wonderfulwhisper on her lips, “I can’t stay away from you… Not anymore.”

-

Why was hebeing so stubborn now? Cress watched as his face went through many differentemotions, his blue eyes dark and secretive. The attraction had been mutual fromthe start, Cress having developed a tiny fangirl crush on him since two yearsbefore the actual meeting. World famous Carswell Thorne, best pilot NASA had.And also the best at breaking the law. Visiting forbidden areas, “borrowing” ashuttle for a quick trip to the stars, three different times. And the mostbeautiful man she had ever seen. Not only that, her hacking skills had shownher more than the public knew. Thorne wasn’t just NASA’s bad boy. Many of hisunsanctioned trips included taking meds and food to places in need of them. Hedidn’t know she knew that. To Thorne, Cress just knew what everyone else knew.It only made her feelings for him grow deeper, knowing this side of him that hekept so well hidden.

And then,they kissed.

After along day of classes, the two had somehow been unable to stay away from eachother and wound up in his room, making out for hours. To Cress’ eternalhappiness, the kissing continued for a month, until Thorne decided to breakthings off. “I’m your instructor, Cress. We can’t do this.”

“Yes, wecan. We just have to keep it secret!” She hadn’t understood why he wanted tobreak it off like that, it didn’t fit with him. Until he admitted the truth.

“I’m notgood enough for you, Cress. I’m a criminal. And far too old for you.”

“Fouryears. How’s that ‘far too old’?”

Thornehadn’t answered her, simply saying sorry again before leaving. Cress refused tolook his way for weeks after that. His reasoning, while in part making sense,was also ridiculous. But not long had passed until she’d stopped being mad athim. This was all because of their status here at the training facility. Shewould wait, she could wait.

-

“Thorne?”She called, noticing how he still hadn’t answered her confession.

He seemedto have been stuck a in a daydream, most likely in one similar to hers. “Yes?”Voice thick, eyes dark, Cress found it really hard to breathe normally in thatmoment.

“You… Youhaven’t…”

He cursedunder his breath and she felt his hands tightening around her waist, “I can’tstay away from you anymore either, Cress…” And then, before she could evenblink, he kissed her.

It was afierce kiss, a desperate press of the lips, mouth gliding over hers and goadinga moan out of her. Cress held fast to him, hands buried deep in his wonderfulhair, as she kissed him back and pulled his body closer and closer. It was as thoughthey were both dying for each other’s touch, each other’s kiss, each other’sbreath. Thorne pulled and teased her lower lip, tongue sliding in just as Cressbegan to tease him the same way.

Her headwas spinning so fast. One moment they were close to arguing, the next they werelike this, back to their wonderful make out routine. Except Cress wanted more,she had been aching for more for a very, very long time. “Thorne…” She moaned,head dropping back as he showered her neck and chest with hundreds offeather-light kisses. “I need you… Please…” Her heart thundered fast in herchest, beating to a rhythm she had yet to name. No, not really. She knew whatto name it… She was just… Stars, she needed to be sure. So sure.

“Oh Cress…Don’t do that to me, not here…” He seemed to be in pain, aching just as much asshe was.

“Why not?”She breathed, back against the padded wall.

Thorne’sfingers dug hard on her waist, never daring to wander lower, “Someone mightsee…” He groaned when she kissed his neck, “And I care too much about you to doit so soon… Stars, Cress…!” She tugged on the waistband of his pants andwatched delighted as Thorne tried his best to not give in to her.

She broughthis face back to hers and whispered into his lips, “I care about you just as much,Carswell… That’s exactly why I want to be with you right now.”

“Cress…” Herasped, unable to say anything else anymore.

“I loveyou, Carswell Thorne. And I want to be with you, right here, right now.” Wherehad she gotten all this gumption? In all honesty, she didn’t know, but itwasn’t important. What mattered was how she felt and how Carswell felt. Nothingelse.

“I love youtoo, Cress… Being apart has nearly… Killed me…” He rasped, words coming out inshort breaths, the young captain barely able to control himself.

“Thorne…”She pressed her lip to a corner of his lips, “Carswell…” She kissed his lowerlip, “My captain…” She breathed in his ear, daring him to not move.

Just oncue, Carswell cursed under his breath and dropped his hands to cup her backside.Cress gasped, surprised with the movement but happy nevertheless. “Everyonethinks you’re such a saint…” His hands moved lower, “So pure of heart…” Herdress was gone, “Clearly not one to seduce unsuspecting men in the middle of azero gravity chamber…” He tugged her panties down and Cress put both her handsunder his t-shirt, a moan on her lips as she slowly pulled it up, her centrepounding hard with anticipation, “Yet here we are, Cress…”

“I don’t goaround seducing unsuspecting men, Thorne…” She rasped, always loving the way heshuddered when she said his last name, “Only you… And… Oh…” Her thoughts brokewhen he dropped he head and planted kiss after kiss over her now exposedbreasts, her bra having disappeared somewhere with her dress, “I only did it becauseyou’re so… stubborn…” She dragged her hands up his toned torso, mind tornbetween savouring the hard muscle and enjoying his kisses.

With hist-shirt gone, Cress did quick work on his pants and boxers, eyes half-hooded asThorne let go of all his inhibitions and became once more that sensual lovershe knew he was. A loud gasp escaped her control when he brushed his thumb overher clit and groaned, “Stars, Cress… You’re so… Wet…” The words came out withdifficulty, as if he was holding something back, holding himself back.

“Please,Carswell… Please…” She begged, her body dying for his.

He partedher legs, “Right away, my wonderful Cress…” And eased into her, pulling herhips against his in one slow and torturous movement. The two lovers sighed, templeto temple, finally… Finally…

Cress movedfirst, rolling her hips against his slowly, savouring the way he fitted her soright, savouring the way his touch seemed to ignite her skin so easily,savouring the way his kisses were so tender and perfect and maddening. “Oh…Thorne… Yes, yes…” Moan after moan, Cress drowned in this moment, finallytasting what it was like to be this close to her Thorne, to her love. Oh, howshe loved him. So much! So much…!

Thorne heldher close, his body moving with hers as if this wasn’t their first timetogether, as if they’d spent their whole lives like this. Her name was a raspybreath, poured onto her skin between kisses and playful teases of the tongue,between thrusts that had her gasping loud and brushes of the nose. This wasmessy and cute and sexy and perfect and no one could ever convince Cress thatthere was another way to make love with the person you love with all yourheart. No other way. This, this was it, this silly dance, this sensual seriesof teases and thrusts, this wordless promise to one another.

“Cress…!”Thorne shuddered, her name a growl in the back of his throat.

That growlwas enough to have her tipping off the edge as well, her blood boiling tonothing, her body burning to cinders, her very soul burning brighter andbrighter with love and lust and completeness. “Thorne… Oh… Thorne… I love you…”She uttered, trying to catch her breath, head on the crook of his neck.

“I love youtoo, Cress… So much…” He answered, his voice just as raw and breathless ashers. A hand moved up and down her back, caressing her skin with just thefingertips, sending tiny shivers trickling up and down her spine, up and down,up and down.

The zerogravity made their embrace last much longer, but before long, Cress found herselfbeing drawn away from her captain. She pouted, a tiny whimper making her liptremble, “Please, no.”

Thornechuckled and passed a hand through her hair, tugging away blonde curls thatinsisted on falling to her eyes, “We should leave now, someone might come inand see us.”

“We didnothing wrong.” She said, not really believing her own words.

His smirkwas all kinds of mischievous, which only made it harder for her to get backinto her floating clothes, “Oh, but I think others will disagree, Miss Darnel.We just had hot sex in a zero gravity chamber that is used for classes. Withthe intercom probably still on.” He pulled his t-shirt back on and winked ather, “Plus, as fun as this is, I enjoy my bed much more. For one, it hassheets.”

Begrudginglyshe agreed, “You’re right…”

“And I’llmake you my wonderful hot cocoa.” He promised as they stepped through theante-chamber, their feet now safely on the ground.

Cresssnorted, “The only thing you can make!”

Thornestopped, hand to his chest in mock offense, “I… Take that back, Cress. I assureyou, my cooking is very good!”

“Right,burned to a crisp?”

He pushed abutton and the door opened, “I’ll have you know, that during this year we’vebeen in a solely professional relationship, I have learned how to cook… and bake!”

Cressstopped by the monitoring office door and shot him a look, “Are you serious?”

Thornestepped closer and pulled her into his embrace, “I swore I’d be a better manfor you, Cress. The process has included learning how to be on my own withouttake-away food.”

She bitback a smile, remembering how he’d promised to use all of his criminalmastermind skills to become a man worthy of her, “Only that?”

He rolledhis eyes, “I have also joined a special program to see if I can reduce mygrounded sentence.”

“So we cango see the stars together?” She couldn’t help it, the most earnest smile shehad bloomed forth.

He nodded,“If all goes to plan, I might be able to join you in six months.”

“You’llhave to follow the rules a lot this time. You hate that.”

A groan, “Iknow… But if that’s what it takes to be where I belong and with who I belong…So be it.”

Cressbeamed, “I love you, oh criminal mastermind.”

He boppedher nose, “And I love you, oh not-so-saint hacker with a heart of gold.”

[overcaffeinated-creative]

Solus Vetra, Modern AU

Title: I have the Best Work Stories Ever

Rating: T

Characters: Unnamed New Guy, Solus Vetra, Pre Vizsla, Akaan Kast

Summary: A new guy gives a first person run down of the wildest day in his blossoming Kyr’tsad career. Solus shows off what makes her a total badass. Assume they’re operating within an American HQ.

Notes: This was inspired by the introduction scene of Natasha in Iron Man 2. You know the one. There’s a lampshade for it.

Being the New Guy always sucked. If there is someone to be blamed for something going wrong it will be you. Food and coffee runs also became your job without your approval. The really sadistic bastards made up things for you to find on wild snipe hunts to supposedly find. No one cared if you have known each other half your damned lives (looking at you, Conner, who has shared my room for ever family thing since birth) because you are Fresh Meat. If leaving out key information could result in something funny they just had to do it. Because all that matters in the end is there’s a new di’kut around HQ to be tormented until the next batch arrives.

Take for example, no one telling me that Vizsla’s personal assistant was one of those vode. Basic warnings were given (because they’re all shebs but they’re not intentionally malicious shebs) about how things ran. Careful with the loud noises if her name is highlighted red on our intra-communication network, don’t mind the black Husky in the service vest (his name is Sen and they openly argue with each other), and the sweet black and silver Cadillac CTS V in the parking lot is hers. It was to be given a wide berth and never, ever startle her when she’s getting in or out. Things can (and do) go sideways with sparks.

Getting to their sheb quality was no one ever braced me for what she looks like. See, Solus Vetra is one of those bathed-in-the-blood-of-the-Ka’ra, born-in-a-fiery-burst-reeking-of-Mandokarla, my-loyalty-is-only-to-the-true-Manda’lor names. Anyone who knows their history knows Aliit Vetra was one of those old school families; as in ancient old school. The kind that is (still) dripping money, are very proud of being Mandalorian, and who have the past to make Renaissance Borgia look tame and never got caught doing any of it. So, this petite, smoking hot, white haired, Asian chick was not who I pegged for Solus Vetra. (In fact, I found out my pick for Solus Vetra out of seeing the Higher Ups was actually Bo-Katan Kryze...a different level of Traditionalist asskicker but not the PA) Every single time I had seen Vetra she was dressed to the nines, wearing labels even I know mean Wealth, and darting around with her face buried in a tablet and wearing this tweaked Google Glass display. Basically, I would have bought her as one of the Duchess’ people before Vizsla’s...well ever. There was too much Silicon Valley Tech Start Up in her look.

Assuming makes an ass out of you and me as the saying went.

Near a month into my tenure with the company was when the Day of Reckoning all went down. In the span of three hours she went from Pepper Potts with her unruly boss and love of art to Natasha Romanoff with everything you would expect of the world’s best spy. (Seriously, I want to know if we have a Black Widow Program and if that’s where we found her. Because she is scary.) First, came The Argument with the Boss that would have made a lesser man piss himself. Few hours later, she popped up in the gym sparking The Beat Down to her vocal heckler. It cemented her as Certified Badass in my mind and shot her to the top of my “Never Ever Fuck With” List.

The Argument was held in an adjacent meeting room to the fourth floor supply closet at 10:23 AM. I was down there looking for this weirdly specific ink cartridge for our satanic printer when this feeling of doom washed over me. I swear the room dropped ten degrees while clicking suddenly picked up. It was like gearing up for a boss fight in the wrong area of a video game. You just knew shit was about to go down and it was not going to go in your favor at all. Instead of some kind of insectoid monster making the noise it was the rapid fire click of $1200 USD, real python pumps (I got curious enough to Google how much her red soled kicks cost and the answer is more than my rent) beating down on the tile floor with a Purpose.

I have to say a Smart Man would have waited for the danger to pass and ran away. This is where I say I am not a smart man. Di’kut is the right title for me because I stayed to eavesdrop...and maybe a little (a lot) of stunned silence freezing me into place. See, she cornered ‘Alor in the recently emptied meeting room with this chilled civility. I heard the door close with this crisp professionalism (how is that even possible?) before she started reaming him. 

It turned out Vetra was a Smart Person because she had a lot of languages to yell in. I lost track of the clearly individual ones after the five mark. Whatever he did (I speak English and Mando’a with some passable Spanish to her rapid fire Everything) it had to have been bad if she was suicidal enough for this. Everyone, and I mean everyone, knows Vizsla can be a giant kad when he feels like and he always feels like it. When he started yelling back I had the kneejerk reaction to go help her. Again, Vetra is Small and I am a Dumbass. Before I could move, her voice shot up a couple more decibels in the angriest (and I had Dred Priest overseeing part of my training) Mando’a to have ever been uttered. Then it was drop a pin and hear it echo for eternity silent.

Conner sent three texts while I was holding my post (and my breath) behind several stacks of xerox paper. Just to keep him from blowing my cover I shot back it was taking a while to dig around and he left me alone. It was a good thing because without their yelling-and with my luck-I would have gotten busted. Until this, I would have picked getting busted by Vetra...every time really. I knew what she looked like smiling in a good mood without someone dying. A’lor only smiled when things were going to shit for someone else. Now...now it was way harder. Since she had the gett’se to get in the Manda’lor’s face and live. But, he was not only a giant kad but one who could survive her wrath. I had no winning options except to hope for a mercy kill from a heart attack or something.

My internal strife stopped when I heard them pass by the closet door and they were...laughing? What in the hell had I missed falling down that rabbit hole? Twenty minutes ago she threatened to cut his gett’se off and parade them around with the stick he kept up his ass. Now, they were friends? What kind of fucking magic did he just pull? Could I learn it? Holy Shit. Pre Vizsla knew how to laugh? Without murder and chaos raining down around him? What kind of magic did she have?

Keeping it on the safe side I waited another ten minutes to return to my desk.

Witnessing The Beat Down was one of the best things to happen in my twenty years of living. Seriously, it came straight out of a movie it was so unbelievably awe-inspiring to see. Angels sang, the lights of the heavens shined down, and I watched the best ass kicking to have ever went down this year and possibly ever. A little digging around and the offer of enough uj cake even got me a full on video of the event. It makes the bad days better in twenty-five seconds.

Everything kicked off when I stopped by our gym when my shift ended at one. The shellshock from overhearing The Argument kept my head shoved pretty firmly up my ass. (I mean, that had to go down in some kind of history right? PA owns Manda’lor with words alone. It was going down in my history.) Conner picked up on something being off enough to leave my ink cartridgeless ass alone. I think he assumed I walked in something I shouldn’t see. Namely that nympho from Recruitment climbing some of the ground team guys...again. Why in the hell he was into men who could pass for hockey goalies, missing teeth and all, I would never know...fucking Canadian.

Somewhere between changing into workout gear and returning to the main room Vetra had shown up. Okay. I mean, I guess anyone could work out here and she was a Vetra? I had to assume she had at least basic self defense training. That had always been a huge part of the Mando Culture, especially with the Traditionalists. On second glance, I saw she was still in her outfit of the day. She even had her tablet with the intention of getting Kast to sign something. That made way more sense. Yeah, she would square off verbally with her boss but this would not be a verbal battle. Knowing how to defend herself was important; throwing the ground forces around moved away from that. It went more into the, “This is going to horribly wrong. Why are you brushing up the Basics with them?” because they could break her.

Remember, how I said I’m a dumbass and not to make assumptions? This is a good time to remember that I am one because I made the same mistake twice.

But, so was Akaan Kast.

See, Akaan Kast was a cycle ahead of me in training with a reputation for being both a bully and a show off. He thought because he was directly assigned to a company in HQ he was a Big Deal. “Kasts are always around the most powerful," he liked to brag, “Because we are the most powerful and recognize our own.” However, that did not get him an invitation into the Nite Owls or the A’lor’s personal company. Both ate him alive even if he refused to acknowledge it. (If I toasted the gods for that good fortune a few different nights no one had to know.) He also had this Thing for trying to impress Traditionalist girls. (Don’t ask me what it was because I tuned it out every time he tried to pontificate on the subject.) Plus, Priest liked the guy and that is all anyone needs to know.

Point was Kast was being up to his usual antics and Vetra was taking None of It. Everything in her body language screamed “Predator ready to maul a man’s face off” masked behind this stone cold smile. Picturing her with pinned back ears and bared fangs looked too right. All she wanted was him to sign something on her tablet but he was being Difficult. The last man who made her life Difficult was chewed up and spit out with words alone. This was going to be funny as hell to witness.

“Kast, sign,” she huffed while jabbing the tablet into his chest. “Then we both can get back to our jobs.”

“You can call me Akaan and I’ll call you Solus,” he started off in complete ignorance. Except not. He clearly knew he was riling her up. “What if we trade instead? You get a true combat lesson then I’ll sign.”

“Kast, do you damn job. Sign now. That’s an order.”

“Can you really give orders as a personal assistant? Thought you job was to fetch coffee and answer phones.”

All eyes were sneaking glances at them by this point but no one was stepping in. I was a little confused. Some of these people had to have been around when Vetra first come through. Some of them even looked amused at her being hassled. I knew Kyr’tsad had a Reputation but I thought taking care of their own was part of it. Letting Kast be a kad to their own wasn’t taking care of her.

“If I’m echoing an order of the Manda’lor I can.”

“Just a fifteen minute lesson? It's been a while since you've been out in the field. Wanna make sure you can keep that pretty little head on.” I gagged at this point. How disgusting could someone be? How could he thing this was even going to work in his favor? Was she supposed to be impressed with his only okay muscles and terrible (Ba’buir would call it Americanized) attitude? Did he really think insults would work?

“Fine.”

Anyone who has ever met another human being knows fine is past “Fuck You” on the Scale of Responses. But, Kast looked pleased with himself while Vetra pointedly left most of her belongings on a bench. Which was a lot of belonging to just be moving around the office. Tablet, Goggle Glass, ear piece, earrings, watch, bracelet, shoes, cell phone, suit jacket, and top shirt? I guess if I paid that much (I had no idea the real price but I could only imagine) for a button up I would avoid getting it dirty too. Course I’d never pay who knows how much for a shirt no matter how soft it was.

I edged closer to their makeshift ring to see what was going down. Fantastic choice on my part. See, Kast made some off-handed comment about the cutesy tattoo he could see through her undershirt. He asked what it was prompting her to offer a clear view; a colorful Barn Owl nestled on her hip. Here, Barn Owls had a special meaning because they were only for the Nite Owls. The Nite Owls, being Kryze’s personal team of unmatched Spec Ops ghosts who could probably destabilize an entire first world country over night or something ridiculous. So, Huge Deal.

I put several fragments of thoughts together all at once; Kast did not. He asked why she had that Mark of Honor. Made some vague comment about why it was important “just a personal assistant” could not just wear it around. As the cherry on top he even tried to lecture her on the rules and demanded it be removed. I could detect the jealousy in his voice. He wanted one of those tattoos and would never get one.

Have you ever seen a six foot, three inch wall of could have been Alabama linebacker get his ass handed to him by about five feet and some change of definitely could be a model? I just did. It. Was. Awesome.

Before he could finish his spiel she had him on the ground. Not with dirty shots, simple but effective basics, or even an unexpectedly lucky flail. Hell no. It was like watching absolute poetry in motion. A twist of the hand in front of her face, launching her body up and over his arm to flip him forward, with his neck trapped between her thighs and his arm pinned. That held down hand looked like it was really hurting with the way she had it twisted. Everything Solus Vetra did in that moment was built to show the fuck off. When I said Natasha Romanoff I meant it.

He tapped out and she waited a few seconds longer before releasing him to gracefully rise. “Your lesson got my suit dirty. I’ll have payroll deduct the dry cleaning costs from your next check. Providing there is one of course.” In a flash she popped back up while he remained sprawled in an undignified heap. Hands on her hips, red lips pulled into a feral smile she looked down at him, “I’m the Alii'alor of Vetra and a Nite Owl within Kyr’tsad. I earned my colors and you have earned nothing. You challenged both my honor and my authority. Good luck explaining that one to A’lor.”

I have no idea if I am in love or if I am going to be scared for my life from here on out...maybe both...definitely both. At least, Kyr’tsad is fun to work for if it is a hot mess.

[redvsvblue]

You Make Me A Bad Machine

So. Some robot gore porn. Based in this monster AU. Freewood. Also over on AO3. 

Warnings: body horror (but robotic), hardcore choking (very hardcore), gore (robotic), brief death (I guess; again, robot) 

Title is from “Bad Machine” by Nostalgia & Aami ft. Insomnia. 

Does this count as Goretober? 

Gavin slowly runs his fingers over the edge of Ryan’s casing, where the central torso plate has been removed to expose his metal insides – cylinders and black boxes and bunches of wires twisted all around them, stained with oil and clicking and whirring in time with Ryan’s movements.

He glances down to where he’s buried in Ryan – with the crotch plate gone, he can see the smooth metal casing of the fleshlight Ryan’s hooked up inside himself, all the ports and the wires running from them to connect to his nerves. He grinds in again and watches it contract with Ryan’s answering clench.

“You sure?” Gavin asks with a cocked eyebrow, his hand hovering over the hot lithium batteries, itching to reach in. Ryan squeezes deliberately around him and Gavin’s other hand slips from his hip over to thumb at the rubbery clit, drawing out another raspy groan from Ryan.

“Yeah, c’mon,” Ryan gasps, rocking down on Gavin’s cock and raking a hand through his hair, his gaze glued to where Gavin’s fingers tap lightly over his batteries.

“Don’t worry,” he says, his lips creaking up into a wicked grin. “I’ll like it.”

“Fucked up,” Gavin mutters, and Ryan laughs.

“At least I can uncross my wires,” he says.

Gavin only teases for another moment before plunging his hand into Ryan’s chest, wriggling past the batteries to find the hidden tangle of springs and coils behind Ryan’s heart – Ryan’s eyelids flutter shut when Gavin’s fingers close around an oily piston. He rummages down further to find a bundle of wires and tugs and Ryan moans loudly, his hips jolting up and encouraging Gavin back into moving, sliding out slow and thrusting back in with a wet slap that resounds off of the walls.

They’re in Ryan’s workshop, Ryan on the table and his chest plate crowbarred off and laying to the side, his torso open from neck to crotch to let Gavin play around in it – Gavin works his hand in under Ryan’s lungs to feel them rise and fall with his heavy breath and Ryan squeezes again, metal shuddering when Gavin yanks at another set of wires.

He flicks Ryan’s clit one more time and his other hand travels up to mess around in Ryan’s crotch, squeezing the casing of the fleshlight and pulling curiously at the nerve wires that disappear into his body, thumbing at the blinking blue lights dotted around the base. Ryan shifts and Gavin’s other hand dives into a cluster of tangled wires and scorching cylinders – Gavin shudders at the sensation and tugs the wires up out from behind Ryan’s metal lungs to lay them out over his chest.

Ryan’s hand grips the table edge and the other curls uselessly into Gavin’s shoulder as Gavin fucks in faster, his fingers wandering to pull at all sorts of interesting bits and bobs and dragging out another scratchy moan when he deliberately displaces the batteries, clicking them out of their holders and disconnecting a few wires from their ports. Ryan doesn’t even seem to care, his head pressed back against the table and one leg clamped tight around Gavin’s hip, the other bent over the edge of the table, metal creaking as he twists and wiggles under Gavin’s touch, all sorts of pretty noise falling from his parted lips.

Gavin grunts and pins Ryan’s hips down with one hand as he slides his hand up to Ryan’s throat, clamping down around the metal and it only takes another weak moan for him to scrabble for the screwdriver to the side.

Ryan eyes it and tips his head back when Gavin brings it closer, whining low as Gavin shoves it under the plate over his throat and starts prying it off to get to Ryan’s windpipe underneath. The metal wrenches away with a satisfying squeal and Ryan carelessly rips the rest of the plate away from its bolts as Gavin discards the screwdriver and slips his hand inside, securing his fingers around Ryan’s pipe and squeezing – Ryan gushes slick around him and moans pathetically, begging without words. His swallow pulses under Gavin’s palm.

“Fuck,” Gavin breathes shakily, loosening his grip and then abruptly tightening it again, tucking his fingers further up to just under Ryan’s jaw and groaning at the rush of hot oil that spurts over his hand.

A hard thrust accidentally unbalances Gavin and he crushes Ryan’s windpipe into the back of his neck with a satisfying crunch of metal and silicone – Ryan’s eyes fly open and his lungs shudder violently as he tries to drag in air but he can’t.

“Please,” he rasps, barely loud enough to be heard. “Oh, please – fuck, fuck – ” his voice pinches off again when Gavin chokes him and his nails claw at the table. Ryan locks up and his fingers suddenly clamps around Gavin’s wrist in a bruising grip to force his hand in deeper.

Gavin reaches into Ryan's abdomen with his other hand and roughly pulls out a batch of wires glued together – he loops one end around his hand and Ryan watches him sharply yank it out, dripping with oil and sparking at the ends.

He leans over and slaps the wire down beside Ryan's neck – forces himself to still as he slides an end under Ryan’s neck and drags the wire around under it. Ryan grins up at him and Gavin replies with a smirk as he draws the ends up and starts tying them, pulling the knot tighter and tighter until it’s pinched around his mangled windpipe and Ryan’s mouth drops open on a wheeze.  

Gavin tugs and Ryan shudders, his eyes rolling back in his head as Gavin thrusts into him and cuts off his air with his own wires, tighter and tighter until Ryan's uselessly gasping for breath and drooling, artificial spit leaking down his cheek as his legs clamp painfully around Gavin's hips, his hips jolting up. Gavin bites his lip and yanks until metal creaks and then Ryan’s coming, something popping with a hiss as he shakes and gushes over Gavin. Ryan can’t suck in a breath but he manages a weak whimper as Gavin’s thumb blurs over his wet clit.

Ryan lets him go and the hiss and clank of metal only grows faster, louder as Gavin fucks desperately into him, chasing his own orgasm now and forcing Ryan’s hips flat to the table. He unplugs one of the nerve wires and brushes his oily thumb over the end – Ryan’s hand slaps down on the wood and his heartbeat audibly skips up a few rpms when Gavin repeats the move. God, he can’t even speak but air rushes out in whistling moans; in short, wheezy gasps as he jerks and rocks up to meet Gavin.

Gavin spits out a flurry of curses and buries himself in Ryan in a sloppy thrust before he comes, gripping Ryan's hips to keep him still and moaning at his rhythmic squeezes. Another wave of pleasure crashes through him so violently it almost jars him out of his body – his fingers loosen for a second before he snaps himself back into corporeality, back into where he can feel Ryan’s body shuddering and rattling below him, his organs pulsing and whirring as Gavin comes in him.

Gavin growls as he twists the wires, oil spurting out over them and pooling under Ryan’s neck to join the puddle already there, leaking steadily from somewhere in his shoulder. Ryan shudders again and abruptly goes limp, his head lolling back on the table and his legs dropping to dangle off the table. There’s dents in his neck from the wire when Gavin unties it and his eyes stare blankly up at the ceiling – it would be unnerving if Gavin couldn’t see the loading lights on his heart.

The lights blaze up and something clicks and Ryan jerks back to life with a raspy, shallow inhale, his limbs twitching as his eyes refocus on Gavin, who steadies his grip on Ryan’s hips and starts to pull out.

Come starts seeping out after Gavin and he pushes it back in between the rubbery folds with a thumb – his knuckles brush over Ryan’s clit and Ryan bucks, more come trailing out of him with the next spasm of his body. Gavin focuses on rubbing over his clit and this time when Ryan comes it’s with a pitiful, nearly inaudible whine, his legs knocking against Gavin’s sides and his hands curled around the edge of the table.

Gavin spends a few more moments flicking over Ryan’s clit before leaning over him to fix his windpipe, wrenching it back to – relatively – straight and squeezing the sides to pop the dent out a little and give him an airway. Ryan sucks in a desperate breath and clamps his fingers around the back of Gavin’s neck to crush their lips together, groaning when Gavin pops out another dent.

“Fuck,” Ryan breathes, pulling back to glance at his leaking shoulder. The corner of his mouth drags up in a knowing smile. “Have fun?”

Gavin growls softly and pinches Ryan’s throat – Ryan presses another kiss to his jaw and reaches up with his working arm to grab the wire still loosely tangled around his neck. He slides it out and holds it up between them as Gavin pushes himself up a bit, raking his gaze over the dented, leaking mess of Ryan’s insides.

“You’re broken,” Gavin says, eyeing the crack in one of Ryan’s blackboxes.

“Yeah? You gonna fix me up?” Ryan asks. His metal creaks with a filthy grin and Gavin takes the wire from him, thoughtfully wrapping it around his knuckles.

“Hm, I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t think I’m quite done with you.”

“Oh?”

Gavin glances up at him. Drags his thumb over the thrumming metal of Ryan’s heart.

“Well,” he says. “You’re not that broken.” 

Yet. 

[tustinjomimori]

Chap. 2- I still don’t know what to title this

Boku no Hero Academia

Aizawa Shouta/Reader

T+ rating 

Please tell me how bad this sucks and also what a good title would be. Or don’t. 

Except the idiot is back at school just two days later.

The evening of the attack at USJ, you pass out almost as soon as your head hits the pillows of your bed. You're only awoken a few hours later by a gentle pressure on your face; one of your three cats is stepping on your cheek, meowing softly to be fed. You get up slowly, scooting the fluffy grey thing off the bed and dazedly get to preparing food for him and his two cohorts (a calico and a sphinx).

As the cats happily munch on their meal, you return to your bedroom to check the phone you had haphazardly thrown onto the nightstand before your few hours of sleep. There's an email from the principal, informing all teachers, those who were physically capable at least, of a mandatory meeting to discuss safety protocols the next morning. Part of your groggy mind wonders if you can get away with sleeping through it, but you set an alarm for the next day anyways and decide to brush your teeth and take a quick body shower before returning to bed.

                                                                                                                                 --

You're still feeling slightly woozy the next morning, and it takes quite a long internal pep talk to get yourself out of bed. You usually don't need coffee, since you can just absorb energy from around you to wake yourself up, but you make a large batch this morning, ensuring that it's as strong as you can handle.

After feeding the cats again, you take another quick shower, mostly because you neglected to do anything with your hair the night before and you are certainly not presentable(presentable to who? Your fellow teachers?? Aizawa???) like this, and throw on some decent clothes before filling a thermos with more coffee and setting off for the school.

The coffee helps keep you focused throughout the meeting, though you’re still drowsy and try to cover up any yawns that escape you. You aren't sure if you would he able to live with yourself if you fell asleep in front of all your coworkers at such an important time.

At some point during the meeting, you glance across the room at Yamada. Even with his signature sunglasses on (why he wears those inside, you've no idea), you can see that he's running on little to no sleep. He probably stayed at the hospital all night, you figure, and the thought reminds your stupid anxiety to present itself again. You'll visit Aizawa (and Thirteen) after the meeting, you decide, before heading home to sleep for the rest of the day. Sure, the man likely won't appreciate your visit, but it'll at least put your own heart at ease. In all honesty, you’ve been too tired to worry too much about the guy until now, and while you know from Yamada’s text that he'll be fine, you still feel the need to see that for yourself.

After the meeting, you approach Yamada to mention you'll be visiting his friend in the hospital.

“Oh I'll go with you!” He declares, but up close you can faintly see the bags under his eyes past his glasses.

“You need to get some sleep.” You tell him. Before he can protest you continue, “Go home and get some rest or I'll sic my cats on you.” You state flatly, knowing of the man's severe allergy to the animals.

The look on your face seems to take him aback; you usually make an effort to be as polite as possible to your senior teachers and heroes and though Aizawa often jokes about assassinating his best friend through means of cat dander, he probably would never expect you to do the same.

You soften your expression a bit and put a hand on Yamada’s arm. Just as he did for you the day before, you give his bicep what you hope is a reassuring squeeze.

“Please get some rest, I’ll text and let you know how he's doing later.”

“Fine,” the blonde complies. “Make sure you rest up too, I saw you yawning all through the meeting.”

You're a bit embarrassed by that. Maybe you shouldn't be berating the man for not sleeping while you're still recovering from exhausting yourself , but you brush the thought off.

“I will.” You respond and you wave goodbye and head off the supermarket to buy Aizawa (an Thirteen, you have to remind yourself again) a get well present.

At the market, you look at the melons and wonder whether you really want to pay out the ass for a piece of fruit for a guy who will likely only give you a grunt, if anything, as thanks. Sure you're into him and all but there's no way you'd be able to win him over by purchasing a simple piece of fruit, pricey as it may be.

Suddenly you realize that you've never actually seen Aizawa eat solid food. He’s always drinking from juice bags though (you think he might have some sort of never ending stash of them stored in that yellow sleeping bag) and with that thought you head off to the juice aisle. You also look at the get well cards and decide to buy him one that opens to reveal a 3D paper cat, complete with a cone of shame.

You wonder if you should try to be cute and sign the card with your cats names as well as your own. While Aizawa has never met your cats in person (that would mean him being in your apartment and the thought is more than you can handle), he has always seemed more interested in their activities and well-being than well, yourself. You decide against the thought because just the card itself is probably too cute for the guy’s taste, and you don’t want him thinking you only got it to make fun of him or something.

--

Aizawa looks like a goddamned mummy when you finally see him and you have to hold back a snicker at the thought of snapping a photo of him and photoshopping him into a sarcophagus surrounded by cats (because he WOULD be buried with seemingly the only thing that brought him any sort of pleasure in life [besides expelling students probably]). He looks peaceful though as he alternates between soft breaths in and out and the faintest of snores.

You set your things down, placing the melon juice you had bought for him on the bedside table along with the card. You seat yourself next to the bed and pull out your phone. Yamada at the very least would appreciate your poor Photoshop skills.

You snap a couple of photos but don't hear Aizawa stir as you check out how they turned out.

“Did you just take a picture of me.” It isn't a question because he undoubtedly knows that's exactly what you just did.

Aizawa is looking sideways at you, seemingly annoyed, but his expression is softer than usual and you're happy to see that, from what little of his face isn’t covered by bandages, the bags beneath his eyes seem just a bit less dark than when you last saw him (or the last time you saw his face properly without a mass of congealing blood covering his features).

“I was going to Photoshop you into a dead Egyptian Pharaoh,” You defend yourself. “And surround you with relics of the feline deities you so love.”

Aizawa scoffs and struggles a bit to sit up in the bed.

“Hey, don't push yourself,” you chide, placing a gentle hand on his chest (and you couldn't tell under the bandages but you were so sure his chest was fucking ripped and the thought made something in your own chest squeeze) and softly pushing him backwards until he's lying down again.

“I won't stay long,” You assure him. “Sorry for waking you up.”

He grunts in response and crosses his arms, both in casts, across his chest.

You're feeling a bit sheepish now, berating yourself for the not so pure thoughts you just had about the bedbound man and not quite knowing what to say to him.

“I, um, brought you some juice.” You start. “I figured you'd like that more than a whole fruit, knowing you.”

Aizawa once again looks sideways at you, then his eyes flicker to the large carton of juice sitting beside you. His eyes widen almost imperceptibly and something twitches where his mouth is covered in bandages. Dear god, was that a smile?

“You knew my favorite brand?” He might be quirking an eyebrow at you, but again, it's hard to tell under the stark white bandages.

“Oh? No, I just kind of chose one at random?” You admit, and your insides are lighting up at the thought that maybe this small thing you've done for him has actually made the man smile.

“To be honest I didn't wanna buy anything too expensive but I also figured you're deserving of more than just store brand so. I picked the middle of the road.” You explain awkwardly.

“Not that you don't deserve something expensive !” You backtrack. You're panicking just a tiny bit.

“You deserve the most expensive melon juice in the whole store! I just can't afford that for you unfortunately.” You assure him.

Aizawa hums in response, looking over once again at the bedside table and eyeing the red envelope containing the get well card. “And that?”

“Ah, here,” You go to hand him the envelope before realizing his fingers are hidden somewhere in his casts.

“My bad,” You apologize and tear open the envelope yourself. You show him the front of the card and then set it up, propped open, on the small table next to the juice.

Again, you think he might be smiling under all those bandages and your heart flutters a bit (OK maybe a lot) at the thought.

“I’m…..” You're embarrassed to hear your voice crack a bit with emotion and you try again, “I'm really glad you're OK.” Your eyes prickle a bit at the memory of seeing his body lying on the floor the afternoon previous, and for a few heart pounding moments, being unsure whether he was alive or dead.

Aizawa is quiet for a long minute, seemingly examining the ceiling, and you think maybe you just made your feelings for him too obvious. But no, anyone would be worried to see their coworker like that, right? (A terrible excuse because while you certainly were concerned about Thirteen, your concern over Aizawa was completely different)

“You know, the doctors said I probably wouldn't have made it if it weren't for your healing me when you did.” He finally says.

“So thanks. For saving me.” Seemingly as an afterthought he continues, “And for the juice. And the card. It's cute.”

You hadn't expected much in the way of thanks for the simple store bought gifts, much less what was arguably an emotion filled thank you (as emotion filled as you believe Aizawa could be) for saving his life.

You don't know how to reply to him, but after a moment you blurt out, “I wish I could have done more. You're still pretty bad off and I really could have healed you for longer but…”

Aizawa cuts you off by giving you a stern look, one saved for students who were being too rowdy in the halls.

“Hizashi said you exhausted yourself working on me and Thirteen.” You think you notice his expression soften minutely. “You did all you could.”

You shy away from his gaze. It really wasn't enough for you but you're not about to argue with him.

“And besides,” he continues. “it could be worse. I could be stuck wearing a cone of shame.”

You're pretty damn sure he's smiling under the bandages this time, and your face breaks into the first smile you've worn in what feels like days (though you know it’s been less than 48 hours). You're not sure what else to say at this point, and you do feel bad for waking Aizawa up when he clearly needs his shut eye, so you stand up and excuse yourself before exiting the room.

“Please get a lot of rest. Call or text if you need anything, OK?” You say from the doorway. He just grunts in reply once again and you can't stop the smile on your face from growing bigger.

Aizawa smiled at you, you were pretty sure. TWICE, possibly, and you weren't even talking about your cats !! AND he thanked you AND now you knew his favorite brand of juice and just knowing that one small thing about him made you feel as if you finally broke through some sort of invisible barrier between the two of you. Aizawa NEVER talked about himself, at least not around you.

You're giddy and there's a spring in your step as you look for Thirteen’s hospital room. You’re certain at this point that the crush you had on your colleague was not going away anytime soon, but you’re maybe finally OK with that.

--

The next morning, you're greeted by a dark haired mummy in the staff room. Aizawa is drinking his usual morning coffee and going over some papers when you approach him. A feeling you can't quite place is pooling in your belly, your hands clench into fists and you have to focus on not shaking as you approach his desk.

What was he doing here at school?! He was still hurt, he was pushing himself too much, he'd only worsen his injuries!

Worry mixes with anger in your stomach and you try to calm yourself, taking a few deep breaths and wondering how much it would worsen his injuries if you just slapped him across the face.

“You should be at the hospital.” You state firmly, trying desperately to keep your cool. “Or at home resting. Were you even discharged yet or did you actually sneak out of the hospital?”

“No comment.” Was the man's gruff reply. You assume this means that he had indeed snuck out of the hospital.

“Honestly, that's so irresponsible! You NEED to take care of yourself.” You lecture, looking down on Aizawa seated in his chair and feeling like you were scolding a student.

Aizawa sighs. “I'm fine.” He states. “Besides, I have you here.”

That last bit takes you aback. What the heck did he mean ‘he has you here’ ?!

“If anything happens, you’ll just heal me again.”

You don't know what you were expecting but that last sentence has got you feeling rather heated and you're so glad you can't see his stupid pretty face because you  aren’t quite sure you could stay mad at him if you could.

With a frustrated huff, you turn on your heel and take a step towards your own desk.

“After doing something as dumb as sneaking out of the hospital before you’re healed, you’re on your own if you get into any more fights.”

You're not sure if he can hear you because your back is facing him and you're muttering and your voice is cracking because you're so upset with him.

You quickly plop down at your desk and get to aggressively checking your email before the school day starts.