#somewhere between bad batch and bury a body

[the-bi-space-ace]

Call When You Need Me

Fandom: The Bad Batch

Relationship: Echo & Hunter

Words: 1,624

Summary: Echo crash lands on a planet during a mission for Rex. His first instinct is to call someone he hasn’t talked to in a while. (Warning for injury and some blood)

I yapped about Hunter and Echo in a post yesterday and now I can’t stop. This could possibly end up being a scene in a larger fic at some point down the line but for now have this angsty yet sweet little moment between these two.

Alternative summary: Echo, you idiot, call your dad!

Read Part 2 Here

Echo’s body ached. The last thing he remembered was the ship exiting hyperspace, engines failing, life support plummeting. Then he woke up, back pressed against metal and freezing. He tried to roll over but a yelp tore itself from his lips. When he looked down he saw the problem. a piece of metal stuck in his abdomen, legs pinned under the navigation computer. The mission had been simple, at least they thought it was. Run into the base, nab the information, steal a ship, leave.

He got caught trying to scomp into the ship.

Rex said it would be better with a small team but they were spread thin, they were always spread thin.

The world above him wobbled, vision tilting as he stared up at the ship’s side. From the angle he knew he was lying on the door.

Outside snow blew past the windows of the cockpit, pelting against the metal exterior of the ship.

Groaning, he typed a number into his comm. He didn’t even know whose number it was until a familiar voice called through the chilly air.

“About time. I was starting to think you forgot about us. How’s it going?” Hunter. Why had he called Hunter? His thoughts couldn’t stitch together quite right. Rex was on a mission, too, same planet Echo was on, but his escape would be just as narrow. Don’t deviate from the objective, Echo thought to himself. It was hard enough to escape with his life, Rex was likely long gone by now, however long he’d been out.

He tried to bury that thought before it consumed him.

“Great. Never better.” He knew his voice sounded strained, heard it echo through their open channel, but he grit his teeth to attempt to settle his breathing. The pain was starting to seep in now, the cold worming its way past his back.

It made his metal ache.

Hunter paused, thought. “You okay? It’s just me right now. We can talk.” The offer had stood every time he called, few and far between. Moments alone were rare.

“Remember the last time I was there? It smelled like,” Echo sucked in a gasp, eyes stinging. Protests raged through his gut while his lungs tried to expand. He’d really fucked up this time. “blooming flowers.”

“Wrecker pressed some from that trip. He still has them.” Shuffling on the other end, standing from a chair, the sound of Hunter’s shoes tapping against stone. He must be home.

“Tell him I kept the one he gave me.” Pressed between flimsy and tucked inside the pocket of one of his bags, strapped to his thigh at all times. Before missions he liked to touch it, just once. A reminder.

“I will. What’s going on?” Hunter’s voice had grown gruffer now, so much less calm then when he’d picked up the phone. Echo’s breath came in harsh puffs, rising like smoke through the frozen air. Vaguely, a throb made his head spin. Thick, as if the air was made of water.

“Echo?” Hunter’s voice urged. Not urgent, not calm, but something deeply in between. Something that almost settled the hot coils in his chest.

Almost.

“I’m here. Don’t hang up.” His hand felt the metal lodged in his abdomen, biting back a cry. The cold had numbed much of his body but this was a hot, searing pain, cutting through the frigidity of the planet’s winter.

“I wouldn’t dream of it. Where’s Rex?” Through the comm he could hear Hunter typing, the click of keys as he typed a message. To who Echo could only guess. To Rex. To Tech. To someone. How disarming must this be? Somewhere deep down he knew it wasn’t fair to do this but the rest of him didn’t care. He wanted someone on the other end.

Just in case.

“He’s just down the hall.” Echo lied, unsure why he did. This felt like a goodbye. A send off so someone at least knew what happened to him. Worrying Hunter would only make him worse. A soft curse on the other end was quickly covered by Hunter clearing his throat.

“Anyone else around or do I have the rare opportunity to talk to you alone?” Sneaky bastard. Echo let his head fall against the metal door below him.

“I’m all you’re getting today.” Echo bit the inside of his lip as his eyes started to burn. This. This was how it was going to happen. After everything he was going to die alone on this frozen planet. “How’s everyone? Omega doing okay?” He tried not to let his voice tremble but he didn’t quite pull it off. By the pause Hunter didn’t buy it either.

“She’s got a whole four inches taller since the last time you were here. Tech is determined to document every beetle on the island. Wrecker hasn’t stopped trying to lift rocks for exercise. And Cross has figured out how to make a bow and arrow out of sticks. I’ve been stabbed in the ass three times already.” Hunter groaned and a smile spread across Echo’s face as hot tears dripped down his cheeks. “I can’t keep him from stealing your bed much longer, ya know. He’s eyeing it.” No one was laying claim to his bed, not on his watch.

“Those are my pillows. He’ll crush them with his big head.” Pain shot through his hips as he tried to move, breath catching in his throat.

When Hunter spoke it sounded tight. “Guess you’ll just have to lay claim to them again. Spend a damn night here.” Silence was punctuated by Echo’s heavy breathing, harsh, sharp. The blood was pooling around his legs now. He could feel the warmth spread, putting a barrier between him and the icy ship. It was so much more than he anticipated. So much more than he thought. The numbness was working its way into his thoughts now, slowing them even more. “We miss you, you know that.” It wasn’t meant to be accusatory, Echo knew, but he grimaced regardless.

“I’ll tell you what, my next opportunity for leave I’ll be there. Those blankets are mine.” Hunter cleared his throat over what sounded like a message being sent. Thirty seconds later his comm lit up.

Rex: I’m heading your way, hang in there.

“I’ll do my best to keep everyone away from your stuff until you’re here but you know how they are.” Hunter commented as another message came through.

“They, huh?”

“Watch it.”

Rex: Stay awake.

Rex: Tell Hunter I said thank you. Why the hell didn’t you call me first?

Echo chuckled under his breath. “Telling on me? That’s what we’re doing now?”

“When you’re being stubborn.” Hunter murmured back. “He’s going to kick your ass when he gets to you. I only wish I was there to see it.”

“He can’t. He needs me.”

“Wouldn’t stop me.”

“Whatever.” COs always tried to threaten him into behaving better. It wasn’t worth it, Echo would always be himself. Regardless of their disappointment in his more reckless antics.

“Let’s talk my terms for saving your ass.“

“Let’s not.”

“You’ll get here and get out of that armor. It probably needs a good wash.”

Echo rolled his eyes. “Rude.”

“Then you’re letting us feed you. Rations aren’t as good as what we’ve got here. You’ll actually relax. Take a cat nap, lay in the sun, terrorize Crosshair.”

“It’s what he deserves.”

“Hit him in the ass with a pointy stick arrow, please, I’m begging.” Echo let out a laugh at that but quickly regretted it as pain shot up his side, ending in a groan despite the presence of a smile.

“Shit. Don’t make me laugh it hurts.”

“Hopefully plenty of that while you’re here, too.”

Echo groaned but the distraction was nice. It kept his mind off of the feeling of pinned and bleeding. “Gross. You’re getting soft.”

“Let’s see how willing you are to run your mouth when you’re not on the other side of a comm.” With his face pressed to the speaker he could almost pretend the voice was in the room with him. Not what felt like a galaxy away.

“That doesn’t stop me.”

“I suffer endlessly.”

The comm blinked again, this time with another message from Rex. Still frantically trying to figure out why he hadn’t just called, dammit.

“Rex’ll be here in five.” He informed Hunter who let out a sigh, relieved.

“I can drop the call once he has you.”

“Don’t. Please. Just-“ He was grateful for the silence while he thought of what to say. Just talk to me. Stay. Don’t leave me alone. It’s too quiet. All things he thought of saying while he pulled in ragged breaths. “At least stay on the line.”

Hunter made a noise, wobbly, pained, then sniffed. “I’ll always be on the other end. You know that.”

Echo didn’t hear the rest. Vaguely Hunter’s voice filtered through the air and eventually someone got into the emergency hatch. He knew it was Rex by the gentle way he handled Echo, by the worried eyes, the scolding in his voice when he talked. He caught glimpses of the two of them talking, bits of conversation as someone else - Cody, it looked like - helped get him lifted out of there. Too dangerous to remove the metal in his gut but the sedative worked well enough to keep him sane.

He’s a handful.

I warned you.

Yeah, well, he’s lucky he’s good at his job otherwise I’d send him back to you.

You better. I need someone to help me wrangle my own idiots.

It wasn’t long until his brain shut down, hiding while his body dealt with the trauma, but while he did he could still hear talking.

Never alone. Never forgotten.

[areyoufuckingcrazy]

“Dark Water”

Chapter Forty One: Clones Don’t Get Graves

The Bad Batch x Reader

The suns of Tatooine were starting their slow descent, casting long orange shadows across the shifting dunes and down the faded walls of Mos Espa. The cantina buzzed with its usual murmur—spacers, smugglers, bounty hunters, and desert rats nursing drinks and bad intentions.

You sat tucked in a corner, one boot kicked up, the other planted against the floor as if to anchor yourself in a galaxy that still felt foreign. A dusty cloak draped over your armor, cheap and nondescript. Your fingers tapped the rim of your glass, watching the way the watered-down Corellian whiskey caught the dying light.

You didn’t know who you were.

But you were surviving.

That had to count for something.

The swing of the cantina doors drew no more attention than usual—until a voice cut through the din, sharp and cold.

“So it’s true.”

You looked up, and Bo-Katan Kryze was already striding toward your table, her presence commanding even without her helmet.

“You’re alive.”

You blinked. “Do I know you?”

She stopped. Her face didn’t shift—not even slightly—but her eyes flickered. Just enough.

“You really don’t remember,” she muttered.

You sipped your drink. “You keep looking at me like I’m supposed to care.”

Her hand slammed the table, rattling your glass.

“You’re a disgusting imprint of someone who meant something to me once. Someone who bled for Mandalore. And now you’re walking around in her body like you earned it.”

“I don’t even know who she is,” you said plainly, gaze calm. “I didn’t choose to be born. Or cloned. Or whatever it is you think I am.”

Bo’s nostrils flared.

“You shouldn’t exist.”

“Neither should half this galaxy.”

That was the last straw.

Bo lunged. Her fist cracked against your cheek. You were already rising—reacting on instinct, throwing a sharp elbow that staggered her backward. Chairs scattered. Patrons screamed and ducked for cover. Someone shouted for the bartender to call the authorities.

You didn’t hear it.

Your focus narrowed.

Bo came at you again—trained, feral, furious. The fight was brutal, fast. She was a warrior, but so were you. Your moves weren’t taught—they were remembered, buried somewhere in the marrow of your cloned bones.

And in those movements, you gained the upper hand.

A shoulder to her gut, a twist, a slam. You pinned her to the floor with your forearm pressing against her throat, your blaster drawn, finger twitching near the trigger.

Her eyes met yours—not with fear.

But defiance.

“Do it,” she hissed. “Let’s see how human a clone really is.”

“I don’t want to kill you,” you whispered, your voice shaking not from hesitation—but from the rage you didn’t even understand.

And then—

“That’s enough.”

Two shadows cut through the chaos, voices cold and known.

Boba Fett and Bosk.

Boba’s helmet was cocked slightly as he approached, blaster ready but not raised.

“She’s had enough fun for one day,” he said flatly.

You blinked, heart racing, and finally stepped back. Bo coughed, glaring up at the two bounty hunters.

“You’re siding with her?” Bo spat. “That thing? She’s not real.”

Boba tilted his head toward you.

“She may be a clone, but she’s still a person. Something you seem to forget, princess.”

Bo’s jaw tightened. She looked between you and Boba, venom pooling in her glare.

“Funny words coming from a walking science experiment.”

Boba didn’t move.

“Careful. I’m not as patient as her.”

Bo picked herself up, seething, brushing dust from her armor.

“I won’t forget this,” she warned.

“You never do,” Boba replied calmly.

Without another word, Bo-Katan stormed out of the cantina, her boots echoing off the floor as silence settled back into the room.

Bosk grunted.

“She’s worse than the Wookiees I used to hunt.”

You sat back down slowly, still catching your breath.

“Why’d you help me?” you asked.

Boba shrugged. “Because I’ve been you. And because no one else would.”

You stared at him for a moment. Something deep in your chest stirred—something old. Familiar. Forgotten.

“Thanks,” you muttered.

He nodded once.

“Get your head straight. And next time—don’t hesitate.”

⸻

The twin suns of Tatooine had long dipped below the jagged horizon by the time you reached your ship—Aurra’s ship, technically. A rusted hunk with good engines and a fuel gauge that worked when it wanted to.

The sand shifted under your boots, the dry wind tugging at your cloak as you climbed the ramp and hit the door controls. The metal hissed open with a groan.

“You always pick ugly ships.”

The voice behind you didn’t startle you—not anymore. You turned slowly to see him standing at the foot of the ramp, arms crossed, helmet off, dark curls mussed by the wind.

Boba Fett.

You stared at him a beat.

“You followed me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t say thank you.”

He tilted his head. “Yet.”

You sighed, stepping aside to let him on board. The interior was dim, cluttered with weapons, gear, stolen ration packs, and a blanket you’d fashioned into a sad excuse for a bed on the floor. You sat on a crate, cradling a canteen of water.

Boba remained standing.

“Do you remember me?”

The question hung heavy in the recycled air.

You looked at him.

Dark eyes. That familiar frown. Confident, but tired. A person carved by war and fire.

“Not a clue who the hell you are,” you replied bluntly. “But I appreciate the assist with that red-headed demon.”

“Bo-Katan.”

“Yeah. Her.”

A small smile ghosted across his face—quick and gone.

“You probably still call her that, even if you had your memories.”

You cocked a brow, taking another sip of water.

“Was I always this charming?”

“No,” he said dryly. “But you were always this honest.”

The silence that followed was… complicated.

He looked around the ship, like it made him uncomfortable. Like seeing you in this place, this condition, was somehow wrong.

“I know you’re not her,” he said finally. “Not really.”

You blinked. “Thanks?”

“But it’s… comforting. To see your face again. Even if it was created in a tube.”

You stared at him.

“That’s a little weird, man.”

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It is.”

You sighed and leaned back, letting your head rest against the bulkhead.

“What was she like?” you asked quietly. “Me. The first one.”

He looked down at the floor, thinking.

“Loud. Smart. Dangerous. Feral at times. Loyal, but not to a flag or a creed. Loyal to people.”

“Sounds exhausting.”

“It was,” he said, and for a moment, his tone was fond.

“Sorry I died, I guess.”

“You died like you lived,” he muttered. “Messy. Unnecessary. Heroic, somehow.”

You sat in silence together for a while, the dim lights humming around you, the ship gently creaking as it settled on its landing gear.

“You gonna keep following me?” you asked eventually.

“Only if you keep getting into trouble.”

“Then I guess you’ll be around a while.”

He chuckled, dry and quiet, and finally turned toward the ramp.

“You ever want to know who you were… I’ll tell you. When you’re ready.”

“What if I never am?”

He shrugged.

“Then maybe you’ll make something new. Something better.”

The ramp closed behind him.

And for the first time since you’d woken up on Kamino, you weren’t sure if that made you feel hopeful or terrified.

⸻

Location: Nar Shadda

Nar Shaddaa never sleeps.

Even this deep into the night cycle, the smog-soaked neon skyline painted the seediest levels of the city with pulsing pinks and greens. You lingered at the bar of Club Vexx, spinning your drink slowly in its glass while the music pounded deep in your sternum. You were still unsure what the liquid was, but it burned going down and dulled the buzz behind your eyes. That was good enough.

You didn’t remember your past.

Didn’t know your name.

But you knew this place.

The feeling of watching your back. The weight of your blaster. The fact that every person in this club was a potential threat, or worse, a former friend.

“You feel it before you see it.”

The hairs on your arms prickled. Something shifted—like gravity took a step to the left.

You moved toward the exit.

behind you, the bass of the nightclub still thudded, a low hum in the soles of your boots as you stepped out into the muggy air.

You didn’t know who you were.

Not really.

But you knew how to walk with purpose. Knew how to breathe without being noticed. Knew how to kill.

The night was warm, the shadows deep, and your senses sharp.

Until they weren’t.

You turned a corner into the open street, mind already scanning your next mark, your next safe house, your next credit—when your eyes locked on a man standing at the edge of the alley.

Sharp jaw, tattoo like a skull half-split across his face, eyes like granite and flame. And stars was he hot.

You slowed your step.

He froze.

Behind him were four others. All looked like soldiers, but wrong somehow—off the mold. Like someone had designed them in a factory and then promptly lost the instruction manual.

“Well hello,” you purred, licking your lips as you approached the tall one at the front. “Didn’t expect to find someone like you skulking around the gutters.”

Hunter didn’t move.

Didn’t even blink.

You stepped closer—close enough to smell the grime and carbon scoring in his armor—and dragged one gloved hand across his chest plate.

“You always come this broody, or is that just for me?”

He stiffened. Entire body rigid.

Behind him, Tech cleared his throat uncomfortably. Echo blinked hard, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Crosshair muttered something obscene under his breath and looked away entirely.

“Don’t…” Hunter said finally, his voice low, careful, like he was talking to a thermal detonator that might cry.

You leaned in, voice thick with mischief. “You seem lonely… I could fix that.”

“Don’t touch me,” Hunter said, suddenly firmer, stepping back like you’d burned him. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Says the man with the half-a-skull tattoo,” you shot back, voice playful but edged. “Come on. Don’t pretend you haven’t fantasized about this face before.”

Crosshair swore again, loudly this time.

Echo stepped forward like he might physically intervene.

“This is wrong,” Echo said under his breath to Tech.

“Beyond wrong,” Tech agreed, looking both disturbed and deeply analytical. “The neurological dissonance of encountering a cloned replica—particularly of a maternal figure—is severely compromising our cognitive baseline.”

You were still watching Hunter. The way he was looking at you… it wasn’t anger. Not really. It was grief. Like you were some dream turned inside out.

“You’re not her,” Hunter finally said, voice hoarse.

“You keep saying that,” you snapped. “Who is ‘her’? I don’t know you. Any of you. So maybe stop acting like I’m the problem here.”

Crosshair stepped forward, hand twitching toward his rifle.

“You are the problem. You’re a copy. A bad one.”

“Gee, thanks,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Nice to know whatever dead woman you keep comparing me to was so charming.”

Hunter’s jaw clenched.

You took that opening. Shoved your hand into your belt, ripped out your blaster, and fired.

They weren’t surprised.

Crosshair ducked behind a street pillar. Echo shielded Tech with his prosthetic arm as Tech tapped furiously on a datapad. Hunter was already charging—he didn’t draw a weapon, just moved to disable.

You were good.

They were better.

Blasterfire lit the alleyway as you twisted between crates and piping, trying to shake pursuit. You skidded through a turn, flipped over a low wall—and slammed straight into something massive.

Wrecker.

You slammed into his chest like hitting a durasteel wall. You staggered back—he didn’t move.

His face crumpled in an instant.

“No way…” he whispered. “No. No way.”

You took a half step back, raising your weapon, confused. But he wasn’t reaching for his own.

He was staring at you.

Wide-eyed. Trembling.

“You came back,” he said, voice cracking. “You came back.”

“Look, I don’t know what you think—” you began, trying to step around him.

But Wrecker dropped to his knees. Just collapsed there on the grimy street, tears welling in his eyes as he wrapped those giant arms around your waist and pulled you into the tightest, most suffocating hug you’d ever experienced.

“I missed you so much,” he said, openly sobbing. “You died and I—I didn’t know how to handle it. We all didn’t know.”

You froze.

“Okay, wow,” you said flatly. “This is… a lot.”

You tried to wriggle free. You couldn’t.

“This is weird,” you muttered. “This is so kriffing weird.”

You looked down at him, this mountain of a man weeping against your torso like a child clutching a stuffed tooka.

“I don’t know you,” you whispered.

“Don’t care,” he sobbed. “Still missed you.”

“Cool. Well, uh… thanks? I guess?” You awkwardly patted his head. “There, there. Sorrows… prayers?”

The others caught up moments later. Crosshair skidded to a stop, rifle raised, only to lower it slowly as he saw Wrecker curled around you.

“Seriously?” Crosshair spat. “This is how we’re catching her?”

“She didn’t stand a chance,” Echo muttered.

“This is… unexpectedly effective,” Tech admitted.

Hunter just watched. Something unreadable in his expression.

You sagged in Wrecker’s arms, giving up entirely.

“I cannot believe this is how I get captured. Cry-hugged into submission by the clone version of a buff toddler.”

Hunter sighed.

“Let’s get her back to the Marauder.”

You groaned.

“Can I at least walk on my own? Or are we just gonna parade me through the streets like a pathetic bounty piñata?”

Wrecker didn’t let go.

“Nope,” he sniffled. “Not letting go.”

You sighed and slumped into him.

“Yep. Definitely gonna need therapy after this.”

⸻

The doors to the Marauder hissed shut behind you with a finality that sounded a little too poetic.

You slumped into the crash seat Wrecker guided you toward—well, planted you in, more like. He finally let go of you after a reluctant sniff and a pat to your head, like you were a Tooka doll he was proud of rescuing.

“Can I breathe now?” you grunted, massaging your ribs.

“You always hated hugs,” Wrecker said with a dopey smile, like you hadn’t nearly blasted half his team ten minutes ago.

“Still do,” you muttered.

Across the ship, Crosshair leaned against the wall, arms crossed, toothpick twitching between his teeth like a silent metronome of judgment. Echo kept his helmet tucked under one arm, jaw tight, eyes scanning you like he was trying to find traces of the version of you he once knew.

Hunter was silent.

Uncomfortably so.

He stood near the ramp controls, not looking at you, barely looking at anyone.

Tech, noticing the stiffness in his brother’s shoulders, stepped in with all the grace and delicacy of a blaster bolt to the knee.

“You appear… disturbed,” Tech said, pulling Hunter aside to the cockpit threshold, voice low but matter-of-fact. “Which is understandable. Statistically, being propositioned by the clone of your own deceased maternal figure—particularly when she was attempting to seduce you in a public cantina—is an event that would cause a measurable psychological disturbance.”

Hunter blinked at him.

Once.

Twice.

“Tech,” he said slowly, “is this really the time?”

“There may never be a good time, but now is certainly a relevant one,” Tech replied, adjusting his goggles. “You’ve been unusually silent since the confrontation. Your bio-readings suggest tension. Increased cortisol. I would categorize your state as… disturbed, confused, and possibly repulsed.”

Hunter made a strangled noise in his throat.

“She touched my chest, Tech.”

“Yes,” Tech nodded gravely. “In a provocative manner. And made a statement suggesting romantic or sexual interest. I recorded it for further analysis—”

“You what?”

“For psychological analysis, of course,” Tech said, waving a hand. “I believe Crosshair also recorded it. For… other reasons.”

Hunter turned away, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“It’s not her,” he muttered. “I know it’s not her. But that face. The voice. The way she moves…”

“Muscle memory is often replicated with cloning,” Tech offered. “But more importantly, it is your memory that is struggling. Not hers. She has none. You are imprinting familiarity onto a foreign object, and your brain cannot reconcile the discrepancy.”

“Don’t call her a foreign object,” Hunter growled, snapping his head up.

Tech paused.

Then inclined his head with rare apology.

“Understood. Poor phrasing. My point is: she is not your buir. She merely… wears her skin.”

There was a silence between them, thick and ugly.

“You okay, Sarge?” Crosshair called from the hallway, not looking up. “You look like you just got kissed by a womp rat.”

“She didn’t kiss me,” Hunter muttered, more to himself.

“Yet,” Crosshair replied, just loud enough.

Hunter stiffened.

Tech, noting the increased tension, held up a hand.

“For what it’s worth,” he said quietly, “I do not think she was attempting manipulation. Not consciously. She simply… doesn’t know what lines not to cross. Her programming is fractured. The Kaminoans gave her memories, but no context for them.”

Hunter glanced toward the crash seat again.

You were leaned back, eyes half-lidded, arms crossed over your chest like you’d rather be anywhere else. Wrecker was trying to talk to you, but you barely gave him anything in return—just a few dry comments and a flicker of discomfort anytime someone said your name.

You weren’t her.

But you looked like her.

And that was enough to make the whole ship feel haunted.

“She shouldn’t be here,” Hunter said finally.

“She didn’t ask to be,” Tech replied. “None of us did.”

A long beat.

“What do we do with her?�� Hunter asked.

“That,” Tech said with a quiet exhale, “is the question none of us are qualified to answer.”

⸻

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[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

Masterlist

***

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

Masterlist

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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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[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]

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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.)

[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.

[acenxiety]

just something that helped me calm down

so maybe it can help you as well.

UNTITLED

Namjoon/reader scenario; angst, so, so much angst

3358 words in total

i kept the reader gender neutral, at least if i remember correctly. if i made any mistakes, i’m sorry. also, this sucks, just saying. 

TRIGGER WARNING!

mentions of self harm and depression. only read when you’re stable. stay safe and don’t forget: i love you

“no, namjoon, leave me alone, please. I’m just- I’m not feeling well. I need some time alone, ‘kay?” I looked at him and saw the concern in his eyes, the desperation carving creases onto his forehead as he watched me, arms outstretched towards my shuddering form on our bed, as if he was ready to catch me if I decided to jump at him any second. I saw the way he held himself back, I knew that this was just as hurtful for him as it was for me.

“baby, please, don’t make me do that. You know that I can’t. just let me be here, please,” his voice was so hoarse, as though he hadn’t spoken a word that day. “I won’t talk, I won’t touch you, just please don’t make me leave you. I know that this is hard for you,” he stops for a minute to think. Licking his lips, he looks around in our shared bedroom and after scanning all the pictures on the walls, my painting framed next to the dresser and the books on the shelves, my bathrobe hanging on the bathroom door, his eyes settle on my face, contorted in concertation on keeping my tears at bay and pain that ate away at my heart and thoughts, his hands twitched. “but I need to be here with you. I need to be here and- and not let you do anything to harm yourself.”

I clenched my eyes shut and turned away from him. I was filled with so much frustration and stress and pain that I felt as if I would burst any second and hurt him. I was so scared of it, of hurting him that I just sat there and watched my hands in my lap shake uncontrollably, felt the panic attack creeping up on me, my shoulders shuddering from my silent sobs and the cold I felt – even with the coziness and warmness of the room. I looked at the scars marking my arms from my shoulders to my wrists and noted how much they’ve faded, even those I cut about two weeks ago. Namjoon knew of them, saw them and never failed to make me feel beautiful even with them on my body but probably felt helpless against me harming myself again and again being the busier one of us, and not spending as much time at home alone as I did.

“I really just need a few moments alone, namjoon. I swear I won’t do anything, I just-“

“you stop that right now.” His voice was still so desperate and sweet even though he was probably getting really frustrated. He hated not being in control of things that happened to me. Don’t get me wrong, he never meant wrongly, never wanted to own me or anything it’s just that he liked to make sure I was safe of everything harmful, even myself. He hated how he didn’t know how to help me when I had these times. He hated how weak I felt and always wanted me to believe in myself and not be so self-loathing.

“just let me be here with you, please.” I felt him shifting on the bed, probably changed to sitting with crossed legs instead of kneeling like he was before. “I know that it’d be so hard for you but I can’t help wishing you’d talk to me. Tell me what goes through your head, what’s haunting you, what’s it you feel, just tell me anything.” I heard as his voice broke towards the end, he was probably trying to keep his tears away at this point, too. “what could I do to make you feel better, to feel more safe with me and just tell me-“ he stopped again, sniffling. I turned around and looked at him through my tears, and saw how scared and vulnerable he was, holding himself with his arms around his chest. What was he so scared of? Why?

“just tell me anything. I feel like- like you don’t- t-trust me, sometimes,

 “like no matter what I do, you- you’ll never feel the same way about me as I-I feel about you,

“you never tell me how- how you feel and it s-scares me so much, but I know that the thought of talking about it… it scares you more

“I know that it’s hard but you really don’t need to be s-so scared… I’m not only with- with you so that I have someone to-“ his eyebrows crinkled and he looked down, shaking his head at the thought, as if he couldn’t believe such thing could ever occur. “to come home to, of course I love how- how I am able to have that t-too, but…” he looked at me and his tears were running down his cheeks and I raised my hand to wipe them away and his eyes closed at the feeling of my fingers connecting with his skin, after not having much physical contact with me in the past two days.

“but I need to know what’s going on with you, baby… it hurts me so much when you’re in such a bad place and I can’t do anything about it.”

I took my hand away, fast, as if his skin burned me and saw how his eyes snapped open. A realization hit me hard and I knew I had just frightened him with my sudden change, but this was probably the best thing I could do for him. I had to leave him before I hurt him even more.

I stood from the bed and walked to the closet to pull out my suitcase and place it on the floor of the bedroom, opening it and throwing my clothes hastily into it. I could see from the corner of my eye how Namjoon wiped his tears with the back of his hand in confusion, getting up from the bed and looking at me with his brows furrowed.

“Baby, what are you doing?” he asked, stepping closer to me as I was tugging at a blouse to get it off the hanger, maybe with a bit more force than I should have, I realized as I heard the material tearing apart, breaking my dam that held my tears and I let go of the blouse immediately, now scared of myself even more than before.

Namjoon stood and watched me with arms reaching towards me uncertainly, clearly debating whether or not he should just hold me. But as I covered my face with my trembling hands and let out a painful sob, he finally decided, quietly hissing fuck it and taking two long strides to reach me and wrapping his arms around my shuddering body, his face buried in my crazy mess of hair atop my head. My initial response was to push him away, yell at him, scream at the top of my lungs, kick him in the shoulder, tell him to go away, plead him to send me somewhere where I couldn’t hurt anyone, but my body could only keep shuddering, shaking and convulsing with each and every sob that left me.

He raised me and set me down on the bed and while I curled into a fetal position, he walked around the bed, laying behind me and pulling me into him, softly murmuring the lyrics of a song I couldn’t recognize into my hair.

I can’t really tell how much time passed, but I vaguely remember turning around in his arms sometime in the middle of my sobbing and clenching his shirt with my fists as he spoke to me gently about flowers and stars, animals, spirits and nature.

   Sometime between one and four a.m. I finally had the strength to pull away from him and wipe my face with the sleeve of my sweater. He watched me silently, his hands tracing comforting patterns into my skin and eyes twinkling with worry.

“I love you..” he repeated for the millionth time that night, his voice not wavering in the slightest. How was he still so focused, even after staying up for so long, I couldn’t comprehend. I looked at him, probably the third time in five hours and I felt my tongue move on its own, the words rolling off of it so naturally I shocked myself more than Namjoon, “I love you too…”

A short silence followed my quiet murmur and he looked into my eyes with his so soft and warm, then he lifted his left hand and placed it on my head, gently stroking the skin of my neck then my jaw and settling in a hold on my chin, while pulling me towards him his right hand clutched mine.

I was ready to kiss him back but he just brushed his lips against my forehead gingerly, as if he was afraid of adding pressure and luring me into collapsing again, “talk to me, baby, please,” he pleaded quietly against my skin, and I sighed.

“At least just tell me why did you start packing your stuff. Did you think you had to leave me? But why?” he pulled away for a moment to shake his head again, not believing the thoughts in his head. When he moved closer again he looked so deeply, so intently into my eyes I thought he could see right through them and see my thoughts interjected unto my irises.

“please, baby, just.. just talk to me. About anything-”

“I feel like I’m suffocating…” my voice was weak and quiet as it left me after a short silence and I felt like crying all over again. “like my lungs are collapsing and I can’t suck enough air into them,” Namjoon just listened to my words and kept his fingers busy with soothingly caressing my skin. “I’ve grown scared of the sky, whenever I look up at it I feel as if it wanted to turn away from me, suck me from my feet and spit me into a dark, neverending abyss, and I’m so scared I can’t even move-

“this world scares me, the people scare me, it’s like they only care about their own benefits and the market aids them in this, making them believe that the world orbits around them and everything and everyone else can just wither and perish,

“I don’t feel.. I haven’t been able to feel much lately, whenever it’s cold outside I barely notice it, I only wear my coat habitually, nothing can make me laugh like anything could before, my head gets dizzy when I try to genuinely sympathize with others because I just-

“I just can’t,

“I get scared of myself so often lately I’m starting to think I have some sort of bug, like I’m my own enemy and I’m supposed to destroy myself because if I don’t I will just hurt others like I’ve always done,

“I’m scaring people away, Namjoon. Animals run from me. It’s as if.. as if they could see the ghost of my sadness standing beside me. Gosh…” I buried my face in my hands, sighing deeply as I felt another batch of tears forming behind my closed eyelids, “I feel like I’m going crazy. Talking about my depression as if it was a person… what am I?”

Namjoon took my hands away from my face and held it in his instead. I couldn’t fight the feeling of secureness and safety that washed over me even if I tried, this was the way Namjoon made me feel. Safe and protected from all bad things, and I wished I could make him feel a similar way but my insecurities got the best of me too often, luring me into thinking that I could never help him in this and so I shouldn’t live off his kindness like some filthy parasite.

“Baby, look at me,” he pleaded quietly, his thumbs gently rubbing the skin under my eyes. When I looked at him, his eyes were full of so much love and adoration I had to look down, afraid my eyes couldn’t mirror it perfectly. “No, eyes on me, come on,” he urged patiently until I gave in and looked at him again. “There we go. Let me see your beautiful eyes, there’s literally nothing else I would rather look at,” he smiled at me so softly, like the first rays of sunlight of a spring morning after a long winter night. “Is this all that you’ve been so scared of telling me?”

I thought for a second, but could no longer feel the steel fists encasing my lungs, my thoughts no longer haunting me and I nodded. His expression turned impossibly soft, making me gasp quietly. This man and his many faces never failed to amaze me.

“Baby, why don’t you talk to me about this all more often?”

There it was, the cat out of the bag. I knew he would ask this and I knew I would have only one answer, but I also knew that wouldn’t satisfy him. “I’m scared,” I gulped before licking my lips, looking around and trying to find the right words with my eyebrows furrowed in concentration. My mouth opened and closed, formed several silent letters before I managed to find what I wanted to say, and Namjoon just waited for me patiently, his fingers still tracing soothing patterns into my skin all the while his expression never faltered in the slightest. Gosh, how much I loved him, 

“I’m scared because I know it’s harmful, telling others about all this. I have had people turn away from me after learning how melancholic, no, depressed I always was and I’m just… I’m just tired of constantly losing people,” I looked up at him once I felt like I was finished, and he had an almost angry frown on his lips, the one that always crinkled his chin like rain would lakes. “That’s also why I was so hesitant about dating you, because I knew once you learned about this you’d turn away from me too, like everyone else did.” My hand came up to trace his jawline, from the tip of his earlobe to his chin to erase the little wrinkles from his face.

“Well first of all, all those people, the ones who walked away from you, it was their loss, and none of yours. I love how you’ve learned to accept the fact that there isn’t any loss in losing things that don’t hold meaning. You are so much stronger than you think you are, just by having strength to keep moving on but know when to stop and stay rooted after all that’s happened to you. 

“I love that your heart is still made of pure glimmering gold, even after all the toxic acid it’s been put through. 

“I love how much you appreciate the smallest of things, like me helping and getting you those books from the top shelves, or buying your new toothbrushes. 

“I love how your eyes cannot lie to me about how you feel even if you do, and how they light up every single goddamn time they land on me, because that reminds me of how much you love me and it makes me feel nothing short of special. 

“I love how you never stop fighting for what you believe in but stay conscious about others’ feelings and stop and think about what words you use, picking them so carefully each time you speak, and you speak liquid literature, baby, your words are the galaxies that paint the skies for me every night I stay in the studio to work and look out my window and I don’t feel so alone, so tired anymore. 

“I love that you never break anyone down, that you always stay supportive and positive, even when you feel like the world is collapsing on your head, you are always the one giving everyone the thumbs up they need. 

“I love you for your creativity, your curiosity, your clarity, your calmness. You’re that one point in my life that is so certain, so real, so sure, and I want you to know that. Even if you feel like falling apart right now, or any other time, I want you to come to me so I can hold you in my arms and put you back together, piece by piece. I just need you to let me, baby, and I will. I promise you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m right here, and I want you to let me know when you need me to hold you. Because I always will. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” 

He pulled my hands to his lips so he could kiss my knuckles one by one while murmuring words of love and my heart swelled in my chest. “I love you. I love you more than you let me,” he started laughing quietly at the way I giggled at his words, with my face burying into his chest.

“Have I told you how fantastic you are?” I murmured, much more for myself to hear only than for him, but he still caught on.

“I believe you have, a couple of times, actually, more times than I can handle looking back on without wanting to just stay here with you forever,” his chuckle made my heart buzz lightly, wanting to leap out of my chest. “You remember that little notebook you gave me, for our three-year anniversary?” I looked up at him, and found him smiling to himself fondly, thinking back on that day. “That, that little notebook, I still have it with myself everywhere I go, it’s the best thing I’ve ever gotten,” his eyes looked down at me and his eyes softened immediately. “The same way you told me back then that I didn’t need to keep all the world’s problems in-check in my mind, I’m telling you now that – not because you’re a dwarf and would probably collapse anyways – ouch,” he winced then smirked at me after I smacked his shoulder, but I deemed it all necessary. Our heights might not match in the most perfect way but we were comfortable with each other. “But because you’re not alone and especially not against the whole world, so please let me help you when you need me to. That’s what I’m here for, after all,” and he smiled at me again.

“God, I love you…” it left me in a dreamy sigh as I looked at him and saw the universe his eyes mirrored from mine.

“I love you too, baby.” He leaned away from me to stifle a yawn with his hand that momentarily left my side, then returned just so snuggle its way back under my sweater to caress my skin. “Do you want to stay up longer or should we sleep?” Only then did I realize how late it must have been.

“Shit, honey, you have work tomorrow- or, I mean, today.. I don’t even know what time it is, I’m so sorry,” I craned my neck to see the alarm clock on the bedside table behind myself as Namjoon kept cackling and squeezing my sides and just when I was about to smack him again for making fun of me, the sight of him smiling at me so widely made me want to just curl up against him.

“I don’t have anything tomorrow, baby. I took the day off, so we can spend some time together. Although you’re sweet, there’s no need to worry” he pulled me even closer to himself and rolled onto his back, pulling me on top. “Just please, talk to me when you’re feeling down, okay? I need to know if there’s anything I can do to help. And you’re not going to scare me away, baby, not with this, not ever. You’re a piece of fine china to me and I plan to hold on for a long time,” his arms wrapped around me and squeezed to the point where I found it impossible to wiggle out of his embrace.

“For a long time?”

“Like, as in, the rest-of-my-life long time,”

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

[the-chubby-vegetarian]

Getting out of the family business

Chapter One, Creep

A/n – I don't own supernatural. I tried. It's too expensive.

a/n 2 – As you can see by my profile, I haven't written a fan fiction in a REALLY long time. I love reviews, both rave and critical. Show some love… or at least appreciation for the work done lol

a/n 3 - M rating is for later chapters. If the M is why you are here, just bear with me! :)

Final A/N, I promise! - The M is coming later, I promise ;)

NEW FOR REAL FINAL A/N - It has been three years since I worked on my FanFiction. I am now self betaing and have asked a my very best friend and fellow supernatural fan to help do some betaing so further improvements will come!

Prologue

My life sucks. I'm not talking about the superficial, "I can't get a boyfriend! My butt's too big! I have huge pores!" kind of sucks. I am talking about the kind of sucks that is so severe that I feel blessed when I finally get a hot shower, because I can't seem to stay in a hotel that does any sort of maintenance. The kind of sucks where in you don't stay in any hotel for very long so it doesn't really matter. It's the, "All of my clothes have blood in them, how do I get this out of my hair, why is my gun sticking, someone give me a knife, damn it!" kind of sucks. But hey, life sucks and then you die, right? It's the same for everyone, really. For some of us, though, the suck is a little more intense, and the die is a little sooner. It is going to seem like I am a thrill seeker, but I am not. To top it all off, I haven't been laid in, well, a while. Comes with the territory. I'm a hunter.

Sioux City, Iowa

Hunting is usually a family business. Mom and dad feel a spark in dim lighting over a nice batch of dead man's blood and Boom. Mr. and Mrs. Hunter are in a family way. The wife keeps the kid's safe at the hotel if they are loners. Eventually, mom and dad go out on a hunting trip, and they don't hear from them for a few days. Maybe they never come back, and suddenly it's like, hunter graduation time. Having a vengeful rage boner for a particular species of nasty that killed some loved one is a bit of a rite of passage in a hunter family.

That's why it's particularly odd to find myself in a shockingly low mileage Ford Lariat older than I am, (It's got the 86 mustang 5.0-liter v-8 engine!I am pretty proud of this heap. But I digress), heading northbound on I-29 out of Sioux City, Iowa. My parents are still very much alive. Oooooold. But alive. My parents are on the downhill side of 60 and are completely oblivious to the fact that there really are things that go bump in the night. Like my sister and my brother, my mom and dad are both teachers (retired, of course.) I'm going to have to remember to call home every once in a while to let my parents know I'm still alive.

Actually, it's my boyfriend's fault that I've found myself with the strange calling to kill things that should only exist in stories in the first place. Ex-boyfriend, I should say. He may have been a vampire dick weed, but for most of the three years we were together, he was just a dumbass whose dumbass-ness was just endearing enough to put up with. We had a rough couple of years, and I assumed when he started acting weird that it was drugs, or that he was cheating. I wouldn't have stood for it, but they wouldn't have been killing offenses. Of course, when I came home and found him necking with a chick on the couch, I thought I was proven right, he was a douche bag, and I could move on.

I was wrong (As I often am). He did cheat on me, of course, but with a vampire. I walked in on his first feeding, a rite of passage for dick weed vampires. I was PISSED. And a little terrified. It took me a while to figure out which emotion was stronger. It was the terror. I hopped in his dad's old Lariat and drove the hell away to my parent's house. They were out of town, and I was a college drop out with no resources, so I 'Borrowed' their interweb and did a little research, because I was not going to put my life in the hands of old Dracula movies and the Twilight series. (Guilty pleasure from my youth, please don't judge.)

Not being in "shape," lacking anything that could be called a "weapon," and not sure how I felt about the whole dead man's blood thing, I grabbed a rusty old axe and headed home. I knew I couldn't kill my ex, but I knew I might have to get over that real quick, and I didn't want to be empty handed.

Being abnormally affected by Murphy's Law, I wasn't surprised to see Dick Weed and his new Vampire Bitch Friend were having some sort of strange vampire kill sex on my BRAND NEW COUCHES. I snapped and very messily hacked off the vamp bitch's head. My damn couches still ended up ruined because irony and karma are buddies, and I found myself facing down the man I had loved for years and went through a lot of shit with. After all the loss we experienced (loss that now, seems a little supernaturally suspect,) I just couldn't bring myself to put him down. I'd like to think he felt the same way about me. He may have. I mean, damn, he could have killed me, but he didn't. He took the girl off the couch, nodded good-bye to me, and pretended to mean it when he said that if I'd let him go he'd make sure never to kill anyone. I pretended to believe him, and he went on his way.

I'm not sure how vampire society works, they must value secrecy, because not two days later, his "body" was found, and I was at his funeral in under a week, knowing he was still "alive" out there, somewhere. You would think I was only pretending to mourn. The fact of the matter is, I was really and truly mourning the cheating son of a bitch Out there or not, he was dead to me. I buried the man I knew and loved in the same cemetery as far too many people we had both loved, and I guess I must have also buried that part of myself that specializes in self-preservation because as the attendees slowly started drifting away towards home, I had begun to formulate a plan.

Admittedly, it was a shitty plan. Like really amateur hour crap. I knew for sure decapitation was an option, and I hadn't returned my dad's axe yet. I figured I would spring a trap. From what I could tell, vampire's nested. Like rats. That meant that with my ex leaving town and his vamp tramp dead, I could be dealing with between 3 and 6 remaining vamps. Since up until a couple of weeks ago I thought vamps were a fairy story, it was hard to tell online what was real and what was fiction, so I used the news paper to mark off a sort of perimeter of suck on a city map. Rationally, somewhere in the middle of all the suck would be the suck hive.

I figured, head to the area (Near the stockyards, not half a mile from my house) with my ax strapped to my back, 911 on speed dial, and wait for an attack. I could probably take one on my own, maybe two if they are stupid, and any more would be arrested, because like I said, my plan was freaking stupid.

Near midnight, I headed out on foot, axe strapped to my back over top of my Jack Daniels hoodie. My tennis shoes seemed to slap louder than normal on the pavement as I headed down the hill and under the train bridge that separated my house and the main road, Transit, from the old industrial stock exchange. A lot of the buildings seemed abandoned this late on a Saturday night. Only half of them actually were. I ended up loitering near the old strip club, Mavericks. It was where old strippers went to die, and new strippers went to cut their teeth before moving on to bigger and better things, and a likely place for a vampire to find prey.

I was near giving up after about an hour. It was 15 minutes until last call. Drunk, sweaty perverts would be filing slowly out of the strip club and the little dive bar next door, and my nerves had brought up quite a bit of thirst. I was on bereavement leave from the call center where I worked, so I didn't have a whole lot of cash, but I needed a little courage. Rather than waste money on the 5$ cover to see inexperienced or long in the tooth strippers, I headed to the dive, winding down despite the weekly karaoke. I found myself distracted for a moment by an old classic car in the parking lot, thinking of how much the ex would have liked to talk to the owner. Heading towards the door, I set the axe down in the shadows by the building on the way.

An off-key rendition of a country song was in the air, and I found myself pining for the days when I would come down here with a few bucks and drink until my singing was good. Well, good to me anyways. There wasn't time for that tonight, however, and I be lined it for the bar. I threw down my last twenty and ordered 3 shots of Southern Comfort. I tipped a dollar and still had enough money left over for a pack of smokes later. While the bar tender, a girl I didn't recognize, filled the shots, I leaned back and surveyed the surroundings. It occurred to me that anyone in the bar could be a vampire, from the off-key Shania Twain wannabe to the two handsome out of towners at the bar. I rolled my eyes as one of them made a comment to the bartender while she filled my order. It wasn't lost on me how he watched her saunter back over to me, shots in hand. I turned to face the drinks, shook my head, and raised the first shot glass to him as I downed the shot quickly. I moved through the last two and coughed a bit. Southern Comfort is strong, but syrupy sweet. It's a strange combination, but a good one. It lit the fire of courage and bad decision making in my belly as I nodded to the bar tender and headed out, catching the guy from the bar shaking his head as I walked out into the night, retrieving my axe.

I lingered in the shadows of the gravel parking lot, smoking a cigarette and watching the crowds dwindle. It wasn't long before the only car was the classic muscle car that reminded me so much of my ex, and I kind of gave up. Fall in Iowa was like winter in some places, and even though a natural born Iowan like me can call 50 degree temps shorts weather, the crisp breeze and wet, misty atmosphere brought on a chill that could sneak up on you gradually; you're a people-sickle before you even know it.

Sighing in defeat, I dropped my butt and ground it into the gravel, walking through the alley between buildings to get to the road. The streetlights were alternating, most off this late at night. I found myself in a pool of darkness behind the strip club, shaking a bit from the chill temps. Well, partially from the temperature, and partially from a sudden, dire feeling in my gut like I was being watched. I didn't know if I was experiencing some form of Southern Comfort induced spidey sense, or if the creepy vibe of the stockyards was getting to me, but I opted to ready my phone to dial 911 and held on to my axe, using it as a walking cane as I moved to head towards home.

I didn't make it four steps before the lights of the strip club and dive bar went black. I tried humming a few bars of "Closing Time" to cure the jitters the sudden darkness and the feeling of being watched brought on. (If you were wondering, it did not work. At all.) Pretending that I wasn't afraid, I started up the long road through the industrial exchange towards the train bridge, Transit, and home.

There was no traffic, no signs of life, as I made my way. I had finally lulled myself into some sense of security. I guess that's why I jumped seven feet in the air when someone spoke from just behind me. "Shouldn't be walking out here by yourself."

Somehow, I knew the warning wasn't because they were concerned for my safety.

I spun, hand tightening on the ax, but not raising it. I was fairly certain this was a vamp, but hey, call me crazy, I didn't want to risk killing actual people. "Thanks for the warning." I smiled weakly, unsure what to look for as a clue that this guy wasn't just some normal creep.

I didn't need to look for long. The shadows seemed to move. Vampires may not be magic, like in movies, but they could sure as hell be stealthy. I hefted the ax up as 5 more "people" materialized in front of me, dropping my cell phone in the process. "Damnit!" I hissed, swinging like a major league batter at the vamp directly in front of me. I made contact and got his head off, but it's not like how it looks on TV. Bones are HARD. Blood is MESSY. And I was, at this point, a bit of a wuss. I wiped my now bloody hands on my favorite blue and black jeggings (See: Not good at planning, just a bit ago.) and got in position, hoping they would be dumb enough to come at me one at a time.

Vamps are dumb. But not that dumb. The five bum rushed me, and I was hard pressed to keep them back, let alone kill any, swinging wildly with my ax. I saw some movement up the dark road, but I ignored it. If help was coming, they wouldn't do me much good if I was dead before they got there. The streetlights flared on in their rotation, and I thanked God for the first time in years. It was the black classic muscle car, heading our way. With the added bonus of now being able to see, I swung with renewed vigor, actually managing to take a hand and put a nice dent in a vamp's chest before the black car skidded to a stop and the two men from the dive bar emerged. Roaming eyes got out of the driver's seat, and his buddy, who I now noticed was like, seven feet tall, got out the passenger, and they each had a machete.

I'd like to give you the amazing play by play of the fight that ensued. I'd love to tell you that I got myself another two vampires and that the guys barely had to save me. That would make me very happy. It would also make me a liar. What happened is that the overwhelming relief at having assistance caused my adrenaline rush to taper off, and it was all I could do to stay alive while the guy's handily, and messily, dispatched the remaining 4.5 (Giving myself credit for body parts) vampires.

When the carnage was done, my arms fell to my sides, limp, and I dropped the ax. I dropped my ass, too, right onto the ground. I didn't even notice the chilly, wet pavement. I had my head between my knees, fighting off a bit of a panic attack, so I only heard about every third word of the conversation that occurred between the two guys.

"…Take her to her hotel, I guess?" In retrospect, that was the tall one.

"…Another hunter… Small time vamp nest…" That was the one that had annoyed me in the bar.

"It was a good warm up case…"

"I need a drink." Was that me? No, it was definitely one of them.

By this time I was getting to my feet, thinking about the sore muscles I was in for in the morning. "I need seven." (There I am!) If I'd have known at the time who I was speaking to, I may have tried to be more creative or witty with the first words I said to them. I didn't, however, and all I could think about was a bath, and the opportunity to get drunk.

"Do you need a ride back to your hotel?" The tall one asked me.

My brow furrowed in confusion. What sort of tourist would be walking through the industrial exchange? Then again, these were the guys that I didn't recognize in MY bar, listening to MY bad karaoke, and while at one time I went there enough to know they weren't regulars, they had no way of knowing I was a local. "Hotel? I could barely afford an hour at the Town and Country, and I'm not a fan of roaches, so I wouldn't stay there if you paid me. I only live a few blocks from here. I can walk the rest of the way."

"That's where we are staying." Why did Mr. Annoying God's Gift to women bug me so much?

"I'm not sure that's a good idea. Vampires usually only send out their young to hunt. There may still be some left." The tall one this time. I raised an eyebrow.

"So you want me to get in a car with machete-wielding strangers as the alternative?"

"She's got a point, Sammy. Have a good night!" The bothersome one gave me a half wave and headed back towards the car. I rolled my eyes again. Unbecoming in a 27-year-old, but completely involuntary. It seemed to be my reaction every time he opened his mouth.

I reached down for my now completely demolished cell phone and sighed. "I don't want to make you feel like I don't appreciate the help. You probably saved my dumb ass-"

"You got that right." The annoying one quipped, standing in the open driver's seat door. I pursed my lips in frustration to keep from rolling my eyes again and took a deep, not so calming breath before I continued.

"Do you want to use my phone at least?" The tall guy seemed nice. I looked down at my bloody ax. I shook my head and lifted it off the ground, wiping the blade on my already ruined favorite jeans. It suddenly struck me how weary I was, how heavy the ax was, and how useful it would be if I couldn't swing it at something on the way home.

"No one for me to call, really. You insist on being nice, don't you?" I sighed, and the tall guy smiled just a little bit. "Okay, fine, I'll take a ride. The faster I get home, the sooner I can clean up and drink ALL the Southern Host." I followed the tall one to the car.

"Thought you drank Southern Comfort?" The annoying one said as he slid into the driver's seat.

"Southern Host costs half as much and get's you drunk twice as fast. I'm broke. That makes me a bargain drinker." I shrugged, looking down at the leather seat and the blood on my pants. "Are you sure about this? I don't want to ruin your seats."

The face Mr. Annoying made was half surprise, half pleased. "Sam, get her the blanket from the trunk."

"Or you could." So, the tall one must be Sam.

"I could, but I'm not going to."

'Mr. Annoying sure is consistent,' I couldn't help thinking to myself. "Pop the trunk. I'll get it."

"NO!" Both Tall Sam and Mr. Annoying spoke up at the same time. I raised my eyebrows, a bit suspicious but fully prepared to lie in the bed I made. "Just a sec." Sam hopped out and went around the passenger side, opening the trunk. I leaned over a bit, saw an arsenal, and a strange custom paint job that looked like a gothic kid's first tattoo, but I decided at this point it would be wise to keep my mouth shut. Between the weapons in the trunk and their vampire destroying skills, that I must have just met the world's first real vampire slayers, or the weirdest serial killers. Either way, like I mentioned before, not much of one for self-preservation anymore, so I shrugged to myself and hopped into the car after the one called Sam spread out the blanket to protect the seats.

The drive home was only a few minutes, but I took them around the back way, so they could come in my ally right to my back yard and hopefully not see the main streets leading to my house. As we pulled in, I finally broke the silence. "Thanks for the help, uh, Sam. And…" I trail off, waiting for an answer, but Sam's friend didn't speak. He looked broody. And kind of hot. In like, a hateful kind of way. "Okay. " I rolled my eyes as I grabbed my ax, opening the door and hearing the familiar sound of my Rottweiler, Ninja, barking up a storm. He missed his mommy. Up on the hill, I could look towards the stock exchange and see flashing lights. I guess someone was able to alert the cops to the ruckus. I may have even gotten the phone call to 911 out before the phone went dead.

My dog's barking intensified as sirens swarmed through the neighborhood. "Say… I'm assuming that those cops and paramedics won't realize those dead bodies belong to bloodthirsty un-humans. It may not be a good idea to go driving around until they disperse."

Sam nodded, and Mr. Annoying just looked angry that I made a good point. "You can sit out here until things cool down. Or you can come in, I guess. Whatever. I have a puppy. I hope you aren't allergic." I shrugged, scooting out of the car and heading to the door, fumbling with the lock for a bit. I heard car doors shut, and nearly dropped my keys when I looked up and saw that Mr. Annoying was standing just a foot or two behind me. I flushed a bit as a noticed that his eyes were green, and reminded myself that I am in no place to be making a note of such things on any guy, let alone one that works with a machete so well. I did notice that his stare was kind of haunted, and I couldn't tell if it was a "Please screw me I'm so damaged and only your love will save me" act, or if he'd really seen some shit. Deciding it was a bit of both, I chuckled nervously, turning back to the door and finally getting it opened. I led the way through the mud room, kicking off my muddy, bloody shoes and hoping they did the same before rushing into the living room to throw a blanket over the blood stain on the couch. I got most of the blood out, but my tan couch now had a pretty large brown spot that would probably be there forever.

"Bathroom is that way, through the kitchen. Only room off-limits is my bedroom. I'd say it's because I'm a lady but I'm too bloody to believe it myself right now. Beer is in the fridge, liquor in the freezer, and please, for the love of god, don't get my dog drunk!" They both looked at me, confused. "Listen, there is a precedent. Just don't, okay?" I opened the bedroom door, and all 250 pounds of German Rottweiler bum rushed me, nearly knocking me into Mr. Annoying. He's really just a big ol' teddy bear, but you wouldn't know it from looking at him. I love that about my doggy. I grabbed his harness and led him outside, hooking him to the chain and letting my cat in before making a bee-line to the bathroom, hearing Mr. Annoying mutter "Thought it was supposed to be a puppy," before turning the water on as hot as it would go and stripping off my now sticky, bloody clothes.

When the shower was done, I realized that nothing had really hit me yet. I should be curled up in a ball in a corner. I should be going nuts. There was no reason for me to be handling my discoveries of the last couple weeks this well, let alone my activities of the last few hours. Then again, I've dealt with a lot of grief, and I'm familiar with the way I tend to processes it. Keep moving forward, one foot in front of the other. If something is too difficult to deal with, you stick it somewhere in the back of your mind where it can't hurt you and move on until something stops you. If the little ball of hurt breaks open, you pick up the pieces and start over again.

Still dripping wet, wrapped in a towel, I rushed through the living room, hoping I moved quickly enough that no one noticed I forgot to bring a change of clothes into the bathroom with me. I toweled most of the water out of my hair and let it hang down my back, slipping into some leggings and a sweater before heading into the living room. When I come back, I saw that Ninja, my dog, was sitting next to Mr. Annoying, tail nubbin wagging excitedly as Mr. Annoying pretended to dislike him. I saw that Sam was sitting on the blanket that concealed the blood stain, and I grabbed the bottle of southern host that Mr. Annoying helped himself to off the coffee table, taking a couple of long pulls. I lit a cigarette to kill the burn.

"Those will kill you, you know." Sam points out.

"Apparently, so will vampires." I snapped back, taking what I think is a well-deserved drag.

Mr. Annoying snorted. I rolled my eyes.

"How long have you been hunting?" Sam changed the subject.

"Hunting? Vampires? This is my first time, officially."

"Officially?"

"Let's just say I've killed two total. One was tonight. The other was a couple weeks ago."

"In your house, right?" Mr. Annoying decided to contribute verbally to the conversation.

"I-" I didn't know what to say. I decided to say nothing.

"Well, that explains the blood stains." He shook his head and took a drink of the whiskey. I blushed.

"Remind me to get a refund on that oxy clean. It must have been defective." I tried to make light of the situation but failed. I rushed into the kitchen and rummaged in the fridge for a minute, popping some leftovers in the microwave. I came back with some reheated cherry pie. That led to the first spark of interest I saw in Mr. Annoying's eyes. "I made this to practice for Thanksgiving." I took a bite. "Hmmm… So good." I raised an eyebrow. Mr. Annoying was licking his lips. "You want some?"

"I mean… If you're offering, I won't turn down pie."

"Okay. How about I warm up some pie. And you guys can kindly explain what you are doing in town, killing vampires, what it means to be a hunter, and exactly what I got myself into."

A/n - Reviews/notes/rebloogs/critique=love! If there is enough interest, I will post the next chapter.