#[Smoking Mercenary {Main}]

[savanir]

continuation of this thank you again @mynameisjag for the inspiration, this prompt currently has me by the throat

Death of the Father, Death of the Son

The evening is dreary, rain pouring from the skies like tears. Typical Gotham fare to be honest.

This evening was the stage of the latest gala in the crime filled city, another fundraiser for something, or at least pretending to be. 

Vlad brought his dear Madeline as well as Jasmine with him, he was planning to do some light networking but this was also his latest attempt to cheer his sweetheart up. The new experience might distract her a bit.

She had not taken the news well… when the search party found Daniel’s clone corpse in the woods.

It’s been months since the funeral, but her spark for life still has not yet reignited.

And in those past few months Jasmine has seemingly taken over Daniel’s job and has become a most persistent thorn in Vlad’s side, absolutely refusing to let him make any sort of progress with Maddie.

But this evening wasn’t about any of that. There would be no bickering between Vlad and Jazz about him aiding her in finding her lost brother. Not like she even needed his help, she and Daniel’s old friends were probably doing the best job possible in finding the boy.

And it’s not like he could tell her he knew her brother was probably being kept by one of the world's greatest mercenaries. 

Revealing that would open a whole new can of worms he didn’t want to explain.

Maddie was mostly distracted at the gala, staring morosely at Wayne and his brood.

The sight fills Vlad with an insidious sort of anger, the kind that lays heavy and molten on the bottom of your stomach. She better not get it in her head to try and replace one bumbling oaf for the next.

Also… getting rid of a Wayne is apparently a weirdly difficult thing to do… Vlad would rather not bother.

And even though he feels bitter, it is rather nice to see Madeline cheer up when she gets to introduce herself to the boys. Vlad again thinks about his plan of conceiving a new son of their own, not to replace Daniel of course, the boy is irreplaceable but… well, yeah to replace him.

After all, is it really worth it to find Daniel anymore at this point?

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

The gala is uneventful right up until Vlad leaves the main area for a breath of fresh air, hopefully find the designated smoking area and have a cigarette (it’s not like those things can kill him anymore anyway) but on the way there he saw a shadow darting around the corner and he just couldn’t help himself.

If there was any illegal activity afoot, he rather be on top of it himself, that way he’ll know what he can pull and get away with.

It wasn't until he entered a room and promptly got ambushed that he thought that maybe he had walked into a trap of sorts, oh well, nothing Plasmius wouldn’t be able to fix.

Gotham is a city of freaks but none of them are on his power level after all.

Still, precious decisive reaction time got wasted because he’s thinking of an approach that would not result in him having to permanently silence his assailant. Murder is probably rough to cover up in the city that’s home to the world’s greatest detective and bribing the corrupt police force is such a hassle… a scuffle of a mugging/abduction or whatever gone wrong is much easier to explain.

Instead Vlad finds himself tazed, tazed of all things. Perhaps an ecto infused blast into the nearby wall isn’t such a bad idea after all.

But then he finds he can’t access his powers anymore, and a mild sense of dread takes root in his chest.

That taser… it couldn’t have been….

He isn't given much time to think about it as he’s expertly incapacitated and worked against the ground.

Vlad thinks he hears the faintest mutterings, something along the lines of “we do rely too much on our powers” perhaps it’s some veiled insult directed at his current situation. Uncalled for in his opinion…

Of course he struggles, he fights back. His attacker is way smaller than him, lighter and quick with their moves, whomever this is they certainly know what they are doing and Vlad hates to admit it, but without Plasmius he’s actually outmatched.

That leaves plain ol’ shouting for help.

An idea that quickly got snuffed out when a big army knife that crackles with sickly neon green energy gets pressed against his throat and a detonator gets shown off in his assailant’s hand.

“Quiet now, or I’ll blow this place sky high”

“That seems counterproductive” Vlad can’t help but snarl.

“aww, worried about me? there is no need I’ll be just fine, them on the other hand…”

the attacker puts a tablet down that shows a video feed of the main gala area with all the people milling about.

None of them matter to Vlad, but his Madeline and her daughter are there as well, he easily spots them too.

“What do you want, money? I’m sure there are better targets for that out there”

All of a sudden there is a strangely familiar staticy growl in his attacker’s voice, “I want two things from you, I want you to suffer and then I want you to die”

this is personal then… not good.

His attacker takes a moment to more firmly incapacitate Vlad against the floor before redirecting his attention to the video feed on the tablet screen. In the main gala area a big screen of it’s own has come down from the ceiling, usually meant for big fancy presentations (but those had already been carried out for the evening) and was now showing Vlad’s latest illegal activity for all the people to see.

Inside the room people are worriedly looking to and fro, wondering what rogue attack this will lead to, others are already gleefully taking to social media and broadcasting the events happening to the rest of the world.

Personnel are scrambling about to figure out what’s going on, and a couple Wayne’s have now subtly left the area.

“There we go, all out in the open. No more secrets”

Vlad’s eyes darted over the screen in horror.

“I like this right here,” his attacker zooms in on Maddie’s face as she’s realizing in real time that Vlad paid someone to kill her husband, “that’s a good face”

People are looking around and starting to notice Vlad is not among them anymore.

“You cannot possibly expect to get away with this, the Gotham bats are most likely already aware and hunting you down”

“I know-” His attacker shushes, “don’t spoil my fun, at least let me enjoy this show. Even if you somehow manage to get away from me now your life is completely ruined” 

Vlad makes another attempt to escape, growling, “who are you and why are you doing this, how do you even know about half of these things-”

He gets his hands ran through and pinned down fully on the ground with the knives in return.

Vlad figures he must have made some noise but the painful pressure that his assailant keeps on his back is also making it harder to breathe.

“C’mon now, you always boasted about how you’re better and more experienced in every way. Surely you can use that big brain of yours and figure this mystery out, here I’ll help-” the attacker painfully twists his head to the side, “have a look”

It’s dark and the figure is still very much in the shadows but the first thing that catches Vlad’s eyes is the mask over his assailant’s mouth that’s black on the right and orange on the left, a rather obvious hint towards ties with a certain mercenary.

The dark hair styled in that one familiar way brings someone else to mind.

“Daniel”

The boy doesn’t hesitate to twist one of the knives in his hand.

“Don’t call me that”

“Danny-” Vlad doesn’t hesitate to correct even though it does come out rather strangled because of the pain, this is a bad situation and he’s not stupid, “whatever he said-”

there is a faint crackle and it’s only through Vlad’s still slightly enhanced senses that he hears the gruff voice talking to Daniel.

“Wrap it up Memento”

Danny glances at the live feed on the tablet. Proper security is starting to swarm around.

Maddie is holding Jazz close and appears to be talking to someone in charge. One of the Wayne brood has decided to stick with her, the eldest son. How kind of him.

Vlad is still trying to get Danny to listen to him.

Danny sighs, “I kind of wish I could drag this out longer, but this is fine” he twists his knee against Vlad’s neck and now properly restrains Vlad’s legs before pulling out something new.

“This is something my dad was working on before you got him killed, I was planning on sabotaging it and getting rid of the blueprints but... things change”

Danny puts it in the middle of Vlad’s upper back, “I’m sure you’re dying to know what it does. Well, it’s the Fenton Ghost Core Crusher. A bit of a mouthful admittedly. I’m still workshopping a better name, but at the very least the purpose is obvious”

“Daniel-” Vlad is starting to sound like a parent who is realizing that their kid is about to do something dangerous and stupid. It's honestly too bad that he’s not a parent and Danny is not his kid, otherwise it might have actually had it’s intended effect.

“I would have loved to see you deal with the full aftermath and consequences of your horrible choices in life but I don’t really feel like dealing with you as a full ghost so I guess this is it, goodbye forever, it really sucked to have known you”

Vlad has a second to fully regret Deathstroke taking Daniel and not taking it as seriously as he should have and then he’s too busy feeling what must be a supernova and a blackhole manifesting in his chest at the same time somehow.

After that he hears, or perhaps he just feels… a sickening crack and everything fades away.

—✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*---*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧—

There is a corpse at Danny’s feet. It’s Vlad, fully dead, the not coming back kind.

Danny figured he’d feel different, there is some vindication, and the slight satisfaction of a death avenged, but other than that he just feels rather empty, and kind of tired.

Danny doesn’t realize he’s getting a little lost in his head until Slade’s voice cuts through his mental spiral and snaps him out of it.

“Memento, time to move” 

“right”

A part of Danny wants to stay, be found. As he goes invisible and floats right through the ceiling he takes some time to fantasize about it. Would it be a bat? or perhaps one of the security guards checking the rooms, maybe it would even be one of the attendees, they would probably scream once they noticed Vlad on the ground. A security guard would be smarter about the situation, but not by much.

A bat would probably attack him once they realized Vlad was already dead.

Later on they would put a little addendum in their rogue list at Deathstroke’s name, a little side file that’s just for Danny, affiliated with Slade Wilson, name; ???, gender; male, age; somewhere between 14 and 18, threat level; capable of killing people, something like that.

A few buildings away Danny catches up with Slade on the roof.

“Did you have fun? did you get it all out of your system?” Slade folds his arms over his chest.

Danny just growls at him.

“In that case it’s time to move on” The man is already turning away.

Well, Danny can agree on that, so he follows Deathstroke away from the mess he caused at the gala and away from his mother and sister.

And here is my idea for a Deathstroke affiliated Danny

[zxmbigirlfriend]

hopes peak academy tumblr dashboard simulator

🍡kusamochis Follow

i hate ultimates fuck off ultimates ultimates dni

🍀nagikomaeda Follow

reserve course lmao

🍡kusamochis Follow

YOU ARE LITERALLY WHO I’M TALKING ABOUT HERE

#except for @gamez4life you are the only exception ily

47 notes

🐉best-sister Follow

@lesbienning what are you gonna do? cancel me for “harassing ultimates”?

📸lesbienning Follow

123.69.420.51

🐉best-sister Follow

WHAT THE FUCK

1,609 notes

🐰gamez4life Following

why can’t reserve course and main course just get along :(

473 notes

🐺fenrir-mercenary Follow

@junko-enoshima-official how do you reblog

5 notes

🔮mageofdespair Follow

haiii!!! :3 our warrior cats animated series featuring our ocs “the rise of despairstar” has its first episode out now :3!!! Drawn primarily by @birdskinhater and voice acted by @totezadorbz, we’d like to say thank you to @junko-enoshima-official for helping give our project more recognyation!! :3333

💋junko-enoshima-official Following

#omgggg this slayed #not to be a warrior cats fan or anything but i TOTALLY LOVE despairstar she serves CUNT you with me she serves CUNT

21,394 notes

🍡kusamochis Follow

Getting brain surgery tmrw hope it goes well

11 notes

🎓hope’s-peak-academy Following

Clarification- our school has NOT taken part in any unsanctioned lobotomies. Such behaviour is abhorrent and we recommend that any reports of it are to be reported immediately.

2,356 notes

🍬candygurl Follow

just got expelled

21 notes

🍀nagikomaeda Follow

Finished my junko enoshima callout doc, you can find it here

#junko enoshima #anti junko enoshima #junko enoshima critical

685 notes

💉kill-your-self Follow

i stand with my cancelled wife

💉kill-your-self Follow

shut the fuck up about your fictional characters this is about my real-life girlfriend

3,687 notes

🎤ilovesayakamaizono Follow

shes so pretty it hurts…

#koma talks #i love her #sayakaposting

7 notes

🎸 bookidooks Following

IS THAT A FUCKING DEAD BODY

#WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCKKKKKK

9 notes

🐱cutesquish Follow

Fun fact: killing people is universally wrong! If you think otherwise you are a horrible person and I hope you fall in a tar pit!

📸lesbienning Follow

Fun fact: you shouldn’t be morally policing other people’s activities! Everyone has their own way of expressing themselves and you shouldn’t be forcing your views onto others! Op is an asshole, don’t listen to them!

🐱cutesquish Follow

what. what the FUCK.

🃏irlvamp Follow

Calm down. It is unnecessary to be throwing a fit after an innocent comment. I believe it is important to see both sides of the debate.

🐱cutesquish Follow

don’t you like run an illegal underground gambling ring

🎸 bookidooks Following

anyone here smoke weed

10,452 notes

🐰gamez4life Following

Playing this cool horror game… there’s “punishment” if you failed a task and there was this one were we had to go through all these traps and eventually got impaled… god it looked painful i would definitely not like to be in that game

#it was so sad too? Like we got a little bit of hope and then it got quenched out :( #i HATE the evil teacher btw how dare she betray us

5 notes

[rozaceous]

tcba epilogue: sasumari snippet

this was the main bulk of the epilogue, written even before i posted tcba on ao3. that is how old. ergo, some grain of salt w details pls as it is a v rough draft and some things would have to change for continuity or whatever, but this is the thing it all was angling for. sasumari qpr confirmed.

Watching Sasuke handle the freshly-changed newborn with such intense gentleness while she scrubs off her hands with a shake of chakra, Mariko is bludgeoned with the realization that Sasuke likes babies, and that a sense of responsibility hasn't been his sole driving motivation. And while she reels dizzily from that revelation, she thinks, We can have babies.

And then Mariko stops thinking for a while because that was one too many revelations for it not even being dawn yet.

She has no idea what they think they're doing in the first place. The two of them coming across a raided village with a dying pregnant woman that Mariko hadn't been able to save, and then deciding that they couldn't just leave an infant in a smoking village to die, and then not trusting that the girl wouldn't just meet the same fate the next town over had turned into Mariko manipulating her own hormones to be able to nurse a two day-old baby. And here they are, nearly two weeks out, traveling with a baby in between destabilizing hidden villages and international economies and dodging mercenaries, and she's realizing that the truth of it is that neither of them is gutsy enough to say that they don't think they're giving her up besides all of that. Instead, they've been politely not talking about just such a thing so that they can maintain their fiction of being ruthless shinobi instead of a pair of dysfunctional nineteen year-olds who randomly adopt a baby together despite leading desperately dangerous lives.

God and her boobs hurt. Breast-feeding is no joke; her nipples are chapped and her boobs are sore from going from zero to nursing in the span of thirty-six hours. Her entire upper torso hurts, actually, from having to accommodate the abrupt change in her weight, and the hormonal shift means that she's breaking out for the first time in her life because she's too busy maintaining the hormones and keeping a newborn alive and happy besides her usual maintenance of the Sharingan to have focus to spare to use medical chakra to get rid of her acne.

At least she hasn't actually given birth, because Mariko isn't sure she would be even moderately functional if that were the case.

But instead of pondering any of that mess too deeply, she lets Sasuke bundle the baby up to sleep with him and passes the fuck out. Shun has watch, it's fine.

She doesn't say anything in the morning, either. She feeds the baby, feeling all sorts of soft and sappy and not entirely sure that it's entirely hormonal, because when she looks up, Sasuke is staring at her from across the campsite, staring at them, and to anyone else his expression might be unreadable, but to her all she sees is naked want.

And fine, it's only been a week and a half and by civilian standards they aren't even legal adults yet, but Sasuke has never once complained when the baby cried, has taken her for changing numerous times without Mariko asking, does extra chores, and asks to hold her. Granted that last is in his own, 'I'll take her' Sasuke-style verbiage that makes it seem less about him expressly wanting to do so, but Mariko knows him. And Mariko knows that if she were so diametrically opposed to this entire enterprise, she never would have made herself start lactating, and would've foisted the baby off on the first set of reasonably competent-looking parents she could find, that she wouldn't sing to the baby to calm her from her fussing, wouldn't share comments with Sasuke about how small her hands are with one of those hands gripped around her pinky, wouldn't speculate with him what color her eyes would settle as. (Sasuke thinks dark blue, but Mariko thinks black. She says that she has statistics on her side and Sasuke says that he has the power of basic observation on his and is she sure she isn't still colorblind.)

So to see him staring like that doesn't surprise her as such, but it makes her look away because of how naked it makes her feel to look back. And not naked as in, here she is in the middle of a mountainous forest tits-out kind of naked, because if this was about clothes then they've seen each other naked plenty of times, but naked as in, returning his gaze means he knows that she's thought 'we can have babies,' or at least the equivalent of that thought, and having Sasuke know that about her when she's only known that about herself for less than twelve hours is a bit much.

And so yes, it's all less surprising and more very tender feeling, like a spot that's liable to bruise, and Mariko is just enough of a coward to not to want to prod at it too much.

Instead she looks down at her baby--

And slams the mental brakes because yep, she's in for it now, she's really done it, there's no going back, the river has been crossed. Ha. Ha ha.

Well. No more fooling herself.

She looks back at Sasuke, who's still watching them, makes a sort of tilt of her head that means come here, and then Sasuke's at her side instead of filleting fish, kneeled on the ground where she's cross-legged.

"She needs a name," is what Mariko says, almost like she's hearing someone else say the words. "We can't just keep calling her anoko or Ko-chan." She pauses, thinks a moment, and says dubiously, "Unless you want to name her Kou. I guess that would be…efficient."

Lazy is more like.

Sasuke's eyes go a bit wide. He looks down at the child in question. "A name, huh?"

---

They return to the base in Sound by the time Yasumi is a month and a half old, and she's snug and hidden in her wrap against Mariko's chest under her kimono top and haori, so they don't draw many strange looks until they're waylaid by Juugo and Karin as they're setting down their packs in their dusty entryway and Mariko has to dodge Karin's hug.

"Uhh," says Karin, confused and apologetic, looking her over more carefully, questing for injuries.

"I'm fine," Mariko says hastily. "It's just--"

As if cued, Yasumi starts to whimper and snuffle.

All four of them freeze, and Mariko tries not to glance sideways at Sasuke like a caught-out preteen.

"Is that…a baby?" says Karin cautiously.

"Maybe," says Mariko, like a dumbass.

Yasumi cries louder. Mariko winces and starts shifting fabric around until she's latched onto a nipple. Juugo only seems to realize he's staring at her naked boob after several long moments of shared speechlessness, and then looks away politely, if wild-eyed.

"I'm pretty sure there's no 'maybe' about that baby," says Karin, sounding a bit faint. "Like, that is definitely a baby sucking on your tit, Mariko."

"I mean, you're not wrong."

Sasuke is determinedly not meeting anyone's eye.

"I'm sure that we didn't leave the two of you alone long enough for this to have happened," Juugo says.

Mariko feels a deep flush cover her face, sees something similar happening along Sasuke's cheekbones and ears. If they weren't in the middle of having to explain a mystery baby, she'd think it was adorable. She's only seen him blush a handful of times in her life.

"Five months is not long enough for a baby," Karin agrees. "So why--how--baby?!"

"We found her," Sasuke says. "Her mother died, the village was basically ash--we couldn't leave her."

"So naturally the best option is to just adopt her," Karin says sarcastically.

Neither Sasuke nor Mariko reply to that.

"Oh my god!" Karin bursts out. "Seriously?! You found some strange baby and decided to just keep her?!"

Juugo closes the front door.

"You two are some of the most wanted people on the entire Continent! The bounties on your heads are worth a small country! And you just randomly adopt a baby?! Are you stupid?! You--I--since when are the two of you even sleeping together?!"

Mariko and Sasuke frown in unison at that, because what does that have to do with it?

"Technically we've slept together since the age of twelve," Sasuke says, surly.

"Oh, don't be--you know what I mean! Whatever, you've been doing the whole bedroll-sharing thing for years, blah blah! I mean, Mariko's had this whole under-the-table booty call thing off and on with Haku, and you two are connected at the hip, but you've never been together." But Karin retracts the finger she's been jabbing in their direction, looking between them with sudden uncertainty. "Right? You weren't--you're not together?"

"We haven't been secretly having sex for the past few years, no," Mariko says dryly. Meanwhile, Yasumi detaches herself from her breast, making soft noises. "Not that it's your business, really."

Karin puffs right back up, bright hair tossing over a shoulder, and hands on her hips. "Well, excuse me, but when you bring back a baby together and are implying that she's yours now--you're basically saying that you're her parents!"

Mariko stiffens, because that's a word that she's successfully avoided thinking, even though she's thought the equivalent of its meaning with quite a bit of depth. But when she looks over to Sasuke, he's just frowning at Karin, apparently confused.

"Who else would I have children with but Mariko?" he asks.

Karin has no reply to that; her jaw is locked open. Juugo has his eyebrows up, but doesn't look like he's had the rug pulled out from under him the way Karin does.

Mariko--Mariko can't say exactly the same as Sasuke, mostly because Sasuke says it like he's never even thought about having children except in the context of 'with Mariko.' And Mariko, in contrast, has thought about having children a lot, because talented kunoichi without bloodlines were considered valuable in a way that meant that there was a lot of semi-public conversation about who she'd make a good match for back in Konoha, as soon as she'd visibly hit puberty. Shinobi placed a lot of stock in--well, in one's stock, and to avoid inbreeding to the point of injury, clans liked to bring in fresh blood that was unlikely to rock the genetic boat. Or, hopefully, improve it. And having graduated in a class full of clan heirs and with bloodline geniuses for peers, while herself having gotten a swift series of promotions and an apprenticeship with one of the village's most notorious shinobi…Mariko had always been considered a hot commodity insofar as the older generation was concerned. Her relationship with Haku had garnered a lot of attention, and the possibility of him marrying into Konoha and having children had been a big reason for it.

So if Mariko's ever thought seriously about having children one day, she'd either thought that it wasn't likely because she was planning a societal revolution and was likely to die before reproducing or just be too damn busy, or she'd thought that she might pop out a kid or two with whomever was most convenient to marry and do her best not to fuck them up irreparably.

Hearing Sasuke essentially say that he wouldn't consider having children with anyone but her is functionally the same as when she'd thought 'we can have lots of babies' in a sleep-deprived stupor: it's a conclusion that she should have arrived at sooner, but is incredible and stunning in how normal it felt when she stopped and really thought about it.

Mariko takes Yasumi out of her wrap and faces her towards Karin.

"She's super cute," Mariko says solemnly. "We named her Yasumi. She sleeps a ton and is ridiculously snuggly. We want you to be her godmother."

She shifts Yasumi into Karin's arms, who takes her seemingly on autopilot with an expression like she's been hit over the head. Mariko doesn't even have to tell her to support her head.

Karin stares at Yasumi like she's never seen a baby before in her life.

"We were going to ask both of you, actually," says Sasuke. "To be godparents."

"Me?" says Juugo, alarmed.

"You," Sasuke confirms.

"Naruto'll be pissed when he finds out," adds Mariko, "but I basically raised that guy and he shouldn't be allowed around small children unattended for at least another decade. Besides the whole political situation thing."

"If it's really that important, he can be a godparent later," Sasuke says dismissively.

Mariko turns to him with narrowed eyes. "Someone's getting ahead of himself."

Sasuke seems to realize what he's said and looks as close as he ever gets to sheepish. "Sorry."

"Mmhm."

"Of course this is what you do," Karin says dully. "We leave the two of you alone for five months and think, 'Oh, well, the plan is already for them to fuck things up, how bad can it get?' and then we get reminded that it's you two and that when left unattended you'll both take down an international human trafficking market and find a stray baby to adopt."

"They weren't necessarily any better when we were there to try to stop them," Juugo says, smiling crookedly as he stands closer to Karin, peering at Yasumi. "I know you remember starting an entire labor movement with the civilian printer's guild in Grass when we were just there to steal a press."

"Just because I remember doesn't mean I want to be reminded," Karin grouses.

Sasuke apparently is satisfied that the situation is more or less resolved and sets about unpacking, dragging their bags just off the kitchen; Mariko follows suit and sweeps her chakra around the hall's surfaces, and then the kitchen's, and collects all the dust into a single great bunny of allergens, opens the kitchen window, and has it hop outside. Sasuke turns to stare at her for that last bit.

"Gross," he informs her.

She just shrugs. She animates dust into literal bunnies--sue her. It's not her fault that not everyone appreciates a good pun.

[rkiveinmarvel]

in all the seas - sanji vinsmoke. des. fluff. post-timeskip!sanji. the one time sanji left baratie: led him back to you. notes. sanji might be ooc. this is a test fic, i just miss my boy so much. fluffy! fluffy! fluffy! sanji meets enemies-to-lovers troupe, poor boy is nosebleeding again, mentions of smoking (don't smoke too much, guys!), mentions of the straw hat pirates shenanigans. i miss sanji, i want to kiss his forehead and give him a hug! ;<

hey! it's my first time writing for op (gosh, i remember when i said i won't write a fic for anime anymore but here i am now enjoying skypiea zoro ;P what a clown) n e way, sanji might be a little ooc here but i miss him so here you go, a fluffy sanji. i wrote this around 1 am so, please enjoy! happy holidays!

w.c: 2k (and i oop--)

Sanji was indeed a man with a lot of tricks up his sleeves: he’s from the family of mercenaries, part of the famous Straw Hats Pirate, and of course one of the greatest chef in all the seas, with his handsome face, strong kicks and talent in the kitchen, one could assume he’s everything a person can wish for, and that he is.

You’ve been working at the Baratie for years ever since the restaurant found its place on the East Blue, as a kid you were raised by Zeff along with a blonde kid who hates putting artificially made flavor on a dish. You cooked something with something artificially made, he hates it. He cooks you something, you hate it. It was a game of cat and mouse but somehow, Zeff saw this a familiar scene and a everlasting promise between two kids that somehow will always find each other.

“Sanji! I’m hungry!” The voice of Luffy woke Sanji’s staring into space, as the cook of the straw hat stood up, the sharpshooter of straw hats watches him intently. “Sanji, is there something wrong?” Then, he met Usopp’s wondering eyes, as in the back of his mind, he is back in the Baratie, back to you. He lightly shook his head, ignoring the sharpshooter’s question: was it the empty space of the kitchen that made him wish he was with you, was it the vast sea that made him wish you see the lovely view too, was it his new family made him wish that you should’ve met them too, instead of speaking out his thoughts and secrets, he gave Usopp a smile, perhaps a reminder to the sharp shooter that their cook is alright. 

The lingering look of longing is still on Sanji’s face until their next voyage on the vast sea, it made the straw hat worry, hell, even the swordsman is now giving Sanji a look of worry, but somehow, when the crew has met a nearby island, they hoped that their cook would have a peace of mind, a recollection of what he longs for, what his face wishes for. As the reached the shore, the crew pushed Sanji out of the ship as they gave him a reassuring look to take all the time he needs to fill the void that’s slipping in his emotion, face, and his cooking.

As he walked to the island’s market, a familiar scent danced in his nose, a cooking that smells like his first home, as his feet lead the way into a fully packed restaurant, a familiar sight of food greeted him. He immediately sat somewhere on an empty table as he scans the menu.

The time pass by faster than he expected, as for once, he ate the food with a smile on his face, perhaps, realizing that he may have a competition in being the best chef in all seas: but this trivial things did not bother him, until, he tasted an articially made flavor on one of the dishes. Instead of throwing his anger like he always do when arguing with the straw hat’s swordsman, he clicked his tongue and requested to talk to the main chef of the restaurant.

Clink. Click. Clink.

Empty Dishes after empty dishes came into the kitchen, with a smile on your face you were happy with the unending order in the restaurant, until your new waiter had come bearing news about the blonde guy at table 19, with a tired sigh, you removed your apron and went outside to talk to the blonde guy at table 19.

Clink. Click. Clink.

“What seems to be the problem–Sanji?” Your eyes widened as your eyes seem to betray the sight infront of you. The blonde man then catches your surprise gaze as he was about to light his cigarette. “Oi–your..” he stopped at his words as he catches and drowned himself into a familiar sight. You’re here. You’re here infront of him. 

Instead of saying anything, the both of you seemed to memorize each others faces. 2 Years is indeed a long time, you noticed his growing beard, he memorized the length of your hair, you noticed his new suit, he noticed the tired yet happy look on your face.

“So, you left Baratie.” The both of you uttered the same time, as a chuckle left your lips: Sanji felt like crying—he missed you so damn much. “Bet Zeff didn’t let you go that easily.” He commented as he gestured you to seat. “He actually did, telling me to look for you and kick your ass as we saw your new bounty.” You laughed as Sanji bottled that laugh in his ear. 

“Did he now…” He countered as he lips curved into a soft smile. “Stop looking at me like that.” You immediately notice his gaze, making him look away. “Looking you like what?”

Clink. Click. Clink.

—----

Clink. Click. Clink.

“Heard the Straw Hat invited you to be in his crew..” You stated as you sat next on the deck with Sanji as he lit his cigarette. He looked away as you asked the question. “He did. I don’t want to.” He openly sighed and filled the space with smoke, as you click your tongue, you grabbed the cigarette on his hand, and inhaled the smoke yourself. “So, I guess you’ll be here in the Baratie in all the end of time.” I laughed. 

“What? Do you plan to leave?” He wondered as you meet his knowing look as you just laid your head on his shoulder. “Depends. Your cooking sucks.” He chuckled as he glared at you. “You use artificial flavors in your cooking!” He sounded so offended. 

You nodded as you gave back his cigarette. “Go.” He knows that look, he’s way too familiar with that look. “Zeff can handle Baratie himself, that old man can be anything he wants. So, go.” 

Clink. Click. Clink.

“I’ll be fine, Sanji.” His voice seems to blend with sea and the seagulls. “It’s not about you.” He looked away as he hid his blush. “Is it?” I chuckled as you stood up and knelt infront of him. “I’ll be alright, Sanji, and besides, didn’t you say you’re going to prove to me that All Blue is real, how can you do that with you staying here.” 

“You’re really making this hard for me, you know..” He grumbles as you gave him a look. “I tend to make you suffer until the end of time, Sanji.” You smiled.

“Stop looking at me like that.” He softly uttered as he leaned in. “Looking you like what?” You replied as you closed the distance feeling his warm lips on yours, as the noise of the sea seem to silenced at this moment, seems like the seagulls have found a place to rest, seems like the warm rays of the sun has bit put on rest. As you pulled away, you met his eyes. “I’m still a better cook than you, you know.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I know. I know. Get out there, Sanji.” You smiled as you stood up, walking away from him, leaving the blonde boy with a distinct nosebleed and a lovesick smile on his face.

—-------

“So, you’re here.” He said with a smile. “Good to see, you still have your both feet on the ground.” You smiled as you saw that his bangs have changed its position. “You changed your look.” You commented as he just stares at you. 

“What?” You wondered as he just looked at the food: “You used artificially made flavors.” He complained as you rolled your eyes and just snickered. “You never really got over it, didn’t you?” you laughed. “Why don’t you walk over our kitchen, Mr. Sanji.” You teased as you stood up and lead him to the kitchen. 

The tour in the kitchen was just short and subtle; it surprised him that the artificial flavor he hates was actually made by you: he find it funny and continue to tell you that he is the best cook in all seas. By the time the tour finish, he caught a familiar wanted poster hanged on the wall. A poster that he hates so much.

“Seriously, that poster?” He rolled his eyes at you. It was his first wanted poster with no picture attached but an illustration. You chuckled at his antics: “What? The artist took your beauty really well.” You chuckled, as you stare at him.

“I miss you too, by the way.” You stood closer to him as he walked towards the wanted poster hanged on the wall. He blushes as he looked at you. “Does your miss kinda works its way on you giving me a ki–”

“ORDER UP!” Before he can continue, orders came in like a wave from the sea, Sanji frowned at the timing. “Oi, loverboy, talk to you later.” You tapped his shoulder as you left him on the corner, with a smile on his face. He hid his blush and walked back to their ship.

—-----

A familiar straw hat greeted your eyes as you walked on the shore. “OI!! SANJI!!” He shouted happily, as you noticed Sanji walking down excitedly as you approached their ship. As he ran towards you, he gave you a tight hug. “You’re acting like we didn’t talk earlier.” You grumbled in his hug, as you return it. “I had to keep my appearances, there were bounty hunters in the restaurant, after all. If they knew I had some connection on you, they might–”

You punched him lightly on his stomach. “I can handle myself, Sanji.” You sighed: “We’re both raised by Zeff, you know how he is.” you ran your hand in your hair as you looked at Sanji’s face dancing the sunset’s rays. With a teary-eye he looked at you: ah, they’re going to leave again. 

You nodded as you just offered your hand to Sanji as you both walk, quietly and appreciating the fondness of the gift of time in the shore. As you two walked, Sanji noticed that you never let go of his hand. “You actually missed me.” He said in such proud tone. He waited for a teasing remarks instead, you just nodded which surprised him.

“Missed you so much, ‘Ji.” You admit as he stopped his tracks and looked at you. Without saying anything, you embraced him as you hid yourself in his chest: god, he missed you too—so damn, much. He just nodded and hugged back your deep embrace. As the sun continue to bathe in the sea, you whispered the stories on how you got to the island and leaving Baratie. He listened intently as he drew circles in your hands, as the moon slowly reveal itself in the sky. He kissed your hand.

“Will you be here, ‘till I find the All Blue?” He asked, but his tone was pleading and full of hope. And just like before, you lay down your head on his shoulder: but this time, you grabbed a cigarette and lit it up as he muttered. “I’ll come back, you know that right?” He smiled as he grabbed the cigarette from your hand as he inhaled the smoke. You just nodded as you held him a little closer: for once, he thanked the past that you let him go—not only because he met an amazing crew but for once, you looked at him: not as a rival in cooking but someone—as your person. 

He thought the kiss from the past was just a mere kiss of heat of the moment, but here you are next to him and you looked so gorgeous—as if he was made to see you in all your shining glory—the lingering looks, the bickering, it all leads him back to you. “Go.” You muttered as he smiled as he kissed your hand. “We’ll be alright, Sanji.” That’s it, he leaned in and gave you a knowing kiss, a kiss that bears a sorry for the two years he wasn’t able to hold you and a kiss that carries promise of the upcoming and untold stories of the both of you—and by all the pirates in the world, he can’t wait to spend the rest of his days next to you in all eons, in all times, and definitely in all the seas.

fluff is like a new ground for me lmao, angsty-fluffy zoro and luffy coming right up!

⚘ masterlist 1 | 2 | 3

[tatooineknights]

Day Six: Not Realizing They're Injured

Luke Skywalker cursed under his breath as a plasma canon shot through the side of his X-wing, sending the ship on a spiraling downturn. This was just supposed to be an ordinary patrol – Imperial presence was supposed to be their main concern, so of course, the area happened to be a hotbed for pirates and mercenaries instead. “We’ve got to stabilize! Artoo, see what you can do, I’ll try to keep us in one piece!” He shouted, trying to compensate for the incredible turbulence as the ship spun out of control.

“This is Red Five, I’ve been hit,” he stammered, feeling the shockwave of an explosion behind him. The shower of sparks illuminated his cockpit, forcing him to look back with a gasp. Luke let out an exhale when he realized it was the ship that had attacked him, and not one of his own. Artoo beeped and whistled tirelessly from above, causing Luke to look down at the communicator. “The moon? Artoo, that isn’t an option, I can’t land in this condition! I don’t care if it is habitable, see what else you can—”

But the inertia of the moon’s gravity began to sink the X-wing down into the atmosphere, causing the damaged ship to zoom straight down by the nose. Guess we’re doing this, Luke thought to himself, licking his lips as he tried to maneuver the ship upwards to the best of his ability.

“I know, Artoo! I know! Let me concentrate!”

Luke braced for impact as he saw the chalky grey texture of the wasteland below, hoping that he could save the two of them from an imminent explosion. Keep pulling up; pull up! Don’t let the nose go straight down! Just as the ship began to recover, the damaged wing struck the side of a large rock formation, separating it from the cockpit, and spinning it horizontally instead of vertically.

The force of the impact was so great that Luke’s head slammed into the side panel of the cockpit; the helmet took the brunt of the hit, shattering the glass of his vizor, slightly cutting into the area below his eye. Luke’s vision glazed as he rocked back, a loud white noise filling his ears as he uselessly watched the X-wing dwindle down to the surface, unable to react as the other wing was soon torn to shreds – if it weren’t for the constant ringing in his ears, Luke would have noticed the loud wind that he was now exposed to as the hull began to shutter, as well as the exasperated cries of Artoo.

Images of his own death flashed before his eyes, his blue eyes staring straight ahead in a stupor, blinking autonomously. This was it; this was how Luke Skywalker, the last of the Jedi, would end. As he took one last breath, he found himself ejected from the cockpit, tearing into a dislodged panel, and flying out into open air. A stabilizing pack strapped to his uniform allowed him to avoid death, looking up as Artoo flew into the air himself; the droid must have saved them both.

As Luke raised his hand to his friend, looking on with a smile at their miraculous survival, his head crashed into the side of a rock, where everything soon went dark.

Beep.

Oh, his head.

Beep, boop-boop. Beep?

What… where was he? What happened? Luke grimaced as his eyes opened, looking up at his companion right at his side, rocking back and forth in jubilation. “I’m alright, Artoo,” he said, wiping off some dried blood from where the glass met his face earlier. “I think so, anyways.”

Everything around him felt so blurred, almost unreal. Cold and warm, equally, as his vision slowly came back to him. “I feel like I’m not even here,” he said to the droid, though almost as much to himself. The smoke of his former ship rose in the atmosphere, the husk of it’s remains ablaze across the ashen wasteland. “Good thing it was a spare and not our usual one, huh, buddy?”

Artoo whistled as Luke sat up.

“You alright? Yeah? That’s good. Next time, let’s try something other than landing on a moon,” Luke said with a sarcastic edge, though obviously thankful at his small friend for saving their lives. He nodded to Artoo, putting a hand on his chassis, as he used the weight to hoist himself up and—

“Aah!”

A blinding pain in his leg shot out from nowhere, sending him falling back down and bumping his head against the same rock. His friend worriedly beeped and whistled at his response, shaking over to his side. Biting down on his lip, Luke looked down at his leg: kriff, was all he could muster inside that head of his.

A piece of the panel had cut through the orange flightsuit and into the upper part of his thigh. The tanned pink of his skin and the white fabric of his underclothes were stained with a crimson red, adorned by a narrow line of a wound that made it difficult to walk. “I didn’t even notice,” Luke said, exasperated as that mixture of warm and cold seemed to seep all around him. “I don’t think I can stand.”

The wounded Jedi unzipped the top of his flight suit, taking out a small knife from one of the pouches of his belt. He sliced through it and tore a few strands off the sleeve, wrapping them in a circle over the wound. “That’ll help,” Luke winced, his heartbeat erratic and all over the place. “Did they get our message, Artoo? When we got hit? Did they see us coming down?”

The droid comfortingly let out a low chirp, easing his fears, before going as close to Luke’s side as he could. Luke’s hand clung to him, an incredulous smile on his face. Another X-wing began to form through the clouds of the moon’s atmosphere, causing Luke to let out an exhale of relief.

“I owe you one, buddy,” Luke said, looking at his small friend, patting him as he tried to fight off the pain. The ship was heading downward now, a beacon in the barren landscape. The duo would live to see another day; funny how such an ordinary patrol could end in such an extraordinary way.

[hugmekenobi]

S3: The Bad Batch (2)

Chapter Two: Paths Unknown

Gif by @leemarkies

Hunter x femaleJedi!reader

Series Summary: Ever since Eriadu, Clone Force 99 had been a fractured squad. Months have passed but you're finally back with the Batch but Omega is still out there and you won't stop until you find her again.

Chapter Summary: Following a lead, the three of you make some headway in your search for Omega and come across something unexpected

Masterlist for S1 and S2

<Previous Chapter

Genre: Friends (idiots) to Lovers (we're in the lovers stage now)

Chapter Warnings: Canon-typical violence, brief mentions of spice/drug use, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, more of my lil additions and interpretations of headspaces, very light PDA

Word Count: 5.6K

Author's notes: Well, this morning without an episode felt very strange but here's the second chapter! Still sticking very closely to how the episode goes but hope people still enjoy! And stay tuned for Chapter 3 since I'll be posting it after this one!

Oba Diah

“Halt-”

A quick wave of your hand sent them screaming over the sides of the bridge.

“Gotta say, it’s been handy having you be able to use your Jedi powers like this now.” Wrecker commented.

“You won’t be saying that if bounty hunters start interrupting us again.” You replied back as he and Hunter fired on the next set of guards. But you had to agree that not hiding had definitely made certain things easier.

The three of you steadily advanced towards the building. Even in this planet’s gloomy light of day, one would only need to look at the three of you to tell you’d been moving non-stop.

The once bright and vibrant colours that decorated each of you had grown dull and faded.

Hunter’s scarf was long gone, and he was missing his right shoulder pauldron.

It wasn’t just his though, each of you had a story written all over your armour. All of your armour, including what little you personally had, was scratched, worn, and cracked with extreme use.

“Ready?” Hunter asked through his helmet when the three of you reached the main doors.

You unclipped your lightsaber and Wrecker prepared the smoke grenades in response.

--

The head Pyke lounged back in his chair, smoking some of the good quality spice he kept for himself as he listened to his associates break down this rotation’s numbers and so far, everything was sounding good.

As a natural silence descended for the transition into the next phase of the meeting, a sudden darkness swarmed the room and a cloud of smoke spread as the door to the meeting room crashed open.

At first all the head Pyke could hear was an ignition followed by a low thrumming and he made out the faint outline holding a hilt that sparked from it a blue blade of light being flanked by two more outlines. Then he squinted as he saw the dark figures split off. His people did what they could, but their blaster fire was useless, and he heard the thumps of bodies falling around him but before he had the chance to act for his own protection, he registered the blue stun bolt being fired in his direction and his sight went black.

--

“Who stands before me next?” Isa Durand asked her son from her throne in her court room.

Roland nodded to the door.

As the door opened, Hunter shoved the Pyke through the entryway and when he stopped at the threshold, he pushed him forward again.

You and Wrecker followed close behind and the group of you made your way onto the holoplatform that rested over a bottomless pit. You followed the helmeted example of the others and kept your hood and mask on.  

“The mercenaries we discussed.” Roland informed his mother.

“Such courage to demand an audience with me. You’d be dead if my son hadn’t convinced me to consider your offer.” Isa said frostily.

Hunter pulled the broken horn out. “And we’re here to deliver.” He threw it to Roland. “You asked for the Pyke who disgraced your family.”

“He’s all yours.” Wrecker added.

“It won’t be traced back to you. We made sure of it.” Hunter said with a cool disposition.

“Take him below.” Isa ordered her guards.

“No. No!” The Pyke struggled against his captors as he was dragged out the room, but it was no use. “This isn’t over, Durand!”

His cries were shut out as the door closed.

“Impressive.” Isa stated simply before she looked between the three people standing before her. “Your willingness to cross the Pykes and to associate yourselves with such a valuable but dangerous commodity…” She fixed her stare on you. “Well, it shows how desperate you are.”

You felt Hunter and Wrecker glance your way, but you were determined to give her no reaction.

Impressed by your steadfastness, Isa continued her questioning but directed it towards you, “Tell me, Jedi. Why is the intel you’ve requested of such value to you?”

You took half a step forward between Hunter and Wrecker, so you were slightly in front of them. You kept your voice steady and firm. “Dr. Hemlock stole someone from us. We heard your syndicate had the connections needed to find the Imperial’s base. And since we’ve upheld out end of the bargain, now it’s your turn.”

The three of you watched as Isa and Roland shared a look before she pressed a button on the arm of her chair. It was then you heard a faint electrical humming and the sound of gears clanking and were relieved to see that she was extending the platform out for Roland to make his way to you.

“Hemlock’s whereabouts have been well guarded by the Empire, but one of our sources came across these coordinates linked to his laboratory.” He held the puck out to the clone in charge.

“And they’ve been verified?” Hunter asked.

“Take what you came for and go, before my generosity runs out and I report your Jedi companion.” Isa interrupted.

That caused both you and Hunter to tense up, but Wrecker placed a gentle hand on your shoulders in appeasement.

“I hope you find who you’re looking for.” Roland said by way of farewell with a knowing look behind his eyes.

The three of you left the courtroom and headed to the Marauder.

--

“Come on, Echo, you really can’t-”

“I wish I could, (Y/N), but we’re spread pretty thin right now. This is the best I can offer you.” Echo replied back with a grimace.

You sighed in frustrated acceptance. “No, we get it. I’m sorry.” You turned away from the holographic image to stare down the hallway towards Hunter who was busy tapping various buttons on the navicomputer with his pointer fingers and alternating his gaze between that screen and the datapad. He looked so uncomfortable and out of his element that it cut you deeply to see him like that. You saw his eyes lift and stare and both Tech’s broken goggles and Lula in Omega’s room before they instantly went back to the screens, and you could sense the anxiety around him. You nudged Wrecker to signal that you needed to go.

“We’ll let Hunter know. Stay safe, Echo.” Wrecker said.

“You too.” With that, he signed off.

“He’s not gonna take this well.” Wrecker muttered to you.

“Can’t really blame him though.” You replied gloomily before the two of you walked down the corridor to where he was sitting.

Hunter swivelled his chair to face the two of you.

You came to stand behind his chair and braced your hands on his shoulders as a means of support before Wrecker spoke.

“Echo said he and Rex need two rotations before they can meet us at the coordinates.” Wrecker informed him.

Hunter pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. “That’s not good enough.” He pulled away from you and got to his feet. “We’re going now.”

You and Wrecker shared a concerned look and Wrecker grabbed his brother’s shoulder. “Hunter, the last time we stormed an Imperial base without backup, not all of us made it out.”

“Just take a second to think about this, Hunter. Please.” You suggested delicately.

Hunter took a calming breath, but his mind was made up. He walked past you both and slid into the pilot’s seat and got the ship ready to leave hyperspace. “Omega’s been waiting for us a long time. I’m not making her wait another day.”

--

On the surface, the scenic jungle planet should’ve been a pleasant enough place to land in, but as soon as the three of you stepped outside, your eyes watered as your nostrils were hit with a horrid stench of rot and decay.

“It smells like rancid Jotaz out here.”  Wrecker groaned.

“There’s nothing on the scanners.” Hunter said, pushing his own disgust at the smell away.

“The Empire could be jamming our sensors.” You offered as you and Wrecker followed behind him. You still weren’t used to seeing him with Tech’s datapad and you were sure he still wasn’t either.

--

All that sounded through the canopy was the rhythmic sound of the datapad and your footsteps but as you came across out outcrop, and saw what waste was ahead, your heart sank.

Hunter brought out his binoculars and his own anxiety spiked as he saw the utterly decimated lab. “Oh no.”

“That’s Hemlock’s lab?” Wrecker asked in horrified awe.

Hunter put the binoculars away. “They destroyed it. Another orbital bombardment.”

“But Omega. I- if she was here-”

“We don’t know if she was.” Hunter interrupted sharply. “The Durands’ intel could be wrong.” He almost hoped it was. “Let’s get down there and check it out.”

You watched Hunter jog away but before you followed, you slapped Wrecker’s arm. That is a thought you keep to yourself.

“I don’t want it to be true, but someone had to say it.” Wrecker protested.

You conceded the point with a dip of your head. How about just wait until we have confirmation of the situation first, okay? Dwelling on a potential outcome won’t help any of us.

Wrecker nodded in agreement and the two of you left to catch up with Hunter.

--

The sound of branches rustling and snapping caused you all to stop and draw your weapons.

“Freeze!”

The three of you were surrounded by two young boys holding spear-like weapons in your direction but something about them felt very familiar.

“Blaster bears stick, kid.” Wrecker said with a confident laugh.

Hunter relaxed his stance as it clicked with him who they were. “They’re regs.”

“And who are you?” The one on the left asked.

Hunter and Wrecker took off their helmets. “We’re clones. Same as you.” Hunter said calmly.

“You don’t look like clones. And she’s definitely not one.” The same one said suspiciously with a pointed look in your direction.

“They must be 99s.” The other clone guessed. “Defectives.”

“Defective and effective.” Wrecker said proudly.

The same clone that figured out who they were peered past them to look at you and his eyes widened as he caught the weapon you were attaching back to your belt. “And you’re… woah… you’re a Jedi.”

You lowered your mask and offered a half smile. “I used to be.”

“What are you two doing out here?” Hunter asked.

“What’s it look like? Surviving.” The one that had first spoken answered frostily. “Or trying to. No thanks to the Empire.”

Your attentions turned to the other boy as he asked, “They send you to finish us off?”

“Do we look like we’re with the Empire?” You countered. “You said it yourself, I’m a Jedi and believe me, there’s no love shared for my kind anymore. And, well, just look at these two.” You pointed to Hunter and Wrecker. “They look like Imperial troops to you?”

He considered that for a moment before inquiring, “What do you want?”

“We’re looking for a young girl. She’s a clone. We think she was sent to the lab here.” Hunter explained.

“Never saw anyone like that, but Mox might know about her.”

“He won’t talk to them.”

The three of you watched the exchange between the two cadets and then watched as Hunter approached the clone closest to him.

“Please, we have to find her. She’s… part of our squad.”

His hesitation before he found the words and the way his voice shook as he was trying to hold back his desperation had you fighting the urge to reach out to him. You noticed too that Wrecker’s downcast expression was a mirror of your own.

The young clone glanced between the three of you before he made his decision. “Stick to the trail. Follow our steps. And don’t touch the vines.”

You three put your coverings back on and trailed behind the two cadets.

--

“When the Empire transferred us off Kamino, we thought we were getting more training. Instead, they made us prisoners.” The lead cadet said as you all walked through the terrain. “Took samples of our blood.”

“Why? What was the Empire doing here?” You asked.

“Whatever they wanted.”

“At least we escaped before they destroyed the facility.” The other cadet said.

“And you survived alone out here ever since?” Hunter asked.

“We’re soldiers. Or we were supposed to be.”

The group of you walked in silence for a while before the cadet who’d noticed your weapon addressed you, “I always thought I’d end up fighting beside a Jedi one day. The name’s Deke, by the way.”

You glanced down at him with sympathetic eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Deke. I’m sure any Jedi would’ve been lucky and grateful to serve alongside you. I always was.”

“What was it like? Being a Jedi during the war?”

You huffed out a short breath. “Challenging. It wasn’t just the battles we had to deal with, and I left because of that.”

“You left?” The cadet repeated in confusion.

“Uh huh.”

“But you came back? How else did you wind up with the 99s?”

“I didn’t, I just got very fortunate to find them. I got my very own squad and I never really looked back.”

“Is that how you survived? Being with them I mean. We were around Kamino long enough to find out about the Jedi.”

“Yeah… they’re…” You took a deep breath. “They’re all gone.”

“We heard rumours in Kamino that the Jedi betrayed the Chancellor and that was why they’re not around anymore.”

Hunter stole a glance over his shoulder at you as he heard the cadet say that.

“Yeah, well, don’t believe everything you hear.” You replied, a slight edge to your tone.

Before he could say anything else, he heard his brother call out, “Stop.” The three of you dashed around to see one of the vines coiling behind Wrecker.

“What?” Wrecker asked as he saw the concerned looks.

“Wrecker, behind you.” Hunter warned.

Wrecker turned to see a black vine curling up the tree like it was alive and getting ready to strike.

You grabbed your lightsaber whilst the others prepared their blasters, but the two cadets retreated behind a large tree root.

The vine stabbed down towards you three, but the blaster fire was having little impact, if anything it seemed to aggravate the vine more and the cadets’ shout confirmed your observations.

“Don’t fire! It gets hostile when you shoot.”

“You mean it’s not already hostile?” Wrecker commented as more vines slithered and weaved towards you all.

Diving over one of the vines that tried to snatch you, you took the advice of the younger clones on board. You ignited your lightsaber and not a moment too soon since one of them had managed to wrap itself around Wrecker and was beginning to drag him up a tree. You called on the Force and jumped and with an easy swing of your blue blade, the vine was halved, and Wrecker fell to the floor.

Your actions seemed to do enough to get the vines to fall back and with that, the five of you sprinted away and deeper into the jungle.

--

Once you all were far enough away from the threat, you stopped to get your breath back.

“What was that stuff?” Wrecker asked through heavy pants.

“Slither vines. The Empire made it. It’s some kind of experimental weapon, until they lost control of it.”

“Probably why they ordered a Base Delta Zero on their own facility.” The other cadet added.

“We’ll be safe on the crag. The slither vines haven’t spread there.” Deke informed you all.

“Yet.” The other clone added drily before turning to look at the clone who had started it all in the first place. “And this time, don’t touch anything.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Wrecker said dismissively.

You patted his shoulder affectionately before the three of you followed the young clones on the upward climb.  

--

Night had fallen by the time you reached the crag and you walked into the cave to see another young cadet sitting by a lamp and tending to a dying fire.

“Mox.”

Mox looked up to see his two brothers enter with three strangers trailing behind them and immediately his guard was up. “Who are they?” He asked his fellow cadets.

“Clones and they have a Jedi with them. We found them by the overlook.”

The three of you revealed your faces.

“It’s quite a place you got here.” Wrecker commented.

“What do you want?” Mox asked warily.

“We’re looking for a young girl. She was taken by an Imperial named Hemlock.” Hunter explained to Mox. “Her name’s Omega.”

“Never saw a girl around the lab. But I know Hemlock. He was in charge until things changed. One day, the Imperials started packing up and shipped out. So we made our move and escaped.”

“We were the only ones who made it out before the orbital bombardment.” Deke added.

“Even clone troopers left us to die. Said they were following orders.”

You glanced between the three boys with a newfound sense of understanding. “We get it.” You said softly.

“We’ve lost people too.” Wrecker said quietly.

“We can take you someplace safe, but we need to find out if Omega was here or where Hemlock took her.” Hunter offered. “There has to be some intel in that base.”

You could see the internal debate happening between the three of them before Deke spoke up.

“One of the control room panels was still intact during our last scout. I tried to use it to send a signal, but there was no power.”

“Can you take us there?” You asked, your voice rising with hope, but the other cadet interrupted any potential reply.

“No way. That are is covered in slither vines. It’s toxic.”

Mox got to his feet. “Stak’s right. Going near those ruins is a suicide mission. You’re on your own.”

Deke grabbed his comm. “They need help, Mox. I’ll go with them.”

The three of you got ready to follow him out but Stak’s voice made you pause.

“You know the risks of going down there.”

It didn’t matter though, not to the three of you anyway, and you carried out following him out the crag.

--

“I can get you inside the ruins, but you won’t be able to get anything from the console without a power source.”

“We got that covered.” Wrecker informed the cadet as you all made your way through the dark jungle. “Just need to grab something from your ship.”

“This clone you’re looking for…”

“Omega.” Hunter reminded him.

“How long has she been gone for?”

“Too long.” Hunter said through a frustrated breath. “But we’re not giving up.”

“I wish the other clones felt that way about us. You may be defectives and a Jedi on the run, but at least you’re loyal.”

You caught the way Hunter reacted to that comment and you had an idea of what and who came to mind, but it wasn’t something you could help with right now.

--

You stepped inside the ship first to grab you and the kid a breathing mask and Wrecker followed close behind you to strap Gonky to his back.

“Woah! Your ship has seen some action.” Deke commented in awe as his torch scanned the ship’s hull.

“Mostly during the war… and some after.” Hunter replied dully.

“I thought, one day, I’d be flying one of these on a mission. A lot’s changed.” He said disappointedly before he turned to the sound of a droid honking.

“Well, I’ve got the gear and the power.” Wrecker announced.

“Lead the way, kid.” You said as you chucked him a mask before attaching your own.

--

The facility looked far more menacing in the dark of night, not even the shine of your blue blade provided you with much comfort. You saw the curious looks the others gave you as the stared between that and their flashlights.

“Multifunctional weapon.” You said with a shrug.

The four of you started the cautious walk towards the entrance and it was clear the cadets had not been exaggerating when talking about how the vines had spread here. You weren’t even inside yet, and you were already having to be very mindful about where you stepped.

You all walked into the base in silence, the only sounds that echoed around you were the noises of creaking metal.

“How much further to the console?” Wrecker asked nervously.

“Hard to tell.” Deke replied. “More vines have spread down here. We had to stop scavenging the site because of it.”

“What other experiments were going on in this place?” You asked.

“Nothing good. They didn’t exactly tell us what was going on.”

You all rounded another corner but stopped as you heard that now familiar warbling and slithering sound.

A scream got your attention and you all turned to see Deke being dragged down the hallway, a vine curled around his ankle.

Wrecker reached him before he got pulled too high and whilst he held onto his arms, you used your lightsaber to slice away at it and Hunter and Wrecker kicked the cut down pieces away from you all.

The moment of relief was only temporary for no sooner had the kid got back to his feet, more vines started to appear only these ones seemed to have vines that acted as legs and teeth growing out of the middle of their bodies.

Hunter managed to shoot the one that made the first attack and it collapsed to the ground which gave you all the opening you needed to run away from the rest of them and get closer to the console.

--

The path to the console was treacherous. The entire area towards it was made up of pieces of scrap metal that were floating atop of a viscous pool of black gunk.

“I didn’t think it could smell any worse, but I was wrong.” Wrecker said with a disgusted groan as the pool of black and toxic liquid bubbled beneath the platform.

“We’re in agreement on that.” Hunter said drily. Ignoring the impact this smell was having on him was a lot harder than doing it back in the jungle.

You allowed yourself a moment to squeeze his hand in comfort and were please to feel him return the gesture. If it was this bad for you, you couldn’t imagine what it would be like for a clone with enhanced senses.

“There’s the console. Come on.”

You jumped down after Deke and leapt between the gaps between the different metal platforms as you all made your way across.

You all reached the console and with a casual wave of your hand, the piece of metal that covered it became one with the black ooze below.

Hunter helped Wrecker get Gonky down and he hooked him up to it and the answering beep gave him the hope that they could get something out of this.

“Alright. Do your thing, little guy.” Wrecker encouraged the droid as Hunter finished off the process.

The sound of metal straining in the distance caught both yours and Hunter’s attention.

“Something’s coming.” Hunter said warily with you nodding in agreement beside him. “We need to make this quick.”

“Is it more of those things?” Wrecker asked nervously.

“No. Something else.”

“I’m familiar with the system. Give me some time. I’ll see what data I can pull up.”

Hunter handed the datapad to the kid whilst the three of you remained on guard and scanned the area ahead.

As the three of you creeped towards the edge of the platform, a much louder rumbling sounded throughout the decrepit room and suddenly a huge, thick vine burst from beneath the pool and slammed down towards you all.

Hunter and Wrecker’s blaster fire seemed to force it back down but then more vines surged to the surface and began their assault once more.

--

“You really think you can fly this thing?” Mox asked as he and Stak broke into the ship you’d arrived on.

“I was top of my class in flight training back on Kamino.” Stak said in reply before investigating the rest of the ship.

Mox meandered his way down and it was then he saw the stuffed doll in the gun turret, a sight that got him thinking more about the intentions the three of you had had and it brought the guilt back. He wasn’t sure about leaving you all behind as well as his brother, Deke. He was brought out of his thoughts by the chirp of his comm and he heard Deke’s voice come through in a panic.

“Mox! Stak! The vines! They’re everywhere!”

Blaster fire rang out in the background.

“Help! We need help! Mox! Come in, Mox!”

 Mox looked back at Stak who gave a firm nod of his head.

--

“Time’s up. Get the datapad!” You instructed as you sidestepped a swipe from one of the vines and stabbed through it.

Deke unplugged it and started the climb up the degrading metal to reach the surface.

You assisted in getting Gonky back on Wrecker’s back and then you all began the climb yourselves. A trying task already but made even more so by the massive vines that kept following you and taking the remaining supports down.

You watched in horror as the piece of metal Deke had been using was ripped away and he started to plummet towards the ground. Acting quickly, you called on the Force to hold him whilst Hunter clambered down and grabbed a hold of him to pull him back up.

With you all successfully making it to the top, you sprinted down the corridor only to find to your dismay that the way out was flooded with the toxic liquid and the vines were still advancing and your weapons were doing very little to stop it.

Hunter glanced behind him and saw a large piece of scrap metal floating your way and he signalled to the rest of you to jump to it.

Having made the jump, the issue of the vines still remained, and you weren’t sure how much longer you would be able to fend them off. It was then though; you saw the bright lights above and the Marauder came into view, and it had never looked so good.

“Keep it steady!” Mox called back to Stak as he lowered the cables down to where you all were. “Grab the cables!” He yelled over the baster fire.

Deke jumped on one first and Wrecker held on to the other one.

You could feel the platform being tugged under the pool, but you and Hunter were the only two left. The cable Wrecker was on wouldn’t support his and Gonky’s added weight as well as you and there was still Hunter who needed to grab onto Deke’s cable but amidst the chaos of the two of you dealing with the vines, you could feel him hesitating. But you knew you could make the jump to the ship itself. “Hunter, go!”

Not having much time to debate, Hunter leapt from the platform to the second cable, and he saw you land at the top of the stairs next to Mox.

The vines kept coming though and they started to strangle the wings of the Marauder and haul it down.

With Deke managing to make his way up, you grabbed your retired blaster and passed two more to Deke and Mox.

You all fired down at the horrifying creature that emerged from the depths. It was like one of the vines you’d encountered earlier that had the teeth only this abomination was huge and disgusting and could easily swallow you all and the ship.

“Shoot for the mouth!” You shouted to them, but your actions had little impact.

“We need more firepower!” Hunter called up.

Wrecker dropped a grenade into the mouth of the creature, but it only deterred it for a second.

“That’s not enough!” Hunter yelled.

“Grab the case of explosives!” Wrecker instructed you.

Doing as he said, you made your way into the ship and stumbled towards the case. You picked it up and brought it back to the stairs where Deke grabbed one grenade from it and Mox helped you push it over the edge.

Once they’d all been swallowed up by the creature, Deke activated and dropped the grenade and watched with relief as the resulting explosion forced the creature to release the Marauder and retreat to the depths.

As soon as Hunter and Wrecker were safely on board and the Marauder was out of harm’s way and put into hyperspace, they took their helmets off.

You chucked your breathing mask to the side and swiftly wrapped your arms around Hunter.

Hunter warmly returned your embrace and allowed himself that moment with you as his head rested in the crook of your neck.

You parted from Hunter but still kept your arm around his waist and looked at Deke who was still looking a little shell-shocked after the whole affair, “So, how’d you like being in a squad and fighting alongside a Jedi?”

“Umm… I think I could use some more training first.” Deke replied with a slight laugh.

“Hey, would all older clones get that treatment or…”

You and Hunter turned to the voice that belonged Stak and managed to share a look of fond amusement.

--

Hunter examined the information on the datapad but he managed to restrain himself and not read through it endlessly this time. He glanced up and looked fondly down the cockpit to see you and Wrecker enthusiastically listening to the cadet’s retelling of the events that had just transpired.

“I’ve been going over the data. Looks like Hemlock transferred his entire base of operations to another location.” Hunter revealed as he stepped inside. “His experiments too.”

You came to stand beside him and placed a hand on his upper arm. “Did the intel say where he went?”

“There was a mention of a sector but nothing more. It’s a lead, but we’ve got a lot of space to cover.”

“Well, if that’s where Omega is, then that’s where we’re going.” Wrecker said determinedly.

You affectionately squeezed Hunter’s shoulder to signal your agreement.

Hunter nodded his thanks to both of you before looking to the cadets. “We’ll drop you three of someplace safe.”

“Where?” Mox asked eagerly.

“An island. There are good people there. They’ll take care of you.”

“We’re cadets without an army. I don’t know where we fit anymore.” Mox said, the reality of their situation now hitting him harder than it had before.

“You have time to figure it out.” Hunter reassured him. “Make your own path. Be something other than a soldier.”

“What about you?”

Hunter glanced between you and Wrecker. “Our mission is not over yet.”

Wrecker laid a supportive hand on his brother’s back.

You watched with a warm heart as Mox reached his hand out and Hunter clasped it in return and in that moment, you felt it.

It was an emotion that had long been overshadowed by fear and despair but now you sensed its presence again.

You felt the hope that had been missing for some time.

--

“We’ve never had a sector before. That’s pretty good.” You whispered as the two of you lay in the quietness of the ship as it headed towards Pabu. The exertions of the past mission had claimed the others already.

“Yeah, it’s a better start than what we’ve had before.” Hunter agreed, drawing light patterns on your bare arm.

“How are you holding up?” You asked delicately as you rested your head on his chest and traced the small Jedi symbol of his necklace.

Hunter sighed heavily. “Better knowing we have something to go off of, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. There’s more I could be doing; I just know it.”

You hummed in acknowledgement, but you’d get to that last part in a minute. “You do seem a bit more like yourself.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, your adoptive paternal instincts kicked in again. These cadets bring the count up to five.” You said, a teasing lilt to your voice.

“My what?” He paused his ministrations on your arm.

“You heard me.”

“If you mean finding abandoned kids and taking them somewhere safe, that’s something anyone would do. I don’t-”

“No, not anyone, if that were the case with the cadets for example, they would’ve been off that nightmare of a planet long before we showed up. It’s a very you thing to do and it’s one of the many things I love about you.” You propped yourself up on your elbow to look at him. “You always do more than enough, Hunter. You are enough, don’t ever doubt that.”

Hunter looked at you lovingly. “I don’t know how I got through those months without you.”

“Well, if how you’ve been since I’ve been back, I’d guess by throwing yourself into the search, not taking care of your wellbeing and worrying Wrecker every day?” You theorised with a light-hearted tone. “Those are the habits we’re trying to break.”

Hunter turned his sight to the ceiling of the ship. “That sounds about right.” He admitted guiltily.

You angled his face to look back at you and your voice had no joking overtones now, it was full of sincerity. “I’m not going anywhere, remember. I’ll follow you to whatever end and so will Wrecker.”

Hunter pressed a chaste but tender kiss to your lips. “Thank you.” He breathed against your mouth.

You laid your head back down on his chest. “You know, it wouldn’t shock me if she found a way to get to us.”

Hunter kissed the crown of your head. “Yeah, that wouldn’t surprise me either.”

Next Chapter>

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[redislazy]

Deadly Attachments, Chapter 05

<< Chapter 04　|　Chapter 06 >>

[EVENTUAL SMUT] - Minors DNI > ao3 <

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!Reader

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Summary: As a skilled mercenary, you've navigated countless high-stakes missions—until one job puts you in the crosshairs of Task Force 141 and the elusive "Ghost." Now forced into an uneasy alliance, you’re drawn into a dangerous game of shifting loyalties and hidden motives. But as the stakes climb higher, one question lingers: how close can you get to the man who was meant to be a shadow in your path?

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Content Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Military Action & Romance, Mercenaries, Soldiers, Non-Canon Antagonists, Eventual Smut, Military Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Will add smut-specific tags later as the story goes

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"Do you know who the leader of Aegis is?” Price asks, his voice low and direct.

You're seated with Task Force 141 in the main room of your makeshift base, the air thick with the smell of strong coffee and tactical gear. Maps and intel reports are strewn across the table, the faint rustling of papers filling the silence. Price leans forward, a serious glint in his eyes as he waits for your response.

You shake your head, feeling a pang of frustration resurface. “No one really does. The leader’s kept their identity hidden, even from most of their own people. Only a few high-ranking lackeys know anything, and they’re the ones who dish out orders to the mercs under them. It’s… compartmentalized.”

Price exhales sharply, leaning back in his chair as he considers this. “Figures. Bastard’s running a whole operation from the shadows.”

Soap’s brows knit together as he glances around at the team. “So what? We take down a few agents, and they just keep popping up like cockroaches. We’d be at this forever.”

Gaz nods in agreement. “The only way to cut them off for good is to go after the one running the show. Take out the leader, and Aegis would crumble from the top down.”

A heavy silence falls over the room as the reality of it sets in. Ghost’s eyes flicker toward you, his gaze unreadable. “You’re saying we need to hit the head of the snake,” he says, tone even but grim. “Find whoever’s pullin’ the strings and make sure they stop for good.”

You swallow, feeling the weight of their words. They make it sound simple, but the truth gnaws at you. Aegis’s leader is more than just a face or a name—they’re a shadow, always out of reach. Tracking them down would be like chasing smoke through the dark, nearly impossible. But it’s what you’ll have to do if you want the target on your back to disappear, if you ever want a chance at being a free, independent mercenary again.

You sigh quietly, thinking over the task ahead. “It won’t be easy. They’ve built their whole operation on staying hidden, letting others take the heat and make the moves.”

Price’s gaze softens, a rare moment of understanding. “We’re not saying it’ll be easy. But you’ve got an advantage the rest of us don’t—you’ve been inside their system, seen how they work. You might be our best chance at getting close enough to flush ‘em out.”

You nod slowly, feeling both the pressure and the strange, growing sense of resolve. This mission was more than personal survival now; it was a matter of closing a chapter that’d haunted you, taking down the very organization that once counted you as their own. It would be hard, maybe harder than anything you’d done—but the path ahead is clearer, and for the first time in a long while, you have a sense of purpose.

“So,” Price says, a determined look passing over him as he glances around at the team, “we go all in. Aegis’s leader is our endgame. Let’s find this threat hiding in the shadows.”

Gaz clears his throat, breaking the determined silence that’s settled over everyone. He leans forward, eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Alright, but where do we even begin with this?” He looks to Price, then over to you. “If she worked with Aegis for ten years and still doesn’t know who’s running the show… it’s like we’re chasing a ghost.”

Price crosses his arms, his gaze fixed on the wall for a moment as he thinks. “You’re right—it won’t be easy. But every organization, no matter how secretive, has a trail. It’s just a matter of finding the cracks, the weak spots in their setup.” He glances over to you, his expression firm but steady. “And you might know where to start looking.”

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the weight of their eyes on you. “They’ve always kept the hierarchy vague, even for those working in it for years. Only the most trusted agents deal directly with whoever’s at the top. Orders trickle down through a few of those loyal yes men, but they don’t leave much of a trail.”

Ghost’s voice cuts through, calm but edged with skepticism. “So we’re sifting through shadows. Fine. But if we know who their high-ranking lackeys are, maybe we can press them hard enough to get to the top.”

“Problem is,” you reply, feeling the familiar frustration at Aegis’s elusive nature, “even their lieutenants aren’t easy to track down. They’re careful, and most of them use proxies or intermediaries. Aegis is designed to protect the leader’s anonymity at all costs.”

Price nods, absorbing the information. “Then we take it one layer at a time. Start with any connections we can find. Places Aegis is active, recurring contacts, anything that can get us closer."

Gaz sighs, running a hand over his face. “Even with that, it could take months, years even, to get anything solid. And if they know she’s working with us against them, they’ll close ranks tighter than ever.”

You clench your jaw, knowing he’s right. Aegis’s leader wasn’t just running an organization—they’d crafted a fortress of secrecy, one that you never even questioned back when you were part of it. The odds feel almost impossible. Yet, a part of you feels a strange, stubborn determination settling in.

“If we want to dismantle Aegis for good,” you say slowly, meeting each of their eyes, “we’ll have to be as relentless as they are. I know it’s hard to track them down, and I know it seems hopeless. But if there’s one thing I learned in all those years, it’s that they get comfortable in their own secrecy. And that… that’s where we’ll find them. Somewhere they think we’ll never look.”

Soap grins slightly, trying to lighten the mood. “So what you’re saying is, we go on the world’s hardest game of hide and seek?”

Ghost rolls his eyes, but there’s a spark of agreement there. “Something like that,” he mutters. Then, to you, he adds, “Just don’t think you’re going at this alone.”

You nod, taking a steadying breath. For the first time, you have allies—ones willing to dig as deep as it takes to uncover Aegis’s secrets. You’d spent a year running from them, dreading the target on your back. Now, with Task Force 141, it’s different. Now, you’re not just trying to escape—you’re going to hunt them down, piece by piece, until there’s nowhere left for their leader to hide.

Captain Price looks around at each of you, a steady resolve in his gaze. “We may be staring at a pile of scrambled intel right now, but HQ’s got the resources and expertise to make sense of that damned hard drive. Once they break through these files, we’ll have a clearer picture of what Aegis is planning and where they’re vulnerable. This hard drive’s our way in, so we sit tight, let them do their part, and be ready to move the second we have actionable intel. We’ve got the edge now, so let’s use it.”

A quiet determination settles over the team, and you feel a renewed sense of purpose, knowing the next step is coming into focus.

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A week after the intense mission in Istanbul, everyone gathers in the briefing room, pouring over the latest intel reports the team itself has gathered while waiting for HQ's findings. The progress is disappointing—Aegis has gone quiet. Their network seems to have retracted, pulling resources and high-ranking members out of sight. It’s almost as if their encounter with Task Force 141 spooked them into hunkering down.

Price studies the map in front of him, a frown etched deeply into his face. “Looks like Aegis is trying to play it safe. They’ve pulled back any valuable assets. Istanbul’s gone cold.”

Soap leans back in his chair, letting out a low whistle. “Almost like they’re on to us, yeah? As if they know we’re here sniffin’ around.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ghost says, crossing his arms. “They’ve always been good at keeping just out of reach.”

Price nods slowly, looking at each of you in turn. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We’ve scoured every lead we had in Istanbul, but if Aegis is keeping low, we’re just spinning our wheels here.”

“So we pull out?” Gaz asks, sounding a little reluctant.

Price’s jaw tightens before he lets out a resigned sigh. “Aye. We regroup back at the main HQ, review the intel, and see what we can dig up once we’re back on our own turf. If Aegis resurfaces, we’ll be ready.”

You feel a mix of relief and frustration. On one hand, the thought of leaving Istanbul without a clear victory is disheartening; on the other, the relentless days and nights have worn you thin. You catch Ghost watching you from the corner of his eye, and you know he hasn’t forgotten your exhausted misstep on the last mission. Maybe pulling back isn’t the worst idea.

Price stands, dismissing the team. “Pack it up. We're flying in two hours.”

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Back on British soil, the familiar surroundings of the main base bring a strange sense of comfort. The hallways are quieter than the bustling streets of Istanbul, and the air feels less charged with tension. Still, the unresolved mystery of Aegis hangs over you all like a dark cloud.

You spend most of your first day back debriefing and sifting through what intel you gathered in Istanbul. While the team disperses to their respective quarters that evening, Price calls you into a conference room where Ghost is already waiting.

“We’re going to regroup, assess what we’ve got,” Price begins, looking between the two of you. “But while we’re back here, I want you both digging into anything that could link to Aegis. Old contacts, forgotten leads, even whispers you’ve heard from your past. We can’t let them slip through our fingers just because they’ve gone quiet.”

Ghost nods, his gaze focused and unreadable as ever. You feel his presence beside you, a constant reminder of the grudging partnership you’re both locked into. He’s quiet as Price outlines the plan, but you can sense the intensity beneath his stoic exterior.

When Price finally dismisses you, Ghost falls into step beside you in the hallway.

“You know what this means,” he says, his voice low and measured.

You glance up at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

“No more running on empty.” His tone is pointed, and you feel the weight of his earlier frustration still lingering in his words. “If we’re going after Aegis, I need you sharp, not half-dead from a lack of sleep.”

You open your mouth to argue, but his stare holds steady, and for once, you’re out of comebacks. Maybe he’s right. Istanbul was close, too close. If you’re going to face down Aegis, you need to be ready, fully prepared.

With a resigned sigh, you nod. “Fine. I’ll be ready.”

Ghost’s eyes linger on you for a beat longer than necessary, as if assessing whether you’re being sincere. He gives a curt nod, satisfied. “Good. Then let’s get to work.”

The hunt isn’t over yet—far from it. But with Task Force 141 at your side, and your resolve steeled, you feel a strange flicker of confidence. Aegis can try to hide, but they can’t run forever.

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When you’re shown to your quarters, a small, amused smile tugs at your lips. It’s the same room you were kept in last year, back when Kozlov’s case threw you headfirst into the chaos of the SAS and Task Force 141. Back then, this room had been a cage, a place where they held you in custody as both a suspect and a temporary asset, neither trusting you nor willing to let you walk away.

But now, stepping inside, the feeling is… different. It’s strange how much can change in a year. You’re still an outsider, technically speaking—still a mercenary with your own agenda and your own grudges to bear. But here, under the weight of the memories of that tense alliance with the SAS, you feel the difference. You’re no longer here out of necessity or suspicion. You’re here because you’re needed, a part of something that, in its own way, feels like it might actually have your back.

You drop your bag on the bed and scan the room, a flood of memories filling the empty space. The walls feel less confining now, less like they’re pressing in to remind you of every questionable choice that brought you here. There’s a strange warmth in knowing you’re trusted enough to roam freely this time, not a captive but an ally.

Leaning against the doorframe, you let out a quiet laugh. If someone had told you a year ago that you’d be willingly working with Task Force 141 again—especially Ghost, of all people—you’d have called them insane. But here you are, and even though the threat of Aegis looms just as dark and dangerous as before, you feel a sense of resolve settling in your bones. For the first time, the title “ally” doesn’t feel like a chain; it feels like a choice.

With that, you toss yourself onto the bed, letting yourself sink into the familiarity of it, not as an outsider or a prisoner but as someone who has fought with them, earned her place beside them—even if, at times, it feels like you’ve only just managed to keep up.

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Days slip by in a steady rhythm, quiet and uneventful—a rare stretch of calm that you hadn’t anticipated but can’t help appreciating. There’s no immediate mission, no dire orders waiting in the wings. You almost don’t know what to do with yourself without the constant pressure of survival and strategy weighing on your shoulders.

It’s a welcome change, really. For once, you have time to simply exist in one place without fear of attack or the ever-present anxiety that Aegis might be around the corner. Here, in the heart of the SAS base, you know they won’t get to you. Not with the layers of security, the trained eyes watching every corner, and the presence of Task Force 141 keeping things in check. You hadn’t realized just how exhausting it was to live with that constant threat on your back—how much it had worn you down until now, when you could finally breathe a little easier.

And the days of rest are doing their work. The wound on your shoulder, a stinging reminder of that reckless call during the last mission, is healing steadily. At first, the pain had flared up with every movement, a sharp reminder of the risk you’d taken for Ghost. Now, though, the ache is dulling, settling into a faint throb that only bothers you when you forget it’s there. You’ve been able to patch it up, tend to it properly, and let your body rest—something you haven’t allowed yourself in far too long.

In a way, it’s ironic that the safest you’ve felt in years is here, surrounded by soldiers who were once ready to interrogate you, in a base that was once meant to hold you captive. Yet, with each day that passes, you feel yourself easing into this strange routine, letting down your guard little by little. The thought of Aegis creeping closer doesn’t linger as it once did; for now, you know you’re out of their reach. As long as you’re here, protected and hidden within these walls, they can’t touch you.

Every so often, you catch yourself almost… enjoying it, this sense of quiet security. It’s unfamiliar, this feeling of not having to look over your shoulder or map out an escape plan. For once, you can simply heal, both in body and mind, without the shadow of Aegis looming close. And as strange as it feels, you allow yourself to embrace it, even if it’s only for a little while.

You’re making your way through the base, aimlessly wandering to pass the time, when the low thud of weights and the soft hum of grunts from the training area catches your attention. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you follow the sounds, your steps quieter as you approach.

And there, across the room, is Ghost—his focus entirely on the barbell in front of him as he lifts it with practiced strength. He’s shirtless, a rarity you’ve never quite had the opportunity to witness, and for a second, you’re almost stunned into place. The soft sheen of sweat glistens on his skin, tracing the defined lines of his muscles as he moves, each lift accentuating the raw strength in his arms, chest, and shoulders. He’s a fortress of a man, each muscle honed and cut, but it’s not just the sheer size of him—it’s the quiet, unwavering power in the way he works, every motion controlled, almost methodical.

Your gaze trails from his shoulders down to the faint scars that mar his skin, stories etched into his body that you know only hint at what he’s seen. His biceps flex with each lift, veins standing out against his forearms, and you can’t help but let your eyes linger. There’s a pull to him, this silent allure that makes it hard to look away. You’re drawn in by the way he moves, powerful yet careful, as though he’s attuned to every shift in his muscles, every beat of his own strength.

And the mask—he’s still wearing it, a reminder that even here, stripped of nearly everything else, he still keeps part of himself hidden. There’s something strangely endearing about it, almost funny in a way, that he’s still clinging to this one piece of armor. But it adds to the enigma of him, this contrast of being both revealed and guarded, and the sight makes your stomach flutter in a way you hadn’t anticipated.

Your eyes wander over the expanse of his shoulders, tracing the lines of his tattoos that weave across his skin. They’re intricate, dark swirls of ink that curl over his biceps and up along his forearms, striking against his skin in a way that only adds to his mystique. You can’t help but feel a sense of awe at how the designs accentuate the muscle beneath, each tattoo seeming to carry its own story—a past he never talks about but is forever etched into him.

The ink follows the contours of his arms, slipping beneath the mask of sweat and shadow as he moves, and you realize how each mark, each line, only amplifies that unapproachable air he carries. The tattoos make him look even more dangerous, more untamed, yet there’s an undeniable allure to them, a kind of dark art that keeps you captivated. You’re struck by how fitting they seem on him, how seamlessly they blend with the person he is—enigmatic, guarded, and quietly powerful.

As he lowers the barbell and finally catches sight of you, you feel yourself snap back to reality, heat rising in your cheeks when you realize just how openly you were staring. He tilts his head slightly, and you catch the faint glimmer of amusement in his eyes, half hidden behind the shadows of his mask.

“Somethin’ interestin’?” he asks, his tone low but edged with a challenge.

Your heart skips a beat, but you somehow manage to keep your cool, shrugging as casually as you can. “Just admiring the…artwork,” you reply, unable to stop the hint of a grin from tugging at your lips.

He huffs softly, grabbing a towel and running it over his arms, brushing over those very tattoos you were just admiring. “Didn’t peg you for a fan,” he mutters, but there’s a spark in his eyes, as if he finds it amusing that you’re drawn in by something so personal to him.

You feel a flicker of nerves as you meet his gaze, aware of the way he’s watching you now, the barest suggestion of a smirk pulling at his lips. It’s like he knows exactly the effect he’s having on you, and there’s something undeniably thrilling about it.

Caught off guard by your own thoughts, you can’t help but let out a soft chuckle under your breath at the absurdity of it. Here you are, shamelessly ogling the one person who’s probably lectured you the hardest about staying sharp. And yet, there’s something about seeing him like this, so intensely alive and real, that makes it hard to think about anything else.

You raise an eyebrow, recovering just enough to give a smirk. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Always do,” he replies, a faint challenge in his eyes. He grabs a towel, running it over his arms and chest before casually throwing it around his shoulders. His gaze stays on you, unreadable, and you feel a pang of nerves twist in your stomach.

“Well, I’d hate to disturb your… intense routine,” you manage, trying for a light tone even as your pulse quickens.

He only grunts, but there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his mouth that suggests a smile. “Could use a spotter next time,” he says, deadpan, though his eyes hold a hint of mischief.

It’s a simple moment, laced with more tension than you’d expected, but there’s something unmistakable in the way he looks at you—something that leaves your heart thudding a bit faster as you return his gaze.

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Later in the day, you and Ghost are in the operations room, pouring over files and databases, the air thick with tension. Hours have passed, and the list of potential Aegis operatives and higher-ups sprawls across the screen. You’re deep in focus, building a list of names when Ghost leans over your shoulder, his usual presence looming a little closer than necessary.

“Gonna check the background on each name?” he remarks, voice laced with skepticism. “Doesn’t do us much good if they’re not active in the field anymore.”

You close your eyes for a moment, suppressing the urge to sigh. “Yes, Ghost, I know what I’m doing. This is just a preliminary list. I’ll get to backgrounds in a second.”

“Preliminary doesn’t mean sloppy,” he mutters, and you swear he’s leaning even closer. “Miss one detail, and we’re back at square one. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

You turn to glare at him, trying to ignore how close he is. “I’m not being sloppy. I’m gathering leads. You could always give me five minutes to breathe without hovering.”

He raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms with that infuriatingly stoic expression. “Not hovering. Just making sure we don’t waste time on mistakes. Aegis doesn’t let anything slip, so neither should we.”

“Oh, I get it.” You sit back, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You’re just this nitpicky with everyone, yeah?”

Ghost’s gaze narrows. “If you’re looking for me to tell you ‘good job’ for half-finished work, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

You roll your eyes, leaning in with a playful, challenging grin. “You know, you’re awfully invested in how I do my job. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were just trying to spend more time with me.”

For a second, he looks taken aback—just for a split second before he schools his expression. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself to focus, go right ahead.” He steps back, but his eyes are still fixed on you with that intense, unyielding look. “This isn’t about me, it’s about doing it right.”

You let out a small laugh, tilting your head at him. “Uh-huh. So you’re hovering because you don’t want to spend time with me. Got it. This is about quality control, not about you caring so much about what I’m doing that you can’t stay away. Makes sense.”

He doesn’t reply at first, just lets out a low, exasperated sigh, but you catch the hint of a smirk tugging at the edge of his mask. “Believe what you want, but if you screw this up, I’m not pulling you out of the mess.”

“Because you’d just hate to see me fail, wouldn’t you?” you tease, leaning back in your chair with a challenging grin.

“Failing’s not your issue,” he replies, his tone smooth. “Getting distracted is.”

“Oh, really?” You mirror his expression with a raised brow. “Last time I checked, you’re the one causing the distraction.”

Ghost huffs, crossing his arms, and his gaze is unwavering. “If you spent as much time working as you do trying to rile me up, you might actually get something done.”

“Maybe I just work best under pressure,” you reply, shrugging with mock innocence.

“Then consider this a performance review.” He pauses, his voice softer but still with an edge. “For the record, I’ll be watching.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes but feeling the lingering warmth of his gaze. For all the back-and-forth, the tension between you doesn’t feel quite as sharp. It’s there, but lighter, laced with something almost fun, a reminder that even amidst the mission, you’re not just rivals but two people with a shared drive.

Just as the tension between you and Ghost reaches a lull, Soap bursts into the room, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Oi, lovebirds, wrap it up!” he announces, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “We’re headin’ out tonight. Pub in town. Price gave the go-ahead, so consider it an order to blow off some steam.”

You blink in surprise, barely processing Soap’s words before he adds, “Come on, we’re all going—no excuses.”

“Pub night, huh?” Ghost’s voice has a rare note of interest, and he actually seems…enthusiastic? His gaze flickers to you, the edge in his expression softening. “Been a while since we had a proper night out.”

You raise an eyebrow, trying to picture him in a more casual setting. “Didn’t peg you for someone who’d enjoy a pub crawl, Ghost.”

He shrugs, crossing his arms. “I don’t mind a pint every now and then. Especially after dealing with you.”

A smirk tugs at your lips. “Well, the feeling’s mutual,” you retort, but there’s a warmth to it. Maybe it’s the idea of seeing a different side of him outside the usual grind.

Soap grins, nodding approvingly. “That’s what I like to hear. Now go on—get yourselves outta those uniforms and into something halfway decent. We’re out the door in an hour.”

As he leaves, you catch a flicker of amusement in Ghost’s eyes. “Guess we better not keep them waiting,” he says, his tone almost teasing.

You tilt your head, still a bit surprised by his openness to the idea. “Guess I’ll have to see what ‘relaxed Ghost’ looks like.”

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound. “Don’t get your hopes up. But maybe you’ll see me a bit more…human.”

It’s a surprising statement from him, one that lingers as he gives you a nod and heads off to get ready, leaving you with a sense of anticipation you hadn’t expected.

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The pub is warm and bustling, a far cry from the quiet and regimented SAS base. The dim lights, hum of chatter, and scent of wood polish mixed with spilled beer create an atmosphere of easygoing revelry. You’re seated with the team at a table near the corner, where Ghost and Price lean back in their seats, both relaxed yet observant. You glance at Ghost, surprised by how much more at ease he seems here. There’s still an edge to him, but he doesn’t look like he’s on guard in the same way.

Soap, on the other hand, has made it his mission to kick off the evening with as many pints as he can get his hands on. He slams his drink down on the table, letting out a dramatic sigh. “Right, here’s a thought for you lot,” he says, his Scottish accent thickening with each drink. “If a merc like you could get Ghost to crack a smile, that’d be somethin’ of a miracle.”

Gaz raises an eyebrow, grinning. “I’d say we’ve got better odds of winning the lottery.”

You smirk, nudging Soap’s shoulder. “Please, I think I’ve done that already. He’s just hiding it under that mask of his.”

Ghost narrows his eyes, though there’s a hint of intrigue. “Careful what you wish for. Smiling from me might send you running.”

Soap grins mischievously, leaning in as if he’s about to share a grand secret. “You know, mate, I reckon you’d look downright charming if you let loose a little. Flash those pearly whites, give the ladies a thrill.”

Ghost shakes his head, deadpan. “The day I take advice on charm from you, Johnny, is the day hell freezes over.”

Price chuckles, raising his glass. “Don’t think there’s anyone here who’d survive if Ghost suddenly turned on the charm.”

Soap raises his glass in agreement, a wicked glint in his eye as he points it at you. “Oi, what about our resident mercenary? Bet you’ve got a right bloody wild side we haven’t seen yet, eh? All that time sneakin’ around with Aegis—you must have some stories.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to think. “Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Gaz smirks, chiming in. “What, afraid to tell us? Must be some top-secret stuff. C’mon, give us a little taste.”

You shrug with a mischievous smile. “Only if Ghost spills his secrets first.”

All eyes turn to Ghost, who gives the barest shake of his head, clearly unimpressed. “Secrets? You lot wouldn’t last a minute with half of ‘em.”

Soap snorts. “Oh, big man’s too mysterious for us, is he?”

Ghost glances over, voice low but steady. “If you’re keen to learn, there’s plenty I could teach. But somehow I don’t think you’ve got the spine for it, Johnny.”

The table erupts into laughter, and Soap throws his hands up in mock surrender. “Easy, Ghost! I’ll pass on the torture sessions, thanks.”

Grinning, you look over at Ghost, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know, Ghost. You think he could handle it?”

Ghost meets your gaze with that intense stare, and there’s the faintest flicker of mirth behind it. “Not a chance.”

Price chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Here’s what I’m curious about,” he says, looking at you. “You keep trading barbs with Ghost like it’s second nature. Takes a special kind of person to keep up with him.”

You tilt your head, a playful glint in your eye. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Soap cackles, slapping the table. “Oh-ho! Listen to that, Ghost. She’s got your number.”

“Is that right?” Ghost replies, his tone dry.

You lean in, unphased. “You can try and intimidate me all you want, but I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Ghost looks at you, one corner of his mouth tugging up in the faintest hint of a smirk. “For now.”

Gaz laughs, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “See, I knew it! We’ve got ourselves a real daredevil here.”

“Right,” Soap says, raising his glass high. “Here’s to this mad lot—ain’t a soul here with sense, and thank God for it.”

Everyone raises their glasses, and even Ghost gives a small nod of approval as he lifts his drink. You clink glasses, the laughter and ribbing reminding you that, somehow, you’ve found a place among this group of misfits.

As the night goes on, the drinks flow and the banter gets bolder. At one point, you lean back with a mischievous glint in your eye, glancing over at Ghost. “Alright, I’ve got a question for you. Be honest—is Ghost really your name? Or is it just to keep everyone guessing?”

There’s a pause as the whole table goes quiet. Soap nearly chokes on his drink, barely containing his laughter as he looks between you and Ghost. “Oh, aye, that’s a good one!” he says, slapping the table. “Imagine his ma callin’ him Ghost. ‘Time for supper, Ghostie boy!’”

Gaz bites back a grin, chiming in. “That's sounds a little bit too accurate, no?"

Price chuckles but keeps his face straight. “You’re barking up the wrong tree there,” he says in a low, amused tone, glancing knowingly at Ghost.

Ghost just stares back at you, his expression as closed-off as ever, though you could swear you see the faintest flicker of amusement in his eyes. “You’re asking all the wrong questions,” he replies coolly. “Keep dreaming, though. Might even let you think you’re getting close.”

You roll your eyes, leaning back in your seat with a half-smile. “Fine, keep your mystery,” you say, as if you’re letting him win the round. “But one day, I’ll get it out of you.”

The table erupts in laughter, and Soap shakes his head, giving you a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. “Good luck, lass. Took me years to even learn his favorite color.”

You laugh along with the others, but as the night settles, it hits you: they know things about Ghost that you’re nowhere close to finding out. If you want to be someone he trusts, someone he’d share even the smallest parts of himself with, it’s going to be a long journey.

But, sitting here with the team, sharing laughs and drinks, you think maybe, just maybe, that’s a road you’re willing to travel.

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The walk back to base is quiet, the night air crisp and cool after the warmth of the pub. The team trails off one by one to their respective quarters, with Ghost hanging back to make sure you make it to yours. You’re a bit buzzed, not quite unsteady, but everything’s a touch softer at the edges, and you can’t help but notice how large his presence feels next to you as he walks silently, hands in his pockets.

When you finally stop at your door, you fumble a little with your keycard, squinting as you try to slide it into the card reader. You can feel Ghost watching, arms crossed, probably waiting for you to admit defeat and hand him the keycard, but you’re determined to manage it on your own.

Of course, in your tipsy state, your balance betrays you. You stumble, and before you even realize it, Ghost’s hands are on your shoulders, steadying you as you fall back against him. His touch is firm and unyielding, but there’s something… soft in the way he keeps you close, ensuring you don’t lose your footing completely. You blink, surprised by the solidness of him, and he doesn’t step away immediately. His expression is unreadable, eyes shadowed beneath his mask, but his hands don’t move from your shoulders.

Without thinking, you tilt your head back, squinting up at him. “Oh, look at you, all grumpy as usual.”

“Grumpy, huh?” he replies, one brow arched beneath the mask, his tone teasing but laced with something else.

“Yeah, always brooding, always scowling. What’s your deal?” You poke lightly at his mask, as if you were trying to pry something out of him. “You’re always hiding something, aren’t you?”

His hand moves to your face, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. His gaze drops to your eyes, studying you more intently now, like he’s taking in how badly you’re buzzed, how off-kilter your thoughts are. His fingers linger there for a moment longer than you expect, his touch gentle yet possessive. For a heartbeat, it feels like the world has shrunk to just the two of you, his presence overwhelming and solid, his mask hiding everything but the emotion in his eyes. It’s an unspoken understanding, but it also feels like something more.

You don’t pull away. Instead, your eyes stay fixed on his, and the alcohol loosens your tongue even further. “Why do you always look so grumpy?” you murmur, half-joking. “You really think you’re that scary, huh?”

He chuckles, low and rough, breaking the tension. “Maybe it’s just how I look,” he answers, but there’s an amused gleam in his eyes now, something different from earlier.

You shake your head, not letting him off the hook so easily. “No, you look like you’re hiding something. But you don’t need to, you know?”

There’s another long pause between you, his thumb still brushing against your cheek, and the closeness has your breath catching in your chest. You can’t quite place what it is, but something shifts in the air, something that makes your heart race faster.

Leaning in just a little, you murmur, “You know… you’re actually really handsome, Ghost.”

His eyes widen just the slightest bit, the expression behind his mask shifting into something unreadable, but it doesn’t stop him from holding you there, his hand still cupping your face. “Is that so?” he murmurs, voice deeper now, amused and almost… pleased?

“Yeah, you’ve got that whole mysterious, dark vibe going for you,” you say, your gaze drifting down to his chest as you sway slightly on your feet. “Don’t let it go to your head, though,” you add with a half-smile, trying to lighten the moment, “but it’s true.”

There aren’t many moments you’ve seen Ghost without his mask—just enough for you to count with your fingers. Mostly, it’s been during meals, those rare occasions when he’s forced to shed the barrier between him and the world. You can’t help but notice each time he does; how could you not?

The first time you saw him without the mask, you felt a jolt of surprise. His face was striking in ways that you hadn’t expected—strong, sharp features that seemed carved from stone. His jawline was all hard angles, his eyes intense and deeper than they seemed when half-shaded by the mask. But what drew your gaze more than anything was the scar on his left cheek, a thin, pale line running down just shy of his jaw. It looked like a relic from some old battle, faded but unmissable, giving his face a harsher, almost haunted edge.

And yet, that scar softened something too. It hinted at a history, at moments he’s endured that you could only guess at. You’ve never asked him about it—he’d probably shut down if you tried—but each time you’ve seen his face, you’ve memorized it just a little more. His gaze always flickers away when he catches you looking, but you can’t help noticing the smallest details: the faint crease between his brows when he’s deep in thought, the way his mouth barely tilts when someone cracks a joke he finds halfway amusing. He always brings the mask back up quickly, as if remembering the distance he needs to maintain.

Each time he lifts that mask, you feel as if you’re glimpsing something guarded, something that only a rare few have ever seen. And even though he never lets you linger on it for long, the memory of his face—scar, guarded eyes, the subtle but undeniable humanity there—lingers with you.

His fingers tighten just a fraction, his grip still gentle but more assertive now, like he’s grounding you in this moment. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he replies, the playful edge to his voice now tinged with something else. Something closer to appreciation, or maybe… curiosity?

Before you can say anything else, his thumb drifts slowly, tracing the line of your cheekbone, then gliding downward until it rests just at the corner of your mouth. You feel the warmth of his skin through the fabric of the glove, so close you can almost imagine his bare touch, imagine the weight and warmth without the barrier.

He studies you with an intensity that makes your pulse race, his gaze drifting from your eyes to where his thumb hovers over your lips. His gloved hand is careful but certain, as if he's savoring each detail. Slowly, his thumb meets your bottom lip, light enough to make you shiver, but there’s a sense of restraint in the gesture, like he’s letting himself test boundaries. He brushes along the edge of your bottom lip in a slow, careful sweep, almost as if he’s mapping it out, savoring the softness beneath his touch. He’s close enough that you can see the way his gaze darkens, focused entirely on you, on the way his thumb drags so gently across your lip. Each pass is deliberate, his touch achingly slow, as if he’s caught somewhere between curiosity and something deeper—something he won’t admit, not out loud.

His fingers trace down your jaw, but his thumb stays at your mouth, brushing with a gentleness that makes your heart pound, your breath catching just slightly at each delicate movement. You feel his eyes watching the way your lips part under his touch, as though he’s fascinated, as if each soft curve and line of your mouth is something he’s committing to memory.

The air between you is thick with the weight of things unspoken, a tension you can’t ignore. His touch remains tender but holds a barely restrained intensity, his thumb finally pausing at the center of your lip, resting there like he’s weighing his next move. His gaze is fixed there, as if you’re some intriguing mystery he can’t help but explore. You stand frozen, unable to process the moment. Nobody has ever touched you like this, like you’re an enigma trying to be deciphered. Nobody ever bothered to.

You close your eyes, accepting the strange intimacy of his touch. Your heart beats fast, your hands almost clammy, but you don’t want to pull away. Almost instinctively, you let your lips press softly against his thumb, giving it a light, chaste peck.

You slowly open your eyes, searching his face for a reaction. Did that small gesture bother him? Make him angry? Maybe you went too far. But the moment your gaze locks with his, your doubts crumble. His eyes are dark, intense, almost... possessive. Longing. This isn’t the Ghost you know—the one who watches you with cold, calculating eyes, ready to nitpick your every move, sometimes even with a hint of regret, as if he thinks bringing you back here was a mistake.

Right now, he’s looking at you differently. He’s looking at you like you’re somebody. Like you mean something. Like you’re not just a piece on this chessboard that everyone else is playing.

He’s seeing you.

And it terrifies you.

As if snapping yourself from a dream, you take a quick step back, chuckling awkwardly to break the tension. “Remind me never to drink with you lot again.”

Ghost seems to snap back to reality at the same moment you do, but there’s a flicker of frustration in his eyes, a strain in how his jaw clenches. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do you. Instead, you take a slow breath, grounding yourself as best you can, then slide the keycard through the reader with a soft beep.

Before you step inside, you glance over your shoulder at him, catching that dark, unreadable look he wears all too well. “Thanks… for walking me to my room,” you murmur, trying to sound casual, like nothing strange just happened.

He nods, barely a movement, but there’s something in his silence that feels heavier than usual, as if he’s holding something back. He lingers for a split second before turning, walking back down the hallway, his steps fading into the distance.

Once the door shuts behind you, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. You lean back against the door, then slowly sink down to the floor, pulling your knees up and resting your forehead against them. Your face is practically burning. Just a few simple touches, a look, and yet here you are, feeling like everything you thought you knew has shifted. It’s hard to explain what exactly happened, even to yourself. But whatever it was, it’s left your heart pounding and your mind spinning with thoughts you can’t quite put into words.

A soft, bewildered smile plays on your lips as you sit there, alone in the quiet, feeling both terrified and somehow… happy.

[anawrites3]

I got a bit busy today so I wasn't able to finish my piece for day 1 of @omegadickweek but I still wanna share it while on time - so have part 1 here early and I'll post the whole finished thing tomorrow on ao3 (hopefully with another fic for day 2)

Hitting all the prompts this time - Reverse Robin | First heat | Age difference

Gravel shuffled quietly on the roof behind his back and Dick's heart stopped for half of a second. He turned his head to the side, just barely to notice who was standing behind him and-

“Flying alone tonight, little bird?” Slade drawled, lips curled into a wolfish grin.

Tension immediately bleed out of Dick's shoulders. It didn't escape Slade's attention, his single eye flicking over him in a way that made Dick's own lips twitch into a smile.

It probably didn't say anything good about him, that the sight of Deathstroke the Terminator made him relax like that - that he felt relief instead of fear. That he didn't feel the urge to reach for his escrimas, that he didn't focus on Deathstroke entirely, preparing himself for the fight.

Because Slade wasn't like the rest of the rogues Dick usually fought - that's what made Dick so interested. Maybe it was the way Slade could kill him with just a flick of his hand. Maybe it was the way Slade looked at him and saw more, more than just a kid and more than Batman's sidekick. Maybe it was the way Slade, despite being every bit of a villain, of a mercenary and a killer, never lied and had a set of rules he would never break.

And Deathstroke wasn't just some villain, either. He was the most dangerous one, the most lethal of them all.

And for a few months now, he was also Dick's occasional lover.

Bruce would go crazy if he ever learned about it and his brothers would lock him up in the Manor, make sure he never stepped outside again. They were already overprotective, Dick didn't want to know how bad it could get.

Hopefully he’d never know and they all stay blissfully unaware.

“Maybe.” Dick answered with a hum, his gaze returning to the building he was watching before Slade joined him.

Another whisper of gravel and Slade stopped by the edge of the rooftop, right where Dick was crouching. His fingers ran through Dick's hair, pushing the locks away from his forehead and Dick pushed into his touch without thinking.

“Expecting any trouble?” Slade murmured.

He lowered himself to get on Dick's level and a bit of his scent slipped out from behind his uniform. For a moment all the thought escaped Dick's mind, as he smelled the gunpowder combined with spice. It used to burn him in the nose, when he was younger. Nowadays it made him think of soft sheets and black bitter coffee Slade always made for him in the morning.

And now… now the smell seemed stronger than usual. It wasn't… burning, exactly but it still made his nose twitch. It shouldn't feel like this - Slade had his full armor on and the bit of his smell got out only because he wasn't wearing his mask but- it shouldn't make warmth curl inside his stomach the way it was doing.

He forgot Slade even asked him a question, until the alpha wrapped one of his hair strands around his finger and tugged gently.

“Not really.” He rubbed a hand under his nose.

Slade hummed, clearly not believing him. “Is that why you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard me?” He teased.

Dick shrugged, forcing himself to fear his eyes away from the alpha and look at the building again. Two of the guards were standing beside the main entrance, smoking without a word. Quiet, because they weren't meant to leave their post. In about five minutes they will go back inside, as if nothing ever happened - and after another hour they will be back for another smoke.

“Well, you could say that I'm… what's the word? Ah, yes. Grounded.” Dick rolled his eyes, making Slade laugh. “Can you imagine it? They think they can just ground me, like I'm some kid!”

“Aren’t you one, though?” Slade asked, his voice a smooth murmur. Dick could feel his breath on his cheek, as the words danced on his skin. “Just a kid. Baby.”

Dick did everything he could not to show how the word affected him but when he exhaled the next time, it came out just a little bit shaky. Slade had to notice, of course, because the curl of his lips turned into a smirk and he leaned down closer to him, his fingers sliding from Dick’s hair to the back of his neck.

“A-anyway,” He cleared out his throat, doing his best to ignore the touch. He shifted, resting one of his knees on the rough surface of the rooftop but Slade’s hand just followed him. Fucking bastard- “I’m not going to just let them ‘ground me’ when they go out on a patrol themselves. They had no right to ground me in the first place.”

“But you had to do something.” Slade said. His hand was a firm pressure on Dick’s nape, his thumb pressed against Dick’s gland, hidden under his costume and a patch that covered his scent. “You just love getting into trouble. Don’t you, kid?”

Dick shivered, letting out another shaky breath. “I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

[gloomwitchwrites]

An Unexpected Catch: Boromir x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings: canon-typical violence

Word Count: 3.1k

Chapter Two

While investigating an attack on a Gondorian settlement, Boromir finds himself run through with a sword and tossed into a nearby river. When death seems dangerously near, Boromir’s body washes up to shore, tangled in a fishing net. A young woman living alone finds Boromir and brings him home to care for him. As Boromir physically heals, he finds that his heart is also missing something important.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // an unexpected catch masterlist

Boromir

The rains that come in the Night bring early morning mist and low clouds.

Upon his horse, Boromir observes the hazy horizon. The tall grass around his horse’s legs is dew-kissed and wet, darkening the horse’s coat until it appears black. The mist clings to his armor, creating a slick covering on the metal. When Boromir returns to Minas Tirith, the royal blacksmith will need to inspect it, cleaning it properly to avoid potential rust.

“Captain!” Brennan, one of the men that is accompanying Boromir trots forward, pulling up beside him. “The scout has not reported in.”

Boromir briefly glances at him before returning to scan the horizon. Even with the low clouds and mist, he can see enough.

Something dark stirs in these lands—awakening with malicious intent. It is palpable like the way butter sits salty and thick on the tongue when not evenly spread. It is heavy in the air and lungs, a vice around throats and hearts. It is a battering ram. It is everywhere.

Faramir is in Osgiliath.

The city conquered. Retaken. Conquered again. Mostly in sections, but it’s continuous. Unending. A brutal task that Boromir is only fighting because his father wants it so.

All who lived there are gone, moved to Minas Tirith. Boromir doesn’t know when it’ll be safe to return.

It might never be.

The orcs grow bold. A shadow is at their backs, spurring their forward momentum and bloodlust. As if they are sucking the darkness into themselves, they are relentless, fueling themselves on whatever drives them ever onward.

“What was the original report?” asks Boromir.

“Raids, sir,” answers Brennan. “Corsairs along the river. Mercenaries from the East. Mostly.”

“Mostly?” counters Boromir. “What other beings move along the Anduin?”

Brennan shakes his head. “Report didn’t say. Only that the Corsairs come and go. They advance and retreat in equal measure.”

“No pattern?”

“None that’s been revealed.”

Boromir nods, but there is no comfort. Acting on little information is a risk, and they are few in number.

“We will forge ahead,” replies Boromir. “Slowly. Keep to the trees. Avoid open ground.”

Boromir does not intend to engage. This is to gain information to relay back to Minas Tirith, to figure out a path forward.

The party is only ten in number on horseback. Boromir gathers the reins, and they depart, descending from the large hill they look out on to draw up next to the tree line. On the other side is the Anduin. It’s far enough that they cannot see it but close enough that Boromir swears he can hear the water.

They follow the tree line for several leagues. The day does not lighten. The skies remain grey and gloomy.

Boromir raises his fist, and the group halts.

He narrows his gaze, unsure of what he’s seeing.

“Do any of you see what I see, or do my eyes deceive me?”

“Looks like smoke,” replies Brennan.

“Or dark clouds,” adds Alden, scratching at his beard.

Boromir frowns. “Is there anything in that direction.”

“Likely a settlement,” answers Brennan. “Or a small village. Might not be on any maps expect local ones.”

Turning toward his men, Boromir keeps his tone even. “We will approach from the forest. Move slowly. Stay alert.”

Turning their steeds toward the forest, they enter one by one, trudging slowly through the undergrowth. The canopy swallows them up like a leviathan. Around them are large trees, and Boromir feels small—as if everything is tight and cramped.

To move through the trees, the group has to split, forming two lines.

At the edge of the tree line, Boromir brings everyone to a halt.

There is a town. A small settlement of a couple dozen buildings. To the left is the Anduin. The dock there is empty expect for a few fishing boats.

Some of the buildings still smolder. The rest are just blackened carcasses.

Boromir sees no bodies. Orcs would leave plenty behind. They rarely—if ever—take prisoners. Corsairs certainly kill but they tend to withhold their blades for profit. Living souls mean income. They can exchange hostages for coin, or take them to faraway places to sell them. Everything is a profit for them.

But there may still be bodies. Boromir just can’t see them.

It is he that takes the first step out of the trees. The others follow behind at the same pace, their hands on their weapons as they enter the settlement.

It is incredibly quiet. Hardly any noise. No birds or buzzing of insects. Only the occasional crackle of singed wood falling in on itself.

Moving like ghosts amongst a graveyard, they find themselves at the center of it all, and still, there are no bodies. Only blackened buildings.

“Captain,” murmurs Brennan. “Look.”

Boromir follows Brennan’s outstretched arm in the direction he indicates. There he finds a partially collapsed building. The door is open, hanging on its hinges, ready to fall off at the slightest gust of wind. Draped across the threshold is a pale arm, hand pressed into the earth as if the person tried to claw their way to freedom.

As a group, they approach, but it is Boromir who dismounts first. Brennan and Alden follow his lead while the others remain where they are. Cautiously, they examine the door and pale arm. Boromir leans in, only to find more the arm and who it is connected to.

It’s a woman.

Brennan kneels beside her, fingers pressed to the inside of her wrist before checking her neck.

Without speaking, Brennan turns in Boromir’s direction and shakes his head.

She’s gone. There is nothing that can be done.

Boromir nods his head, indicating that they should enter. He takes the lead, Brennan at his heels as Alden lingers back a bit near the door. They step around overturned furniture and over fallen beams.

“Touch nothing,” whispers Boromir.

It’s a small space, and reveals little. Bending at the knees, Boromir leans in to examine scorch marks along the floor that look like claw marks.

Behind him—distantly—there is a soft whoosh of air like a change in the wind.

A brief shout—quickly cut off.

Brennan and Alden draw their blades and charge toward the door.

“Wait!” says Boromir but they’re gone.

More shouting. The ringing of metal striking metal.

He sidesteps a beam and comes up short.

“Come out! We know you’re in there!”

Beyond the door are Corsairs. Not a handful. No. There are at least five of them to every one of Boromir’s men. But there aren’t many of his men left.

Most are down.

Boromir can only see about five of them on the ground in front of the house. He doesn’t see the others, but with how calm and unbothered the Corsairs are, they’re likely gone.

“Come out! Last chance. Won’t be lenient if we have to come in there.”

Muttering under his breath, Boromir exits, sword raised high, ready to swing.

The Corsair at the front of the group laughs. His black hair is thick and slightly tangled in a knot at the back of his head.

“Put your sword down. No use fighting.”

Boromir does not relent. He does not lower his weapon.

“A soldier of Gondor does not bow down to those poised to do evil.”

The Corsairs blinks, and then bursts out laughing again. He points, hand gesturing vaguely toward Boromir. “Armor is shiny. Fetch a pretty price.” He tilts his head to the side. “Bring it to me.”

Boromir is alone. Utterly alone.

Five Corsairs descend on him, and Boromir swings, hacking through two and ducking a third blow. This is easy. This is nothing. All the training is now natural, and Boromir is only an extension of his blade.

Until he isn’t.

Until there are far too many to fend off.

He lifts to swing again, but there is resistance in the swing. A pinch that becomes a sting and then bright, blinding pain.

Boromir glances down.

Impaled.

The Corsair holding the sword that sticks from his side grins wickedly before yanking it out.

Red comes with. Surprisingly dark.

The world spins. Boromir lands on his knees, and then all he sees above him is the grey sky.

“Take the armor. Then toss them all in the river.”

Reader

“I know. I know. Quit chiming. Giving me a headache.”

The bell does not cease. It continues to ring—loud and sharp in the small room.

That is its one job. It’s singular purpose. Your father designed it to be so.

The string that connects to the bell runs along a small tube in the ground which leads out to the fishing nets by the dock. Whenever the weight shifts past a certain amount, the bell will ring, indicating that it’s ready to be checked.

Depending on weight, the bell will give a soft chime or a loud one.

Right now, it’s loud. Angry.

And your father isn't here. He's been called away to serve in Gondor's navy. It's just you keeping it together.

When it was just the two of you, the amount of work didn’t seem so bad, but now that it’s just you, checking the nets consistently simply isn’t possible. It takes up too much time in your day, and hauling them up is a two-person job.

But with the bell ringing like it is, you’re going to have to check, even if you know it’ll take up far too much time.

Pushing your hair back and out of your face, you put on a fresh dress for the day. It’s simple. Meant to get dirty from garden work and wet from checking the nets. Grabbing your apron off the back of a chair, you tie it around your waist, exiting into the garden.

Opening the coop first to allow the chickens out, you then pop your head into the small barn.

“Hello, Daisy,” you coo, rubbing the cow’s side. She replies with a soft croon of contentment.

The two pigs snort in your direction but remain where they are. The sheep attempt to stick their heads through the wood slats to reach you.

“Behave,” you scold, pushing Tulip’s head back into the pen. “You’ll get stuck again and I’m not spending my day removing the boards to free you.”

Tulip baas a sharp reply.

Even in the barn you can still hear the bell from inside the house.

It’s misty out. A bit chilly.

The animals need space. They need to walk around and graze, but with the weather like it is, they might prefer to stay inside. Lightly chewing on the inside of your cheek, you decide to open the pens.

“Have at it,” you mutter, knowing you might regret this later when you try to round everyone up.

Following the stone path to the river, you gaze out across the landscape. There are dark clouds in the distance. At first, you think them storm clouds, but they appear far too dark for that.

Everything is odd now. There are whispers. Rumors of a spreading darkness.

But you are completely isolated. You are near no villages or settlements for a league or two at least. Whatever you have heard, it’s from passing travelers on the roads to said villages. When your father was called up, he didn’t know until he took a trip to town. They sent no one to fetch him, and the summons had come months ago.

“Strange,” you murmur, frowning at the dark spot in the sky.

Heading for the lever to raise the fishing nets, you sigh heavily, not wanting to do this at all. This is the part you hate the most. It takes an extreme amount of upper body strength, which is why it is a two-person endeavor.

Without your father to help you, you have to put your full weight behind each downward push.

Wrapping your fingers around the handle of the lever, you go up on your toes, and then allow your body to naturally fall downward, using your weight to crank it.

Everything moves. Turns. Creaks loudly.

You repeat the process until you’re sweating and the coolness of the air no longer kisses your skin with a chill.

Eventually the net begins to rise. Sticks and twigs and dead leaves appear. Not unusual, but there is typically movement in the water at this point. The fish don’t want to be dragged to the surface. They will flop about, the water around them churning with their wiggling bodies.

But there is nothing.

Not—no.

Not fish. Something…else.

Pausing, you step closer to the edge. Falling to your knees, you reach down into the water and push leaves and sticks out the way to get a better lock.

“Uinen’s tears!” you exclaim, jumping back.

It’s a man.

There is a man in your net.

Frantically, you reach out. Using the water’s natural buoyancy, you turn the man over. He is pale, and twisted in the twigs, hair a dark fan around him.

There are no fish. Just him.

With an urgency you didn't possess before, you go back to the lever, heaving yourself against it over and over again until your feel the wood biting into your skin. Once the net is high enough, you unclasp the lock, pushing forward, the net swinging toward you as it comes to hover over the dock.

You reengage the lock, and then the net settles, expanding outward to rest against the wood, opening wide to reveal everything inside.

The man tumbles out. Unresponsive.

Falling to your knees next to him, you push his wet hair of his face. Fingers pressing to his throat, you pray that you will find live beneath them.

There is nothing. Only silence. Not even a flutter.

As you reach up to remove twigs and leaves from his hair, there is a soft brush of breath against the inside of your wrist. Pausing, you bring your hand back, hovering your palm above his mouth.

Waiting.

Nothing.

And then—

It comes again. Soft, but there.

He is alive. This stranger is alive.

With both hands pressed to his chest, you shove down, over and over again. His body convulses, and you dart backward, turning him on his side and he purges brackish water from his lungs.

Coughing, the stranger groans, and you rub his back in an attempt to soothe him. He leans forward a bit, one hand pressed into the wet wood beneath him, cheek firmly squished against the dock.

He’s wearing nothing but plain pants and a tunic. He does not wear boots. Not even socks. From what you can tell, there is nothing that identifies him as belonging to any one person or place.

A stranger in your net.

An unexpected catch.

The stranger takes in big gulps of air, eyes still closed. His hand shakes slightly before he pushes himself onto his back. That is when his eyelids start to open, and you lean over him.

You don’t dare touch him.

“Do I behold an angel?”

You blink, stunned. “A—what?”

Eyelids fluttering, the stranger slips back into unconsciousness.

“Wake up,” you plead, grasping the sides of his face, checking for awareness. “Please.”

His breathing is even, but he’s out again.

Releasing the sides of his face, you survey the rest of him. His clothes are completely soaked, clinging to his skin. They reveal a muscled body beneath. But that isn’t all. On the stranger’s left side, there is a large dark spot in the fabric, and a small tear.

Slowly, you pull it up.

Your heart drops into your stomach.

The wound in his stomach is red and swollen. It’s bad, but might not yet be fatal. You’ve seen far worse. Helped heal worse. A wound like this will take time though.

While part of you wants to understand who this man is, it’s far from the most important thing.

“How am I to carry you?” you ask, as if he can answer.

If he were conscious, the stranger could help. But the man is out cold, and no matter how you try to rouse him, he won’t wake.

You don't want to drag him but you can't carry him.

“Oh, Uinen. Help me.”

Not that you expect an answer. You have to do this on your own.

Leaving the stranger on the dock, you rush back to the house. Grabbing a sturdy blanket, you head for the barn, bridling the horse, and attaching the contraption your father built for towing large objects.

Returning to the stranger, you do your best to push him onto the blanket. You half yank, half roll him onto the blanket before tying everything up.

“All right, Bessie. Forward now. Slowly. That’s it. Good girl.”

Bessie begins her ascent up the path. With the incline and oddly placed stones, she takes it slow, and you stay behind her, taking care to protect the stranger’s head. The process is slow, and takes up precious time, but Bessie makes it to the top.

From there, you guide her as close to the door as possible. Pushing the door wide, you return and detaching the makeshift sling. Bessie is too big to fit into the house, and this is the part where you have to drag the stranger into the house.

At least the blasted bell isn’t ringing anymore.

Your bed is too small. Choosing your father’s, you change course, dragging the stranger into your father’s bedroom.

You bring the stranger to a rest next to the bed. Taking a deep breath, you hook your arms underneath his armpits, and attempt to lift.

You fall right on your butt.

“Angel,” murmurs the stranger.

Leaning to the side, you gently cup his cheek. The stranger’s eyes are slightly open, awareness returning.

“I can’t lift you on my own,” you murmur, unsure if he’ll understand.

But he does.

The stranger nods. He’s a little out of it, but he assists in draping his arm over your shoulders, shifting his weight as you lift his upper half off the ground.

Groaning, you manage to get him partially onto the bed. Grabbing his feet next, you lift his legs, and then he’s in.

The stranger sighs, then winces, eyelids closing yet again.

His clothes will need to be removed and changed. Skin will need to be cleansed and any wounds checked over. The one in his side will likely need to be stitched closed. You’ll need blankets. A fire to keep him warm.

Already, he shivers.

Are there people looking for him? People searching? Or is he utterly alone? No family to speak of.

Lightly, your fingers brush the edge of his hairline. His hair is starting to dry. Small patches have turned auburn. It’s a lovely color.

“Whoever you are,” you murmur. “Wherever you come from. I’ll make sure you return.”

taglist:

@coffeecaketornado @glassgulls @foxxy-126 @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet

@singleteapot @tiredmetalenthusiast @glitterypirateduck @miaraei @cherryofdeath

@ferns-fics @ninman82 @beebeechaos @smileykiddie08 @whisperwispxx

@weasleytwins-41 @thewulf @firelightinferno @protosslady @fstwdsstuffandthaaangs

[lacontroller1991]

Lead the Way (RJ MacCready x F!Reader)

Main Master List || Misc Master List

Author's Note: Posted on A03 as well. It was really a matter of time before I posted a fanfic for him or Valentine. Am I taking requests for MacCready? "You're damn right!"

Warnings: 18+, Gun Violence, Canon Typical Violence, Language, Like 3 sexual comments, Drinking, Mention of Drug Use (Uh Hancock, nuff said), MacCready being the dumbass that he is

Word Count: 3.1k

==========

The first time MacCready crosses paths with her it’s between buildings in what was formerly Downtown Boston, with him narrowly dodging stray bullets while she takes down raiders left and right. Ducking behind a wall, he tries to take a peek at her face, but it’s obscured by a mask that blends in with the rest of her ammo clad armor. In fact, the only way MacCready can really decipher that the shooter is a female is the smaller, slender frame and the slight protuberance in the chest area.

Normally, MacCready isn’t the one to shy away from a firefight, but from his standpoint, it’s not his barrel, not his monkeys. He also has a kid to provide for and getting himself into trouble for no reason isn’t a great method of survival.

Crouched down on himself, his crystal blue eyes watch the way the unnamed figure easily dodges bullets, taking down raider after raider. He has to admit, for a lone shooter, she sure knows what to do. 

With the gun smoke settling, MacCready moves out from his spot behind the wall, standing 30 paces away from the stranger. 

“You gonna try your luck or you gonna walk away?” Her voice is modulated by the mask and sounds distant while she crouches over the dead bodies, picking random objects from their pockets, causing MacCready to scoff. 

“Why waste your time with sh-junk like that?” The figure stands to her full height, adjusting her bandolier across her chest. Hopping off of the platform, she reaches for her rifle and slings it along her back.

“Maybe next time I get to see you actually fight.” Her comment is sharp off her tongue and it takes MacCready by shock. Nodding to MacCready, she takes her leave, leaving him in his thoughts. Who is she?

MacCready’s legs burn as they race up the ever winding stairs. He needs to get a good vantage point. His target is making their way through the Commonwealth way faster than his lead had originally planned. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit.

His rifle slings from his shoulders into his hands as he gets a clearing. High enough for a good vantage point, low enough for his target to not escape his scope. He needs the caps more than anything, and his client, well, is paying a hefty sum. Enough to hire some help with Med-Tek.

His fingers fiddle with the setting on his scope, focusing the hairline on the oblivious target, walking in the middle of the road, in broad daylight. MacCready scoffs. “Idiot.” Before his index finger even brushes the trigger, a resounding static crackle echoes off the destroyed buildings and his target falls into a heap on the ground, unmoving. MacCready jerks away from his gun in disbelief. His one chance of caps, gone. Now who’s going to hire him? “MOTHER FU- UGH!” His eye peers through the scope and settles on a hooded figure, dragging his target through a valley. Taking a deep breath, he narrows his eyesight, trying to make out any telltale signs about the second, unwanted party. The only thing he can make out is the all black attire and a mask hanging from the belt. Wait. “That bitch!”

Grumbling as he gets up, MacCready dusts off his pants before grabbing his rifle with a scowl. What is he going to tell his employers? Sorry boss, someone else killed him before I could even get my finger on the trigger. He kicks the ground beneath him, bringing up a plume of dirt and dust as his mood sours by the second. He needed that money. If she starts picking off more of his targets he might just have to take matters into his own hands and get rid of the competition. Can’t have two mercenaries in the Commonwealth.

“I need a drink.”

----------

Magnolia’s singsong voice echoes throughout the repurposed subway station as MacCready downs another round of whiskey. He should be saving what little caps he has, but his mood demands alcohol, even if it’s not the best idea. 

“You better have enough caps to pay up Mac. You know what he will say if you leave your tab open,” Charlie comments, filling up MacCready’s glass while he scowls.

“Yeah yeah,” MacCready dismisses the robot abruptly, swirling the glass in his hand, ignoring the person sitting down next to him.

“Bourbon, neat.”

“Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. What are you doing in a place like this, lass?” MacCready peeks at the person beside him from the corners of his eyes and nearly chokes on his drink. A woman, a gorgeous woman, sitting next to him. He can’t recall the last time he saw a woman that clean with straight white teeth and washed hair. 

She takes the glass from the Mr. Handy and raises the glass to her mouth, parting her perfect, plump lips. Hell, maybe MacCready drank way more than he should and is imagining things. “Hello to you too, Charlie. It’s been a while.”  MacCready can’t help but to tilt his head as he tries to get a wrap around her voice. Why does it sound so familiar? She takes a sip of the amber liquid and MacCready watches the way her head slightly tips back, accentuating her smooth neck and damn he wants to place his lips on it. Turning fully in his seat, he looks at the bar patron drinking in the sight of her jacket wrapped around her waist, revealing a clean, white tank top that left something to the imagination. His mouth dries in response but she doesn’t make a move to acknowledge him. 

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” A familiar voice to MacCready joins in on the conversation, leaning against the bar on the other side of the stranger. “What are you doing in Goodneighbor sunshine?” The merc watches the woman on his left down the rest of her drink before smiling at the mayor.

Charlie refills her glass while she gets down from her seat, wrapping her arms around the ghoul. “John. So good to see you.” Hancock immediately hugs back, hand creeping lower on her back before giving her butt a small grab much to MacCready’s shock. Sure, Hancock has always been flirtatious, but he doesn’t think that he’s ever seen him openly grope a person outside of sexual situations. The hug lasts for another second or two before they pull away, resuming their positions at the bar while Robert watches, drink in hand forgotten. 

“You didn’t answer my question, doll. What brings you around to these parts? Last I heard, you went out west.”

“I did, ran into some NCR soldiers, blew some shit up, hunted down some people. Was good fun, but I heard some rumors that the Commonwealth has an uptick in jobs, so here I am.” 

Hancock’s black eyes gaze her over, licking his lips while MacCready scoffs. “So here you are. Had any luck?”

“Yep, took care of a bounty earlier today. If bounties like that keep coming in, I might make the Commonwealth my home.” Mac’s blood freezes as it all sets in. She’s a bounty hunter. She’s the one he saw taking out the raiders. She’s the one who caused him to lose his job. She stole his kill. He can’t believe this! He oughta draw out his gun and blow a hole in her head. The sound of glass shattering brings the whole bar into silence, drawing MacCready out of his rage only to look around for the source of the shattered glass.

“What’s wrong with you Mac? That was a perfectly good glass!” Hancock chastises, grabbing a towel from behind the bar and moving towards the merc. It wasn’t until Hancock put the towel on his hand that he noticed that he was the one who shattered the glass and was bleeding. 

Charlie’s motors whir in annoyance as he brings out a broom and dustpan, sweeping up the shards off the floor but all Mac can see is the woman right in front of him, confusion written on her face. “That’s going onto your tab!”

“What was that about Mac?”

“You stole my kill.” He points an accusing finger in her face as her eyes narrow. 

“I didn’t steal shit. There was a bounty. Game is game."

“No. I was paid to take him out and you stole that from me.” She scoffs as Hancock backs away, eyeing the two people.

“Maybe you shouldn’t have been slow. Maybe then you would have your pile of caps, merc.”

“Woah woah, I don’t need more blood spilt in my bar. Why don’t you two take this outside.” MacCready rolls his eyes as the rest of the bar watches on in anticipation. Why should he have to leave because of some stupid girl. 

Scoffing, he slams some caps onto the table. “Whatever. Good luck trying to get the next one.” With not another word said, he leaves the bar, hellbent on beating the stranger at her own game. 

----------

He doesn’t know who or why she continuously gets bounty after bounty, but it’s well past the point of him being nice. He’s 0 for 7 and if he doesn’t get one soon he might actually kill her in cold blood. It doesn’t help either that anytime he sees her all he can think about is slamming her against a wall and shoving his dick in her mouth to wipe that smirk off of her fuc-freaking perfect face. 

“Face it Blamco, you’re just too slow. You’re not as good as me,” she comments from beside him at the bar, glass of bourbon in her hand as he scowls.

“Oh wow, you came up with another name. Good for you.” This is how it’s been. Trying to beat each other to a bounty, her eventually winning, him coming to the Third Rail, her following and gloating, him drinking, her teasing him, him scowling more before eventually leaving. Then it repeats.

“Have you ever thought that maybe this isn’t the line of work for you? Maybe you should do something simple, like farming.” Ok, now he’s livid.

“Why don’t you just shut the hell up and leave me the hell alone.” It comes out more soft and depressing than he was hoping for. He was wanting it to sound angry, to be intimidating, but the softening of her facial features tells him that it had the opposite effect.

“Damn MacCready. What’s got you down in the dump? I’m just teasing you.” She places a tender hand on his upper bicep and he can’t deny how nice the contact felt, but he shoves it off, standing up and towering over her.

“I’m sick of you and your stupid teasing. You don’t know how much I need those caps. You’re so selfish, taking all those bounties. Maybe leave some for other people. Why don’t you go back out west where you belong. And God, you’re so annoying. I don’t know whether I should shoot you in the mouth or kiss you just so you would shut the hell up!” She closes her mouth, brows bunched together in thought. MacCready scoffs, downing his watered down whiskey. “What. Don’t you have anything to say now?” 

“You’re such a fucking dick Robert. You don’t know shit.” She sets a bag down on the counter and he can tell it’s full of caps. He watches as she turns to Charlie who hovers ever so slightly, eagerly listening in on the conversation. “When he isn’t throwing a temper tantrum, give him the package.”

“Sure thing Miss (Name).”

“Oh and put his bill on mine. It’s covered.”

“Will do ma’am.” She doesn’t spare him another glance before grabbing her stuff and setting off, leaving the pile of caps on the counter.

“Is she actually just leaving that?”

“She left it for you, wanker. Honestly, your behavior as of late is unsavory. No wonder why you have had no clients.” He floats away for a second before retrieving a box and setting it down in front of the former gunner. “Now are you going to grow up or am I going to have to leave this with me until you fix yourself.” Mac’s curiosity of what lies in the box automatically shifts his mood to tolerable. Removing the lid of the box, his breath catches in his throat. Inside the brown box lies a red syringe with the words “Med Tek: Prevent” printed in white.

“Is this what I think it is?” His heart races as he picks up the syringe. This can’t be it. Can it?

“Miss (Name) went there the other day with Mr. Hancock. Took out the whole subunit of ghouls to bring you this. I do hope you reconsider your abrasive words.” How the hell was he supposed to know that she went to Med Tek to get this cure? How the hell was he supposed to know that she knew he was looking for this?

“Who told her about Duncan?”

“I imagine the same person who went with her.” Hancock. He should’ve known. Grabbing the syringe and the pile of caps, he races up the stairs and out of the building, running right into one of the people he wanted to see.

“Slow your roll MacCready. What’s got ants in your pants?” Hancock’s cool tone questions him as MacCready pockets the syringe, his hands itching in nerves.

“I want to kick your ass so hard, but first, why the hell would you tell her about Duncan, let alone Duncan’s disease? You know damn well that that is none of her business! I trusted you to keep that between us, not to tell some random ass stranger who just happens to be good with a gun. Second, where the hell did she go? I need to give her a piece of my mind.” MacCready makes a move to brush past Hancock, but Hancock is physically stronger and stops the young man in his tracks.

“One, she asked why you needed the caps so bad since you were being a bad sport about a kill and I had one too many hits of jet. Two, good luck finding her. You can be a dick when you’re drinking and pissed off.”

“I had every-”

“Every right to, yeah yeah, but still. She has a heart of gold and maybe if you didn’t have a fire lit up your ass, you would’ve known that.” MacCready calms down in Hancock’s grip, letting the ghoul loosen his hands. “I don’t know where she went, but I bet she doesn’t want to be found. Sunshine is one of those people who if you seriously piss off or hurt, they like to lick their wounds in private.”

“Why would she care what I said? She doesn’t like me.”

“I forget how naive you are, kid. A girl like that doesn’t just hang around people to hang around people. She obviously digs you. Gives her some… competition.” Robert scoffs.  

“As if she needs any, she’s too damn good on her own.” Hancock shrugs, wrapping an arm around his friend’s shoulders, walking him over to Daisy’s shop.

“If you manage to find her, let her know how you feel.”

“I don’t-”

“Mac, yes you do. You like the competition too, and you know it. Now get this cure to Duncan.” Hancock slaps him on the back forcing MacCready forward, hand in pocket.

“Hey Daisy.”

“Hello RJ, whatcha got for me today?”

“I got the cure.”

----------

It took MacCready a solid month to track her down. Whenever he would get to where she was, she was already gone. Despite wanting to give up and get back to work, he couldn’t drop the nagging feeling in the back of his mind. If anything, he wanted to thank her for getting the cure for his son, but he can’t deny how lonely the past month has been without her presence. 

The gates to Diamond City stand tall in front of him as his stomach tangles in knots. She should be here, he thinks to himself, hoping Hancock’s information is correct. What is he even going to do once he finds her? What is he going to say?

Nodding to the guard, he walks through the entrance to the baseball stadium where the city rests before him. “Well, now or never.” Taking a deep breath, he inhales the smell of Takahashi’s ramen and it makes his mouth water. “What’s a few more minutes?” Sitting down at the makeshift bar, MacCready absentmindedly sticks his hand in his pocket and runs his calloused fingers over the pile of caps. Once she had left and he had delivered the cure to Daisy, Mac counted the caps in the pouch she had left on the bar and couldn’t believe that she would leave that much. It was around 800 caps, which was practically the amount he could’ve gotten had she not collected the bounties before him. “What’s up Taka? Set me up with some of your shima… uh… whatever they’re called.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“Yeah, yeah! That’s the stuff.”

“Nan-ni shimasho-ka?”

“You’re damn right I’ll take two servings!” The robot sets the noodles down in front of him as he lets out a groan. Maybe he’s more hungry than he thought. Digging into the noodles, the real purpose he came to Diamond City slips his mind. Until it’s right across from him, oblivious to his eyes. Slurping down the last bit of noodles, MacCready wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before setting a few caps down, quickly hopping off the stool and rushing towards her. 

Skidding to a halt, he stops a few feet behind her, his blue eyes piercing her back. “Took you long enough to find me Macaroni. Are you always going to stand behind me?” That’s it. MacCready huffs out in frustration, taking large steps towards her as she turns around, a soft smile on her gorgeous face. “Still getting upset over nicknames?”

“Just shut the hell up.” He takes her face between his hands and brings his lips down to hers, the force of the kiss causing her to stumble back, dragging him with her. Needing air, MacCready pulls away, a string of saliva connecting them to each other as he rests his forehead against hers as they catch their breaths, ignoring the way people are looking at them. “Got anything to say now?”

“Kiss me again you idiot.” He doesn’t hesitate as his arms snake around her waist, holding her close to his body while her arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at the ends of his hair. “Why don’t we go somewhere more private?”

MacCready chuckles, his hand moving lower and lower on her back before resting on the swell of her butt. “Lead the way.”

[hra-official]

Graves from CORSAIR Mercenary Company.

My Swallowtail is getting run down, I'm curious about your Rangertails. I would like a comparison of their stealth capabilities as I would prefer to keep my no damage deployment streak continuing.

When it comes to stealth, the main difference is that the active camo of a conventional Swallowtail relies on the mech standing still so as not to disrupt the light-bending effect, while our Ranger Variant uses more conventional camouflage to blend into the environment to the point it becomes impossible to acquire if even partially obscured.

A Swallowtail can go invisible anywhere so long as it stays there.

A Rangertail needs soft cover to blend into, but it doesn't require complete immobility, and even without an active camo it can disrupt its silhouette so well it's impossible to acquire so long as it doesn't give away its position.

Also, the full-spectrum smoke canisters it comes with can offer.complete concealment to any mech or vehicle on your team. We even tested it on a Tokugawa in full Radiance Mode with the reactor exposed and at full heat capacity, and until it actually fired a weapon not a lumen of infrared was coming through.

In "conventional" warfare, SSC's Swallowtail is easier to to work with and is less dependent on its environment (though not completely, you do still need a good spot to park it), while the Rangertail requires either good intel on the battlefield to choose a good spot to leverage its capabilities, or a helping hand from smoke charges, but it afford some mobility to get out of a compromised position without exposing itself, and can extend the same concealment to allies in a pinch. The mech itself is also fitted with additional long-range observation equipment to facilitate locating and reaching a good spot before your enemy can.

Where our model completely overtakes any competition, however, is when access to a printer is not guaranteed: our mechs were made to be built in conventional factories and repaired on the field; there is not a single component that can't be made to specification in a conventional workshop, and the construction is such as to afford generous tolerances so that precision equipment is not required to make it work.

Our new print codes also include customisation options to use components identical to those from widely used machinery across Union space: you can have joint servos interchangeable with engines from a GMS extended family size washing machine, scope lenses identical to those of a HA Rockefeller aerial refueling plane, or haptic controls interchangeable with those of an IPS-N Paromola high-gravity power loader, depending on the theater you'll be operating in, so that even without any ability to make new components, you can repair it just by scavenging the right pieces of civilian equipment.

[ceciliadreamson]

Also imma just refresh everyone on what each person is in the AU:

Cecilia: Paranormal researcher

Outis: Monster Hunter (well technically a mercenary since she’s hired for this)

Ryoshu: a new vampire in town who is the one responsible for the missing civilians recently

I’ll also explain their dynamics a little more below

(TW: Blood and toxic yuri cause this is a vampire AU haha)

Cecilia → Ryoshu: Finds Ryoshu absolutely fascinating and wants to know everything about her. She’ll go through great length just to gain the vampire’s attention (including using a civilian or herself as bait). Cecilia also thinks Ryoshu covered in blood is one of the most attractive things she’s ever seen + her smirk makes her have butterflies in her stomach. Does she want to kiss the vampire…maybe so.

Cecilia → Outis: Adores Outis a lot! She doesn’t really listen to Outis’s warnings about late night walks and pursuing the supernatural though. (She’s gonna get killed one day but that’s ok!) Cecilia knows Outis will always protect her anyways. Also, Outis becoming a monster hunter is the main reason Cecilia became a paranormal researcher! It gives her an excuse to explore her own interests while being able to hang out with Outis just a little more.

Ryoshu → Cecilia: Thinks that the morally ambiguous researcher is funny and decides to keep her alive a little longer. She was going to kill Cecilia during her first few attempts of capturing Ryoshu, but couldn’t figure out what’s that weird feeling bubbling up inside. It was a mix of intrigue, amusement, and perhaps a hint of attraction. So basically Ryoshu decides to watch Cecilia for a while, making Cecilia think her traps aren’t working when they kinda are

Ryoshu → Outis: Wants to splatter Outis’s blood on the walls but also make out while injured…? Ryoshu thinks that her own killings are a work of art and adding a monster hunter to that collection would be an excellent idea. The monster that overpowered the one that was sent to slay her, what a work of art. Ryoshu also enjoys getting under Outis’s skin while being chased is really fun. Also will blow her smoke right in Outis’s face just to rile her up even more (her angered face is oddly a sight she wants to see more of)

Outis → Cecilia: Desires to keep Cecilia safe at all costs, but it’s so hard to keep her in check. What happens if she gets captured by the vampire or Outis finds her dead in the middle of her mission? She doesn’t think she could live with herself if anything happens. Outis is also aware that Cecilia trails her whenever she has a new mission, but tries to play dumb. At this point, it’s better if Outis is aware of where she is and play stupid so Cecilia is in noticeable spots for her. Behind that cold strict exterior is a woman who just wants her beloved friend safe.

Outis → Ryoshu: Hired to kill the vampire but is starting to question her own feelings. Even if she has her kopis at Ryoshu’s neck, she doesn’t know what’s holding her back from cutting off the head immediately. Outis knows she has to get the job done so she can get paid as well as keep her loved ones safe. Ryoshu is the only thing standing between all of that, yet why does that sinister look in her eyes appear so mesmerizing? These two have the classic vampire hunter x vampire dynamic where they both wanna kill each other while having hints of romantic tension between them. I’m running out of writing juice someone help

Anyways ahaha,,,,CC x CC stuff is hard to think of. I think it’s because it’s not my OC, so I have the urge to stay true to canon even though it’s gonna diverge from it. OC x CC though that’s extremely easy to write HAHSHSJAJ

[tadpolebobatea]

live slug reaction Chapter 211

thats… not what loop 100 tella looks like. lmao. anyway. Kills me that the only people unchaste worked on are Loop 100 Sean (not mentioned above, he’s dead by now) who is cartoon levels of asshole villain, of course he doesn’t have a loved one. And Tella someone who’s main character trait is his dedication to his boss. Who he holds as more important than anything else in his life, and who’s main conflict is worrying over said boss. tell me tozuka!!!! What is devotion if not love!!! Come on man!!!!

(I’m working on “he wasn’t being honest about what he wanted (i.e not wanting to fight god, not wanting billy to fight god) in his relationship with billy so it wasn’t sincere. Partners talk to each other rather than just being told what to do or something. But I am just coping here)

Poor boy. Dragged into being into being an unwilling Guinea pig… geez. So the crux of this chapter for me is if the ability is going to work on tella. Because I’m invested in-

What the fuck is that

Me when there’s a new chapter

BillyTella nation! we’re so back! It’s so over! results inconclusive!!! (Classic tozuka non-answer… don’t worry tella, i believe you care for billy)

Also oh my god. KURURU I WOULD KILL FOR YOU BBGRL. Grinning little gremlin!!! (Did she brainwash them into playing death metal as well? Or is she death growling over them playing regular idol backing music)

unclear what this means for kurukae yuri nation… I think we might still be on? Narrative foils are fair game

No further comments

get his ass (hi Veronica. Glad to see you’re still like… alive 👍)

I 100% buy this lol. He’s friends with creed who tried to kill him (and succeeded in killing his squad last loop). Billy is just like that…

Veronica being a mercenary does add another layer to Billy’s whole steal the disc and become the worlds enemy angle. And how it was like:

The reader: Wdym you’re going to be a supervillain. Billy you have a wife at home???

The wife in question, probably: FUCK EM UP HONEY!!! Get they ass!!

can you 2 maybe stop smoking around your toddler? Oh and glad to see Mui just being slid in next to the wives. Real casual like.

Glad that my joking prediction of a mlp equestria girls evil battle of the bands is coming true. Good for them (also that kururu eye close up goes hard)

Well good luck girls, unchaste has none of the weaknesses it had last time. Good news for the “Unchaste would be busted if the activation wasn’t so strict” girlies. We were right. This is not exactly good news for The gang though 

[darrowfire15]

I CANNOT BE CONTAINED !!! /lh

Bea headcanons next? :3c

ilyyy <3 smooches, hugs, holds, hands u neat looking rocks, gives u a box of chocolates, etc. helsnsjdnfg

Ah, Bea, my favorite senior firestarter <3

Bea is the mom of the group, and not because she's the only woman, nor is it because she's one of the older mercenaries. The nutshell is that she knows how Scout's mother feels taking care of 8 boys.

Bea does have a kid of her own, even grandkids! Her husband divorced her because he couldn't take her fascination with fire. He got the house, she got fresh burning material.

Her head injuries happened before she joined Mann Co. She was playing with fire a bit too close and lost her eye.

When she was younger, Bea had natural blonde hair that looked gray at times. The transition to graying was basically seamless when she got older.

Like TF2 Pyro, she isn't allowed in the kitchen. Her cooking results are worse though. Bread? Burnt. Pot of water? In flames. Bowl of cereal? You don't wanna ask how it's burning.

Cspy tried to flirt with Bea once, she threatened to melt his face off. He was spared, Ross and Greg were not. She claims it was an accident.

Bea's favorite hobbies are scrapbooking and candlemaking. She scrapbooks her kills on the battlefield and makes scented candles for the other mercenaries. Candles are not allowed in the living quarters. She 100% knows this.

Her finger nails are painted a fiery red curtesy of Fred, you just never see them under her gloves. She likes being reminded of the dancing tongues of a flame when she can't make a fire.

Her and Cdemo like to pull pranks on the other mercenaries. They rarely ever target Cheavy, but their main target is Cspy. Great job, guys, you've made the stress-creating merc stressed out.

Bea is probably one of the few Classic mercenaries that actively smoke. You'll see her with her gas helmet off and smoking a cigar during campfire nights.

Holds her liquor the best, she is the queen. No, seriously, she just doesn't get drunk. She got dared into a drinking contest and it was a very clear winner by the end of it.

Reblogs > Likes

[mr-camhed]

Some other Transformer characters i made/envisioned that i might archive/finish here:

Doominator, Junkion mercenary, Decepticon, transforms into The Ford Mustang in Death race, a cold, cruel and nihilistic survivalist that only believes in The tendency of evil and The goal of survival thanks to his tough upbringing.

Cometron, Autobot intelligence courier, Velocitronian, transforms into a GT1 street car, has an unhealthy obsession with being faster that she would risk her own life for it, idolizes Blurr.

Tailgater, Decepticon sniper and ground squad leader, transforms into an Audi A8, War crimes enthusiast who almost habitually murders civilians and medics so much he fragged a few of his own command officers mistaking them as civilians which causes chance of promotion down The toilet and frustration he can only quench by murdering more innocents and sometimes souring the relationship with Decepticon allying species. Leads a team of genericon called "Karashni Squad" with a fellow Decepticon named Bulwark who transforms into a compact station wagon.

Landread, Decepticon "pretender"(think IDW Ultra magnus, transformable robot in armor that makes him bigger transformable) and battlefield commander, outer armor turns into Main Battle Tank, inner robot turns into a station wagon. Spark brother to Bulwark, reckless and short tempered, believes in actions over words, hates substanceless egoist like Autobots and staff officers with a passion, functioning alcoholic.

Munitionwash/Ammunitionwash: Decepticon Conehead seeker assassin, transforms into vector thrust VTOL strike Fighter, dive bombing enthusiast, thinks dashing fast enough that further witnesses can't identify you with enough firepower to kill anyone close enough to bear witnessed suffices as assassination. Almost always smokes a cy-gar, which can be also used as a weapon.

Skywalk: Autobot female seeker(probably one of a kind), police patrol, transforms into a light multirole fighter in police livery, very ammo conservative, only shoots when she's absolutely sure about it is garuanteed to hit.

Algorithmaster: Decepticon Data analyst and communications expert, transforms into a long chassis Mercedes Vario TV van with a telescopic antenna mast. A Decepticon who keeps a low profile to hide its own perversity and sadism, Algorithmaster is a good substitute for Soundwave if you can't get ahold of him for intelligence or surveillance missions when he's not secretly causing chaos by disrupting The dataflow of wherever he is for fun or doing sentient life trafficking for money. Has The major Weakness of being top heavy in both modes but especially in van mode and toppling over almost garuanteed to break The antenna and heavily diminishing his effectiveness.

Whitenoise: Autobot aerial forces and later Cybertron Security bureau agent, transforms into an Antonov An-71 AWACS Aircraft. Determined on justice to The level of singlemindedness and even overconfidence, Whitenoise would often put herself into danger to pursue her enemies. She Was Algorithmaster's coworker in Iacon's telecommunications centres where she accidentally discovered his illegal activities which caused her to be kidnapped and almost brainwashed by Algorithmaster before she was rescued by Orion pax, Strongarm and wheelarch where she bodyslammed herself and a chair into Algorithmaster's back and broke his antenna to stop him from frying The officers' cerebral module with his data bomb attack that kept her in a trance like state. After she found out that Algorithmaster had escaped after The Kaon riots and Decepticon uprising and is still at large after The war, she began to embark on a quest to bring The criminal back to justice.

Duke O'Death(Pirate name/press nickname)/Speedstick(original name)/Stealthclad(preferred name to be called): Former Decepticon, currently leader of Space Pirate organization Deathkneller, wanted by both The Galactic senate and Blackbox Consortium for Attacks against their fleet, Empurata Victim and triple changer, transforms into an armored muscle car and a stealth attack helicopter. Semi schizophrenic, criminal with principle and a code, either completely disassociating and silence or extremely friendly and talkative depending on situation and almost no inbetween.

Transporticus Maximus/Giganticus Maximus/DeathKneller(real name unknown), ancient Titan whose origin is still mystery, transforms into a 20 mile long 10 mile maximum width interstellar warship with a black hole powered star destroying weapon that will completely exhaust its entire power supply to fire. It was found drifting in space by Duke O'Death after his former flagship Just Defense, a hijacked Galactic Senate heavy cruiser was crippled in a Battle against Galactic Senate task forces, with almost everything still in working order but nobody on board and The spark field in it destroyed. Its identity as a Titan is hidden from most of The people with parts grafted from other vessels, The destroyed sparkfield cloaked by a medibay for Mechanical lifeforms, and The chamber for its almost always inactive, temptingly presumable as dead cerebral module hidden behind a secrect entrance in Duke O'Death's personal quarters.

Projectile: former Decepticon fire support, bodyguard of Duke O'Death, transforms into a heavy artillery, has a massive hole in his head and cerebral module implanted into his chest. Determined and simple minded, Projectile does not think much beyond his own duty, and luck would have it, he almost always gets a reliable commander.

Pulldown: Former Decepticon road transport team, bodyguard of Duke O'Death, transforms into a wheeled heavy duty tractor, partner and mobility aid to Projectile. Similarity Determined and simple-minded, but also smart and confident, she would almost always finish her job with flying colors.

Heavytoll: Decepticon logistics support, transforms into a two wheeled heavy tractor, has no legs in robot mode and has to use his hands to walk and work, and doesn't believe in perfection.

Hardcore: Decepticon morale officer, Victim of an especially and deliberately botched Empurata-shadowplay combo, transforms into and R129 Mercedes SL 73 AMG sports car. Formerly a musician and DJ For underground radio in Tarn who was framed by a disgruntled neighbor which causes him to have his hands melted into nubs and mind completely destroyed; although he would later become a performer for Megatron during his gladiatorial fights after Hook rebuilt his hands as much as he can and gave him his mouth back. Capable of instigating neutrals and even weak minded Autobots into fighting for Decepticon with his music.

Trashmaster, Functionist universe Model worker, transforms into a garbage truck, being a lower caste worker who almost always have to clean up after The frequent pogrom of The disposable class, Trashmaster was forced to work hard to try and survive. However, hia hard work only ended up in tighter schedule and more demanding quotas that takes further toll on his physical and mental health which caused him to becomes addicted to at first drinking, before an escalation towards Circuit buffers, Circuit boosters and Circuit Speeders to cope with The pressure of cleaning up more and more bodies and maintaining a public Appearance, until his mental programming finally snapped and began ingesting Energon off corpses of The disposed and at first later extended to murder and cannibalization of still living Transformers which were overlooked by functionaries to keep the facade running.

Combiner teams:

Succorbots(pronunciation: Secure-bots<by Autobots and beings leaning towards goodness>/Sucker-bots<by Decepticons and beings leaning towards evil and uncaring>), Autobot search and rescue team similar to Protectobots, combines into Lifeline.

Members:

Speedbump, Leader and surgeon, transforms into an armored command and rescue truck, almost totally blind due to damage of brain module by a gunshot would inflicted by a Decepticon named Tailgater, Pacifist, never carries weapon, can't see beyond arm's length, still actively does search and rescue on battlefield. Torso of Lifeline.

Sundance, Medic, transforms into a UH-60 rescue helicopter, almost got killed by her spark brother before the war and was rescued by Speedbump and became his protege, also studies Psychology in hopes of trying to cure her brother. Left Arm of Lifeline.

Skylift, Transporter and Anesthesist, transforms into a heavy lift tiltrotor, was a Decepticon until the Faction became less about improving The life of The lower caste, The most aggressive of The group, gets a little excited when regular anesthetics fail to knock their lights out sometimes. Right arm of Lifeline and usually pairs with Recoil.

Signal, detector, minesweeper and hazard disposal, transforms into a wheeled ground penetrating radar/mine detector, formerly a treasure hunter who was enthralled by The experience finding life after a major earthquake killed his old partner, left leg of Lifeline, can ne paired with Recoil in vehicle mod.

Biclaw, debris cleaner and hazard disposal expert, transforms into a twin boom excavator with both caterpillar track and retractable legs, former construction, great at digging but still still slightly clumsy at medical, Right leg of Lifeline.

Recoil, Armsbot(arms micron but larger), security, transforms into a automatic incapacitator launcher, appointed by Autobot high command to make sure the team doesn't get killed, pairs with Skylift and can be used as a weapon for Lifeline(although Speedbump would not use it unless the other member insists).

Decapiticon, Decepticon Genocider group, used by Decepticon high command at most dangerous place in order to destroy enemies and hopefully these mentally unstable mechanical monstrosities would die in it too. Combines into Autocide.

Members:

Obsolence/Obselence, leader, triple changer, Empurata Victim, extremely Eugenic supporter, worshipper of powerful beings such as Quintesson; Unicron and Hytherion, wishes to be a Phase sixer or Warrior Elite, turns into an armored Fire truck with a heavy flamethrower and an Ekranoplan with heavy missiles, and The torso of Autocide.

Annihilate, ax/saw crazy helicopter gunship, wears a mask and favorite weapon is his armscon Powersaw. Would Kill anyone that's not his Decapiticon buddies if he pleases, Right arm of Autocide.

Thud, Sociopathic antisocial, turns into a heavy tank, The smartest of The bunch and only isn't The torso because he was beaten into submission by Obsolence, still wants to challenge leadership ever now and then, Right leg of Autocide.

Knackercracker, a lover of fighting unfair, turns into a wheeled MLRS that can sprout wings, Right arm of Autocide. Most normal member of The group, although The standard isn't really high.

Nonclockwise, seeker, transforms into a strike Aircraft, mind filled with contrary thoughts so much that it can only think straight when commiting war crimes. Left leg of Autocide.

Powersaw, Armscon, turns into a large circular saw. An unfortunate steel worker who witnessed his coworkers and friends murdered before being kidnapped and enslaved by The killers when The war broke out, Powersaw has no choice but comply and hope to be out of The misery as soon as possible. Handheld weapon of Annihilate and Autocide.

Clearifycons, Decepticon infiltrators that turns into sanitary related equipments. Combines into Stinkatron.

Members:

Dumpster, Leader, interrogator and intel gatherer, turns into a Dumpster truck and mobile trash crusher, an absolute slob coated in a concoction of blood, energon, tissue fluid and other substances that are absolutely repugnus to enemies, loves to destroy things that are considered beautiful. is The torso, left arm and namesake of Stinkatron.

Sewer, infiltrator and saboteur, turns into a "mobile waste fluid disposal unit", The most miserable being probably ever seen because of The body he was constructed cold in, and uses the negativity to absolutely raise hell to The enemies. Lower left leg of Stinkatron.

Sweepvan, infiltrator and assassin, turns into a streets sweeper truck, has mysophobia, and tries to keep enthusiasm for The job. Left hip and right leg of Stinkatron.

Grassflyer, infiltrator and surveillance, turns into an industrial mower. Often mentally detached from The work of cleaning, Grassflyer would uses circuit buffer(opposite effect to circuit booster) agent to break up The monotony which causes him to pick up other things. Lower left arm of Stinkatron.

Stratum, strategist and scout, turns into a sanitations department patrol station wagon, The smartest of The group who was kidnapped by his Sanitation department colleagues into The Decepticon cause, Stratum is trying to find balance of searching for means of escape and survival. Head and upper right arm of Stinkatron.

[emilythedog661-tf2]

TF2 Cat AU and Dog AU

So, i've decided to a alternate universe story for the drawing i did of the TF2 Mercs as Cats and TF2 Mercs as Dogs, as i realised i never did a AU story for them so under the cut is the backstory

First up is the ages as these ages apply to both the Cat AU and the Dog AU

Scout - 3

Soldier - 6

Pyro - 4

Demoman - 5

Heavy - 8

Engineer - 6

Medic - 5

Sniper - 4

Spy - 7

Now to start with the Cat AU

Backstory - In new Mexico, there is a cat cafe called 'tewfort cat cafe' and the cat cafe is run by a middle aged woman called helen administrator, she also has a assistant that helps her out called fiona pauling or miss.pauling as she likes to be called, the pair have been running the cat cafe for 5 years and it's had become a popular tourist spot, the cats in the cat cafe which are 9 in total aren't adoptable but loads of people love the cats and the cats even have a group name as they like to hang out a lot called 'the mercenaries' which people seem to adore.

now for the cats

Scout - Ginger and White Cat - Scout was born to a stray mom cat and he was one of 9 kitten, all being boys also he was the youngest, Scout got on well with his brothers and they all lived happily in a alleyway but one day, Scout who was now 8 weeks old with his mom and brothers were all captured by some people where they were planning to spay/neater the cats then see if they are suitable to be put up for adoption, Scout ended up going up for adoption with his mom and siblings in a cat shelter and his mom and siblings ended up getting adopted except for him as he had an issue where he liked woman over men, then a week after all his siblings were adopted, helen and miss.pauling came in and found Scout who adored miss.pauling so they took him in to the cat cafe and he ended up being the last addition to the cat cafe mercenaries, since being in the cat cafe, Scout has loves to mess around with Pyro, sleep next to heavy seeing him as his protector and hate Spy because he feel familiar to him (Spy is his dad but Spy doesn't want to tell him).

Soldier - Grey Tabby Cat - Soldier was taken in by a family when he was 8 weeks old and he ended up hating them as the kids kept abusing him, so, he ran away at the age of 2 and has been living on the streets since surviving on his own and defending himself from strays and wild animals, when soldier was 5, he was taken in the cat cafe after he befriended miss.pauling and he's been happy at the cafe since, his favourite cat to play with is Demoman but he adores Engineer as he sleeps with him, cuddles him, grooms him and the pair are mostly inseparable.

Pyro - Black Smoke Cat - Pyro is a very rare form of cat as a black smoke coat colours on a cat can only be found with maine coon cat breed and being a rare form of cat, loads of people wanted to have him but he has a few tricks over 2 years of being a stray to not trigger traps and steal food from people who wanted him, one day, he met miss.pauling and she ended up being kind and sweet to Pyro so Pyro let her near him and she took him into the cat cafe after getting him neutered, soon, he was integrated with the other cats and he ended up loving scout as a playmate he adored the others and he saw Engineer and Soldier as parental figures as they took care of him like parents.

Demoman - Black and White cat with a missing left eye - Demoman used to live with a elderly lady after her family brought him to her as a birthday present after her previous cat passed away, Demoman adored the elderly lady and she adored him, one day, he got into a fight with a neighbour cat and the neighbour cat scratch his left eye hard causing it to be removed, everyone now called Demoman 'pirate cat' due to his missing left eye but he was still loved by heheh elderly lady, then, the elderly lady suddenly passed way from a sudden heart attack and Demoman felt abandoned as nobody payed attention to him as they tidied up the elderly lady's home leaving it empty and up for sale, Demoman had to end up running away and he ended up being found by helen who took him in the cat cafe, Demoman now lives happily in the cat cafe with a good playmate with soldier, he ends up snoozing a lot by the window and he cuddles up with Spy who pretends not to like it when he loves it.

Heavy - A Siberian Mix - Heavy's mother who was a siberian cat was from russia and she was ported to america to be with a rich family, they adored Heavy's mom but one day, she escaped while in heat so she ended up mating with a stray cat before coming home, she soon gave birth to Heavy and he was a very fluffy cat, the family decided at first they wanted to keep Heavy but then they decided they wanted to give him to a family member so when they tried to give him to the family member, he escaped and ran away from home and his mother, he ended up running for days until he was caught by miss.pauling and helen where they took him into the cat cafe and he was first a little frightened as he was the first cat in the cat cafe but soon with time and more cats coming in the cafe, he ended up loving the cafe becoming settled and happy, he liked the other cats in his own way, he sees Medic like a brother and they hang out sometimes, looks after Scout as he's the youngest cat and he gets the most attention by guests.

Engineer - Ginger Cat - Engineer was raised by a man after he found Engineer as a day old kitten with no mom in sight, the man went out his way to make sure Engineer grew up happy and healthy and Engunerr adored the man in return, soon, the man realised he could take care of Engineer after he was offered a full time job in a different state and nowhere in the state near his work allowed pets, so, he ends up finding the cat cafe and handing Engineer over to the cafe where both helen and miss.pauling took Engineer in and helped him to settle in, Engineer is now happy at the cat cafe with Soldier mostly never leaving his side, he's become good friends with medic, hates Spy as he sometimes ruins his fun but luckily Soldier is there to put Spy in his place and he with Soldier happily look after Pyro like he is their kitten.

Medic - White Cat - Medic was found by someone when he was 12 weeks old after they saw him catch a pigeon on his mouth while being in mid air, he was then taken to a shelter where he stayed for a month and then he was adopted by helen and the miss.pauling to be added to the cat cafe, Medic ended up loving the cafe and he liked Heavy as a brother, he loved hanging out with Sniper as the pair got on well as they were both good hunters and the pair were sleep together, groom each other and play together.

Sniper - Black Cat - Sniper is a hunter Cat and when he was a stray, he would easily cat birds, rats, mice and any other smaller animals with ease, he was soon befriended by helen and taken into the cat cafe where he was sceptical at first but soon grew to like the place, he got on well with all the cat even if he was a loner cat but the one he got on with the most was Medic as they sat together, slept together, played together, groomed each other and everyone who saw the pair always say they the pair are the ying-yang cats.

Spy - Grey Cat - Spy was a house cat who was adored by the family's teen daughter but then when they moved house, they left Spy behind so he became a stray, while being a stray, he met Scout's mother and he mated with her before she scared him off, Spy then wondered around some more eating anything he could find or catch until he was caught by miss.pauling where he was taken to the cat cafe, spy didn't like it at the cafe at first but then he grew to like it even if he was hiding it from the others, he liked to bully Engineer and Sniper, he liked Demoman even if he pretends not too and he was happy at the cafe.

That's it for the Cat AU, now for the Dog AU

Backstory - The Teufort dogs were a group of 9 dogs that ran around the countryside of teufort and they would go into town sometimes to get food and water from the humans, they were all considered straysby the humans in teufort town but in reality, they all belonged to a lady who lived in the mountains called helen with her granddaughter, fiona pauling, helen and fiona use the dogs to guard the area from strangers, wild animals and other strange things, fiona is usually the one who take care of the dogs if they are hurt, wounded or injured while helen just keeps an eye on where they are going with the trackers attached to their collars, all the dogs do a good job guarding the area and they have been doing it for 5 years now.

Scout - Boston Terrier/French Bulldog Mix - Scout is mostly a Boston Terrier but he also has some French Bulldog in him from his dad, Spy, Scout is the yappist dog out of the 9 dogs but he bark alerts the other dogs quickly to danger, Scout's backstory was that he use to belong to a couple then when they broke up, the man dumped Scout before leaving him behind and he ends up getting taken in be fiona who he adores, Scout also gets on with Pyro as they play together, he also plays with Heavy which he doesn't mind unless there's danger and he doesn't like Spy very much.

Soldier - American PitBull - Soldier grew up being used as a fighting dog before he ran away at a young age, his 'owners' never came to find him so he was taken in my helen and fiona, his ears were cropped and his tail was docked by his 'owner' and he had loads of marks on his body from the dog fighting which soon healed after a while, he was now one of 3 dog that was used to fight off wild animals, humans and other things while the others barked and nipped, Soldier at first didn't know how to bond with other dogs as he was used to fighting them but then he was showed kindness by Engineer and the pair have been inseparable since, they lie down together, they eat and drink together, they play together, they sleep together and Soldier just feels calm and safe when he's with Engineer, he also got on well with Demoman as the pair played tug of war together and he okay with the others.

Pyro - Dalmatian - Pyro use to be a firefighter dog who loved riding in the fire truck and being a mascot for the teufort fire station, but then, the fire station got burnt down and the station had to be relocated leaving Pyro on his own, he was taken in by fiona and he was put with the others dogs where he got on well with them, he got on the most with Scout and the pair would play around when it was calm, Pyro also looked up to Engineer and Soldier like they were his parents and they didn't mind him when he hanged around with them.

Demoman - Scottish Deerhound - Demoman used to belong to a farmer and helped him by guarding his sheep and chickens, then one night, he was attacked by a mountian lion where he lost his left eye and the farmer had to retire him afte his eye was removed, Demoman was then taken in my fiona and he was now part of the dog pack being the second of the 3 dogs that does the attacking, he wears a eyepatchon his left eye that was specially fitted for him, he gets on well with the other dog but he liked hanging out with Spy the most, he loved to play tug of war with Soldier and he was happy to be with the other dogs.

Heavy - Caucasian Shepherd Dog - Heavy used to be a livestock guardian dog but was retired early when the farm he was working on got shutdown from bankruptcy, Heavy was placed in a shelter but then was adopted by fiona about 2 months after being dropped off and he became the leader of the teufort dogs as he was the biggest and the strongest dog, he is the third dog that does the attacking and he all so got to keep his livestock guardian dog duties but this time was with other dogs, out of all the dogs, Heavy had a good brotherly bond with Medic and he also looked after Scout as Scout looked up to Heavy as a father figure.

Engineer - Pembroke Corgi - Engineer was the shortest dog but he was also the most intelligent dog, he would come up with ideas to get food and water from the humans and he also came up with plans to scare off intruders, His backstory was that he taken in by a family when he was 8 weeks old and sadly. the family ended up neglecting him as they only saw him as a play thing for the kids which they soon grew bored of so he ran away one day when the door was open, he ran and ran until he couldn't run anymore then he hide in random places so he wouldn't be found, he was soon taken in by fiona after she gained his trust and he was now happy living in the country side with 8 dogs, he got on well with all of them with both him and Medic being buddies but the one he ended up getting on with the most was Soldier, Engineer felt sorry for the ex-fighting dog as he always looked lonely but wanted to be friends with the other dogs so Engineer showed him kindness by giving him a ball to play with then holded up a tug of war rope hoping that would get Soldeir to play, it did and now the pair are inseparable.

Medic - German Shepherd - Medic was born and was meant to be raised to be a police dog but he somehow failed he training so he was going to be a pet instead but then he escaped his new owners the first day he got to the house, he ran to the country side where he was spotted by helen and he was taken in and put with the other dogs, he was a little unsure about the other dogs but then he was shown brotherly love by Heavy and the pair were buddies since, he then met sniper and the pair ended up being really close being miserable like with Soldier and Engineer, the pair would sleep together, eat together, play together, play together and sit next to each other a lot, the pair were also the ones who went food hunting and they always come back with some sort of food for them and the other dogs to eat when the humans didn't have any food for them which was rarely.

Sniper - Australian Cattle Dog - Sniper ended up being with the teufort dogs after he fell out of a camper van while his family were on a camping holiday, they then just forgot about him and he ended up being taken in by fiona and helen when they found him wondering around the road, he was a bit of a loner at first as he wasn't really use to other dogs but then he warmed up to Medic after Medic wouldn't leave him alone as he forced himself next to Sniper then lick his face, Sniper ended up liking Medic but he didn't like Spy very much and he soon got on well with the others.

Spy - French Bulldog - Spy was a strange case on why he was with the teufort dogs as he didn't really do anything, he was sassy, lazy, stubborn and a little antisocial but he seem to be second in command after Heavy, he would give good advice in how to attack the enemy, he was very smart and he was cunning, his backstory was that he is fiona's dog but he decided he would join the teufort dogs as he kinda liked being with them but that didn't mean he hated fiona as he liked fiona as she was the one who introduced him to Scout's mom, Spy also knows that Scout is his son as he has the same tail tip like what his mom does and Spy is a little annoyed that his son unknowingly found him, Spy gets on well with the others but he gets on the most with Demoman even if he act like he doesn't like him.

Well, That's all, i hoped you enjoyed and i have done some more AU if you want to check them out, there is a kids AU, a fantasy AU, a Morden AU, a Cowboy AU and some others, hope to see you all soon! 😋