#Batch Starting March

[ultimateca]

CA Inter Regular Batch | Ultimateca Group 1 For (Sept 25 & Jan 26) Batch Starting From First Week of March 📞 Call Us: +91 89830 87331 🌐 Visit Us: https://ultimateca.com/

[outoftoucherlocksholmes]

(american roadside billboard voice) HEAVEN is REAL and it is IN FLORIDA

[davnittbraes]

My dearest friends, companions and acquaintances,

I fear this week has left me quite enervated, feebly grasping at what remains of my mental fortitude as a film noir heroine might desperately but wanly clutch at her string of pearls upon hearing the news of her husband’s untimely and circumstantially suspicious demise.

I regrettably have not the impetus required to complete the necessary tasks remaining in order to publish the next instalment of The World Is Light, Embodied per my habitual operations, though I do solemnly pledge to uphold my obligations once my immediate environment is more conducive to supporting the continuance of the creative process.

With sincerity and humility,

Me

[juletheghoul]

distraction

a/n: I'm as shocked as you probably are with posting a full chapter today, along with a pretty extensive ask on Friday but here we are. I don't know why this character has inspired such devotion and creativity in me but I am not going to question it. This might be the most toxic chapter yet lol and If you aren't into it. no hard feelings! This is un beta-ed, any mistakes are my own. Shout out to @foli-vora for being a light in a pretty rough week, and for listening to all of my rants and tangents. Love you girlie! 🩷Hopefully you enjoy!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, gladiatorial violence, exhibitionism, Marcus being a possessive, jealous mess, creampie, heavily leaning into the ownership aspect of their 'relationship', master / slave dynamic (power imbalance), Marcus calls reader Girl, reader calls Marcus Dominus, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.7k

reblogs are appreciated

Prev chapter Masterlist series masterlist

The sun rose, much like it did on every other day, and you rose with it. 

With a yawn and a stretch you dressed, cursing at the way your tunic tattered at the seams. You’d have to mend it later, you made a mental note to remember as you rushed to start on your chores for the day. 

You found him splashing water from the jug and basin in his room, and moved quickly and quietly to help him dress for the day ahead. Silently he moved throughout the room, letting you adjust his clothes so they looked their best, he let you push his hair into place and to take the basin to be emptied while he made his way to his study. The sun was still high in the sky when the messenger came for him, bringing him the invitation from the Emperor himself to oversee the gladiatorial games in honour of his victory. His brow furrowed at the news, he would be in the pulvinus with the Emperor along with other Romans of proper birth. 

He didn’t take the news well, to him it was a folly. He had absolutely no wish to be celebrated, as far as he was concerned, his march into the city had been more than enough but he could not deny the invitation. So with a clench in his jaw and a number of frustrated sighs, he accepted, and set about making the preparations. 

The day of the games came and as his constant shadow, you followed to see to his needs and to pour for him. It was difficult to keep the excitement in check, every so often you’d glance down to your new tunic, bright white with details of gold to match your Dominus. Despite your many years of service, none of the people you’d served before had ever brought you to the arena, let alone in the presence of the Emperor, or in such a high seat as the pulvinus. Your march through the city towards the Colosseum was filled with cheers and the screams of people clamoring to see the General of the Roman army up close. 

He did his duty, waved and smiled for their benefit despite his great discomfort, and you did your duty as well–kept your head down, and your attention on him. 

The pulvinus was blessedly covered by rich fabrics, shielding the esteemed guests and slaves alike from the unforgiving rays of the sun. With his cup full, and his attention with the Emperor, you used the moment of reprieve to take in the sights. The opening games had come and gone and now the main event was to start. The gladiators filed out and took their place, awaiting the words that would set them on their path of violence. 

They were a mixed batch of fighters, all of them fearsome in their own way. There was a small, stocky one, his face was all anger and his arms were covered in scars. There was one that towered over them all, his arms and legs long enough to keep anyone from getting too close. There were twins, both of them smiling for the crowd, clearly favoured from the cheers they inspired. There was another, and he was the one that drew your eye. His hair was black as coal with eyes to match and although on the leaner side, the strength in his limbs was obvious. His sword hand flexed at the hilt and you watched him twirl the weapon, test its weight before he looked up to the pulvinus, in truth he reminded you of your Dominus; twenty years younger. 

He smiled up in your direction and your stomach twisted, for a moment you imagined your Dominus down in the sand, fighting for the crowd and it thrilled you. You imagined meeting him as a younger man, what he might have been like, what might he think of you?

“Girl.” His voice cut through your musing, his cup outstretched and you stumbled for only a heartbeat, imperceptible to anyone but him. His eyes tracked what had distracted you, and found the young Gladiator smiling still, and said nothing. His mood soured though and at once you chastised yourself for letting the arena distract you.  

Marcus introduced the main games, the Primus, and he did so without flair, without embellishment but it mattered not, the people screamed and the men before you fought for their lives against a myriad of challengers. You kept your eye on your Dominus, on his cup but the young gladiator –Varus– kept drawing your attention, he looked so like your General that you idly wondered if he could be his son, could he have fathered him during his younger years? It was known to happen, did he see the resemblance? Did anyone?

Varus is relentless, and despite making sure your Dominus’ needs are met your eyes track him, enraptured. It is difficult to be sure who it is he smiles at when he glances up in your direction, it is most likely the high-born Roman women. His skill is undeniable, and again your thoughts drift to a younger, wilder Marcus, would your general have given you those smiles so brazenly at that age?

“He does like to put on a show does he not?” One of the high born ladies remarks and you cannot help but watch as Varus laughs, cutting down those who challenge him with ease, even as some of his brothers fall. “Look how he smiles, he is of a form today.” They giggle between themselves as he points his sword in tribute towards them, or you, or the Emperor, it is hard to tell. 

“He definitely draws the eye.” Marcus speaks, agreeing with them, but you hear his displeasure and when you meet his eyes they are already focused on you. Your stomach drops at the look of displeasure on his face, your momentary lapse had not been taken lightly. Heat and embarrassment fill you to the brim and from then on your eyes find themselves downcast. “More wine, girl.” His tone is colder than you’ve ever heard it, enough to set your nerves alight. 

“Yes Dominus.” Your tone, in turn, is demure and humble and you pray to the Gods that you get through the games without embarrassing him further.

Varus and the twins stand victorious, and the crowd loves them for it, enough to shake the ground with their cheers but you keep your head down. With your error, you expected Marcus to excuse himself and make his way home once the games were over but it wasn’t to be. The Emperor had arranged for his guests to exchange words with the victors, and so down into the sand you went, following where your Dominus went on shaky legs. 

Up close, Varus was taller than your General, but not by much. He was strong, and lean, and covered in blood and gore, it did nothing to take away from his allure. It didn’t seem to bother him, if anything, it only made him more appealing. The resemblance was there, not as close as you’d imagined but there was something there, in the profile, in the gaze, he was a handsome man, but no one held a candle to Marcus in your eyes. 

The Emperor bestowed words of congratulations, and they bowed dutifully. Varus smiled, boldly, unbothered by the ire of your Dominus, his eyes wandered and when they found you they raked over your form unabashedly. He drank in the sight of your thighs through the slit in your tunic, in the curve of your neck and although you had no real interest in this man, you couldn’t help but fidget. 

Your Dominus clenched his jaw, but offered his good will all the same, albeit in a curt manner and once the pleasantries were exchanged, you were blessedly away from the arena, and off towards the villa once more. He’s eerily quiet on the trek back home, even for him and although he’s usually quite forgiving despite his gruff exterior, you pray to the Gods that you haven’t offended him past the point of return. His horse whinnies underneath him while you and his personal guard follow behind, and all at once he is off his horse and handing off the reins. 

“Come girl, I have business here.” He barely looks at you, but you rush to follow where he leads, down a quiet street away from the chaos of the day. You have to take two steps for every one of his in order to stay close. You take it as a good sign, that he calls on you to attend to him after the business in the pulvinus, and you steel yourself to serve to the best of your ability in whatever possible way he may need. He winds through different alleys and it takes a moment for you to wonder idly just where exactly he needs to go before you find yourself pressed up against the wall. 

“Have you grown tired of your Dominus?” His hand wrapped around your throat, pressing you up against the wall. Not tight enough to cut off your breath, but tight enough to make you stand on the tips of your toes. His eyes were cold as frost, but there was passion laced through his words as well as rage. 

“No Dominus–”

“Do. Not. Lie.” His grip tightened for only a second, “Do you think me blind, girl? I saw the way you watched Varus.” The gladiator's name was a curse and for a moment you frowned at him, was this jealousy?

“Dominus, I could never, I was merely distracted–” You brought your hands up, trying vainly to soothe him with gentle touch but the anger burned hot within him, and he stepped closer, kicking your legs apart to press his knee between them. 

“Yes, distracted by him, he caught your eye. Do you desire him?” You felt your heart racing, thumping against his palm at your throat, “Tell me girl, have you forgotten that you belong to me? Do you wish to belong to another?”

“No Dominus! Only you, I–I could not help but notice Varus–” His jaw clenched at the sound of the other man's name upon your tongue. “Because, because he resembled you, Dominus.”

His anger faltered for a moment, but the frown remained, and so you continued. 

“He looked so like you Dominus, and I couldn’t help but imagine you at that age, fighting and smiling at me. I do not desire anyone else, I do not wish to belong to anyone else.” You brought your hands up, tentatively placing one upon his at your throat, and the other on his chest. 

“Did that excite you? Do you wish me to be younger?” There was a vulnerability in his eyes then, obscured by anger but shining through all the same and had he been anyone else, you might have laughed at the absurdity of his complex. 

“It only excited me, to imagine you smiling at me, fighting for me Dominus. I do not wish you to be any other way.” Your hands moved in tandem, one stroking at his arm softly, the other sliding down his chest, towards where his passion grew and pressed against your hip. “Look into my eyes and see the truth in my words, I belong to you, mind, body and soul, only you.” His grip loosened, but he didn’t let go.

“Can you not see how much I desire you? How my heart beats only to the tune of your pleasure?” He isn’t unaffected by your words, you see him drink them down like a fine wine, and he sighs heavily at the feel of your palm on his manhood. “Take me, here and now Dominus, my want for you drips onto my thighs.” 

His eyes close and a heavy breath escapes his lips and you see your chance, you see the tiny fracture in his armor. “May I have your mouth Dominus?” You pulled him closer, while guiding his free hand to the Elysian fields between your legs. His fingers slipped under your coverings and found you wet and wanting and all at once his violence is coloured with passion instead of anger. 

“You will never belong to another, do you understand me girl?” Frantically he pulls at your tunic, moving it up, and pulling the neck down to bare your breasts to him, uncaring of the people who happen by. 

“You are mine, all of you, is mine.” His mouth pressed to yours roughly, stealing the breath out of your lungs. Your hands fumbled at his robes, joining in his madness and releasing his cock. He doesn’t let you touch it however, instead he turns you around and pulls your hips out. You hear him spit into his hand before lining himself up at the mouth of your sex, barely giving you a moment before burying himself to the hilt. 

You can’t help but moan and hold onto his arms, the grit of the wall pressed up against your face. His hand wrapped around your throat once more, holding you still while his hips drove forward, filling you over and over without respite, his other hand found your breast and held it tight, fanning the flames of your arousal for him. 

“This cunt—“ his mouth pressed against your ear, breathing harshly with the force of his exertion, “is mine, mine alone.” The moan clawed its way out from your throat, that he would be this affected by a simple glance should have scared you, but it didn’t. It only made your arousal flow like seawater.

Your cunt was the altar of his devotion, and his prayers were violent.

“Yes Dominus, yours alone.” You pushed back, turning your face as best you could to look him in the eye and his expression pulled another sound from your throat. He was enraptured, eyes blown black and mouth slack as his hips drilled, bouncing against the plump flesh of your backside. “I want to look at you Dominus, I want your mouth–” He groaned, pulling out quickly to turn you back around and within a breath he had one of your legs wrapped around his hip, his hand holding it at the knee, and his cock buried deep. His other hand held you firm by the throat. 

“Tell me girl, tell me you’re mine, only mine.” There was a desperation in his voice that pulled at something within you, something tender despite his brusque movements. 

“I’m yours Dominus, I belong to you–” You threaded your fingers into his hair and yanked him close to you, your grip tight and he moaned, unabashedly, “I only ever want to be yours.”

His eyes close before his lips have found yours, and you feel the way his pace stutters, he is close and all at once you need to feel him spill inside, his need to stake his claim burning you up like a fever. You move one hand down to your sex, to the swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, and with the other, you hold his hand to your throat. 

“Please Dominus, please fill me with your gift.” You moan the words out, and smile at the way he grinds himself deep with a low groan. The coil in your belly snaps as you feel him spill inside, and your flutters make him hiss, his mouth surging forward to claim yours hard enough to hurt but it matters not. Your heart and cunt are full with him just as it should be. 

His breath comes in pants as he removes his hand from your neck, and your breath hitches when he brushes his lips against your skin in silent apology. You know the moment will pass, and that soon, his mood will change and this interlude will end, as all interludes must but you seize the moment anyway, and pull his face up to meet his eyes. 

“I speak truth Dominus, my heart fills with joy to be yours.” Softly, you wrap your arms around his neck and bring him close, for a moment you are worried that as his blood cools, so does his passion for you but he proves you wrong, and lets you kiss him. More than that, he keeps kissing you as he set your robes to right with gentle hands before pulling out with a hiss. He does not respond, there is no need to, his eyes speak for him. 

Within a few heartbeats, the look is gone and his usual mask is back in place. 

“Come girl, let us away.”

“Yes Dominus.” 

—

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[archivewriter1ont]

👋👋ATTENTION BAD BATCH FANDOM🪧🪧 We have Echovember, and it's been amazing! But I was wondering if we could give the original four batchers their month, too. What if we started off 2025 with four months of batcher-centric content, corresponding with the last digit of their CT numbers? Here is my idea:

Hunter January since he's CT9901 Tech February (CT9902) Wrecker March (CT9903) Crosshair April (CT9904)

This is my plan anyway. My goal for Echovember has been one fic posted each week of the month, so I will probably keep it the same for the others as well.

Share if you like the idea, or comment if you have a better one or any suggestions! I'm pretty new to any kind of fan community so I appreciate all advice, comments, and feedback!

[solxamber]

This is quite a silly holiday event ya have there..😼 Diasomnia, 2 comedy?please and thank youu!!

Have a great dayyy!! 😸

Culinary Fear || Lilia Vanrouge

For the Holiday Event! || Theme: Baking/Cooking together ; Genre: Comedy

The kitchen is a war zone. Flour dusts every surface like freshly fallen snow, splatters of vibrant, unidentifiable liquids cover the counters, and there’s a distinct smell of burnt… something.

“Ah, doesn’t this just scream holiday cheer?” Lilia exclaims, holding up a bowl of what might once have been dough. Now, it’s a questionable neon green, with little black specks swirling ominously. “This will surely bring joy to everyone!”

You glance at the bowl and then at Lilia, who looks positively radiant with pride. “Lilia… what exactly is in that?”

“Oh, just a pinch of everything that felt festive!” He winks, sprinkling what looks like crushed candy canes into the mix. The bowl fizzes slightly. “Cooking is about creativity, my dear!”

“Cooking is also about not poisoning people,” you mutter, grabbing the bowl from him before he can add anything else to his holiday concoction of doom.

Lilia claps his hands. “Nonsense! This will be a masterpiece!”

You sigh, glancing at the tray of cookies in the oven that somehow looks worse than the raw dough. The candy cane stripes have melted into a tie-dye of neon colors, and one cookie is bubbling like a witch’s cauldron. It’s both fascinating and terrifying.

“Alright, Lilia, I’m stepping in. Let me… adjust a few things.”

“You’re doubting me?” Lilia places a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “But very well. I’ll trust your touch.”

You carefully add ingredients to salvage the taste, though there’s no saving the appearance. When the cookies finally emerge, they look like creatures from a low-budget horror movie. The colors are nightmarish, some pieces are oddly misshapen, and one even has what looks like teeth (you refuse to ask how).

Just as you’re contemplating throwing them into the Abyssal Dark for safety, Sebek marches into the kitchen.

“YOUNG MASTER DESERVES THE FINEST HOLIDAY TREATS! WHAT IS THIS AMAZING AROMA?!”

You and Lilia exchange a glance, neither saying a word.

Sebek grabs a cookie that looks like it’s staring at him and bites into it. Everyone freezes, waiting for the inevitable meltdown.

But then…

Sebek swallows, his eyes widening. “IT’S… IT’S DELICIOUS!”

Lilia’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “I knew it!” he exclaims, puffing out his chest with pride. “My culinary instincts are unmatched!”

You cough, trying to hide your laughter. “Uh-huh. Instincts.”

Sebek takes another bite, blissfully unaware of the side-eyes Silver and Malleus are giving him as they peek into the kitchen.

Malleus steps forward cautiously, his gaze fixed on the monstrosities on the tray. “Are these… safe?”

“Oh, come now, Malleus!” Lilia laughs, shoving a cookie into the prince’s hand. “Have a little faith in your old man!”

Malleus holds the cookie like it might explode. Silver steps back, looking at you with the kind of betrayal usually reserved for war crimes.

“This is your fault,” Silver mutters under his breath.

“What?! I saved them from tasting like nightmares!” you protest, though your argument falters when you remember the teeth-cookie.

“If this is what saving looks like,” Silver deadpans, “then perhaps we were better off before.”

Malleus, to his credit, takes a dignified bite. There’s a long, ominous pause.

“…It is… acceptable,” he says finally, though he places the rest of the cookie on the counter with more care than necessary.

Lilia beams. “Success!” He grabs another mixing bowl, already tossing in a whole stick of butter, an uncracked egg, and something suspiciously green. “Shall we start the next batch?”

“Wait, wait, wait!” You rush over, attempting to wrestle the bowl from his hands. “Lilia, maybe we should, uh, celebrate the success of this batch first before we make more?”

“Nonsense!” Lilia says cheerfully. “The holidays wait for no one!”

Malleus leans closer to you, his voice low and conspiratorial. “Are you certain you are not working to eliminate my lineage through unconventional means?”

Silver sighs, rubbing his temples. “I think I’ll go on patrol.”

Sebek, meanwhile, is scarfing down his fourth cookie. “YOU SHOULD BE GRATEFUL FOR MASTER LILIA’S EFFORTS! THIS IS A GIFT!”

You stare at the chaos unfolding, caught between laughter and despair. The next batch is already forming in the mixing bowl, glowing faintly as Lilia hums a holiday tune.

This… is going to be a long day.

Masterlist

[starrjoy]

Hey all! I'm still finishing up work on my last batch of commissions, but I wanted to get a head start on my September queue! I received my first good job news since March--I still need to make enough for bills next month, but we're almost out of the woods! 7 slots open. Any and all help sharing or donating is appreciated <3 Some prev comms under cut:

[a-very-tired-jew]

A lot of the anti-Zionist crowd reminds me of the Che shirt kids from high school and undergrad.

You know the ones I'm talking about.

In high school they'd talk about how the "system was evil" while purposefully being disruptive in class, would barely pay attention or pass a class cause the material was all "propaganda", and would wax philosophic about their teenage comprehension of Communism and its associated leaders. Any history class would eventually end up with them arguing with your teacher. Yes, they would have some good points, but at the same time their understanding of the material would be juvenile at best.

In college they'd get worse. Some of them might continue wearing the shirts and paraphernalia, but others would go all out and start wearing the black beret and/or associated dress of Che and other leaders. They now have a college vocabulary and use it to drive every discussion towards their political ideology. Almost nothing exists outside of their political framework and talking to them is exhausting.

They're also not seen as a disruption anymore, but more as that annoying Tankie who has to go "um, actually" and then go on a monologue about the CIA in class. Professors will either let them do this or tell them that it's not the time or place and that they have to teach. The former gives a small sense of triumph as they "subvert the system" (and we do this because if we don't you become more annoying), the latter causes them to grumble and complain about being "silenced".

Yes, we're aware of the CIA's actions. Yes, Che had some very good points about the role of neo-imperialism in the Global South. Yes, the USA has done some absolutely horrid shit. But what makes everyone keep these people at arms length and/or ignore them is the refusal to acknowledge the atrocities that the man on the shirt did. It's the black and white juvenile reasoning that colors everything they talk about and putting him and other leaders on a pedestal.

If you talk to anyone in the Cuban diaspora they, their family, or someone they know within the community will refer to Che as a butcher. They will tell you about the absolutely horrific things he did as a leader. They will tell you about how this man that young adults are idolizing would imprison and execute them for any number of things that they enjoy simply because he objected to them. The same thing goes for anyone who has family members that survived the USSR or any other 20th century authoritarian country that called itself Communist.

It's the refusal to acknowledge that the world exists in shades of nuance. It's the refusal to acknowledge that these authoritarian Communist governments would imprison, exile, and/or execute all of them and their friends for being queer, speaking out, their writing, their taste in music, their manner of dress, etc, etc... That countries, governments, leaders, ideologies, and people are multifaceted and not this idealized fantasy that can be argued for with whataboutisms.

We see this same behavior in the current batch of anti-Zionists. Some of them are the newest cohort of Tankies who are just repeating the same behaviors we've seen time and time again. However, in this current situation we all have access to information and are able to address things for what they are. The disruptive misinformation isn't as tolerated any more because Che shirt kids are no longer just marching around on the college green in their Communist LARP gear, but are instead coopting a war and its suffering for their Glorious Revolution accelerationist rhetoric.

The adherence and defense of Cold War era tactics, the almost rabid want to implement them, the use of whataboutism to defend your blorbo and the refusal to acknowledge their atrocities, plus the additional antisemitic laden screeds, all the while the world is attempting to move forward from this is downright regressive and juvenile.

And keep in mind, I'm an old alt kid. I've been part of counter culture for decades now. I have patches older than most of these college Tankies. I remember the Che shirt kids and how we stayed away from them because they often spouted rhetoric that was both fantastical and extremely violent. If you're unaware, Che himself believed that to achieve the socialist utopia that extreme violent revolution was necessary (sound familiar?). Not mentioning the fact that often this process gets stuck at the authoritarian step after the violent revolution.

Meanwhile, we just wanted to be accepted for wearing all black, chains, and just being "creepy". We weren't actually violent as most suburban moms believed. So we often stayed away from people who actually believed in violent rhetoric. Not only would it not look good for the alt community, but it was simply antithetical to what we believed. We wanted to be accepted in society and help improve it, not burn it down (and look where we are now, everyone wants a goth mommy. Mission achieved).

The two groups are counter culture in essence, but extremely different. So when I say the current batch of anti-Zionist protesters are just Tankie Che shirt kids, believe me. I've known their type for years.

[stellarbit]

Past Echoes

4.0k words. Light references to intimacy.

Fitting back in with the Bad Batch was an adjustment. Accidentally letting it slip that you and Echo had more history than Tech, Echo, and Wrecker realized... made it a bit more challenging.

Light reference to this lil fic Shadows of the Order. Do you want some jealous Tech? Protective Echo? A slightly voyeuristic Hunter? I gotchu.

I had a thought - the Batch would most definitely hate the idea of you having previous nsfw fun with a reg. But what if it was a 'the call is coming from inside the house' situation. Enjoyyyyy

When the Batch returned to Ord Mantel, you and O2 followed. Cid, a former Jedi informant, didn't recognize you, and you didn't recognize her—fortunately. She wasn't thrilled about your presence at first. It wasn't until you completed a solo job for her, proving your worth while the Batch tackled their mission, that her complaints subsided.

It became routine for you and O2 to take on jobs separately from the Batch whenever possible. The occasional solitude was a balm, helping you adjust to the constant company.You’d forgotten what it was like to be a part of a squad and to have any attention on you.

Their intense attention was making it all the more challenging.

Reuniting with you after Order 66 mended a wound in them. The loss of Crosshair left a void, partially filled by Omega's arrival. She helped them move forward, bridging the gap left behind. Your presence reignited a sense of the familiar, despite the undeniable changes. Where you once engaged freely, laughing and unhesitant in physical affection, you now held yourself apart, you were now detached and resentful as they saw it.

All of them but Echo. He’d known you longer than the others, back to your days as a Jedi Knight fighting with the 501st, and knew personally how hard adjusting could be.

Adjusting to your new reality was more exhausting than you'd anticipated, not so much a matter of resentment as it was sheer fatigue. Socializing, something that once came as naturally as breathing, now consumed a significant chunk of your mental energy. In some ways, Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Echo remained unchanged, the brothers you remembered. Yet, in other ways, they were entirely different, forcing you to relearn how to interact with them as if meeting for the first time.

Adjusting to the presence of a child was a whole separate issue.

Aside from taking some missions separately, you’d all fallen into another routine. Between missions, you all retreated to a modest dwelling you'd secured on the outskirts of Ord Mantell. The Marauder had quickly become too small for all of you.

It wasn’t big and privacy was scarce with most of the space being communal. A small refresher, built a short walk into the desert, provided a sliver of solitude from the group's constant buzz.

The moons were starting to set by the time you and O2 returned from your most recent job. You were sore and ready to shut O2 down by the time you walked into Cid’s.

“Welcome back!” Wrecker shouted, tossing you a box almost faster than you could react. “Looks like another successful mission for you.” You snorted and passed the carton of mantell mix to O2. 

Hunter and Omega were immersed in the game at the dejarik table, Tech at the bar with a datapad, and Wrecker and Echo in a booth along the wall observing it all. You headed straight for the bar, a slight limp in your gate.

Echo's posture snapped to attention as he observed your approach. The abruptness of his movement as he rose was enough to send their table jostling. Wrecker steadied the table, thrown off by the sudden energy, and watched his brother march over.

“Must’ve been an easy job if you got back before us.” You teased and slid onto a bar stool,  handing Cid her client’s requested datastick. 

“Heh, easy for us!” Omega boasted and thrust a thumb to her chest. Hunter briefly smiled at the young clone before focusing on the game again.

Echo, however, wasn’t so easily diverted. He approached, his concern etched deeply into his features as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him. “Looks like it was a rough one if you’re limping back,” he said, his voice carrying a scolding edge.

Behind you, O2, seemingly oblivious to the gravity of the moment and embodying the classic B1 battle droid blend of sass and clumsiness, trundled up. “If you ask me, we had the easy job. I only tripped twice and only one of those times was in front of enemies. Improvement!”

You waved a hand at Cid, signaling for a drink and said, “Getting old is rough. It’s nothing new.” Your attempt to sooth his stern expression fell flat. 

Echo frowned and shook his head before bending to one knee. Examining your leg, Echo slid his hand behind your knee and lifted it up. His hand squeezed around your knee as his thumb worked into the joint. It brought you visible relief, indicative of the sigh and relaxed tilt of your head.

As Echo’s hand continued its examination down the length of your calf, he asked , “Is it acting up?”

Tech leaned from his stool to peer over Echo’s shoulder, taking special note of Echo’s hand still on your knee. “To what are you referring?” 

Echo, without shifting his gaze from your leg, replied with a hint of frustration, “Her knee. She injured it during the Battle of Christophsis.” He paused, his voice softening as he looked up at you, concern replacing annoyance. “We’ve talked about this.”

Cid slid your drink across the bar to you, which you promptly tilted towards Echo. “I have been, nanny droid, but I can’t baby it all the time.” You took a large gulp of the drink and said, “Besides, it always aches after landing.” Since you’d known Echo, he’d always doted on you to some extent. Since your reunion though it was borderline overbearing.

Tech, ever the voice of logical reason, couldn’t resist chiming in. “Actually, that discomfort is likely due to the variations in air pressure and altitude experienced during descent. The symptoms should ease within a few hours. There is no cause for alarm.”

Echo’s response was a sharp and disapproving glance at Tech..

You hummed a laugh as you finished your drink. Setting the glass down and patting Echo’s hand, you turned away from the cybernetic clone. “Which reminds me,” you gestured to O2 in a ‘follow me’ fashion. “O2, c’mon. I need your help with my shoulder.” 

That caught Hunter’s attention. He turned from the dejarik table. “Your shoulder?”

That particular injury was a relic of Order 66, a scar you hadn’t planned on discussing.

“I got shot and it didn’t heal right, but O2 helps with the occasional steroid shot.” Narrowing your eyes at O2, you rolled out your shoulder. “This time get it on the first stick.” You said as the two of you started towards the door.

“Hey!” The battle droid whined after you. “It’s not my fault you won’t calibrate my sensors.”

“Ah, ah, ah!” You shook your hands at O2 and jabbed a finger into their chest plate, “And I told you I’ll get to it. Just-”

“Not happening.” Echo cut in firmly just as you hit the stairs.

Pausing mid-step, one foot hovering above landing to the next flight of stairs, you turned back to your friend. “Excuse me?”

Echo met you on the stairs. “That clanker is not getting the chance to make it worse.

 You grounded yourself and notched a hand on your hip. “Echo,” Your voice betrayed your exhaustion. “O2 can help just fine.” Echo’s face pinched together at the mention of the droid. His disdain and distrust for droids had not eased with O2’s presence. 

Echo's resolve was unyielding, his gaze fixed on you with an intensity that left little room for debate. "No. I'm not letting that droid anywhere near you with a needle. It's not about its capabilities; it's about doing this right," he stated, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "We're not taking any chances with your health."

You sighed, resisting Echo would only prove futile. “Alright, alright,” you conceded and started back up the stairs. “It’s not like you haven’t seen it all before,” you quipped, too tired to think about what you just let slip.

Echo's reaction was immediate; his eyebrows arched in surprise, clearly he hadn't anticipated such a slip. He quickly glanced at his brothers, hoping that your words had somehow escaped their notice.

It hadn’t.

Hunter's gaze shifted, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. Wrecker's mouth hung open, momentarily lost for words, while Omega looked between them all, sensing a tension she couldn't quite grasp.

Tech, who was usually composed and unfazed, seemed especially taken aback. His eyes widened behind his goggles, and for once, he too was at a loss, his brain trying to piece together this new information with the efficiency of a computer experiencing a glitch.

The others were left in a similar stunned silence, grappling with the sudden insight into a part of Echo and your past that had been carefully veiled until now. It was a sudden glimpse into the shared history between you and Echo—a history that was evidently more intimate than any had realized.

A subtle flush crept over Echo's cheeks, a rare display of embarrassment from the stoic soldier, before he turned, almost sheepishly, to follow you up the stairs. 

The sound of the closing door echoed down the stairwell, leaving a heavy silence in its wake. Cid, ever the observer, couldn't help but comment, "Didn't think Killjoy had it in him."

“Had what in him?” Omega asked, her head shifted between her brothers, expectantly waiting for an answer.

Cid leaned over the bar, “What are you, fresh out of the tube or something? They-”

“Were in the war together.” Hunter cut Cid off sharply. “Soldiers…” he struggled to find the appropriate words. “...have to dress wounds all the time.” He tapped his finger on the dejarik table. “It’s probably best we head back too.”

Omega led the way out with O2's unwieldy form bobbing along beside her. Wrecker and Hunter followed, their broad shoulders nearly blocking the path, while Tech lagged behind, lost in thought.

Wrecker leaned in, his whispering not as quiet as he might have thought. "There’s no way we wouldn’t have noticed something... And aren't Jedi not supposed-”

Hunter quickly silenced Wrecker. The situation was already uncomfortable without Omega’s curiosity making it worse. He caught sight of Tech, unusually distant and without his usual companion, his datapad, in hand.

There had been signs, subtle yet unmistakable, of something more between you and Tech. Hunter prided himself on his ability to read situations, to understand his team beyond words. The knowledge of your intimacy with Tech had bothered him, sparking an unexpected intrigue in him. 

He’d smelled, more than once,Tech’s scent on you. The first time it had dredged up an ugly feeling inside the tattooed clone, but that feeling quickly evolved into something stranger.

Hunter remembered a moment, long before the chaos of Order 66, when he and Crosshair had stumbled upon you and Tech in a compromising situation, ostensibly "repairing" the Marauder's camera system. He’d been catching on to the two of you for a few weeks, but that day he knew for certain. Tech reeked of you and you uncharacteristically jumped at the opportunity to load the ship. It may have been lost on Crosshair, but not Hunter.

He knew what happened and, that night, he enjoyed thinking about it.

On the other hand, the possibility of you and Echo sharing something similar caused him a twinge of jealousy - a new feeling for Hunter. He wasn’t sure what secret you and Echo harbored; he just knew he didn’t like it. He did worry what that meant for the brother behind him.

In the cramped quarters of your makeshift dwelling's refresher, Echo was preparing the syringe. The space was limited, barely accommodating the essentials—a shower, toilet, and sink—yet it somehow felt enough for the two of you squeezed together.

With your back to echo, you sat on the rim of the empty bathtub working at the wrap on your shoulder. Most days you wrapped your shoulder and knee for support. The support it offered varied, but on this day, the wrap was more stubborn than usual.

As you struggled with the final layer, Echo's calloused fingers gently brushed yours aside. The warmth of his touch prompted a soft laugh from you. "Definitely warmer than O2," you commented, the tension easing from your shoulders as the last of the wrap fell away.

"Well, at least fifty percent of me is," Echo replied, his voice carrying a lightness that reminded you of times before the scars of war had marked him. Shutting your eyes, memories of Echo before Skako Minor flooded your mind, back when you were both new to the 501st and the galaxy seemed a vast expanse of possibilities.

Your paths had crossed shortly after you were knighted, and Echo had yet to lose the sheen of a 'shiny.' The connection was instantaneous, each of you quickly fell in together. Your friendship was built on your trust in battle and shared fun, with you playfully chiding him for his by-the-book approach, while he, in turn, found joy in occasionally bending the rules for you.

Your attachment to him was tested after a particularly grueling battle, one that left Echo injured and confined to a med bay. Sneaking in to visit him after hours, you were hit with the reality of how close you had come to losing him. It was within the quiet stolen moments in the med bay that blurred the lines of your camaraderie.

At one point, when you tried to adjust his bandages, Echo's hand caught yours, stopping you. The small touch lifted the weight of the situation. His thumb began gentle little circles on your hand and the bond between you went taught.

Seated beside Echo, your friend who looked at you as more than just a Jedi or commander, you wondered what you may have been without a war.  It was hard to imagine, but one thing was clear: the thought of losing Echo, who had become more than just a fellow soldier, was unbearable.

For the first time, you felt that all the hardships of the war might be worth it, just to keep him and his brothers safe. At that moment, the reasons for fighting seemed more personal, tied to the people who mattered most.

The air changed as you noticed Echo’s gaze lingering on your lips.

Without saying a word, you leaned forward. Echo tried sitting up to meet you and that was all it took for you to bridge the gap with a kiss. A first kiss for the both of you. When you pulled back, he pulled back his blanket and, mindful of his injuries and desperate for the closeness, you tucked in beside him.

For that night, the war faded and it was just the two of you in a sanctuary of whispers and touches.

It was the only time and neither of you regretted it, but it only strengthened the depth of trust your shared. It made losing him all the more gutting. Your eyes opened at that thought.

“Echo.” Your voice broke the silence. 

“Hold still.” He instructed before you felt the pinch of the shot. When it passed, Echo rolled his thumb over the puncture point and worked pressure into the surrounding muscles. “What is it?”

You began picking up your bandages and held them to your bare chest. “Did I ever tell you,” You glanced over your shoulder, but unable to look at him as you continued, you turned back “Losing you at Citadel was one of the worst pains I’ve ever experienced? You were my best friend… and I left you behind.”

The sight of you, hunched over those bandages, a scar wrecking your back, and the smallest he’d ever seen you, caved Echo’s chest in. Echo realized how much that moment had stayed with you, just as losing you had stayed with him.

Echo leaned down to your level, placing his hand on your scarred shoulder. You answered his touch by turning just enough to meet his gaze.

“You are my best friend.” he said, his voice steady and sincere. The look in his eyes suggested he was navigating through similar memories, yet his demeanor wasn't marred by sorrow. Instead, there was a tranquil acceptance in his expression, a balance between acknowledging the past's pain and appreciating the present's joys. He even managed a small smile. "I never felt abandoned by you. I get it. Losing you," he paused, a brief shadow crossing his face, "it seemed like the galaxy was falling apart, not the war."

Echo’s grip tightened on your shoulder before he stood back up. The smile he gave you was confident and comforting, the same Echo you’d met all that time ago. 

“But you are alive and so am I. That’s the only thing that matters now.” His hand traveled up your neck to cradle the side of your head. Then, lightly, he placed a kiss on your head “Let’s keep it that way, shall we?”

He started turning to leave you to wrap up, but paused just short of opening the door. “Oh, and one last thing.”

You’d already started rolling the bandages around your chest, so you didn’t bother to look up but acknowledged him with a nod.

“"The rest of them... they're aware now, of how close we actually are."

His words hung in the air, giving you pause. Only after a beat did the full weight of his statement hit you. Abruptly, you stopped what you were doing and whipped around to face him. "What was that?"

Echo hesitated, then clarified, "You pretty much announced it back at Cid’s that I've ‘seen it all before.’”

As his words sank in, you replayed the exit from Cid’s in your mind, and with growing dread, you realized the implication of your offhand comment. Your eyes batted around, recalling exactly what you’d said on your way out of Cid’s. As the realization fully dawned on you, you looked horrified.

While you and Echo never regretted that night, you both agreed to leave it in the med bay. It couldn’t complicate anything if it stayed as a silent memory.

“Echo-”

His pale skin was rose tinted, barely visible from his hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He glanced upwards, as if seeking divine intervention for a swift escape from the ensuing awkwardness. “I’m not dealing with that jealous lot alone so you better hurry up��� Shorty.”

Echo said the nickname , a relic from your time with the 501st, in a way that would’ve made Fives proud. His use of the nickname, light and teasing, was enough to momentarily disarm any retort you had ready. By the time you could react, he had already stepped out.

He waited outside the refresher for you to finish and you both headed inside together. As you both reentered the common area, it was clear that Tech, Hunter, and Wrecker were making a minimal effort to seem occupied with anything but the two of you. O2 and Omega were elsewhere. 

Tech’s attention was drilled into fixing a component of the Marauder, but the tightness in his shoulders showed his discomfort. Hunter was sat adjacent Wrecker, sharpening his knife.

Wrecker, in particular, didn't even bother with the pretense of subtlety. His gaze was unabashedly fixed on you both, wide-eyed and overtly curious, as though seeing you in a completely new light for the first time.

Wrecker was the first to break the silence, unable to contain his curiosity. “So, you two?” He gestured between you and Echo. 

Tech’s attention snapped from his tinkering, his expression tight, betraying a flicker of discomfort at Wrecker’s blunt inquiry. "Is this really the time to—"

"It's okay, Tech," you interjected, wanting to clear the air before misunderstandings could take root. Echo nodded in agreement, his expression calm.

One of Tech’s hands tightened into a fist and he glanced away. With not enough information to assess this sort of situation, he was frustrated and struggling to process it. Tech adjusted his goggles, his voice a mix of resignation and annoyance. "I suppose clarity on the matter would... facilitate a return to normalcy."

Echo glanced at the rest of the squad, then back to you, a silent agreement passing between you. He sighed, "Yes, we had a moment. A long time ago. It wasn't serious, and it's in the past."

Hunter finally spoke, raising a hand to stop the conversation., “We don’t need the details.” He sighed and sat up in his chair. “If it’s in the past, that’s that.” Standing, he replaced the knife in his forearm sheath and continued in a flat tone, “Just caught us off guard is all.,” His gaze swept from you to Echo and then rested on Tech.

Tech finally spoke up, his usual composure regained. “As long as this… history doesn’t interfere with our missions, it remains a personal matter.” Yet, beneath his measured words, a hint of unresolved tension lingered.

Wrecker, processing the information, scratched his head, then offered a shrug. “Guess we’ve all got our stories, huh? Just didn’t see this one coming.” Ever the one to lighten the mood, Wrecker clapped his hands. “Well, now that’s settled, who’s hungry?”

Your eyes caught Tech’s. One of his hands rested on his leg while his thumb rubbed against his forefinger nervously. His characteristic confidence dimmed. You weren’t going to let that linger.

Surprisingly, the group quickly dispersed after the awkward meeting.

Wrecker headed off to find Omega and grab some grub and Hunter wanted to do a routine check of the Marauder, leaving you, Echo, and Tech lingering in the common area. Echo gave you a relieved smile and a nod before he too left, leaving you with time to address Tech.

Tech had stayed behind under the guise of fixing the equipment but the careful avoidance of your gaze didn't go unnoticed. Seizing the moment for a much-needed conversation, you approached him with a deliberate calmness, hoping to bridge the growing gap between you.

"Tech?" you started, your voice softer than usual.

He paused, tools in hand, and finally met your eyes. The usual spark of curiosity was there, but it was overshadowed by a hesitance that hadn't been there before. "Yes?" he responded, his tone neutral yet guarded.

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words to navigate the delicate situation. “I’m sorry I never told you. We always wanted to leave it in the past.” You sighed. “I didn’t want you to look at me differently.”

Tech processed your words, the rigid lines of his posture softening. He set his tools down, giving you his full attention now. “If you are implying I would think less of you, that is not the case.” His mouth twitched to the side, his face still masked in neutrality he hesitantly continued. “However, it certainly makes adapting to our new dynamics more… complicated for me.”

Your confused expression prompted him to explain further, “Historically, the thought of your involvement with others was an… unenjoyable experience for me.” His back straightened and something passed through his brown eyes. “At present, I find myself challenged by the desire to offer you more preferable and memorable alternatives."

For the first time in almost a year, heat flared in your chest. You’d forgotten how intense Tech’s attention was. He’d hinted at jealousy in the past. But that short exchange made you wish he’d found out about your history with Echo much earlier.

You took a casual step forward. “I’d like to see what that brain of yours thinks up.”

Tech’s eyes widened for a moment, flitting to the door and back to you.. “I’ve already thought of multiple scenarios I believe you’d find suitable.”

“Are any of them suitable for a limited timeframe?”

His head tilted and, for the first time since your reunion, he gave you his braggadocious grin. “Precisely three.”

[jedipoodoo]

The Other Woman (Sergeant Hunter x Reader)

Notes: miscommunication Trope, Hunter is a Girl Dad™, single fatherhood is hot, how can you hate Omega?? Tbh this is kinda goofy lol.

"Ah, kriff."

Hunter glanced at the glow of his comm and leaped off the couch, running around your house to grab his jacket and his shoes.

"Hunter?" you paused the holo film as he put his shoe on the wrong foot, and quickly had to change it.

"What's wrong?"

He glanced between you and the glow of the holo screen, with his hands held out as if to placate you.

"I am so sorry, I gotta go, my girl's expecting me."

You blinked once. Twice. Then there was a rushing in your ears as your entire world crumpled around you.

"Your...girl?" you asked, fists digging into the cushions of your couch. You had spent months flirting with Hunter, agonizing over whether of not he might like you back. When he asked you if you'd like a date, your heart soared to the moons and beyond. For reasons beyond you, you had invited him into your house, cooked him dinner, only to crash back down to the ground and find out he had someone else.

Hunter was completely oblivious to your sudden moral panic as he started talking about "his girl".

"She's brilliant, kinder than anyone I've ever met, and smart as a whip."

"Glad she's such a catch," You snapped, getting up and marching over to the door.

Hunter finally recognized the anger, radiating off you in waves.

"Is everything alright?"

You barked a humorless laugh.

"Is everything alright? You tell me, Mr. Dark-and-broody! Being in a relationship with multiple people at the same time may have been simple enough during the war, but not here! Not with me!"

His face fell.

"Oh right! I forgot, they didn't teach you any of that on Kamino." It was a particularly cruel barb, but you didn't care. You wanted Hunter to feel as utterly humiliated as you did right now.

"I... I don't understand..." Hunter mumbled, wringing his jacket in his hands.

"Let me spell it out for you then, Sergeant," You slammed the release on your front door and it hissed open, "Get out. Your girl may be okay with this, but I won't play second fiddle to anyone, not in this kind of relationship."

The only sound was the chittering of the sea crickets, a mournful melody that echoed the crestfallen look on Hunter's face. When he didn't move, you pointed him emphatically out the door. The moment he crossed the threshold, you shut and locked the door.

Then you collapsed into a ball and cried.

Did it amuse the force to play with your love life like this? You'd never had the courage to say yes to a date before. You were the kind of kid that got asked out only for it to turn out to be a joke.

Hunter was different. Hunter was supposed to be different. Everyone in the marketplace would talk him up all the time, from his heroics during the war, to the hard work he put in to help rebuild the island. You couldn't believe your good fortune at last when he asked you out.

Of course it was too good to be true.

You cried, curled up at the edge of the doorway until your spine began to protest. Even with all the energy drained out of you so furiously, you knew your bed would be a much more comfortable place to cry on. And there was still ice cream left in the fridge.

You ended up sleeping in the next morning. You didn't mean to. You woke up with your alarm first, but every part of you was just so sore and you were so exhausted, you just had to close your eyes for a few minutes.

A few minutes turned into a few hours.

It was noon when you finally made it to your noodle stall in the Archium, right next to Pilate's ice cone stand.

"You're late," The older man chuckled good naturedly as you started a fresh batch of pasta, "Your gentleman friend was here early this morning, waiting for you."

You tried not to grimace at the mention of Hunter. Your eyes were still red, but a wide rimmed hat hid that fact from your neighbors.

"Is he still here?"

"No, he left about an hour ago, said something about meeting an Omega."

Ah, so that was her name. You dped the hot water into your drain, not caring that it splashed everywhere.

"Everything alright?" Pilate asked.

"Peachy."

When you refused to elaborate, Pilate stopped pushing. It was lunch hour, so you soon had a line of customers stretching out around the Archium. You plastered on your customer service face and thanked all of them for their patronage, despite the anger that you held in your chest. It was shockingly easy to pretend you were perfectly fine when you had so many emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

For starting your day late, you were making a pretty decent profit. After the first couple of hours, business slowed down, but it would be just as busy during the dinner hour, and you had a few regulars that would pop in for an afternoon snack from time to time.

Lyanna Hazard was one such regular. She skipped up to your stall hand-in-hand with a new friend you hadn't met before.

"Hello girls! How can I help you today?" you asked.

"Four shrimp dumplings, please!" Lyanna placed her pocket money on the counter.

"Coming right up!" You ladled the dumplings from fry pit into two bowls, and set them in front of the girls. As you reached for the chopsticks so that they could eat, Lyanna's friend grabbed one with her bare hand

"It's hot!" she yelped, tossing the dumpling from one hand to the other in surprise.

Lyanna giggled, "That's why you use chopsticks, silly!"

Lyanna demonstrated, and her friend watched her, fascinated. With the dumpling balanced precariously on her chopsticks, she tentativelytook a tiny bite.

"Mmm!" she declared. She ravenously finished her dumplings while you laughed, rolling out pasta dough to make more dumplings.

"It's always a pleasure to see someone enjoy my food," You told her.

"It's amazing! My brother told me you were a good cook, but this is even better than I could've imagined!" she said.

"Oh really, who's your brother?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but the universe answered for her.

"Omega!"

You couldn't help the glare that involuntarily tugged on your face when you heard his voice. You spotted the offender halfway across the Archium, looking around, but to your absolute horror, Lyanna's new friend began to wave him over.

"Over here, Hunter!" She called, one hand cupped around her mouth.

You saw his shoulders relax for a moment, and then tense up again. It was the same spooked, father-in-headlights look that he gave you last night when you kicked him out. You wanted to shrivel up and die.

Lyanna and Omega missed this completely, however, and kept waving at Hunter. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here, but he begrudgingly trudged across the marketplace to your stall.

"Heya kids," He said, not quite looking at you.

"Hunter, you gotta try the dumplings!" Omega said, showing him her empty bowl.

"I have," Hunter said. It was part of the meal you'd made for him the night before. You thought you saw him glance at you, but you couldn't be sure. You were determined to stay angry at him, but those gorgeous brown eyes of his were going to be the death of you.

"Well, I'll see you all around then."

You turned your back on them, going back to the filling for the dumplings. You heard Lyanna talking excitedly to Omega about a few more stalls where they could get more food, and when you heard their voices fade away you assumed that all three of them had left.

There were a few moments of blessed silence, but Hunter cleared his throat, and you jumped in surprise.

"I need to talk to you."

You glared at him.

"I have nothing to say to you." you snapped.

"Then don't say anything but just listen-"

"You're a glutton for punishment, aren't-"

"I don't have another partner!" He said quickly.

You blinked, surprised.

"Omega's my little sister. She's my girl. She's who I had to get back to that night." to prove it, he pulled up his comm, sliding it across the table towards you.

You stared at him, suspicious. But you looked at the screen anyway.

Omega: Hunter, when is your date done?

Hunter: we're finishing a movie, kid.

Omega: I can't fall asleep. And Wrecker doesn't sing the Purrgill song as good as you do :(

Hunter: I told you I'd be gone tonight. I'll come say goodnight when I get back.

Omega: :(

You sighed. Omega was very sweet, and you couldn't imagine trying to say no to her on a daily basis.

"I am... So sorry..." You couldn't look at him, sliding his comm back across the countertop.

Hunter said nothing, but placed a hand over yours, "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner. That should've been one of the first things I told you.

He sighed, "I guess... I'm just not used to sharing everything, especially with new people."

"You're not obligated to share everything with me, you have a right to your privacy."

"I've been a soldier my entire life, and now, I'm trying to figure out how to be anything but. I was talking with Phee and she gave me an earful about how if I'm trying to date or get close to someone, I gotta make my priorities clear."

Hunter looked over his shoulder at Omega. She and Lyanna were at Pilate's stall now, trying to see how many scoops of flavored ice they could stack in one bowl.

"Omega's a good kid, but she hasn't had much of an opportunity to be one. My brothers and I aren't exactly model parents, but we're trying our best to give her the life she deserves."

You nodded, "That's admirable of you."

If you felt humiliated last night, it was nothing compared to the embarrassment you felt now. You'd insulted Hunter when all he was trying to do was take care of his little sister, which, if you thought about it, made him even more attractive than the tattoo and the eyes already did.

"All this to say, your reaction is completely justified with the information you had, and if you're willing, I'd like to try again."

He held out a hand to you, "Let me take you out on a proper date, to make up for all this."

You felt heat rising in your cheeks, "I should be asking how I can make this up for you," You insisted.

"Nonsense, you cooked and cleaned and everything and I tried to cut it short. Let me sweep you off your feet."

You raised one eyebrow. That sounded almost nothing like what he'd usually say.

He winced, "Yeah, I realized it the moment I said it. Phee told me that's what I should do, though I have no idea how to."

You giggled, "That's okay, I'd like that, though."

Hunter's eyes went wide, and you could almost melt into the cobblestones. "That's a yes? You're saying yes?"

"Yes," You giggled some more, and stepped out of your stall to speak face to face.

"I'd love to be swept off my feet by you, so long as it means you forgive me for being a poodoo-head."

"You are not a poodoo-head." Hunter said, placing his hand on your cheek, "You're a brilliant person, and I'd like to get to know you much better than I do now."

You flushed, from his words or his touch, you weren't sure, but you didn't entirely mind it.

You coughed to clear your throat. "So, Mr. Hunter, when should I plan on you picking me up?"

Hunter glanced at your stall, and back to you, "How soon can you close up shop?"

You grinned. You might have gotten a late start, but he didn't need to know that. He could make up for it in his own way.

"For you, Hunter? Right away."

[swiftdove]

delicate

pairing: taylor swift x fem!reader

word count: 1191

warnings: angst (kind of?), comfort

summary: you knew what you were in for when you started dating the world-renowned pop-star, but you'd underestimated the feeling of inferiority that would come with it.

No matter how hard you'd tried to, you couldn't ignore the uneasy feeling that had settled in your stomach over the past few weeks.

You had always prided yourself for your laid-back nature, but as of lately, you'd been feeling neglected. The millions of people thirsting over your girlfriend wasn't doing you any favors either.

You'd known what to expect, dating a world-renowned popstar. You'd known what being in a relationship with her came with. Rest assured, she'd always made clear that she was no better than you in any way, but that was hard to believe when she was earning millions a night whilst you were rotting away in your bedroom, watching another rerun of Gilmore Girls.

You knew you shouldn't be. You should've been happier by now. Healthier. When you'd first started dating Taylor, you felt at the top of the world. But even then, the slight feeling of inferiority crept in. You'd never say anything about it. How could you? And even if you did, what could she do about it? You knew she wasn't about the end her entire career for you, and you didn't expect her to. There was no balance in your relationship, no matter how hard you tried. You'd always the the inferior one, the weaker one, the mundane one.

Which was exactly why you hadn't made your relationship with her public. The backlash would've been ruthless, and you couldn't put Taylor through that. You'd been the one to make that decision, but the way she'd agreed to it just a little too excitedly still lingered in the back of your mind.

No.

You weren't doing this again.

With a reluctant groan, you slipped out of your bedsheets and drew open the blinds. You were immediately met with the sun's unwelcoming gaze.

You stumbled back, just managing to catch yourself on the corner of your bedside table. The sharp corner jabbed into your skin, pain shooting up your bone.

A small wince escaped your throat as you instinctively jumped away. You could feel the blood pooling around your wound, but you couldn't bother to clean it up. It's not like there was anyone around to impress, anyways.

You could practically hear Taylor gently admonishing you inside your head. Handling you like you were going to break at any second.

You cringed at the thought, pushing it to the back of your mind. Instead, you directed your attention to Meredith.

"What shall we do today, hm?" you asked, sliding open your closet door. "Go to the mall? Go on a run?"

You swiveled around, only to be met with an unamused set of blue eyes.

"Come on, Mere," you groaned. "You're really not helping here at all."

Instead of acknowledging you, she chose to march off instead, leaving you to decide on today's activities by yourself.

A ping! noise vibrated off your phone, distracting you from the incredibly difficult task of choosing an outfit to wear today. Your eyes lit up at the sight of the name on your screen.

Taylor: Hey babe, I'll probably be here in around ten minutes. Can't wait to see you!

Your brows furrowed, confusion overtaking your features. It was only until you spotted the date on your lockscreen that you finally remembered.

"Shit," you groaned.

You'd forgotten that your girlfriend was coming back home today.

-

After what seemed like hours of mindless panicking, you'd finally managed to calm down. You'd gotten the blood off the nightstand, and had managed to tidy up the bedroom. All you had to do now was wait.

You'd changed into a floral sundress and had done your skincare for what was probably the first time in months. You'd quickly whipped up a batch of cookies, which were baking in the oven. For someone who was spiraling just an hour ago, you cleaned up pretty nice. You were just hoping that your girlfriend would fall for the illusion.

Just as it seemed like she was never coming, the door creaked open. Your eyes widening in excitement, you ran towards the entrance, a smile plastered on your face.

"Taylor!" you yelled, embracing your girlfriend in a tight hug. The blonde popstar laughed, placing down her bags.

"Hey, baby girl," she said, kissing you on the forehead.

"I missed you," you whispered, practically melting into her.

"I missed you too, baby, so much."

Finally, you pulled away, watching as Taylor got settled back in.

"How long are you staying for?" you quipped.

She sighed, hanging her coat by the doorway. "Just for a few days. I have to be in Los Angeles soon."

You tried your best to hide the disappointment in your voice. "Oh. Well, it's great to have you back."

Taylor barely acknowledged your comment, instead turning towards the oven.

"Oh! You're making cookies," she exclaimed in delight. "Can't wait to try them."

You gave her a small smile, before following her up to your bedroom suite.

You're like a lost puppy.

You grimaced at the voice in your head, the same voice that had haunted every dream of yours for the past few months. You'd tried to shrug it off at first, but the more you tried to ignore it, the louder it got.

"Babe? Are you listening?"

Taylor's voice jolted you out of your train of thought, her cerulean eyes boring into yours.

"Yeah," you answered shakily, forcing a smile back onto your face.

You could practically feel the atmosphere drop. The look in your girlfriend's eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"Y/N..."

"I'm fine," you snapped, turning away from her. You couldn't bear to look her in the eyes right now. You couldn't face the same soft-spoken words, the way she'd coerce you into her arms again.

"You're not fine. What happened, baby?"

You hated it. You hated when she talked to you like this. You didn't know why this was such a trigger for you, but you knew that you didn't like it.

Yet then again, it was exactly what you needed. A push. You'd been growing distant, and it hadn't gone unnoticed by Taylor. She had only come back for one reason, after all.

"You can tell me. I'm here to listen."

That was the final nail in the coffin. You could feel the tears burning in the back of your eyes, the red flush returning to your cheeks.

"I just missed you, that's all," you rasped, but even you didn't believe yourself this time.

You could feel Taylor's fingers glide over your jaw, gently forcing it upwards so that you were facing her.

"I love you," she husked. "You know that, right?"

The silence that followed confirmed her suspicions.

"Oh, baby girl," she sighed, her hand finding it's way around the back of your head. She pulled you closer, your face just inches above her breasts. "You can let go. I'm here."

With a final, shaky breath, you relented, letting go of your body. Taylor led you towards the bed, pulling you up onto her lap.

"Everything's going to be okay," she murmured, running her fingers through your hair.

And just for one moment, with your head on her lap and her calloused hands delicately caressing your skin, you truly did believe her.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Fire! -Oneshot

Word count: 2157

“Mama please?” Jack begged from the back seat, his eyes bulging at the sight of the fire station they passed on their way home every day.

“Not today, Jack,” Y/N sighed heavily.  

“Then when?” he pressed, craning his neck to keep an eye on it as they turned the corner down the street to their house.  

“I’ll look up the tour hours on the website again,” Y/N replied, smiling to herself at his insistence.  

“Maybe next time we’ll get to meet the new fire chief,” Jack said wistfully, turning back to look at her.  

“Well, he is the chief.  He’s probably a very busy and important man,” Y/N said, playing into it with a nod.  “We just keep missing him the last couple of times we’ve gone.”

Jack sighed and Y/N looked at him through the rearview mirror.  He was looking out the window with a dreamy look on his face.  She wasn’t sure where his love for fire stations came from.  He had seen a fire truck rush by one day when he was two and started imitating the sirens, and ever since then he wanted to learn everything there was to know about fire, fire stations, fighting fires, just everything fire.  Not that Y/N was complaining about going to the fire station.  The firefighters in their area were very kind and enjoyed whenever Jack showed up in the tour groups, gladly showing him around even in more behind the scenes areas than they normally would.  She would always bring a batch of goodies with her as well, and they always greeted her with excited smiles when she handed them plates of cookies, brownies, a cake, and one time when she was feeling extra, warm sandwich dinners in fire stationed themed brown paper bags.  It also helped that they were attractive.

Being a single mom meant that Y/N didn’t have much time for dating.  She didn’t necessarily want or need a man, but at times she was lonely, and contemplated dating again.  But then she would think about how crazy her life was right now, and decided it wasn’t worth the hassle.  Jack was only 7.  She didn’t want to expose him to people coming in and out of his life just yet.  His dad had disappeared when she was pregnant, signing away parental rights rather than stepping up or paying child support.  She swore to herself then that she’d never hitch her wagon to another man who couldn’t do the bare minimum.  But she could look and appreciate a good looking man, right?

When they got in the house she got busy helping Jack unload his backpack and things from school then getting started on dinner.  She turned on a show for him and set him up with his coloring and craft things before rolling up her sleeves and fishing out ingredients from the pantry and refrigerator.  After about twenty minutes she was finishing up her quick dinner idea when she realized it had been extra quiet.  She stiffened, turning off the stove and removing the food onto a cool burner before walking into the front room.  Jack wasn’t at the coffee table.  Something felt wrong.

“Jack?” she called out, her head turning towards the hallway that led to the bathroom and bedrooms.  There was no answer, and she marched down the hallway.  The bathroom was empty.  His room was empty.  Her room and bathroom were empty.

“Jack?!” she yelled, becoming more panicked by the second.  She ran outside, checking around the house then ran back inside.  The front door was unlocked, his sneakers and his mockup of a firefighter coat missing off the hook.  She gasped and grabbed her keys, phone, shoes and coat, locking the house before running over to her car.

***

Bucky walked into his office, his focus on the file in his hands.  There was a squeak from his desk and he looked up to find a little boy sitting in his desk chair, wearing a small firefighter coat.  He tilted his head and frowned.  “Hello?” 

“Hi!” the little boy smiled.  “Are you the fire chief?”

“Yes,” Bucky slowly smiled, setting the file down on a corner of the desk and sitting at the chair opposite his.  

The little boy gasped and smiled wider.  “I’ve been wanting to meet you!  I’m Jack,” he said, shoving his hand out over the desk.

Bucky chuckled and reached his hand out, shaking his hand.  “I’m Bucky.  It’s nice to meet you, Jack,” he nodded.  “Um, how did you get here?”

“I walked,” he shrugged, twirling the chair around.  “The other guys weren’t here so I took a tour.”

Bucky nodded, trying to not laugh at the absurdity of the moment.  “So, does your mom or dad know you’re here?”

“No,” he said, twirling around again.  “Mama’s working on dinner.  But I wanted to come ask about a job here before she’s done.”

Bucky’s lips tightened.  “A job, huh?  Well, you’re not quite old enough to work here yet,” he said.  “And there’s a lot of training and some school you gotta go through first.”

Jack stopped twirling the chair and stared at Bucky, looking crestfallen.  “Oh, really?”

Bucky nodded sadly.  “Yeah.  Do you wanna be a firefighter someday?”  Jack nodded frantically.  “Well, you’ve got a good first start,” he said cheerfully.  “You said you know the guys?”  Jack nodded again, twirling the chair again.  “So you’ve been here before?”

“Yep.  Me and my Mama have taken a bunch of tours,” he said, stopping the chair and opening Bucky’s desk drawers, inspecting what was inside.  “She brings treats for them.”

Bucky’s eyes lit up.  “Oh, your mom’s the one that brings the goodies?”  Jack nodded, smiling proudly.  “She’s a good baker,” Bucky said appreciatively.  “But uh, we should probably get you back home so she and your dad don't worry about you.”

“I don’t have a dad,” Jack said offhandedly.  “Do you wanna be my dad?” he asked, giving Bucky a pleading look.

Bucky’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up, then a frantic voice yelled from downstairs.

“JACK?!”

“Uh oh,” Jack said, ducking down underneath Bucky’s desk.

Bucky sighed and stood up, walking to the railing that overlooked where the trucks parked.  A woman was searching around the trucks looking for him.  “Up here!” he called out.  She whirled around and looked up at him.  Goddamn, he thought.  She was beautiful, even with tears streaming down her face and a look of worry etched in her brow.  She ran over and bounded up the stairs toward him.  

“You found him?  A little boy?  Wearing a firefighter coat?” she asked frantically.

“Yes,” Bucky said, putting an arm around her and leading her to his office.  She looked around expectantly but frowned when she didn’t see him.  “He was asking about getting a job, weren’t you Jack?” he called out and knocked on the top of his desk.

A giggle sounded from underneath the desk and she sighed heavily, rounding the desk and reaching down, pulling him out.  “What were you thinking?” she asked him, her emotions getting the best of her as she cried again.  “You can’t just leave the house by yourself and walk to the fire station!”  She hugged him close and Jack frowned.

“I’m sorry Mama,” he said sadly.  “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She sighed again and pulled away to look him over.  “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.  “I met the fire chief,” he gestured to Bucky.

She looked back up at Bucky and quickly wiped her face before pulling Jack away from his desk.  “Oh, you did huh?” she asked playfully.  

“Bucky Barnes,” Bucky said, holding his hand out to her.  

“Y/N Y/L/N,” she answered, shaking his hand.  “I’m so sorry about this, but thank you for taking care of him.”

“No problem,” he said, squeezing her hand before letting go.  “But from now on, how about we make sure you come during touring hours, okay bud?” he said to Jack, leaning down to look at him.  “Don’t want you getting run over by a truck as it's leaving on a call, do we?”

“Nope,” Jack said, his eyes widening.  “They can weigh up to 40,000 pounds!”

“That’s right,” Bucky said, impressed by his knowledge.  

“Well, thank you again,” Y/N said, pushing Jack towards the door.

“Do you wanna come for dinner?” Jack asked suddenly, looking at Bucky hopefully.

“Oh, Jack, he’s probably still on shift,” Y/N said quickly, giving Bucky an apologetic look.

“No, actually, I just got off about ten minutes ago,” Bucky said quickly, shaking his head, wanting to find an excuse to spend more time with them.  

She looked at him in surprise.  “Well, I’m sure your family will be missing you.”

He shook his head and gave her a soft smile.  “Nope, it’s just me and a roommate.  So if it’s okay with Mama,” he glanced at Jack then back at Y/N, “I say yes.”

Y/N glanced at Jack as he looked up at her and nodded, sticking his bottom lip out.  She shook her head and huffed a laugh.  “Sure,” she said, smiling at Bucky.  

***

Twenty minutes later Bucky was sitting at their dining table, digging into the food she’d been working on before Jack disappeared that she had to warm up for a few minutes.  Y/N kept stealing glances at him as Jack talked her and Bucky’s ear off during dinner.  He was incredibly handsome, probably one of the hottest men she’d ever seen.  His attractiveness only got better as he happily engaged Jack in conversation, playing into the stories Jack told and telling stories of his own about the firefighters at the station that Jack had already met.

She caught him looking at her a few times, and she would blush as he smirked at her, quickly looking away and focusing back on Jack.  When they were all finished Bucky insisted on doing the dishes, and Y/N put the last bit of food into a to-go tupperware for him to take home to his roommate.

“Steve will love this,” Bucky smiled appreciatively as he held the tupperware.  “He’s a big fan of anything Italian.”  He smiled at Jack and Y/N.  “I’m sorry I kept missing you guys on the tours,” he said.

“Mama said you’re a very busy and important man,” Jack said in explanation.

Bucky looked at Y/N teasingly and she hung her head in embarrassment, covering her mouth with her hand.  “Oh yes, I’m very busy and important,” he said.  “But the guys always share those treats you bring.  They’re really good,” he complimented her.  “Those smores cookies are my favorite.”

Y/N had to bite back a wide smile at his praise.  “I’m glad you like them,” she said.  “I’ll have to make extra next time.”

“Please,” Bucky nodded.

Y/N had Jack say goodbye to Bucky then sent him off to get ready for bed as she walked Bucky to the door.  He stood on her stoop and looked up at her as she leaned on the doorway.  “Thank you, again, for watching over him,” she said quietly.  “I’m so embarrassed that I lost my own son.”

“You didn’t lose him, he took a walk,” Bucky said, shaking his head.  “No harm no foul.  He’s welcome anytime.  As are you,” he said, peering up at her.  

Y/N’s heart fluttered at the look he gave her.  She nodded and licked her lips, biting her lower lip and gnawing at it.  Bucky reached a hand up and gently pulled her lip away from her teeth with his thumb.  They stared at each other for a moment, the air feeling electric between them before she swallowed harshly.  “Sorry, nervous habit,” she whispered.

“Do I make you nervous?” Bucky asked quietly.

“A little bit,” Y/N replied automatically.

He smirked again.  “Would you like to go out on a date with me sometime?”

She looked at him in surprise.  “I…I’d need to find a babysitter.”

“Steve could watch him,” Bucky said, taking a step back toward her.

“Your roommate that I’ve never met?” she giggled.

“Well, give me your number and then we can all meet up and you can grill Steve before trusting him with your child,” he said, his cocky smirk never leaving his face.  He pulled his phone from his back pocket, unlocked it and handed it to her.

Y/N scoffed a quiet laugh before taking his phone and inputting her information into it.  She handed it back to him and smiled mischievously.  “You’re not too busy and important next Saturday are you?”

Bucky’s eyes slightly widened as she played into the banter with him, and it made her inwardly proud to surprise him.  “N-no,” he minutely shook his head.

“Alright,” Y/N said.  “Text me the details.”

His smile widened.  “Okay.  Bye Y/N.”

“Bye Bucky.”

[amalthiaph]

I took an interest in The Bad Batch around the tailend of S2. It's not news to Tumblr that I almost slept on this show. And I cannot thank Caleb Dume enough for being the reason why I pressed the play button for this one. While I haven't been around for most of its active run, and I wish I had been, the last year has been among the best months of my life.

This show challenged my morals, and taught me lessons that I will forever take with me.

Tech taught me to embrace and take pride in who I am. I now think that I am not something that needs to be cured. I needed to be understood and accepted. He taught me that we deserved to be loved and be allowed to live the way we want to (as long as we are not causing harm to ourselves or to others).

Hunter taught me that at the end of the day, we're all still humans. We make mistakes. We fail. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And I should also take care of my hair bec I cannot accept that a man in a galactic war have better hair than me (Okay, did you honestly think I'm gonna be serious this entire essay?)

Crosshair taught me that at the end of the day, we really are still humans. Sometimes, we make choices that not everyone will understand or agree to. Sometimes, we don't even understand our own choices. But we can learn from them, and we can strive to be better. And that I should also go to therapy bec istg my hand shakes like hell I always need to rely on a pen stabilizer when doing my artworks.

Wrecker taught me that in this world where we can be anything, always choose to be kind. He is a great man who would always be there for everyone, and I hope that one day, I can be that person too. He is afraid of heights, but he climbs and go on high places anyway. Like him, I should also start conquering my fears. Dear Wrecker, I did try conquering my fear of heights last March 9 but I can't. I will try again.

Echo taught me to always fight for the greater good. Almost two years ago, me and a group of people campaigned for a great tomorrow. With pink flags and pink balloons, we worked on our little thing I like to call our rebellion. Sadly, we lost. At times, I am thinking of just giving up bec that's democracy and I cannot go against the people's decision, but characters like Echo and the rest of Rogue One taught me that nothing should ever stop me for fighting for the people's rights and that my love for my fellow citizens should always come first before hatred.

And lastly, Omega taught me to be curious, or more likely to not be ashamed for being curious. Learn about the world. Learn about lots of things. We never know when we need it. While I could say be good at strategy and win 30 grand on card games, nahhh, I'm not that smart.

I also learned to reevalutate myself as an artist. This show taught me integrity. I had ranted about this lately but these characters challenged me in terms of art. I knew that the creators aren't best at proper representation. While I could draw them as they are in the show, I choose to stand for what is right, and represent them as properly as my skills could. In the more technical side, I became good at drawing armors. And this little Actors AU Draw Series taught me to be responsible; I tried my very best to create and post them on time. This increased my productivity.

But enough about me.

There's something I realized two nights ago; we, the fandom, are Bad Batchers ourselves. We can consider ourselves a family, but not one of us is the same and we're all interesting, and capable in our own unique ways. We can have our own opinion and stand about something and still coexist. Like our favorite charactera, we embrace and celebrate our differences.

This show may end. No more Bad Batch Eves, no more cryptic tweets that cause us to hyperventilate, no more Bad Batch Wednesdays but it will live on, through us.

I know there will be a day where we decrease in number, one by one, little by little, but still, the show will live on through our actions, our opinions, our choices we make after May 1, 2024 because I know that all of us were changed in some ways by these characters and this show.

To the crew, your cryptic tweets caused me sleepless nights, but thank you so, so much. It is through your hardwork that we had this wonderful show. Thank you for making every second of the past year so worthwhile and enjoyable for me and for everyone.

However this show will end, whether happy or sad, I am glad it happened. However short my time was with them, I am happy I had been here. However short my time with everyone in the fandom was or if some of you leave one day, still, thank you so much for being part of my life; I am so happy I met all of you.

To Clone Force 99, thank you. I've never loved anything like this before. May the Force be with you.

[scwheeler]

♟˖ ࣪⊹ — ‘I KNOW IT WON’T WORK’

pairing: ethan landry x reader

summary: your boyfriend had become distant suddenly but confronting him about it only makes it worse

author’s note: inspired by gracie abrams’ “I know it won’t work” I LOVE THIS SONG AND GRACIE (lyrics will be in orange for reading & red for ethan !!) also you can send in requests and ideas!! #ANGST #SLIGHTSPOILERS

you looked over two seats at ethan who was quickly jotting something down in his notebook. it was a different color than his actual econ notebook and the lecture hadn’t even started yet so you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

but the loud slam of the classroom door shutting snapped you out of your trance. your teacher begun the class and you watched ethan shove the notebook in his backpack through the corner of your eye. however, you completely shrugged it off once the teacher started speaking.

sitting by your friends at the park was finally a peaceful event with all the stormy clouds and rain disappearing. it seemed there were only clear skies and chirping birds around until you faced ethan.

he avoided eye contact and tried to look elsewhere. anywhere. aren’t boyfriends supposed to want to look at their girlfriends? you even reached for his hand once but after he attempted to ‘discreetly’ move his away, you gave up. for a studious little student, he really couldn’t tell how distant he became.

at first you thought it was all in your head. maybe it was the stress building up from your upcoming finals or because of the mysterious murders surrounding your neighborhood. yet your fears were confirmed when even your friends brought it up.

even chad for gods sake!

only a couple of days ago, the friend group was laughing and chattering like a bunch of middle schoolers. you guys were loud enough to be heard from miles away but there was an awkward tension once ethan started to shy away from you.

where was the sweet boy who waited in front of your dorm room for a whole hour before finally knocking and asking you out?

where was your boyfriend who would not let go of your hand while walking around parties? who followed you everywhere that some people even asked if you had a stalker!

where was the boy who messaged tara and mindy a million times about what flowers you like so you would be happy on valentine’s day!?

that boy was obviously not present because your door remained silent. no doorbells or late night knocks for a last minute sleepover.

your hands stayed untouched. the only time he almost reached for it was when he put his hands down to help him getting up and leaving.

you went to parties alone now and instead of sitting on the couch just whispering and gossiping with ethan, you sat on the stairs and waited for mindy and anika to say one of them were too wasted to party anymore.

so after finally mustering up the courage, you marched to his dorm room and knocked on the door. first chad opened the door with a little confused face, “yes?” you ignored him and invited yourself in like a hundred times you’ve done before.

“is ethan here?” you asked and took a look around the dorm. chad shut the door behind you and walked towards you, “yeah he’s in his room, are you gonna talk to him?”

you immediately looked up at him, “oh god did mindy tell you too!?” you groaned and felt like you sunk in a batch of concrete. chad let out a shy laugh, “well we’re worried about you guys, i mean you’re the SECOND best looking couple on campus.”

you lifted an eyebrow and questioned him, “and who’s the first?” “obviously me and tara,” chad answered and went to go sit on the couch. you rolled your eyes at his hubris and approached ethan’s room.

but before, you knocked.

“yes, come in,” you heard ethan say from inside and you carefully turned the bedroom doorknob. “chad if you need help in eco—” ethan turned in his spinning desk chair that you got him last year since you knew he can’t focus with moving around.

he stopped himself at the sight of you and wished he locked the door. “oh y/n. what are you doing here?” he calmly asked as if he didn’t ditch you for the last couple of weeks. you scoffed at his ignorance and shut the door to avoid any eavesdropping from chad.

ethan stayed in his chair and watched you take a seat on his nicely tidy bed. there was an immediate silence that suffocated the room before you decided to speak up first.

your words completely shattered the glass surface evident in the room, “do you still love me?” ethan looked up from ground and met your eyes for the first time in weeks.

“w-what do you mean?!” ethan exclaimed and seemed to be taken aback. “what do i mean?” you repeated. “i mean do you still love me? because you’ve been avoiding me like i’m the fucking black plague! you run away from me as if we’re literally not boyfriend and girlfriend!” you spilled out your emotions onto your so-called boyfriend.

your hand gestures were flying everywhere and all the suppressed feelings of anger and sadness came out. “so please just answer the goddamn question. please,” you pleaded for just one answer.

“y/n, i do love you. i truly do and i have but i just don’t think i can handle a relationship right now. it’s all just too much and with…econ—i can’t balance it,” ethan rambled and lied through his teeth, blaming his avoidance on fucking econ as if you weren’t in the same class.

he wasn’t hearing you out and was just piling excuses on top of excuses. you were sick of it. you wanted to have a civil conversation with him, talk it out like adults or in those cheesy romcoms where the couple makes up in the span of three minutes and a really extravagant song or romantic montage.

you could feel tears approaching the rum of your eyes but held them back with only a few managing to escape into your cheeks. “ethan, part of me wants to walk away 'til you really listen because i hate to look at your face and know that we're feeling different,” you were the one avoiding his eyes now. those big brown eyes of his that made you melt like ice cream on a hot summer day.

you wiped the few tears off your face and tried to remain calm. unknown to you though was ethan’s perspective. he wanted to get up and hug you, hold you and say he was sorry. he wanted to bring a dozen roses to your doorstep every night until you forgave him.

he held back his tears and looked up at your teary-eyed face. he thought to himself, ‘cause part of me wants you back, but i know it won't work like that, huh? why won't you try moving on for once? that might make it easy’ so he looked out the window and muttered, “let’s just break up.”

you bit your lip at the bitter words spit out by the boy you loved with all your heart and continued to even after this moment. you couldn’t even bring yourself to respond and opened the door to escape the suddenly stuffy room.

you ran out of the dorm room, ignoring chad’s questions and words from behind you. you didn’t stop running and hoped the cold air would dry your tears before you friends could see.

out of nowhere, the skies turned grey and for the first time in weeks, there a trickle of rain. even though the distance from your apartments was less than a few minutes, it felt like forever. it started pouring and your clothes were drenched.

you thought about how stupid you were and regretted ever stepping front in his dorm room to begin with. you sat on the stairs in front of your apartment, crying and trying to catch your breath. you could barely keep your eyes open with the rain and your tears drowning you. outside it was dark and you were all alone. except you weren’t.

ethan watched you from his room. his heart ached for you and your tears and he had to restrain himself from running down to you. he clenched his jaw and breathed through his teeth as he watched you slowly get swallowed by the darkness and rain.

i know we cut all the ties but you're never really leaving and part of me wants you back, but i know it won't work like that.

brrring! brrring!

ethan turns his attention to his phone and honestly hopes it to be you but his hopes falter as he sees the number and picks up the phone. “is it all taken care of?” a voice spoke on the other line.

“yes, she’s out of the picture so we are not going to hurt her.”

[jbbartram-illu]

Aaaaand I'm back at the pottery desk starting my next batch, working on a new round of slab-built mugs (& assorted other creatures while I wait for slabs to firm up...once I've made a few more mugs, I'm hoping to finally find time to focus on some bird ladies!!).

Also, I AM working on a shop update & WILL be announcing it soon (goal is maybe 2nd week of march?!). I just have this problem where working on pottery is more fun than getting my shop organized (sorry, sorry!).

[todayontumblr]

Thursday March 30.

The Bad Batch *spoilers*

Sh*t

Well, if there's one thing to be said for Star Wars, then it's a franchise that certainly knows how to deliver a second-stanza gut punch; a tradition started by The Empire Strikes Back. And, indeed, perhaps never bettered. This is the stage where things typically take a turn for the worse, and the narrative becomes enveloped in the sense of things falling apart. It is here that a hopelessness tone and a grim sense of pervading darkness takes root. And with that, Dear Reader, we find ourselves at the close of the second of an expected three seasons of #the bad batch, and it concluded in rather shocking, but vintage, Star Wars style. The credits have rolled on this season, and consider us shooketh to the boneth.

Well, what happens next? It is anyone's guess, and it is likely we have at least two years to wait in the meantime. Fortunately, there is a thriving fandom community for #the bad batch right here on Tumblr to help that time fly with discussion, memes, and fanart. Dive in, if you will excuse our poor choice of words.